This post may have alternative titles of “Why Is That Vodka Bottle Empty?” or “I Am Too Old For This” or “What Coming Down Off a Two Week Bender Looks Like.”

K: OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG EXCLAMATIONPOINTEXCLAMATIONPOINTEXCLAMATIONPOINT
D: WHAAAAT?

I want you to know that This Man Knows Drama, if only because he is married to me. He knows it. He also knows a messy house, a ScreamerAtChildren, a LaundryFolderButNotPutAwayerMakingCleanClothesRelativelyUselessBecauseYouCan’tFindThem and BlockerOfAllRoomsButPilingJunkInFrontOfTheDoor. In case you are feeling sorry for him, he also has a WifeWhoWearsAThongEveryday and says silly things like, “Our new year’s resolution should be to have sex every single day for a year and I’ll bet you’ll forget all those bad things I do that make you crazy. But let’s make it something doable like 330 days in a year so the second we mess up, I’m not all, ‘Well, we blew that so, no, you can’t touch my boobs ever again.” Or all of that could make you feel more sorry for him. I don’t know.

K: So remember when I brought the spinach artichoke dip into you yesterday and told you I left it out all night even though you told me to put all the food away since you cleaned up and I asked if you thought it was okay and you said it was okay?
D: Yes.
K: And then I told Laurie that it was totally fine because I make it with sour cream and not mayo so it really couldn’t go bad and she was all peer-pressured/gracious and said “okay?” But then I gave it to you and Laurie and I waited 20 minutes and you seemed fine so we ate it?
D: Yes.
K: Do you remember where the spinach artichoke dip was when I left it out?
D: I don’t know, the side table?
K: The side table. The one close to the floor.
D: You think, the dog?
K: I was lying in bed last night thinking about it and then I remembered that it was odd that the spinach artichoke dip was kinda SMOOTH in the bowl. OMGOMGOMGOMG. At this point I could totally pretend that it wasn’t kinda smooth in the bowl instead of all clumpy like it normally is when you eat out of it with a chip but that would be a total lie.
D: I don’t think he ate it.
K: If you even start going there with “a dog’s mouth is cleaner than a person’s mouth” I swear to God I will beat you right now in front of your children.
D: I won’t say that because I don’t believe it. A dog’s mouth is nasty.
K: She was our GUEST. I mean, I got her to come to VIRGINIA for NYE. And then I gave her Dog Spinach Artichoke Dip for lunch. I should have just stuck with the BLT on homemade bread.
D: But I don’t think he ate any of it because if he had, he would have finished it.
K: Maybe you are right.
D: He would have finished it. Trust me. It was that good.

And then we could discuss that after the SAD Incident Of New Years 2010, we made the beer and it was kinda light and we realized at 10:39 pm in bed that we forgot to GRIND THE GRAIN. Nice. It’s Betty Ford for both of us. And Laurie, I’m sure he’s right and the dog didn’t get into the spinach artichoke dip.

So we put the baby in his own room and for 5 glorious nights, he slept through the night. If, by sleeping through the night, you mean waking up at 5:17 every morning. Trouble is, his brothers then got up in his stead. I slept Christmas night for 8 1/2 glorious hours but the last two nights? Not so much. I’m not as behind the “Cry It Out” torture method as a common side effect is “Waking Another More Annoying Child Up.” Thus, I find myself jumping up to stop the crying. Last night there was no solution. I didn’t get much sleep.

E: Mom. Mom. MOM!!!
K: (grrrr)
E: Mom. Mase woke up.
K: I heard him.
E: Mom, he was crying so I got him out of bed.
K: Where is he?
E: Mom, he was hungry so I took him downstairs and gave him some animal crackers.
K: Huh?
E: (sigh) Don’t worry, Mom. I took care of it. Are you getting up soon?
K: Mason got up at 3:23 and wouldn’t go back to sleep. I finally fell asleep when Dad left.
E: He didn’t wake me, Mom. I slept PERFECTLY!
K: Glad to hear it. Does Nate have milk?
E: MOM. I took CARE OF IT.
K: Where the baby?
E: HERE (picking him up from the floor by my bed)
K: What are you doing?
E: I’m carrying the baby.
K: But you are carrying him upside down.
Mason: EEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
E: He likes it, Mom.
K: I know he does, but it’s not right.
E: Momomomom. I’m taking care of it!

Yes, you are.

We are just going to pretend that last three months of silence never happened, shall we?

OK, so I made this costume for K2 as part of my job and partly because my children watch Dinosaur Train incessantly. Whatever.

The problem is, once I did this, I thought I could do anything. Like I’m the reincarnation of Coco Chanel or something. As Halloween is creeping up on us, I called The Husband with the bad news.

K: I want to make The Closer a Halloween outfit.
D: (Sigh)
K: I’m serious. Don’t be all “sigh-y” on me.
D: What are you going to make him?
K: I don’t know. I was thinking a Pea in a Pod but all those costume patterns suck and just because I made one costume doesn’t mean I need to be all “I can whip up something better” right now. I should take it slow.
D: So….
K: How about a lamb? I found one on Martha Stewart. I expected to find 60 steps. Like when I tried to make that Martha Stewart Mile High Lemon Meringue Pie and I think she wanted you to grind your own wheat for the pie crust or something. So I was thinking her instructions would be something like that for the costume. You know, to include weaving your own fabric….
D: Do the instructions call for going out and sheering two sheep to weave your fabric? Or would that be gathering the wool from two sheep by simply using a comb?
K: That’s awesome. Wouldn’t that be awesome? I would totally do it.
D: So what is it?
K: It’s not that bad. It is only like 5 steps.

I started to tell him and he did that Phone Glazed Over voice and I just hung up on him. Too bad he didn’t stick around for the part where I was gonna tell him the baby has to wear girl tights.

That’ll teach him.

K: Hey.
D: (ignoring me as he pours the beer into the glass)
K: Hey, hey, HEY!!!
D: (with three-quarters of the beer poured in the glass and finally tilting the bottle back) What?
K: Don’t WHAAAT me.
D: (attempting his most innocent face) Did you want some of this? (pointing to his beer bottle)
K: Yes. As a matter of fact, I DID want some of the last beer.
D: Oh, I’m sorry. Here (handing me the bottle).
K: No, THANK YOU (opening up the fridge). Oh, look. There’s one more beer hidden in here. I’ll just have this last EYE PEE A instead.
D: WHOA!!! Don’t be drinking the IPA. You know that’s my favorite. You drink this (motioning to his Pale Ale).
K: Screw you, Mr. Selfish. That’s what happens when you are SELLL-FISH!!!
D: I’m sorry?
K: You are only sorry because I’m drinking a better beer than the one you opened.

I drank the whole thing. And some of his when he wasn’t looking.

Come back tomorrow to find out what I’m giving away. I know, tomorrow? Seriously. I’m back on my best behavior. There will be posts. All week. I’m giving stuff away. I have motivation.

Do you remember that moment you became Cranky Old Person? I don’t remember the exact moment, but I can tell you it wasn’t that long ago. My husband? I think it may have happened around the same time. Just last night.

K: Dude, you know what would be so much fun?
D: (looking panicked) No.

What’s with the panic? Is my evil mind so transparent?

K: I would love to stand at the end of the driveway holding a hairdryer pointed at the neighbors driving at 700 mph past the house.

I would like to take a moment to discuss the driving situation in my neighborhood. It started with the neighbor kid insisting on driving in reverse at 30 miles per hour down the road. I’m good at throwing my kids into the ditch when someone comes hauling down the road but that means I have to be on my A-game all the time. And it’s quite the drama in the homeowner’s association.

Yes, we are in an HOA because our road is a private road. Which means we have a dead end and the county has turned it’s back upon us and it’s not as glamorous as it sounds. If I had the money, I would pay for the road paving and plowing myself and burn the HOA monthly minutes in effigy. No, wait. I already do that with the HOA minutes. But the HOA is for the roads, not telling you what color berries you are allowed to grow in your backyard and summarily dismissing the raising of chickens. All I’m gonna say is power corrupts. But back to being old and cranky.

D: You know….you can buy one of those radar guns they use for baseball. That way you wouldn’t have to hold a hairdryer.
K: But a real radar gun isn’t as funny as holding up a hairdryer. Now that is funny. Do you think it would slow anyone down?
D: No.
K: Do you think I’m a hypocrite since I’ve broken more speeding laws in exactly every state I have graced with my presence (47)?
D: Yes.
K: Does that mean I shouldn’t do it?
D: I didn’t say that. Where’s the Flip Video player?

Next stop. Slamming the door on Girl Scouts and writing mean letters to the Post Office about my relief carrier who refuses to pick up my stamped packages even when I remember to put the little flag up on my mailbox.

Did you RSVP to the party?

There’s gonna be a party.  Friday night at Blogher.  There’s room for Everyone.  All the info is over here.

If you can’t come, I expect to see you at the Virtual Party on Facebook and Twitter.  If only because you could win a brand new netbook.  You don’t even need to have a cocktail or chocolate.

You need a netbook, right?