Sigh. Angela and I discussed it and we decided that maybe it’s time to take it back to the old school and rock some colonization. The guidance and discipline might be good for us. She’s on the phone with England.
I am so tired. So, so tired. I will have more substantial posts tomorrow, but for now I want to tell you what sucks about coming home in the middle of the week from your vacation in Detroit that included the ER at Henry Ford Hospital, alcohol, roller skating, British guys, and Moby.
What sucks is that I had to just drop back into life and, like, parent and shit. This morning, I pried my eyes open after a grand total of 3 hours of sleep and when I got downstairs and started packing the baby’s lunch, I realized that the bread was moldy. Of course it was; it’s got to be two weeks old at this point. For the past few weeks, the baby has been whining that he wants peanut butter crackers for lunch and I would argue that that isn’t a substantial lunch and blah blah blah I want you to thrive or some shit. So, this morning, I’m sure you can imagine me standing at the counter (read: the stove…we don’t have any counters and FUCK), eyes half-closed, hair all askew, toaster oven ticking away, and moldy bread poised to incite hallucinations to those brave enough to eat it, realizing that oh my god, I am going to have to send my child to school with peanut butter crackers for lunch.
I played it off pretty well, though. I went into the living room where the baby was and said, “Hey! Guess what’s for lunch today? PEANUT BUTTER CRACKERS HOLY SHIT YOU ARE THE LUCKIEST KID ALIVE!” The baby was, in fact, pretty excited. However, he didn’t see me flailing at the heavens when I realized that the box of Saltines that I never pay attention to was two years old. But since I am Mom Bot 5000, I had a back-up box in the pantry. That box only expired in March so I declare myself officially On Top of Shit.
I sent him off with his peanut butter crackers, some applesauce, and a small bag of pumpernickel-and-onion pretzel sticks that I bought at a rest stop in Ohio yesterday. I think he had shoes on, but I can’t be sure.
I went back inside and realized that my brilliant idea to get started on the laundry last night was maybe not so brilliant since all of my bras were soaking in the wash tub, gleefully sopping wet. Also, did I mention that I put the baby on the bus sans brasserie? And the bus driver was blasting “Summertime” by Will Smith and I had to resist the urge to go, “Awwwwwwwwww shit, son!” I tossed the bras in the dryer and reveled in the fact that I had such a great excuse for showing up to work late.
The more I write down the details of my life, the more I find myself struggling to complete sentences.
I’m currently in the lobby of our hotel, gazing at the Renaissance Center and getting ready to go eat some artery-clogging breakfast after a luxuriously long night of sleep. Why am I so tired? Oh, because I spent about five hours in the emergency room of Henry Ford Hospital yesterday.
Nothing serious, just that the husband woke up yesterday with severe pain in his knee and didn’t know why. As far as the doctors could tell, it’s nothing serious, though they do think he has arthritis, which HAHAHAHAA UR OLD! He’s feeling much better today, just all hopped up on Aleve and dragging his leg along since it’s all wrapped up in an immobilizer.
I will say that the staff at Henry Ford are pretty awesome, so score one for Detroit there. Of course, spending time in a Detroit ER is, uh, an experience. I’m really, really glad that I have insurance, is all I’m saying and everyone needs it.
Aside, the local radio stations here are pretty rad. Right now I’m listening to “I Would Die 4 U” by Prince. At 10 a.m. On a Saturday. WTF?
Musically, I’m not sure what we’re getting into today/tonight. I believe we are going to the roller skating party, thought I’m already feeling embarrassed by my lack of skating skills. And, obviously, I’m not trying to spend more time in the ER this weekend.
Going to Detroit. brb.
I feel the need to point out that while that picture is slightly zoomed in, it’s really no exaggeration to say that I really was that close to him.
So, like, let’s say | = one foot.
I’m not even shitting you. And for that lovely position, I must thank my buddy Andrew for helping me to hook up those amazing front row, center tickets.
Love him.
I love when friends of ours wordlessly post pictures like this on their flickr with no explanation. Just them, their neck brace, and their morphine drip. Like, what the hell happened to you, dude?
As you may have noticed, I am on the internet even though I need to be packing because we’re heading to Detroit on Thursday. Tomorrow night we’re going to see Eddie Izzard (eee!) so I need to have my clothes mostly ready to go plus clothes for the baby. However, we had to go to the mall to get me some jeans and a Penguins tshirt (I have to represent) so we popped over to Popeye’s for dinner. Ugh. I feel like I ate some softballs or something. Plus, I have a headache. So, I can’t really move. I can just sit here and burp.
Anyway, why are we going to Detroit? Well, see, we’re dorks. And we’re going to the big electronic music festival that they have every year. This is my fifth year!
Ugh, god, I am seriously breaking up with Popeye’s forever, even if their biscuits are made with crack and rainbows.
But check it out: I got some sunglasses.
I haven’t had sunglasses in two years! My old ones were tragically bent the day of my bachelorette party and that was BEFORE the drinking commenced. But now I shall sashay my way through Detroit with my big honkin’ glasses and my Penguins shirt. Hopefully, I don’t get beat up by a Red Wings fan.
Big Work Thing went…okay. There were a couple of snags that could have been prevented if I had been a little more vigilant during the planning process. Nothing life-ending, but embarrassing nonetheless. Yet another good thing about me cutting back to one class per semester in the fall. My brain is obviously revolting against me and trying to make me look foolish.
Anyway, I got home from the Big Work Thing and changed out of my dress clothes…and immediately got my period. It was rad. So I’m totally relaxed now, except for my uterus. That old girl is just cramping away. The bitch.
This is the only video floating around so far of the protest staged by students (and other attendees, it looks like) at Washington University’s commencement ceremony. The protest was over WU’s decision to award Phyllis Schlafly an honorary doctorate.
Schlafly, if you didn’t know, has made a career of traveling the country…and lecturing on why women shouldn’t have careers, because domestic life is the greatest aspiration that a woman can have and, quite appallingly, insists that there is no such thing as rape between a married couple.
During the portion of the ceremony honoring Schlafly, the students silently stood up…and turned their backs on her. And really, I can’t think of a more fitting tribute to the woman.
People will say many things about her surrounding this event. As offended as I am by some of her beliefs, probably the worst thing you can accuse her of is being a ballsy old broad. So, Dr. Phyllis, from one ballsy old broad to another: fuck you, very much, sweetie. 🙂
I’M DONE, BETCHES. PRAISE BE JEBUS!
Now, all I have to do is tend to Big Work Thing on Saturday and I can relax! Well, I’ll probably also spend a good portion of my days hoping that that paper wasn’t a TOTAL piece of shit, but yeah.
DONE. With this semester. I still have two more years of edumacation but let’s not dwell on that.
I think I’m going to pass out.
