So, school vacation came and went and Big Brother, Little Brother and I managed to get through it unscathed. We all still seem to like each other and no one lost any limbs. In fact, I’m pretty sure Big Brother gained a limb in the form of a Wii remote that may or may not be permanently attached to his right hand.
Charlie Sheen is driving the crazy train and I just can’t disembark. Give me more. Oh, give me more, you nut bag, you. I’m eating it up with a spoon. I’m taping the TODAY show and searching YouTube videos like a crack addict looking for her next fix. And who knew Piers Morgan had a talk show? I had no idea. That is, until Cosmic Charlie hopped on and spewed his nonsense for a solid 60 minutes. Woot woot!
Speaking of inappropriate…I miss Howard Stern. I do. Back when he was on “real” radio and before I had kids with functioning brains, I listened regularly. Sure, he could be crass and completely un-PC but he was also brave and hilarious and (usually) harmless. But, since he left terrestrial radio for satellite, I haven’t heard him in ages. Then, Husband got a company car with Sirius and now (assuming the kids aren’t with me) I switch to it anytime I drive that car. All the regular characters are still there, they can just speak more freely now without the constant BEEP of censorship. But, it’s weird because I always (always!) switch the radio station before I hop out of the car. I don’t know why, really, because Husband knows I listen. It’s kind of like farting, I guess. I mean, I fart. You all fart. We all know you fart. But, you probably don’t want someone to have to think about the fact that you just farted. You know?
Apologies to Howard who probably wouldn’t like being compared to a fart.
When I was a young woman living in Beacon Hill, a guy I’d been dating for a long time left my apartment one morning to discover there was a bum sleeping in the entryway of my building. The bum was asleep in the area between the first unlocked door to the building (where the mailboxes all were) and the locked door to the actual apartments. I’m sure he would have just stepped over the drunken sloth and headed on his way (unconcerned for my safety…’course), were it not for the fact that the bum was large and blocking the outward swinging door. So, the boyfriend couldn’t get out. Not being loud enough (or brave enough?) to actually wake the bum himself, he returned to my apartment and called the police to have them come and get the bum out. From my end, this is how the conversation went:
Hello, I’d like to report a bum in my girlfriends apartment building.
Yes. In the foyer. Oh…ok.
(to me: they’re transferring me)
Wait, What? Did you say?
No! No! A BUM! I said a BUM!
I don’t need the bomb squad! There’s a BUM in her building! Not a bomb!
So, turns out that, aside from the money we saved, it was a great idea all around to go on vacation a few weeks before the kids school vacation. We stayed with friends on Marco Island for a few days then stayed at South Seas Resort on Captiva for a few days. We loved the resort and have been talking about going back next year. But, a friend of mine went during school break and (GET THIS!)
when they went to stake out their chairs at the pool, some officious young fellow approached them to inform them of the peak-weeks policy where pool chairs can be occupied for one hour maximum. Then, you gotta get up. What?! We would have gone ballistic. Husband would have really gone ballistic. Have you ever heard of something like that before?
How long do you think we can continue to pull them out of school for vacation without it being a big deal? Second grade? Third? Let me know.
I get seasick. I believe Port is a beverage, heeling is something my dog won’t do and a head is something that sits atop my neck. But, I just signed Big Brother up for a 3-week sailing camp. Hmmm. When in Rome, my friends, when in Rome.
Charlie Sheen’s on.