China Town Bus

Yesterday I got home from the grocery store only to discover that Francois Philippe had a friend over.  This meant he, Justin, Dustin, and the friend were running around the basement my quarters, screaming, hitting, and shooting each other with various projectile objects.  The Skydiver asked me to come over immediately after I'd fallen victim to the Nerf gun.  Of course I said YES, PLEASE, HOW SOON CAN I COME OVER? LIKE NOW? GREAT!!!!

But this evening, while enjoyably awkward (as only The Skydiver can do), left me woefully unprepared for the FABULOUS duo of guests arriving today: My Gay Husband and La Henna.  You might remember La Henna from this post.  And you might remember My Gay Husband as pretty much every other sentence I write involves him in some way.  In true La Henna fashion, she called me this morning AS she was boarding the China Town bus from Boston to DC.  

Have you ever ridden the China Town bus?  I have.  This bus systems runs all over the Northeast.  Boston, DC, Philly, Baltimore, New York, etc.  The picks ups and drop offs are all in the China Town districts of each of these cities.  This means that you have to just walk around China Town and hope you're in the right place at the right time.  You'll see a throng of non-Asians, usually indicating a fast-encroaching pick up.  Thirty minutes later, a bus will back into an alley and everyone will rush forward.  The first time I rode from DC to Philly, it was packed.  People were standing in the aisles and, if memory serves, there was a chicken involved somewhere along the line.  When you reach your destination, the bus just stops in another alley and tells everyone to get off.  

Needless to say, it's the only way I travel.  And it's perfectly suited for La Henna, who is the definition of sketchy.  She never has a phone, so she'll just call you one day (like today) from a pay phone somewhere, telling you she'll be there in 10 hours.  

In other news, Dash and Trixie are currently pretending to eat baby angels.  I swear I don't know where they got an idea like that.  

Chrimah

I thought all the bloggers would be taking a break over Christmas, but it seems the holidays have only made everyone more prolific so now I'm feeling intense pressure to get caught up (the story of my life!).  I feel ashamed when I don't blog for long periods of time and I end up avoiding my blogger dashboard and blogs like Cat's and Catherinette's.  I pulled this same sort of shiz in college. If I fell behind in my classes, I would avoid that class (and professor) like the plague.  

N-E-Wayzzz I'm back in class today.

Did you know that all five Chirrens Garcia have been home since Monday?  I was initially excited; I had all these idyllic Christmas plans up my proverbial sleeves.  And then, well, there was reality, ready to donkey punch me in the teeth.  

One day les bebes and I went to a fancy (read: free) movie day at the library.  They were showing The Muppets Christmas Carol, one of my personal favorites.  As you might expect, we were the raggediest bunch there.  First of all, I had all five Chirrens plus one of Dustin and Justin's raucous friends.  Second of all, the movie started at 2pm, and they shut the doors and don't let anyone interrupt once it starts!  

This meant I had to feed the six of them and then politely recommend that the friend's dad come pick him up after lunch.  Then I had to rush out to Coco's office to drop off Francois Philippe and the twins so Bobby Habibi could take them to the shooting range (yep).  Ok, so it's 1:30pm at this point and we're doing good.  OH NO!  We don't have any snacks and this event is strictly BYOSnaxxx.  So we dash into the grocery store near Coco's office and I tell them to grab something Christmassy - they get 2ft tall Christmas tree cookies (they tasted good though, I can't lie).  We also grab a bottle of Sprite, which I would never ever allow under normal circumstances because I'm a bitch good nanny.  

1:40pm.  We're doing good.  We get in the car.  NO GAS.  1:50pm.  I'm literally biting my tongue, I think.  1:58pm. Dash and I are holding hands while I've got Trixie turned sideways on my hip like a football, sprinting through the library parking lot.  WE MAKE IT!!!!!!!  

Inside the movie room, other kids are lounging on their monogrammed fleecies and coordinated throw pillows.  My kids are sprawled out on my purple Wal-Mart coat.  As if this isn't bad enough, I can feel all the other parents judging me for the Sprite (it was diet, sheesh).  My kids are totally oblivious to these condescending stares and are having fun passing it back and forth like a frothy mug of beer.  ... and then Dash spilled it on the movie room carpet.  It was one of those things that happens in slow motion too.  

Honestly though, I wrote about this solely because I recognize it is a humorous string of events with which lots of people will be able to empathize.  But my day was far from ruined - I could not have had a better time with les bebes.  We love pretending we have a deadline and screaming at red lights "We're not gonna make itttttt!!!!!!!!!"  Like they wouldn't let me in?  Puh-leeze.  And I couldn't care less what those granola soccer moms think about my sprite and sugar cookies.  My kids were the cutest, funniest kids in the movie room and we ended the film with a dog pile tickle fight.  

So there.  Our team never loses.  

Awwww

I have so many things to write about today, but until I get them all finished (because I'm totally the type to write 40 incomplete posts instead of one complete), here's a picture of my nephew.  I look at this about 30 times an hour.  I mean this picture really has it all.  Sleepy smile, baby tie-dye, and protruding belly.  Oh wait, I guess you could say I've got all those things too.  I never realized how unbelievably cute I am!!  They should put me on calendars!!!

Blegh

It's 2:30am and I just threw up.  Blegh.  Why is this blog-worthy?  Let me start at the beginning.

Coco, Coco's mother (who is just as fabulous, if you can imagine), and I went to a party at our friend Andrea Louise's house tonight.  As promised, there was plenty of Jack Daniels & Diet Coke.  After the three of us were eventually kicked out, I honestly think I passed out in the nanny-mobile, sprawled out over Dash's booster seat.  I remember summoning everything within me and briefly perking up when Coco's mother says something like, "You have to catch a fox with a cage."  

"Wait, what??  How do you even know that??"        ... but then I was out again before I heard any story.  I'm sure it involved a fox, a cage, and a subsequent stole though.  

So flash forward to 2am.  I know I'm going to vomit, it's just a matter of when at this point.  When we got home a few hours earlier, I was able to at least partially get into pj's.  What this means is that my boots, dress, and bra are off, but my spanx and tights are still around my calves.  I peel those off and I'm down to just an oversized tee-shirt and my underpants.  Which is totally acceptable for pajamas ... if you're staying in your room, which I'm not.  

It is quickly apparent to me that I am not going to be able to just grip my pillows tight and get through this from the comfort of my bed.  So first I lay on my bathroom floor for awhile.  Then I get one of Trixie's small person chairs and just sit in front of my commode, waiting for the magic to happen.  I remember thinking this was a much less shameful position than head actually in commode, hands desperately gripping the sides.  My first foray out of the basement my quarters is sprinting upstairs to get a glass of water and a trash bag.  But all that sprinting makes me sicker so then I have to lie down in the guest bathroom upstairs.  

Now, on a typical night I would probably rest assured that I'm going to be roaming the house, hoping to vomit, in relative privacy.  However, I know that tonight Bobby Habibi is getting home from a recent oil-excavating trip so he is potentially a problem.  

But I get through this excursion Bobby-free, so now I'm just laying in my bed with the trash bag tied to my side table.  This comes in handy after about 20 more minutes of me crying and moaning "Maaammmmmaaaaa....." (even if my mother is 1000 miles out of earshot, it makes me feel better).  I finally puke.  

And here's where it gets really good.  Since I've done the deed in a garbage sack, I have to get rid of it immediately as I obviously can't let it sit anywhere.  But since Monday is garbage day, our big garbage cans are not in the garage, but out by the street already.  

After several minutes deliberation, I head outside in my snow boots, underwear, tee shirt and giant purple wal-mart coat.  Picture it. 

Happy Monday, y'all.  

**Incidentally, today's use of the word commode is in honor of my mother, who I believe is one of the last people on earth to use such terminology.  

Where The Fuck Is Her Nanny?

Can I just say that this is why my job is recession-proof??  You know what Trixie and Dash learned today?  This Little Light of Mine, not how to commodify their infant bodies.  Do I sound uptight?  I'm not.  I can admit this is cute.  But when you have kids (moms, back me up) you are gripped by this daily fear that every action, every word, every look, will have a profound effect on your child.  If I give in and let him eat that cookie, will I establish a pattern of disobedience and unhealthy eating habits??  If I don't give him that cookie will he be a lower middle class factory worker because he confuses following the rules with not thinking for himself??  I'm serious, sometimes I am paralyzed with such concerns. 

Anyway, enjoy watching a kid you're not responsible for. 

Birthdays are for Peoples

Happy Birthday to Cat!!!

I have a really hard time figuring out how old people are because I always think of people as falling into three age groups: too young to smoke weed, able to smoke weed, and too old to smoke weed (I know, I know, you're never too old to smoke weed - that's why they have vaporizers). I also call these: kids, the-category-I'm-in, and adults.  Numerically, these translate as: under 20, 20-60, 60+.  But there's a lot of leniency in all of those categories.  It all depends on the person.  

For example, my number one favorite person that has ever or will ever walk the face of this earth is my Uncle Ted (who is not my uncle at all, incidentally).  He's only 52, but I put him in the adult category (which the one just above the category I'm in) because he's more a role model/savior than a drinking buddy.  

And then there's my second favorite person that has ever or will ever walk the face of this earth, My Older Man Friend, who is 42.  Or 43?  But he falls into the-category-I'm-in.  And while I'm actually closer to age to Francois Philippe than I am to Coco, FP is definitely a kid while Coco and I are still in the same category.  

Anyway, happy birthday to my oldest (but still not old, thanks to Botox good genes) sister and my cyber sister Cat.  

Today's Legit To-Do List

We gots to get surious about this to-do shiz, y'all!!!! 

My to-do lists are mostly things I would do anyway such as sleep and eat and put on lotion so as to avoid being called ashy by all my friends Dora.  

However, today I have legitimate shiz that needs to get done!!  Today's legit to-do list:

Clean my room (yeah, the one I was supposed to clean last week)

Clean my bathroom

Collect urine for the next 24 hours (I ain't no perv - see yesterday's post)

Finish Christmas cards

Become a Virginia resident

Send my family's Christmas box to Mississippi (tears for my Holiday absence)

Lose 60 pounds

To further add to the frenetics (I think I made that word up.  In my head, it means frantic-ness), I have to get all this done by 10:30pm, my newly self-imposed bedtime.  I should add that to my to-do list too.  

**and yes, today's use of legit was in honor of my new best friend (don't be jealous, Dora, My Gay Husband, CoCo and Chocolate), The Other Maggie Garcia**