Listen Lady Jr.
Cardin said “Lady” today.
The future is near.
Now if I can just get her to say “Listen Lady”….
Twenty Eleven or Two Thousand Eleven?
I have a few resolutions this year. In no particular order, they are:
-Read more books
-Obtain a midget who will become my personal assistant
-Blog more
-Learn Karate and earn the nickname “Crazy Ninja”
I’m going to bank on only 50% of these resolutions actually being achieved. Hey…low expectations, low disappointment come December 31. Besides, I’m done with college; I don’t need to overachieve now.
So far, 2011 has started out with a BANG. Three days in and I’ve already been put on antibiotics. And it’s not for the rash in my no-no place; though that is looking skeptical these days. The antibiotics are for a gum infection. You see, after Christmas I had this brilliant idea to go on a movie date with my husband. No having to tip toe through the living room littered in toys, no rampaging toddler, no cleaning of puke. A few hours for just the two of us.
We typically go to the movies NEVER and on the rare occasion we do go we fork over the ridiculous amount of money for popped air. Bad decision. A couple days later I noticed that my tooth was starting to hurt and I thought perhaps I might have jabbed it too hard with my violent tooth brushing skills. A couple days after that and I noticed that my gum was starting to swell. I chalked it up to some serious inflammation. A couple days after that, I touched the gum and it exploded with blood and yellow pus. FAIL.
Giving in to defeat, I went to the dentist ON MY DAY OFF and experienced the worst pain of my life; and I’ve given birth internet. I had a piece of the celebratory popcorn shell stuck under my gum and it had caused an infection.
The dentist, or as I will refer to him thus forward, the torturer, started by giving me two shots of Novocain right into the gum tissue. Torturer claimed I would feel a little pinch. You sit on a thrown of lies! Listen Lady, let’s stick that needle into your wee-wee and see if it’s just a little pinch. Once I was sufficiently novocained up, or so I thought, torturer started with his pointy little pick like tool to get rid of the popcorn shell. Funny thing about Novocain though…. it doesn’t completely numb all feeling. I know this as the pick like tool was the origin of so much pain that it was causing me to clench the chair handles so tightly that my entire body was levitating. No joke. It was like one of those magic tricks where they lay the assistant on a board and then remove it and the person levitates in mid-air. That was me, all magicians assistant in the dentist chair.
Once the popcorn shell had been removed and torturer had flushed the open area with salt water (yummy), he needed to cauterize the area to stop the bleeding. Just to note, you can feel burning flesh even when you have two shots of Novocain.
I left in sufficiently more pain then when I started. Except now half my face was numb so I looked like a talking stroke victim. Happy New Year from the Listen Lady Crew.
Communal Living
I had to work from home one morning and in order to distract Cardin from wanting to touch my laptop every 5 seconds; I hauled out her crate of stuffed animals. The larger animals got set up around a blanket for a tea party. Awww…that’s cute, right? I have such a little girl who is going to dress in fluffy pink dresses. HA. You’re all fooled. Once she had finished giving her prisoners tea and they were fully satiated and felt comfortable, she trampled each and every one of them like King Kong on his way to retrieve his leading lady. Only scattered pieces of the tea set and blooded animals were left.
Once she had killed the elders she went for the young. All the small stuffed animals were sent to the plastic death chamber. I like to refer to it as communal living or perhaps massive prison overcrowding. Listen Lady, all I know is that I would not want to be one of her toys; she is not gentile. Look at that poor, pink quacker down there. Talk about getting shit on.
Like a Virgin
I was playing with my daughter this weekend and she was feeding me all sorts of pre-fabricated, plastic food. Grapes, pizza, hotdogs, ice cream. Instead of gaining 400 pounds of plastic weight I decided to setup some of her dolls and let them increase their thigh size for awhile.
And then this happened…….
It got me thinking. Cardin’s synapses aren’t fully formed yet, so psychologically she’ll never be able to remember the first two years of her life and all the times I got dressed in front of her. Plus, let’s be realistic lady, I gave birth to her and breastfed her…if that wasn’t traumatic then I doubt throwing a shirt on in front of her is going to do any more damage. Listen Lady it’s times like this, when ice cream cones get turned into boobies that make me wonder if I’m damaging my daughters psyche.
I guess I should be thankful she didn’t take the two small cherries and put them in the baby’s crotch.
The Ant Trilogy- Part III
Internet, in the last episode of this daytime soap opera that I call my life, we were frantically making phone calls to exterminators in hopes of getting rid of the crunchy insects that were dwelling all over my kitchen. Initially when I found the little buggers, my husband and I thought they were fire ants (fiesta time) and a good ol’ search on Wikipedia informed me that fire ants are deadly to felines. Excellent, cause we need another wrench in this entire trilogy.
So….in between making phone calls to exterminators, I called my mother and asked if she would mind picking up our very curious toddler who wanted to roll around with the ants like a pig in the mud and our cat, Ninja, who could potentially die if he suddenly got jumped by a rogue group of fire ants. Probably rebellious teenage ones, with crowbars and face paint. I digress. Luckily my mother was not busy and agreed to come over and pick up these little packages of mischief.
BUT WAIT….it gets better. I was about to put Ninja into his travel carrier when my husband suggested that we give him a bath. WTF MATE, DO YOU HAVE IT OUT FOR ME? A cat in water? I have a better idea, let’s cut the tips of my fingers off and call it a day. I’ll even let you nickname me stubs from now on. His reasoning was this; my parents also have a cat and what if one of the fire ants decided to be like a pirate stowaway on Ninja and grab on to his fur for dear life, travel to my parent’s house, and build a brand new colony there. DEVIOUS. My husband often tells me I have a wild imagination, but he concocted this story himself.
We ended up giving Ninja a bath. Then he looked like a rat, but he was fire ant free. My mom picked up both animals and we continued on our search for an exterminator. We finally came to the conclusion that nobody was coming to help us resolve the ants for that day and made an appointment for Monday afternoon. For the next two days I stood guard with my hand vac and would suck up any dastardly ant I saw.
My husband had setup the appointment with the exterminator and had discussed the methods that he was going to use to get rid of the ants so I really wasn’t aware until after the fact and Whoa. Originally my philosophy was “I don’t care if you need to use an atom bomb, get rid of them” but that was sorta based on emotion. I think the exterminator sort of took that literally and ran. When we described the ant infestation to him, what the ants were after, how small they were, and showed him pictures, he immediately informed us they were not in fact fire ants, but instead pharaoh ants; commonly called sugar ants also and they are harmless. GOOD F’IN THING I GAVE THE CAT A BATH.
When I got home from work on Monday I arrived to papers that described what the exterminator had used. Listen Lady, you could kind of call it overkill. On the inside he put down a pesticide gel in the corners and cracks and then he put down peanut butter scented bait traps all over the house. On the outside he put down a granular pesticide all over the base of the foundation and he then sprayed another pesticide two feet up on the house.
Don’t get me wrong, we certainly got a lot for the price, but remember the police academy movies, where all the cadets used revolvers and then Tackleberry pulls out like an AK-47 and mows everyone down? That’s sort of how I felt about this exterminator. One of the pesticides the guy put down is so strong that he had to give us a paper that we have to keep in case the State Health Department were to come to our House so we could prove that we didn’t trade one of Brett’s kidneys on the black market for it.
The good news is that we haven’t seen a single ant in our house since this weekend. I think my “atom bomb” reference made an impact. So if anyone needs a reference for an exterminator, I know a good one.