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Guess what? I don�t feel like working today. Huge surprise, I know. But honestly, I hate it here. I�ve been brainstorming all morning and here�s what I�ve come up with: Get rid of the van. Buy Nick�s uncle�s house that he offered to us for $50,000. Fix it up. (You get what you pay for, you know.) Build a house on the adjacent lot. Rent out the original house. (Or just knock the fucker down.) Quit my job and get a part-timer. Make Nick get a job that pays well and has insurance for the kids. Live happily ever after. Sounds good, right? I�m going to pitch it to Nick tonight. After my boss fires me for taking an extra long lunch for a doctor appointment, even though he threw a big fit about me missing work last week. Oh, and I was a half hour late this morning too. It�s starting to look like I want him to fire me, isn�t it? Mwa ha ha ha. Don�t give up my (evil) master plan� Saturday night we went to a barbecue at a friend�s house. Their daughter has a Barbie Jeep Power Wheels, and she wasn�t home so the boys hopped right in. In a perfect metaphor for their personalities, Lukas was a cautious, courteous driver who can execute a flawless three-point turn while Nickolas crashed into everything at full speed and fell out because he was laughing so hard. Since Nickolas was born I�ve been calling him the world�s smallest frat boy, and that�s just one more example of why. The kid is nuts. I bought batteries for the camera last night because I haven�t posted any pictures in here for too long, and they weren�t in any of the bags. I just looked on my receipt, and I paid for them. That pisses me off. Of course, I had a cashier with the mind of a gerbil, so I guess I should be lucky I got any of my crap. I handed him my money, and he took it, put it in the drawer, and closed the drawer. I was still standing there, because I wanted my change. He looked at me for a looooooong moment, and then started ringing up the person behind me. I said, �May I have my change, please?� because I�m fucking polite, and he looked at me for another looooooooong moment and said, �Sorry. I�m trying to do three things at once here.� And then just stood there staring at my boobs. Look, I realize it probably sucks ass to be a cashier at Meijer when you�re like forty, but that doesn�t mean you get to keep my change because you�re doing �three things at once.� (Which are�what again? Ringing shit up, putting it in bags, and�looking at my tits? Was that the third one? Because they�re pretty awesome, I know, but I look at them all the time and I still get shit done.) Then he gave a big, huge, loooooooong sigh and took three entire minutes to get my change while sighing again and again. Wow. Cheer the fuck up, Droopy. I gave you a hundred, it�s not like I�m bitching about seventeen cents here. Guh. I also bought that Bacardi half-the-calories crap, and I figured out how they could make liquor half the calories. You have to drink twice as much to get a buzz. Nick and I drank the entire bottle in about an hour and didn�t feel a thing. But we did have heartburn, so there you have it. Don�t waste your $12.49. That was my weekend, and a very long explanation of why I don�t have any pictures of it. I leave you with this word of advice: if your kid hasn't pooped in three days and you put in a suppository to make him, don't let him sit on the couch while you're waiting for him to poo. Put him outside next to the hose because OH. MY. GOD. Kids are: "Surrender" that one 80's song. I have no idea who sings it, but Less Than Jake covered it. Last person who pissed me off: Boob-staring cashier. Heard in my house: "Mommy, Nickolas is pooping! Make him stop it!" Miss Anything? pics - 2007-06-05
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