Texts With Daughter

Texts with D2 as I wait to pick her up from rowing practice:

Me: Here

D2: —–

Me: Kinda no place to park so…

D2: —–

Me: You should maybe rush a little.

D2: ——-

Me: Still here

D2: ——

Me: Nice Police man drove by and I waved.  I think if he comes back he’ll make me move.

D2: ——–

Me:  Your response and caring are overwhelming

D2:  ———

Me: Waiting patiently kind of

D2: ———-

Me: People are mad at me for blocking traffic

D2: ——–

Me: They’re probably calling me mean and nasty names now

D2:—–

Me: Like yucky face and poo-poo head

D2:  ——

Me:  The police man came back

D2:——-

Me:  He’s now yelling at me furiously.  I probably shouldn’t have stuck my tongue out at him.

D2:———-

Me:  I’m now making a scene and he’s giving me a ticket.

D2: ——-

Me:  You’ll have to call your father for a ride home as I’m now in the back of the police car going to RNC headquarters.

D2: ————

Me:  Get bail money ready.

D2:————

Me: I see you’re stunned into silence by my behavior

D2:————–

Me: They let me go since I know *people*

D2:———

Me: Now I’m parked safely facing the lake.  It’s lovely.  So glad you care.

*I watch as D2 exits the boat she’s been in the entire conversation*

Me:  Ignore all my previous texts

D2:——-

Me:  Here

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Adventures in Cyber-Walking

Topping the headlines for today in Kayjai-land, the new telephone books have arrived. Swathed in plastic wrap with the scent of new paper circling the stiff office air and the blinding yellow cover sending peeps searching for their Ray Bans, those volumes of weighted paper overwhelmed the office hens, making them high on the fumes.  They couldn’t wait to ink in the new front pages with forgotten phone numbers that went out of date with the ark.   Yes, out with the old, in with the new…books of wonder and awesome that lay abandoned and neglected, their information outdated by the time it goes to print and no one with neither the time nor inclination to look up shit.  That’s all online now, peeps. 

In other awesome headlines, Kayjai and kin shall be making the most epic of epically awesome trips to New York City this summer.  Lock your doors kids, Kayjai will be in town!  I have spent hours on Google street-view cyber-walking the streets in search of some semblance of direction.

"Stand in the place where you live, now face North..." North?! Where the fuck is North?!

“Stand in the place where you live, now face North…” North?! Where the fuck is North?!

 I have none. 

Getting lost has never looked so appealing!  Every way my yellow street-man turns, I find a new building to ogle over and yet another food-cart.  I should weigh close to three hundred pounds by the end of this trip.  Yay me!

 Do you know how many tours there are happening in that city?  And the stuff one can see…wow.  I’m abound with glee and wonder.  I’ll probs. get so tired by all the walking and mugging, I’ll land face first into a pitcher of beer at a bar whose name no one can pronounce.  Fucking awesome, I tell ‘ya.

Hubby and son will have to paste posters with ma picture on it saying “have you seen this woman?  If so, approach with caution and hand her a map with a big yellow dot indicating where her hotel is and the dive she is currently sitting at swigging back a few pints.  OR, just hand her a GPS and shove her out the door.  Sort of like ‘blind man’s bluff’ only she’ll be blind-drunk instead of blindfolded.  Then sit back and watch the fun!”  

A GPS would be great since I have trouble reading maps.  It’s all very linear and complicated for me.  At least the GPS lady talks at you.  She’s annoying as shit, but the condescending tone reminds me of someone from home, so it should send me into a homesick-laden lament worthy of all the consummation of beer that had landed me in no-man’s land to begin with. 

As it happens, Bestie and her fam will already be in the city that never sleeps, so we will hook up for some drinky-drinks and a tour…or just drinky-drinks.  You never know what can happen when a bunch of folks from Newfoundland get together in a big crowded city full of other tourists and residents fucking hoping all these tourists would get permanently lost…CONGRATS!  I SHALL BE THAT TOURIST! I’M YOUR FUCKING DREAM COME TRUE, HOMIES! 

You all owe me…

 

 

The Email

The following is an actual email I JUST SENT to all of my DH ladies.  THEY’RE GOING TO BE AFTER ME SOON!!
  Enjoy…

Dear Things,

It is with a heavy heart that I must send you this email.  You have all been trusted and dear friends of mine and I realize this news may come as a shock to you, but I really must impart this most disturbing turn of events.

I don’t want you all to be dismayed by this news or have it shatter your ideal image of me (just go with it), but I feel you all must know the truth.  I have spent the better part of the afternoon rehearsing how I would say this without causing you pain or therapy for your families.  I have agonized how I would word it gently and without undue stress, however there is no easy way. 

I BURNED A BAG OF POPCORN. IT’S NOT JUST BURNT.  IT’S BLACK. TOTALLY INEDIBLE.  FUCKING TOTALLY BLACK. LIKE NOT EVEN REASONABLE.

There.  I’ve said it.  I’ve managed to pick out the white bits, but really it’s the goddamned microwave’s fault! 

THAT’S WHAT THE POPCORN BUTTON IS FOR. 

Seriously, if that button wasn’t there we would have to estimate the cooking time and who among us gives a shit about that? Oh, right.  Nurse Betty.  My bad.

Look it's Nurse Betty waiting for the popcorn!!

Look it’s Nurse Betty waiting for the popcorn!!

But other than Bree-Clone, who would stand at the microwave waiting for the popcorn to pop.  Watching minute after minute, interminable second after second as the popcorn slowly comes to white puffy heaven, only this time it went to black pieces of soot-like filth. I have more important shit to be at, like, HELLOOO, spider solitaire and ma wonderful stu-dents!  Ugh…

Anywho, I thought I would just let you all know this awful news before you heard it from God knows where and the RNC is called and they want all the surveillance tape from the cameras in the building to document what truly went down.

Jeesh, it’s not like I left a burned bag lying carelessly on the side of the road, or anything….

I appreciate your understanding and truly value our friendship.  I hope you all find a way to forgive me and move on from all of this undue tragedy.

Yours in popcorn-popping,

K

Loose Limbs

There was a comment made at DH by Bestie the other night about her knee. She has been running and she suddenly developed this odd bump or ‘growth’ on the side of her right knee.  ( I bet she is soo impressed I’m telling you this right now.  She’ll be all “OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TOLD THE WORLD ABOUT MY KNEE-GROWTH!” And I’ll say “Calm down.  If you wanted to tell the world about half of the crap that seems to eek from my appendages, do you think I’d mind?!  Hell, no I’ve probs told everybody everything anyways, so go with it Sista!”  ‘Cause that’s how we roll)

Anywho, about the growth.  Yeah.  She said she laid off the running to see if it would magically disappear since she can’t risk injury. (it’s still there but on a smaller scale)  She needs to be able to stand up to make a living.  She’s a hairstylist (and not a nude artists’ model like I know all of you were thinking).   And a damned good one, peeps!  (that soooo makes up for my mentioning her knee-growth) 

That statement pretty much got me thinking… I don’t really need all my ‘appendages’ to be able to earn a living at what I do.  In fact, if I was missing a limb or two, it wouldn’t matter.   Not that I’m going to throw my arm into the nearest wood chipper or ‘accidentally’ fall in front of a moving lawn mower, but there is some comfort in knowing if my finger or toe or left hand suddenly detaches from my body, my life is not permanently ruined.  My career is not over.

 Maybe a little uncomfortable, I mean can you imagine trying to maneuver multiple hand puppets with just one hand?  Or trying to toe paint with only 4 toes?  (I’m figuring one toe missing from the dominant painting foot…provided you have two feet.  If not then that really sucks) 

See?  Stuff can be done with missing body parts.  Wait, what? 

I should clarify…one can still operate and function without ALL appendages just fine.  Not that you would do something with someone else’s detached limb like use it to clean the toilet or pick up the dog’s poop or touch somebody on the shoulder when he wasn’t looking and then stroke his cheek in a loving manner only for him to become abruptly aware the hand is kinda ‘manly’ and then he suddenly sees the man-hand as it independently moves around haphazardly and he screams like a little girl who just got her first cell phone.   No…not at all….

So not the hand I had envisioned but it will do in a pinch....

So not the hand I had envisioned but it will do in a pinch….

I noticed a spot on my arm that is different from the gagillion other spots I have on my arm.  It’s a great spot of pink.  So, I decided to Google ‘bright pink spot on my arm.’   Now I know why doctors HATE IT when patients Google shit.

 DON’T GOOGLE SHIT. They should have that sign on their door.  I should probs pay attention to it next time.  Apparently it has to be a certain shade of pink to qualify as ‘right’.  LIKE WHAT, A SALMON COLOR?!!

 

Hypochondriacs must have a hell of a time on Google.  Their doctors must ban Google or tell them to stay away from computers.  How would they be able to remain sane with all of the ‘this causes cancer’ and ‘you will die if you have this’ or ‘death is imminent; get out now while you still can’?    It reminds me of D1 who every time she gets a headache, she has a brain tumor. Or if she has a little pain, it must be a cancerous tumor that is spreading wildly or if she gets a hangnail, she’ll have to amputate her whole hand since gangrene is imminent. 

She’s the nursing student.

 I know.  Four years of hilarity coming ma way! 

And brain tumors…let’s not forget all the brain tumors.