A Moment with The Brat

Me: I'm on the way to the commissary. You want anything?


Brat: Can you bring me back some mandingo cherries?


Me: *blink*  Umm...NO. But I can bring you some MARASCHINO cherries. I'm pretty sure your dad doesn't want me to bring back any mandingos. 


The Man: Not at all.


Me: Also, Brat? When you get a chance, google mandingo.




I swear to you, these are REAL CONVERSATIONS that happen in my house.


**Also? I texted this conversation to her aunts, while laughing so hard I cried.


***But then I thought that this was too funny not to share. So here you go. 


****You're welcome.

In case I never told you

It was fun.

I loved hanging out with you, giggling over inside jokes, doing ridiculous things like headstands in hotel rooms. Oscar Movie Madness, and happy hours, and Vegas trips. Loud ghetto laughs at inappropriate moments, Super Secret Trips of Awesome, surprise parties, BBQ's, karaoke, and marathon movie nights. Just Dance competitions, 2AM texts, and I Spy. Picture booths, water gun wars, and concerts. Helping me get pictures with rock stars. ESPECIALLY THIS.

Thank you.

For not judging me. Much. Even when I was obnoxious. Or weird. For lending me money, helping me clean. For your helpful assvice. For giving me a shoulder to cry on, or crying with me, when I needed it. For just being there when I didn't want to talk. For knowing when I needed what. For being honest with me. For sticking up for me when I couldn't/didn't do it for myself. For standing behind me looking all menacing and shit when I started popping off at the mouth. For loving me.

I'm sorry.

For hurting your feelings. Sometimes, I don't think before I speak. OR. I can be too blunt. Or mean, impatient, inconsiderate. I'm human. For getting so caught up in my life that I didn't call to see if you were okay. Or if you needed me. I can be selfish, and easily distracted. I wish that I had spent more time with you. I wish that I could take back that thing I said/did that hurt you.

I LOVE YOU.

I am blessed to have family and friends such as you. I have known you forever, and not quite as long. I met you when I was 5 years old, at work, walking to the bus stop, randomly, over the internets. I didn't know how fast we would click, how easily we would fall into friendship, how tightly we would hold on to each other. But I'm glad we did. I love you for loving me the way I am, for being able to read me like a book even when I haven't said a word. For being able to cheer me up when I haz a sad. For telling me things I need to hear, whether or not I wanted to hear them, sometimes without you even knowing it. I love you for being you.

If I never get the chance to say good-bye to you. I just wanted you to know today.

You need to fill in your own blanks

People are always asking me what I do when I go to Vegas, because every single time I go, I always have THE BEST. TIME. EVER. So may I present to you, my Saturday in Vegas. With all the stuff that's fit to print.

Enjoy!

Me and the two ladies I went to Vegas with had massages scheduled at Reliquary Spa at Hard Rock. We got an excellent deal on TravelZoo. It came with additional body scrub. Ladies, (and gentlemen, if you like to get massages), GET THE BODY SCRUB. It was awesome, I felt all buffed and polished before she massaged all my knots and aches and pains. I forgot to bring a bathing suit, BUT. Luckily there was a bathing suit optional/ women only section that had a wet sauna and a jacuzzi, both of which I partook. Several hours later, when we finally left the spa area we went over to Johnny Smalls for tapas. I should mention, this is the PERFECT PLACE FOR ME TO EAT. Because I can never finish a plate of food. I got to try a little bit of everything without having to commit to a whole meal.

After which, we finally threw on our suits and headed down to the pool for some fun in the sun. We spent a few hours hanging out before we decided to change into our fancy night clothes and hit the casino for dinner/gambling/more drinking.

My friend found out a friend of hers was in Vegas the same weekend we were, so we met them at Blush, at the Wynn. We hung out with my friend's friends (who for the remainder of this post will be known as MFF). Who had a table. One of the friend had fallen asleep. And then he woke up and ______________. A lot. And then he _____________again. And then we did some dancing, and had a few drinks. And then ______________________. And then the waitress came over and she ______________________.  And told us_____________.

So we all piled into cabs and went to __________. More table service. More bottles of Vodka. More shots. And then___________________asked if MFF _____________ . So we (the girls & I) went upstairs to ___________. (!) OMG, you guys ______________________________________! And then _______________________________________________________. MFFs _________________. And we  _____________________________________________. 

After that we (the girls & I) went/ stumbled back to our room at The Hard Rock (which, you guys, I upgraded to a fancier room.. And the view was AWESOME.) around 5AM. But I was hungry so I _______________________, while they _______________________. Around 6AM, I saw the sun rising, so  I went to bed.   Because in a few hours, we were going to get up and _____________.


Yeah, there's not a lot that's fit to print, is there? What do you want from me, people? What happens in Vegas is supposed to STAY in Vegas. I can't very well, fill in ALL the blanks.

At least you know I had a good time at the Spa.

And this is why I need to never be single

I went out with my cousin last night.

I hadn't really planned on it. I had actually planned to go home, and you know... be responsible and study. BUT. I was going to a place called Big Wangs. Who turns down going to Big Wangs? Not me, apparently.

It was fun. She works with cops, and they were a nice bunch. I didn't want to say "Fuck the Police" not even once.

She's single. And I'm not. WHICH. I DO NOT HAVE A PROBLEM WITH. I feel like that needs to be said in all caps, in case anyone is not paying attention. I mostly like my husband. But even when I don't, I still want him around.

Anyhoots. Back to my story. So we have some drinks, eat some wings (and hot DAMN, they were good!). One of the guys bought a round of drinks for the table. The cousin was being chatted up, so I was playing wingman...talking to the drinkbuyer guy. When not texting pictures of my ridiculousness.

It should be noted that I don't see myself as irresistible. Nor do I assume that every guy that talks to me is trying to get into my pants.

Drinkbuyer guy wants to know what I'm taking pictures of, and I show him. Because, why not? Pictures of my drinks, gratuitous pictures of myself, random look-at-my-cute-baby-kitties pictures. Whatever. Like you don't take pictures of your pets. So then he asks if I have any other pictures? Nope. Just got a new memory card.

I think I missed what he was actually asking for...

Because THEN he says, why don't you go into the bathroom and take some pictures?

*blink*

Uhh...the fuck? Hell no. What's wrong with you?

Apparently THAT was offensive. Because then he told me I should go home to my husband. Um. I will. Don't worry.

Which leads me to ask...WTF is wrong with people? Why would a perfect stranger think it's okay to ask somebody they just met who wasn't even pretending to be interested, AND, told you she was married... AND? Doesn't seem like some Slutty McSkankypants, to go into a sports bar bathroom and take sexytime pictures for random dude, i.e. NOT HER HUSBAND? I mean, yes, I've been married a REALLY. LONG. TIME. But...why is this okay?

My assumptions for these types of situations is that it must have worked at some point with somebody (and if I ever find out who, I will kick her right in the taco), because why else would he ask? I know what they say about assuming, but still.

How about instead of asking strangers to show you pictures of their chocha, you find an AVAILABLE woman, and get to know her, and take her on dates and shit (because bitches like dates and shit), and THEN, after you and she are in some sort of relationship, you tell your SIGNIFICANT OTHER TYPE PERSON to go into random sports bar bathroom and take sexytime pictures? Because then it's you keeping spice in your relationship! And being adventurous!

Not pervy and weird. Or assholey and gross. Or any of the other thousand of offensive adjectives that was.

Sometimes I just don't plan things well

You know what happens when I happen upon a random Six Layer Rainbow Cake Tutorial right before a friend's birthday?

Antics. Antics ensue.

Me: I can totally make this cake for Mo's birthday, guys.

What happens: I go out with The Man day before I'm supposed to be baking a cake, where after I take him to the movies, he takes me to a dive bar for dinner and proceeds to buy me Jamesons. STRAIGHT. Two drinks in, I realize that I needed to go shopping for supplies for fancy rainbow cake. So I make a haphazard list and make The Man take me to Michael's. I hope that I got everything I needed because now I'm slightly buzzed, and sleepy, so when I get home I go straight to bed: Do not pass go, do not collect $200. So, then, instead of making the cake the night before and sticking it in the fridge, I make it in the morning and hope that this will all work out before I have to leave by noon.


So far, so good.

Are you wondering where the purple is? *points down*

 But wait.

It's 7 AM. I took this picture and sent it to my sister: WHY DOESN'T THE PURPLE LOOK PURPLE? I'm going to the store to get some purple gel. NO. I didn't get dressed to run to the store. I went in my jammies. Yes, I did. They didn't have purple. Luckily for me, I do slightly remember that red and blue make purple, so I buy some of that. And come home and add enough red and blue to make it PURPLE. (Aaaand then, I forgot to take a second picture of it looking more purply)

Straws. To make sure my cake didn't slide off

I went to Kitson. Because it's a perk of working at Big Fancy Hospital. All the fancy shops close by. I originally went for my niece's gift for graduation to buy something quirky for her to take with her to college. I found something. AND! They had these birthday candles!

Not as brightly colored as I hoped it would be. BUT.
Everyone loved it. So there's that.

The cake was yummy, y'all. If I ever make this again. I would totally add the icing colors to make it brighter. I would also not let my husband get me drunk so that I'm rushing around like a chicken with her head cut off with only a few hours to make a cake, praying every minute of my baking time that nothing goes wrong because I just DON'T HAVE TIME to make mistakes.

No, really...take that off.

Today I saw a girl that not only made me scream on the inside, I screamed a little bit on the outside, too. This girl was at my niece's graduation. THIS GIRL just graduated. And like all of the other girls, my niece included, this girl was wearing the dress that she was going to wear to the dance they were going to after their graduation.

I should mention that *this* was an 8th grade graduation, I guess.

At first, I was like NOOO, she can't be a graduate. Except, she's wearing the "I just graduated" lei, and she was running around like a chicken with her head cut off trying to get pictures with the girls who still hadn't come out of their cap & gowns, AND ALSO? MY NIECE TOLD ME SO. 

To say I was slightly horrified would have been an understatement. WHERE IS THIS GIRL'S CLOTHES? Where are her parents? Who let her leave the house in this outfit?! Get off my lawn!

There are so many things wrong with this outfit:

1. It's ugly. I'm sorry, it is. The back of this dress sort of scrunched (rouched? is that the word?) up, making it look even shorter than it already was.
2. It's too short. Even my evil stepmother said, if she sneezes, she's going to show everyone the business in the front and the party in the back. I'm paraphrasing. Maybe she was really talking about somebody's mullet. But still.
3. IT'S TOO OLD. You are a pretty, 14 year old girl. By the time you're old enough to wear a dress like this, you will know better than to wear a dress like this.
4. Leopard prints on the boob-al area. Just, no. 

I mean, seriously. I know that we can't always pick what our kids wear, and that we need to give them a chance to define their own style (The Brat wore a Rolling Stones tee and a gypsy skirt to the graduation. Don't tell ME I don't know about giving teens some latitude), but I also think that when they are young --and she was young, SOMEBODY should be showing her how to pick a dress that is flattering and makes her look pretty without making her look like she's been shopping in the teen prostitute section of the JCPenneys. 

Find something age appropriate. Save the barely there dresses for your 20's when you're trying to sneak into your first club with a fake ID. C'mon. DON'T ACT LIKE IT WAS JUST ME.

My Dad: Well maybe she's wearing something under her dress...?

Me:  Yes, Daddy. They're called panties.

I'm either a really bad mom or a really creative one

I've been asking The Brat to do her laundry for the last couple of days. She is sooo slooowww.

Day One: She pretends like she didn't hear me say: Hey, your laundry basket is ridiculous. It's time to do your laundry.

Day Two: She sorts her clothes in her room.

Day Three: She's starts washing. Mostly I think it's because she's run out of jeans.

Day Four/Five: She's been working on a project and not getting home until after 9pm.
...

Me: Hey Umm, if you're not going to wash these clothes, put them back in your laundry basket. They just can't be on the floor.

Her: Okay. See Day One.
...

Today/Tonight

I was exhausted. I was supposed to go out, but I didn't because I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. I fell asleep in my den watching the CSI Marathon.

The Brat woke me around 1AM to tell me to go to bed. I go to my room and change into my jammies. And because I have the bladder of a pea, I decide potty, then bed. And on my way to the bathroom, I notice that her clothes are STILL IN THE FLOOR.

Do I get mad, and go off on her? Nope. Because, I have a better idea.

She's in the bathroom... I can hear her washing her hands, so I know I won't have to wait long.

I stand RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE DOOR. I wait for her to crack open the door and say, Didn't I tell you to pick up those clothes?

I wasn't sure she heard me over her screaming though.

But when I came out of the bathroom (where I was trying to laugh quietly because her room is right next to the bathroom), her clothes were in a basket*.


*What? I'm the only person who gets a kick out of scaring a couple of years off of my kid's life? And, there was a bonus: She did what I told her to do. FINALLY. So, I win.