When You Can't(cun) Go On

And you're tired of walking, you might raise your arms and ask the lizard on your hotel ceiling to pick you up. You might say, "Pick me up, Lizard."
For just a moment, you might believe in the power of willing a lizard to take you to your room.

But First Listen To This

When I'm done telling you about the mouse in our office, I'll write all about Mexico and the fun we had. (So much fun.)
It is Mouse Incursion 2K6.
We came in this morning to find the little bugger hiding under a pair of work gloves. I screamed like it was April Fool's Day.
Now, I'm cool with mice as long as I don't have to worrry about them climbing my pant leg.
On second thought, I'm not that cool with mice.

Eating Battery Acid In Foreign Cities

Darling Readers, (Except you, Anonymous. We're still in a fight.),
I am off to see some more of the world.
With my birth certificate and driver's license.
After hours of searching and 1.5 freak-out episodes, I have discovered that my room is a swirling pit of clothing and ephemera...but no passports.
So you can be jealous of my trip TO RAINY CANCUN, if you want. But first, please check to see that my passport is not with you.

I suspect that we will have no internet access during the week, but here's a story about Muffin's last trip to Mexico:

I spilled diet coke everywhere and was cleaning it up and found a battery that was sticky. Without proper cleaning utensils, I did what any smart, well educated person would have done. I licked it like a Popsicle.
Then my tongue burned and I couldn't taste for awhile.
Turns out it wasn't Diet Coke sticky.

Hope work doesn't suck too much. [Shielding face from flying foodstuffs.]
Love,
Sri

Taking Leave

Sometimes I combine words on purpose. It's sort of an irritating habit, but I've only realized it recently. I'm trying to cut down.
Today, as an awkward conversation came to an awkward end, I said loudly, "See ya in a bile." It was not intentional. Please believe me.
In other news, I am improving my math skills:
["bit"] + ["while"] + [(moment of extreme speech anxiety x 8)] = "bile"

Armpits Part II: Mom Further Explains Herself

"I don't think yesterday's blog captured what I was saying. I scrrrrape. But it doesn't hurt. I don't know. Is that unusual?"
No. I guess not. What's unusual is that we talked about it and that I blogged it and then that it came up at dinner where we talked about it again.
And how, when I got home from work, you put on your headphones to listen to your iPod, cued up the song labeled, "That Song" by "Jack Splat" (which is really "If You're Not The One" by Daniel Bedingfield) and then karaoked for me*.
And that you're singing it to yourself again, sans iPod, right now.
Perfectly abnormal in every way.


*If ever I had a wish for in-house documentarians...

Mom. Seriously. Maaahhhhhhm!

She is the reason I carry little pieces of paper in my coat pockets and bother servers for writing utensils.
Tonight, in the car, debating the merits of armpit waxing versus shaving. But they're sensitive. Should you be careful with that skin?
"Mom?"
"I can scratch my armpits. And it feels good!"

Bulldog of Bergen, Pride of New Jersey...And Other Praise

Cinderella Man today.
What I learned:
1. James J. Braddock's story is just enough about his children to make me weepy.
2. I must not watch a biopic unless I already know the outcome. The stress is too much.
3. Boxing is only ok when the smaller, older guy nobody-expected-but-everyone-hoped-for wins. Otherwise, it's a deplorable sport used to line the pockets of men in swanky suits.
4. The Great Depression sucked ass. So bad.
5. Don't joke about the Great Depression at dinner with mom.

Take Two

Tonight I, for the second time, arrived at my destination without my left front hubcap. The damned thing.
The first time I did not document. I felt it was an isolated incident and nothing more of it. Except that I had to pull over with a car full of kids and say, "Please hold while I retrieve this totally non-essential piece of my car. You certainly are in good hands. And safe. So safe. I can't wait until we get to ______, all in one piece, in this fantastic vehicle. Rated Five Stars in Hubcap Loss Tests."
This time I was alone and kicking the icyslushmess off the tire crapshields* when I noticed. I retraced my steps looking carefully on both sides of the roads, ho-humming about what an inconvenience is a missing hubcap. I ended at a vacant parking lot and spun the car out in frustration. Suddenly, there she was-- covered in snow.
Whipping Shitties Saved My Car's Cosmetic Life.

*What are they even really called and why is that my favorite part of winter driving?

Let's Talk Universal Truths

Big cardboard boxes are fun even when you grow up.

Operation Stitch-Up

They freak out when I reach for the pen, but Ashley is speaking Golden Words of Blogginess. I must document. She is carrying Bear, her forearm-sized teddy bear, being sure to support the neck. "He needs surgery," she says. And her mom will do it. Again. Bear's life has been marred by many unfortunate complications of over-loving.
He is nearly two-dimensional; no longer qualifies as a stuffed animal. At age 24*, Ashley still sniffs the places fur used to be**. She wants to know the age when people are forced to give up their childhood companions. We recount lost blankies, toys.
Jill wrenches her legs to keep from peeing, laughing as Ashley holds her small friend up to her breast. She looks up, pleased with herself: "Have you ever seen me look as natural as this?" In the silence that follows before the uproar, we look at her and shake our heads. Um...Nope. You're totally going to make a great mom, Ash, as long as the baby is filled with batting***.

*Soon enough.
**Bear's Extreme Weight Loss Plan For Stuffed Animals: get all the fur sniffed off of you.
***And you wait for 5-10 years.