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    Snakes in the Drain

    August 22, 2006

    We have issues at our house regarding the drain in the tub.  There.  I can say it.  Now that the rat bastard who SAID he would buy our house if he could sell his house figured out that selling a house isn’t very easy now, is it, and requested a do-over.  So all those problems that we have been covering with a little paint here and a little turning off the faucets there can now be discussed in the open.  Because the house is never going to sell and I am going to have to live in this little shoebox for the rest of my friggin’ life with Mr. I’m Just Checking The Prices of MRE’s And Not Really Buying Them and his Mini Me and God only knows what is going to come out of this belly when it is all said and done.  But alas, I digress.

    I spent my last $6.89 on the brand new Liquid Plumber super action Clog Remover guaranteed to take your clog and send it shooting out of your drain and onto the cafe table of a romantical couple dining out in Paris.  The trip to Paris to see said spectacle is not included in the price and unfortunately just left to your imagination.  I imagine that my romantical couple is about to get engaged but the clog ruins their whole evening and they break up. 

    My husband sent me out for just Drano but I could not say “no” to Madison Avenue.  To do so would be disrespectful and downright un-American.  I mean, what if this new product was the end-all, be-all?  We’ve poured 37 gallons of Drano down the tub drain and still my hair continues to fight the fight.  Well, my hair and all the rest of the hair that has gone down the drain for the last 53 years.  How’s that for nostalgia?

    Yeah, the crap didn’t work.  They have a money back guarantee but then they don’t tell you HOW to get your money back.  Shocking, I know.

    Then we tried to snake the drain.  You are thinking, “which one of you tried to snake the drain?”  That would be all of us.  All three of us in the tub.  The Boy contributed by trying to do exactly every thing his father did.  Which, thank you Jesus, his father thought was sweet. 

    “I can see I’m going to have a little helper on my projects from now on.”

    I’m thinking:  “For GOD’S SAKE, get the HELL out of the drain.  HELLO, NOT HELPING HERE.”  But I didn’t say it.  I just let the male bonding drip on and on until they both realized that nothing short of hiring someone was going to fix this clog and they left. 

    Then I started.  I poured a quarter bottle of Super Dooper Mega Wega Drano “only use as directed and NEVER in conjunction with another cleaner” right down that drain.  Please.  Then I plunged it.  Afterward…

    K:  Can you plunge Drano?
    D:  NO.
    K:  What, hypothetically, would happen if you plunged Drano?
    D:  Besides splashing up in your eyes and permanently blinding you, it could render it ineffective because it is actually keeping it from the clog.
    K:  Ok, just wondering.
    D:  Did you plunge the Drano?
    K:  Don’t worry, I still have my eyesight.  But you might not want to brush your teeth upstairs.
    D:  Did you pour the Drano in the sink?
    K:  No, but we’re having a little chemical reaction here.  It’s not the fire that they predicted but it’s smelling a little toxic in here right now.  I’m just making a suggestion.  You can brush if you want to.
    D:  So what are you doing brushing up there now?
    K:  I was already committed when the toxic smell began.

    We’ll never know what did the trick but I have to say that it’s draining a lot better.  Personally I think it was the trifecta.

    (if you have stumbled upon this blog looking for the campy “Snakes in a Drain video” you are in the wrong place.  I anticipated that google may send you here and tried to provide a link, but then I ended up with spyware on my computer that said it would help me find porn.  I wasn’t looking for porn and it’s not very hard to find anyway, but I figured that others might not want it.  So I guess you are going to have to just back out to Google.  Good luck with that).

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    Oh the sacrifices we make for the children

    June 22, 2006

    Today, after 3 (count them one, two, THREE) days of whining that finally resulted in The Boy handing me his shoes and pointing at the door at 10:30 this morning, I decided to STEP AWAY FROM THE LAPTOP!  SLOWLY, SSSSLLLOOOOWWWWLY. 

    I’m not exactly sure where he thought we should be going as he continues to use grunting as his major source of communication with a “THIS” thrown in occasionally to keep me off balance.  So I took him to the local Alice in Wonderland playground in the ritzy mall across town.  I figured he could climb around on all the ‘shrooms and I could attempt conversation with all the nannies.  OK, I really thought that he could get busy and I could pull the laptop out very sneakily and finish my DAMN WEBSITE THAT IS DUE TOMORROW NIGHT FOR CLASS.  

    I don’t know what surprises me more.  The fact that I am ever hopeful or the fact that I am an idiot.  

    But I digress.

    He fell asleep 3 minutes before we got to the mall.  Oh, I don’t think so, Mister Mister.  I’m in a time crunch and can’t PAY YOU TO TAKE A NAP SO I CAN GET ANYTHING DONE and you go and fall asleep?  Not happening.  I then made him walk all the way to the playground, which was about 3 miles from our parking spot.

    And what did our wondering eyes observe?  800,000 kids in a 200 sq ft playing area.  It was like Fight Club for 2 and 3 year olds, mixed with the London Plague of 1665.  What jackass takes a 16 month old to the playground in the mall, during his naptime, the day after PRESCHOOL ENDS FOR THE YEAR!!!!!  The nannies seemed unconcerned but the Porsche Cayenne driving mothers seemed totally freaked out that they were going to be stuck with these monsters for the next 3 months.  I’m guessing the nanny count will be higher next week. 

    So some kid comes running up to The Boy and goes to push him over.  Just push him.  The Boy’s’s not in the way, he’s not giving rolly-polly, clearly in the 95% for weight, evil kid the look.  The Boy’s just standing there in shock like a nun at a strip joint.  You can see it going through that pea brain of his…how is this happening???  I jumped up to run interference and came to the realization that I was not going to be able to sucker punch little Ian without his mother catching me.  “Be nice and don’t push” said I.  “you little demon spawn” I thought. 

    The Boy remained plastered to my leg when he wasn’t crawling up it in sheer terror trying to get away from the two boys that were clearly OVER the maximum height and were trying to decapitate one another.  I can see that these kids are going to need a couple of miles on the treadmill before playtime.  And I’ve got a momma’s boy.  Oh well.  What are you gonna do? 

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    Maybe he didn’t like the way I made his eggs that morning

    June 7, 2006

    D:  You need to watch The Boy now.  He can reach the counter.


    Yeah, whatever.


    So I’m on the phone in the living room the other day and suddenly I feel like I am being stabbed.  Because I was.


    There was The Boy.  Stabbing me in the leg with a paring knife.  And giggling.  Thank God it was a cheap-ass IKEA knife.  I sure am eating my words now about all those times I complained that the damn thing couldn’t cut a slice of Wonder Bread. 

    D:  So where did he get you?
    K:  Disturbingly, his rapid motions were aimed at my femoral artery.  If he had been successful, it would have taken a tourniquet and I probably would have bled out anyway by the time we got to the hospital.  And he isn’t even remotely remorseful.  I’m his mother who adores him.  And what do I get?  A stabbing? 
    D:  A future felon? 

    I waited for it…………………………………………………

    D:  I told you he could reach the counter.

    Yes you did. 

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