Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Auntie Em? Auntie Em is that you?

 I feel like I am crawling out from under a house blown over by a tornado.  Kind of like when the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz dies and they all come peeking out and the black and white turns to Technicolor.  Yeah, that is how I feel, though it is not a tornado that hit us, oh no my friends…it was another kind of storm.  A sh*t storm.  Literally and figuratively a sh*t storm.
My day was going along according to plan.  I switched my schedule to work early so I would be available to volunteer for a PTA event.  I was kicking this day’s ass.  Work/life balance? Check.  Helping out in my community? Check.  I was the mom that had it all.  Until I didn’t.  I was working the ticket booth/snack stand at the school event when it happened.  That one lonely foreboding drip of sweat trickling ever so slowly down the center of my back.  My jaw clenches and saliva begins building in my tightening throat.
Oh God no!  Please God for the love of St. Elmo please just let me be hot!  Oh, by the way you are more than welcome for that ear worm…”I can see the new horizon underneath the blazin' sky…I'll be where the eagle's flying higher and higher…Gonna be your man in motion, all I need is a pair of wheels..Take me where my future's lyin', St. Elmo's fire”.  But it wasn’t just the temperature of the room.  It was far more sinister.  I was hit by the stomach bug.  Crap!  I was stuck there for another hour.  I made the best of it, passing out snacks with a forced smile on my face 1.) Because I was grateful for their support of the school …2.) Out of fear because if I opened my mouth I could not guarantee an accompaniment of vomit would not also slip out with the word ‘thank you’…and 3).  Because I had a pretty high degree of certainty I was infecting these poor families that came out for a night of fun.   No need to call the CDC, I know where the outbreak started.  I am patient zero.
The event ends.  I drive home as if Anderson Cooper were waiting for me with a cup of coffee and some snarky gossip.  I run straight to the bathroom and begin to purge.  I was throwing things up I ate days ago.  It would not stop.  I was throwing things up from next week I haven’t even eaten yet.  I have no idea where it was coming from.  I somehow made it to the couch and there I stayed for a good 7 minutes until another round hit.  This cycle continued for 8 hours…then the fun really started, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself just yet.  In the meantime Chuck got bitten by this nasty, nasty bug.  I swear with all the money that goes into these exotic diseases like Zika, why the hell can’t they through a couple of pennies to finding a flippin cure for the stomach bug?  So now the 2 of us are down for the count.  It is the middle of the night so the kids are sleeping; thank the walking up right Gods for that little blessing.  So two of us with one toilet… our 2nd bathroom is in the middle of being redone.  Two adults.  1 toilet.  You do the math.  The stomach bug which has now progressed from vomiting to include the soupy poopy.  You know the saying “sh*t or get off the pot”.  Truer words have never been spoken. 
I was so dehydrated from throwing and going I was having leg/foot cramps.  My bones ached.  The body aches were far worse than the other stuff.  At one point I had to go to the bathroom so bad, at this point the 2 of us were p*ssing water out of our asses, but the leg cramps were so bad I contemplated just sh*tting on the couch and just torch the place when the dust settled.  I mean at this point there was so much methane built up in our house it was not a far stretch of the imagination.  I mean it could happen.  I was waiting for the windows to blow out.  We were one good fart away from disaster.  Oh and speaking of passing gas, that was a tenuous situation at best.  You couldn’t trust the little buggas.  You try to release just a tiny bit of pressure, but you give your ass an inch, it takes a mile….you think you are good with a small release of pressure but it comes out like a flippin’ balloon you just didn’t tie in time.  You know in all those cheesy teen movies when the child actors way overact a scene and their crazy experiment backfires and when the dust settles they are standing there covered in soot and their hair is standing straight up?  Yeah?  It was like that. 
There were noises heard and things seen that my husband and I cannot un-see or un-hear.  I think if you are thinking of marrying someone it should be mandatory you survive a stomach bug together.  Forget the Pre-Cana classes.  The true test is seeing if you can walk in on your spouse mid-sh*t while they are puking and reload the toilet paper.  If you can survive that there is NOTHING you can’t survive.  Now, in an effort to save my marriage I will not be commenting on the Man Flu.  But, if the weather had been a little nicer and the windows open during this plaque upon our house, our poor neighbors would have thought we were porn addicts.  The moaning coming from our house was enough to put Larry Flint to shame.  Anyone with a husband knows EXACTLY what I mean!!
So as the new day dawns and our GI tracts are starting to stabilize I realize at some point I will need to clean that bathroom.  Our poor, poor bathroom… We asked A LOT of it in the previous 24 hours.  I was trying to put a plan in place.  I am going to need a Haz-Mat suit.  But, for reasons I don’t completely understand myself I know for a fact our local medical supply store does NOT carry Haz-Mat suits.  OK, so I could go to Dick’s Sporting Goods and get some of those rubber waders fly fishermen use and a raincoat.  I then remember the last time I went there.  Remember that debacle?  I got stuck in a sports bra for an uncomfortable length of time while Anna stood laughing at me.  See reminds me of that every time we drive by.  I could go to Home Depot and get a respirator at least.  There is a brand new Dollar Tree right next door, I could grab one of those pincher graspers that helps vertically challenged people reach things.  I know I am short, but I am thinking of getting them for my T-Rex arms.  If I try cleaning out that toilet my stubby little arms will be shoulder deep in the vomit/sh*t stew that I am sure if festering in there.  Oh, as a side note, I was at Dollar Tree the other day…as I am most days and they had a help wanted sign-up.  I really wanted to take an application.  I can fake a smile as good as the rest, I know where EVERY ass-aching item is in there and just think, with an employee discount it could very well be 75 cent Tree for me!  A win-win for everyone.  But I digress…I did think of hiring someone specifically to clean just our bathroom.  Unfortunately, that is not in the budget.  It is a tiny bathroom but even if I paid someone 10 million dollars it would not nearly be enough, plus they would need to sign a non-disclosure payment and that runs into all sorts of legal fees.  All while I was contemplating how to make the bathroom safe for humans to enter it again…Chuck comes out and tells me he bleached it down.  Now that, that my friends is true love.  I want to give a special shout out to my mother in law for taking our children overnight.  She saved their lives.  It really was like the Lord of the Flies…they had donuts and candy for breakfast, they were watching God knows what on You Tube and Emily had her white trash uniform on consisting only of a diaper and sticky hair.  And to my fellow PTA moms and anyone I may have come in contact with that night.  I am truly sorry.  If you do come down with this vicious stomach bug all I can say is Godspeed my friends.  Godspeed.

Saturday, March 5, 2016

The cat was nice to me, I must be dying!

So our cat Lucy is very stand-offish.  She is a black cat, about 9 years old (we have had her for about 4 years) and keeps to herself.  She looks like a panther and kind of acts like one too.  She creeps around and all of the sudden she is just there staring at matter where you are, she is there. Staring.  I have never heard her purr or seek out affection.  She isn't a bad cat, just aloof.  Well, today I was sitting on the floor reading with Emily.  Lucy came over and starting rubbing up against me.  I started patting her, she started to purr.  She let me pat her for about 10 minutes, even let me get in some belly rubs!  Now most cat owners would see this as a break through. She finally trusts us.  Not me, my immediate thought was; I am dying from some dreaded disease and the cat has a 6th sense about it.  I have read several articles about cats in nursing homes, they go hang out with a resident right before they die.  If Lucy really is a soothsayer just know I had good run.

So I got to thinking, huh, Erin, that is kind of weird.  Why do I automatically go to the worst case scenario?  Why can't I just enjoy the moment and pat the flippin cat?  Since I have ruminating thoughts and can't stay focused, I gave up pondering such a deep, philosophical question and started thinking about other idiosyncratic things I do, that upon reflection may not be a societal "norm" shall we say.  Here are a few examples;

* I love surveys!  All kinds but I especially love the phone surveys I get.  I answered one years ago and now I get a few a month.  I don't like them for the reason you think or, if you really know me you probably know why I love them.  It is not that I think my opinion is more valuable than anyone else, or  that these people really want to know my thoughts on pollution, dryer sheets, political candidates, etc.  I love getting the calls because I love to f*ck with them!  If I get a call about dryer sheets I might tell them I am a nudist and don't wear clothes, therefore I don't need dryer sheets.  Or, for instance, I just got a political call yesterday and I totally messed with the girl about her candidates record, by the end she didn't know if I were talking about the economy or health care.  I know it is their job and they are just trying to make a living, but, I am very lonely out here.  It has sort of become a sport for me.  Oh, and if I am really busy I just put Emily on the phone with them.  That kid never stops talking!!!

* Here is a weird thing I do, not sure anyone knows this about me.  Not sure why I do this, it makes no sense but every time I cook with a bouillon cube I am compelled to eat a tiny bit of it before I use it.  Just a speck, not enough that I need to chew or anything, I don't like the taste of is just something I HAVE to do.  I am sure if I read the latest version of the DSM-V there is some rare syndrome that makes someone have to eat boullion.  Oh, just an FYI, if I am cooking for anyone other than myself I cut a tiny piece off with a knife.  No need to avoid dinner a dinner party at my house! 

*Oh, that reminds me of another strange thing I do.  When I am daydreaming in the car or wherever, I plan dinner parties in my head.  Not ones that could ever actually happen, but just ones I think would be fun.  The other day I planned one with me, Anderson Cooper of course, he is ALWAYS invited, Andy Cohen is on the list too.  If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times...if I met them in real life we would be besties!!  OK, so back to the dinner party, I would invite Kim and Kanye, not because I like them at all....but so I could tell them they are huge douche bags!   Plus, when AC squared get a little liquored up I am sure their cattiness will start to come out and they will back me up.  OK, so that makes 5 of us.  My party is for 8.  I would invite Chuck, but he wouldn't want to come so that leaves me 3 more guests.  Donald Trump would be on the list, again, not because I like him just because the invitation would read, No spray tan, no comb-overs and no toupes.  My house, my rules!  I would invite Joe Santagato.  Every time I hear him speak I laugh.  He would totally break down the dinner party!  If you have not heard him before look him up on YouTube, you are in for a treat!  Lastly, I would invite my friend Shannon.  She moved to the south a while ago.  I would tell you where, but for the life of me I can never remember the God forsaken place she lives; could be Alabama, Arkansas or regular Kansas...not sure why one is pronounced Kansas and the other is Ark-in-saw.  It should be regular Kansas and Ar-Kansas.  Anyway, she gets me.  She would understand why the guests were invited, why I have an out-out shirt on, and why hosting a dinner party with this crew would seem utterly random yet make perfect sense and we would laugh for hours while planning the next gathering.  

*Oh, there was another odd thing I used to do, but as I get older I have given up the practice.  I would NEVER, EVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE sleep with my back towards the door... and I would be all covered up with only a small blow hole in the blanket to breathe from and peek half an eye ball out of.  Why, you ask?  DUH!  So murderers wouldn't get me....obviously!!  For some insane reason my thought process was, if I were covered up the murderer wouldn't notice me.  They would be like, "oh, that human shaped lump in the bed must just be the covers...there's no head on it...nothing to see here" and move on to the next house.  Always facing towards the door insured me of at least seeing who my killer was before getting slayed, plus if my back were to them I couldn't possibly hear them coming.  Finally at age 43 I realized though just a lowly murderer, they probably have the whole sleeping under the covers thing figured out and are probably on to the fact that if there is a human shaped lump on a bed, it is a safe bet there is a human underneath the covers.  I have thrown years of caution to the wind and I have been sleeping facing away from the door and if I am hot, covers be damned, I am throwing those blankets off!  So, if you do see a post about me being murdered in my sleep you can rest easy knowing I didn't see it coming and I was not overheated at the moment of my demise.

*Another odd superstition about being murdered in my home stems from an episode of Criminal Minds.  Someone was taking a shower, when she slid the shower curtain open when finished, there was a creepy guy standing right there waiting for her.  Since that day forward, I always shower with the curtain end closest to the door open a good foot, foot and a half.  Yeah, it makes a mess but you know what?  Again, if someone comes in to kill me at least it won't be a surprise!  For the record, I have long since stopped watching Criminal Minds...way too scary for someone as neurotic as I am. 

*Here is something I bet none of my faithful readers do; every night before climbing into bed I check under my pillows making sure it is free and clear of snakes.  Several years back I was watching something on Animal Planet, maybe When Animals Attack, anyway, I guy was sleeping and put his hand under his pillow and was bitten by a snake!  Yeah, I know he lived in someplace where deadly snakes were commonplace and yeah, he had one of those rich people houses with open air rooms so the odds were stacked against him.  But, you NEVER KNOW!!!  One of my littles could leave a door open and I don't have much faith in Mary Alice protecting us, the cats are afraid of their own shadows so they are useless.  Even though it is a very small likelihood of a snake finding its way under my pillow I must protect myself!  Chuck, I know you probably don't know about this nightly ritual but I am putting you on blast, if you take this as an invitation to play a joke on me DON'T!  It will not be funny and it will be grounds for divorce!  I will print a set of divorce papers from Legal Zoom faster than you can say, "Robert Shapiro" fact, the guy who defended OJ is the founder of Legal Zoom.  OK, so maybe I won't print them off that fast seeing that I can't figure out how to print anything off of our computer, but, don't for one second think I am above having you print off your own divorce papers, hand them to me so then I can in turn throw them in your face!  Oh, and don't even think of having one of the girls do your dirty work.  I would divorce you AND make sure you have full custody of the girls!! 

* One time I went to use the bathroom at someone's house, someone who shall remain nameless to protect their privacy...anyway, when I got into the bathroom there was a floater in the toilet.  I could not believe it!  This person sh*ts?!!  No effing way!!  So I was in a quandary, what do I do?  Do I flush the toilet first and then pee?  Or do I just pee on their leftover turd?  If I flushed first then I would have to flush again and they would think I have some weird GI issues, which if you a frequent reader of my blog you know I do.  But, the thought of adding to their excrement just grossed me out beyond belief.  I ended up doing the latter so I didn't have to double flush.  But, my friends, I digress.  The moral of this story is I always wait post flush to make sure I never, ever leave a floater!  Chuck is my adoring husband, the man I chose to spend my life with, the father of my children, but God forbid he ever seen actual evidence of my daily sit-down.  This man has seen it all with me; pulled rancid bandages out of my abdominal cavity, seen my uterus sitting on top of my stomach, watched me pluck my eyebrows, he even checked to make sure the second coming of Christ was not slipping out of my ass while I was pregnant, that it was in fact, only a hemorrhoid.  But he will never, ever have proof that I poop!

So now that you have had a little glimpse into my neurotic mind lets recap;

1. Sometimes cats are just nice, it is rare, but it can need to automatically start planning the music for your funeral.

2.  Don't put much stock in ads or political polls claiming, "if the election were held today, 87% of registered voters polled would support  --blank--"  It could just be me having some fun at the expense of our country's future.

3.  It is safe to eat soups I make for a large group, but you may not want to sneak a taste of one I made just for myself.

4.  You may or may not have been invited to a dinner party in my head.  If you have been, lucky you!!  They are always a good time AND since the Silver Fox is invited to every, single one you didn't just have the pleasure of my company, you got to meet the Coop!!!

5.  F*ck it!  Sleep facing away from the door with as little blanket coverage as you want.  If you are going to get murdered might as well be comfortable.

6.  Put an extra towel down outside of your shower.  It may just save your life!

7.  Snakes are everywhere!  Check twice--Save a Life!

8.  Always, always check the toilet!  Floaters happen way more than people think.  Leave no evidence! 

I am sure some of you had a laugh at my expense, that is fine.  But, keep in mind 94% of my readers will take on at lease one of my neurotic tendencies. I know, I just filled out a survey about it.  I am going to go out on a limb here and predict it will be to never, ever leave a floater behind!  You are welcome my friends!