My house is seriously fucked up right now. Nineteen days of kids on break and a cold snap that’s keeping Loony out of the garage has this place looking like it was hit by a tornado.
Or maybe it was hit by a Sharknado.
We watched this last night at the behest of Goodwood and Stacked. They said it was so fake that it wasn’t remotely scary.
I have an irrational fear of sharks. Like, so irrational that I get jumpy in swimming pools.
Perhaps my fears aren’t unfounded because in Sharknado the sharks were sucked up into a water tunnel and deposited into a swimming pool and almost (almost) ate some senior citizens.
Thank god for our hero.
Well, maybe not Battlefield Earth, that movie totally sucked.
I was most definitely not bored.
The kids are in camp today, the last day of their endless winter break. I got smart and scheduled an all-day camp for their last day off because I’ve been here before and know that I get severe short-timer syndrome.
By the last day I can almost taste my freedom and I turn into a short-tempered, raging bitch. It’s worth $50 to spare my kids the child abuse (it’s not their fault that the Boulder Valley School District feels like it is in the children’s best interest to never be in school) and I can get a jump on unfucking my house.
Unfucking, that’s a Tabby term. Speaking of her, she’s coming back on Wednesday. I can’t wait; I miss her so much. I meet people easily but it takes a long time for me to consider someone a trusted friend. She’s on my very short list.
I love ya, Tabby.
There is one downside to her coming back. She’s going to take the tiny dog. I’ve gotten so used to having him around and even Loony is getting attached.
Did I tell you that Loony has womb envy? Oh my god, I just Googled it and it turns out that he’s not alone!
He confuses the boys when he tells them that I carried Scrotus in my belly and he carried Testiclese. And we both nursed them, I gave them the mommy milk and he gave them the “daddy milk.” As if kids aren’t confused enough.
Yes, it sounds strange even to me. AND IT PISSES ME OFF because I had to pump that milk myself. I sang a little song to myself when I hooked up to the milker. It went like this:
I sang it to myself every time I pumped. No joke. I’ll sing it for you the next time we run into each other if you let me jump on you.
So anyway, whenever Loony really likes an animal he stuffs it in his shirt and walks around all day like that. Chiquita is the best for this because he likes to be hot and doesn’t need much oxygen.
The kids are in love with the little guy and and so am I. I even started trolling the local Humane Society’s adoption site for chihuahuas but they are all so big compared to Chicky, who only weighs five pounds.
Plus, he’s so mellow for a small dog.
But then it gets super cold, he hates going outside, even to relieve himself.
Every cold day feels like a game of Russian roulette.
Seriously, I’m waiting to discover his secret pooping spot in the house. Loony thinks that Blue might be “taking care” of the poops (eating them, EW!) and I’m kind of okay with it as long as I don’t see it happening.
*Update: I found it. Ugh. I think the little dude isn’t feeling well.
It will be over on Wednesday and we’ll all be sad.
Time to cut the crap.