My Dad's Better Than Yours.....

My dad is awesome. He's a royal pain in the ass, but Lord knows, I don't know what I would do without him.

His best friend is my ten year old son. Not that he doesn't love my oldest, but my youngest is completely devoted to him.

I seriously sometimes think that he would desert us for his Papa if it weren't for the fact that he really loves me. And he likes playing video games. Which my dad can't stand.

My dad is in town from Colorado for the next week or so and is staying with us. It's okay, because we live in a big house, with a guest room that has its own bathroom and exit point, so we can co-exist in harmony.

Anyway, last night my husband, oldest son, and yours truly went over to a friends house to visit. Dallas chose to stay home with my dad. Upon learning this, my son says, "You trust them at home together?"

Which is a perfectly legitimate question, given the fact that my dad is a six foot five twelve year old. Not in the "I Am Sam" sense, but in the sense that everything is a good time.

We walk in last night and the living room has been converted into a fort.

Every throw blanket, couch pillow and all my kitchen bar stools were involved.



My oldest looks at me and says, "I told you."

I just smiled. These are the moments from when I was a kid that still make me smile.

Once, my best friend and me decided to slide some kittens we had across the kitchen floor. I know, it was mean as hell. PITA would be pissed.

Anyway, to make it extra slide friendly, we sprayed Pledge all over the floor and then put the cats on their bellies and laughed like future serial killers as we slid them back and forth between us.

My dad comes home after we are finished with our game, walks into the kitchen and BUSTS.....HIS.....ASS.

Pledge is apparently hard as hell to get up off the floor.

We admitted what we had done, and even though inside he might've been worried that we were little Aileen Wuornos in the making (without the whole prostitute part), all he said was, "You better get that cleaned up before your mama comes home."

He's a pretty fun guy to be around when you're a kid.

Dude, Where's Your Caretaker???

Every time I get one of those disgusting, this person died in a freaky, weird kind of way email, I wonder why the hell people send things such as this.

And it also just occurred to me that maybe I'm only one of a select few that have morbid, disgusting friends that actually find this kind of shit interesting.

I received one a while back that had a guy flattened under some kind of bulldozer. Seriously.

But before you get to the really nasty pictures, it does warn you.



"If you have a weak stomach, do not go any further."

Who the hell can resist that? Not I.

Maybe that aspect of my personality is why my friends send me pictures of some poor unfortunate soul that was never taught the proper technique for loading heavy equipment on a trailer. Not that I would probably fare any better.

Last night, I was at the Rays/Red Sox game. I'm amazed at people that go to sporting events to get publicly loaded. Not by the 'intoxicated in public' part, but the whole 'let me spend $10 dollars a beer' part.

Anyway, we were surrounded by a shit load of people that were highly intoxicated and what looked like a serious minority of designated drivers or caretakers of their stupid, loud, profanity screaming buds.



It was funny when some guy decided to make it onto the field (why? I have no idea...)and was tackled by three security dudes before he could even get past the bull pen.

Moron.

Toe Jam? Literally!

The best part about Mondays....

I was trying to be optimistic, so I tried to come up with a few, but honestly, I've just sat here, looking at my computer screen for the last two minutes drawing an absolute blank.


I can't think of one thing.


Seriously.


And this Monday, I'm sitting here with my feet pulled up in my chair, contemplating the fact the school starts back in seven days and I've got a broken pinkie toe. Yes. Broken. Function suspended.


I guess stumbling through the kitchen at three in the morning is probably not the best idea. And the damn bar stool jumped out at me.


Jumped...


Out...


At...


Me....



I thought I was going to die. It was a good thing my husband was out of town, because I then crawled to the bedroom, rolled around on the bed moaning loudly for about five minutes (I did catch the innuendo, there, by the way) popped three ibuprofen and prayed for the pain to go away.


My foot is now swollen and slightly discolored. And it hurts to walk. Seriously.


In the process of this post, I did find the silver lining. Lots of feet are A LOT uglier than mine. Seriously.



You'd think he would shave his toes. Or maybe clean some of the toe jam out before taking a pic.

And check these nasty things out...



Holy schnikies. It's call a fungus, dude. They sell stuff that actually cures this kind of thing.


Don't get me wrong. My feet are ugly. But a good pedicure goes a long way in camouflaging ugly feet.

while the mouse is away....

I'm taking a trip.

I leave this afternoon, and I'm not sure when I'm coming back.

My husband and boys are staying home. That's why I'm not sure when I'm going to come home. Lord knows what my house is going to look like when I return. They're pigs. Pigs, I tell you.

I have a little more than three weeks before school starts and I really need to do something before I'm surrounded by the next generation of heathens. Although, I must say that I'm a little tired of having nothing to do. I don't think I was cut out for the whole 'homemaker' lifestyle. I don't bake. Nor have I joined any of those "local mom websites". If my kids come down with a rash, I'm not asking every mom within a hundred yard radius their opinion. I'm just going to take him to the doctor.

My boys know that I'm completely in love with them, but I'm not the Beave's mom, that's for sure.

So, I'm heading to Colorado. It's going to be a vacation with just my dad and me, which I haven't done since I was fifteen. (I'm blocking out the fact that he pissed me off on that trip and I rode a Greyhound bus back to Florida from Amarillo...) I've grown up since then, so when he pisses me off, I can just let loose and vent. No need to spare his feelings. I'm kidding....(for the most part)

Anywayz, I'm riding out there with him and flying home, so I've yet to decide on when I'm coming back. I've debated the different airlines and whether I really want to fly coach. Let's be honest. How often am I going to get to travel without multiple males present?

The last flight I was on with my boys, I thought I was going to choke my youngest. I was sitting in the middle of them, my oldest at the window, my youngest on the aisle. And he had gas. I mean, stink up the entire plane gas. I kept sending him to the bathroom, thinking that maybe if he took a crap, the odorous cloud that was hanging around us would dissipate. After the plane landed, we sat on the runway waiting for an open terminal forever (like twenty minutes) and he thought it would be great to end with a grand finale, an almost constant stream of farts that smelled like something had died up there and was throwing some serious punches to get out....

Anyway, I'm glad to be traveling without them for a change.

My dad lives in Colorado, so I've been before. I've seen all the sights, met all his friends, so hopefully, it'll just be a time to relax. I'm really looking forward to it.

This has been a particularly shitty summer, so I'm ready for something good to come of it.

I'll probably sit on the river and fish. Or I might take a canoe trip. My dad's friend owns several buildings in an old ghost town (called St. Elmo) and he rents out four wheelers, so I might do that one day.

I don't know. Not knowing is probably the best part about it. I love being spontaneous. That is when the best things happen.

I just hope that my husband doesn't destroy my house while I'm gone.