Shave My Back, Ferris

I must first apologize at my lack of posting this week.  I have been in a foul mood since Monday.  Today I am better.  Why?  Maybe it's the second day of sunshine in a row.  Maybe it's having the time to drink two cups of coffee this morning and reading the papers.  Maybe it's because last night was a good night work-wise.  I'm not sure but I am sure I like not being miserable.

One of the highlights of my week:  My four year old came downstairs, butt naked and paraded a little in front of my husband and I.  He loves his naked body and his penis.  So I said something to the effect of:  "That's right Baby, love that body."  That's not as creepy as it sounds.  I was making a joke.  His response? "Show me your body and I'll shave your back!"  This was said with perfect timing and directly to me.

Hm.

I, for the record, do not need my back shaved.  I'm a hairy gal, for sure, but the hair is where it's supposed to be.  Legs, underarms, etc.  I look after all of that on my own.  Why he chose that particular response, I'll never know.  My husband doesn't even have a hairy back.  He doesn't even have a hairy front.  He has about 23 chest hairs in total.

Anyway, I enjoyed it but worried and wondered at the same time.  Why would I worry?  I can handle this kid at four.  I love him immensely and he provides me with constant entertainment.  At 14, I think it will have turned to worry.  17?  I don't even want to think about it.  I don't think he's going to be bad in a criminal sense but I do believe he's going to give me a run for my money.  His personality combined with his looks (he's cute, I'm not biased, other people say it too-ask 'Stacey' and Sinatra), combined with the fact that he's my 'baby' and may or may not (yes he does) have me wrapped around his little finger?

I think I'm raising Ferris Bueller.

Who doesn't love Ferris Bueller?  Except for his sister, Jeannie but that bitch was seriously uptight and it wasn't until she went on vacation with her other family and gave it up to Patrick Swayze (RIP) that she loosened up a little.  Rhett, my Ferris, has a sister too.  She's 14 so will be on her own by the time things are really getting out of control here.  Not that she won't be angry about it and chide me about it.  That being said, I know she'll have the presence of mind not to make out with Charlie Sheen.  If he's still alive in ten years...

Winning!

Sorry.  Anyway, school is very nearly out, summer is trying to be here and I got a little of my tan on yesterday so as soon as I hit the gym and do some laundry I'll be ready.  Not necessarily DTF but I'm not a grenade, even for a 34 year old baseball, soccer, football, hockey mom.

CABS ARE HERE!!

Cookies & Crack

I went to Chapter's last night. By myself.  Without money.  That's like sending Charlie Sheen to a brothel without his penis or blow.  It was almost physically uncomfortable.  So many books.  Office supplies.  Fun sarcastic sticky notes and notebooks in and on which I could and would create.  Books books books.  Funny books.  Sad books.  Biographies.  Hair magazines.

And what did I buy?

Zip.  Zero.  Nada. Nothing.

I simply basked in the glow of the atmosphere and longed for a some Godiva chocolates and to live back in the city where I could go to Chapter's more than once every three months.  Oh and money.  I longed for money.  Money that would allow me to enter the store and buy whatever caught my fancy.

tee hee.  My fancy.  That's what I'm calling 'it' now.

Just kidding.  But seriously they have these new notebooks there now that are super cool.  I must have them and I will.  My birthday is at the end of the month and I've already decided I will be requesting a gift card.  I keep asking for one CD that I've yet to get so I'm going to give up on that and go the gift card route and get me some new notebooks.  I can also go into Staples and get just as excited about the stationary and office supplies there.

It's a sad strange addiction.

As is my addiction to cookies.  Which I baked this afternoon.  So that's awesome.  I have freshly baked oatmeal chocolate chip cookies in my house.  And milk.  So now I'm bloated.   Instead of "seven rocks" a day like our friend Charlie, I have approximately put away seven cookies and a glass of milk at this point.  So instead of having a hangover (or withdrawal-whatever Mr. Sheen's demon is), I am bloated and tired and working my way quickly to a Type 2 Diabetes diagnosis before I'm 40.

And it's Friday.  Friday night, right?  Good times.  Um, yeah, no.  Instead I'll likely watch recorded episodes of Grey's Anatomy or Harry's Law and Chelsea Lately.   Hopefully Shameless too.  I have wine.  And vodka, but I am so tired (long week + sugar crash) that having a drink doesn't even appeal to me at this point.  I want only to sleep.  And eat vast amounts of comfort food.  And buy a new notebook.

I don't think these are outlandish requests but, like Charlie Sheen, the planets are currently aligning against me.  He and I are simply and sadly misunderstood. 

Penny & Charlie
Charlie & Penny
Cookies & Crack
Crack & Cookies....it's all really just the same.

Well, except that Charlie could actually buy himself an actual Chapter's franchise and I can't even get a fucking notebook.  That just doesn't seem fair.

I need another cookie.