I was writing a blog post in my head this morning as I was making lunch and breakfast and smiling wanly at the dog who was looking up at me with expectant eyes like “You WILL drop something on the floor for me to eat, right? ‘Cause that’s the only damn reason for me to be seated at your feet. That and I feel the inexplicable need to bite your ankles every time you step away from me.” Yeah. The post was pretty good. The only problem is I can’t remember it. I didn’t have a pen and paper nor the inclination to run for one at that moment, so the post is long gone into the chasm of my memory…there must be so much shit in there that the filing system is completely fucked up. Seriously, files marked “Shit I Need” are obviously misplaced and gone into the dark abyss of never- never land. The cabinet marked “Garbage That No Other Human on The Face of the Earth Needs or Wants to Know” seems to be correlated by date, time and the place they last washed their feet. Those files are easily accessible and ready at a moment’s notice. Especially after several glasses of wine and someone proclaiming a trivia game would be awesome right about now. Fucked. Up.
So this morning’s blog post is lying somewhere between “Shit I Should Know But Don’t” and “The Most Awesome Facts About Boats”.
This weekend had me spinning wildly between a fun filled DH night with the ladies where it was demanded that I “be funny. You’re not being funny. Get her more wine” and D2’s grad. I’m assuming by the previous DH statements, I wasn’t living up to my “you’re the fucking entertainment” part of my contract. Maybe I should stop sending out my witty emails in my feeble attempts at humor and pithy attention. It’s a well-known fact I suffer from Raj-syndrome. I speak very little but hand me alcohol and I become a sarcastic wino who slings comebacks and insults with mega sardonic phrasing. I hadn’t realized there were expectations around my verbal nonsense. That’s a lot of pressure. I need a drink…and some new material.
Speaking of drunkards, while at D2’s meet and greet portion of her graduation, Hubby and I were entertained by a sufficiently inebriated man who insisted on detailing a story about golfing in the United States. The story involved an over- ended golf cart and wayward golfers. There was a few racial slurs and sexist innuendos all making that much more awesome for the eavesdroppers surrounding us. He was going on and on about how only Baymen were the best workers and “I wouldn’t hire a townie to save me life”. Onlookers were appalled. Especially a lady who was all decked out in diamonds and an evening gown. She was particularly insulted. I was thrilled by her horrified expression and feeble attempts to move out of the way. There was nowhere to go. So Larry, tell me more! We were happily obliging Larry for the next story. Where the fuck were you last night when I was coming up short for stories for the ladies? Hire Larry. He’s available and we could pay him in Lamb’s. I’ll be sure to invite the evening- gown lady…we probably aren’t going to be invited to any more meet and greets, anyways. She’s probably on the Regatta Committee…and is disgusted by food fights…and doesn’t think possessing something as awesome as this is ‘appropriate’ for a mother of my stature. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! A dog that sticks it’s tongue out at you on demand is unworthy of attention??!! If that’s the way you feel, I don’t want to go to your meet and greets. I don’t want to have dinner with you and your fancy dress. I don’t want to be in on the secret club meetings at the boat house…okay, yeah I do, but I can let that go if you can’t see how adorable that doggie is!! Or her tongue! It’s like she’s giving you the finger only she doesn’t have any fingers so she’s just using her tongue instead. It’s all incredibly remarkable and awe-inspiring.
This post actually took me two days to write since I was looking for the perfect pic to go with it. This may be a sad statement to make, but I have over 100 pictures of my dog on my phone. 100!!! I wonder how my kids feel about that…hmmm…I should be getting my Mother of the Year Award in the mail any day now! My kids have come to the joyful realization that the dog takes precedence.
Kid That Lives In My House: “Oh, mom did you remember to pick up my dress?”
Me: “No, but I got the cutest little hair bows for the dog!”
KTLIMH: “You forgot to pick me up after my practice…again.”
Me: “Sorry, I was out back playing with the dog. You wouldn’t want me to neglect her would you?”
KTLIMH:” THERE’S NO HOT WATER!!”
Me: “Sorry…I had to give the dog a bath and mini-spa day. She needed to look pretty…she was getting all tangley and mangy looking. AND, you wouldn’t want her to be rejected by the other doggies in the ‘hood, would you?! She’s got a rep to uphold”
Me: Yeah. Get used to it kid….