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    Cultural diversity or pee?

    May 26, 2005

    I would really like to blog about my conversation with my BRAND NEW
    FRIEND that I met at Big Ray’s funeral today, but he was a bit stodgy
    about the whole blogging thing and practically made me swear that I
    would not mention him or any likeness of him that may be discovered by
    some random person in some random area of the world that will be
    brought up to him in conversation at a later date. For a person in a
    profession that requires a “look at me, look at me” attitude, I think I
    might even find that remotely refreshing.

    I could also blog
    about the ants in my mother’s house because they are worthy of their
    own story/recognition. Right now I have the minutest ant running up and
    down my arm. I can feel him but he is too fast and I have wasted too
    much energy slapping skin unproductively.

    I could blog about the
    little incident on the playground when an unidentified family member
    was so excited about being on the mile-high slide that he/she failed to
    go to the bathroom and just pooped in his/her pants. And then went down
    the slide, which led to an epic mess. After a long (and might I say
    VERY drawn out saga), the underwear ended up in the trash can. In case
    anyone is wondering, it was not me….

    So I guess I’ll settle for
    last night’s drama. To set the story up properly, the Boo Boo Kitty,
    after a miserable time last week of
    the Boo is living La Vida Loca because he is at Marmie’s house this
    week. Marm doesn’t have a crib and Mom decided she wasn’t going to lug
    one more thing on the plane, like a crib, so now he gets to sleep
    directly against Mom, like a Boo sandwich, all night long, GDI. In
    Mom’s bed from high school. Which sags toward the middle precariously
    for anyone in it since it is like 20 years old.

    All was right with the world.

    3 am last night. When I awakened soaking wet in a pool of only God
    knows what. Oh my God, did I wet the bed? I don’t think I have wet the
    bed in around 30 years. I think. Anyway, I think Derek could verify
    that I haven’t wet the bed in the last year and a half, at least.

    I am soaked and there is so much damn pee that it had to have been me.
    Except that I have to go to the bathroom really bad. Wouldn’t I feel
    relief if I had already peed? I looked at the baby. He’s only 14 lbs.
    Could he have peed that much? I mean, really. There was so much pee
    that he would have had to, like, pee forever to wet this bed this good.

    This probably wouldn’t have happened if I had just listened to
    my mother and used the bigger diapers she bought instead of being my
    cheap-ass, unemployed self, determined to use up every damn diaper I
    have, since I only have to buy around 6,000 more before this kid stops
    peeing on me.

    If my BRAND NEW FRIEND, whom shall remain
    nameless, has found this blog, I hope he is thinking that our
    conversation today regarding American culture would have been a much
    more appropriate read than this and that he knows that this is all his

    OK, not true. I would have written about the pee anyway. It was a life-altering experience.

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    1 Comment »

    1. boevikitut says:

      Write more often

      April 8th, 2011 at 5:49 pm

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