Sake It To Me

At some point I will post while NOT under the influence but for now y'all are gonna have to indulge CKD.

There's an upside to having a super-chatty stepdad: he makes friends with EVERYBODY. Seriously. The mailman. The recycling guys. The dean of his department. And most importantly: restaurant owners.

We are favorites at the local sushi place, which means Rock Star status at their special VIP events. Tonight we took part in a special invitation only sake tasting event which capped off what is now known as a Rough Week for Our Family. The sake was to die for, the food was delicious and the laughter was constant. I really, truly enjoy the company of my family and only wish more people had that experience. Yes, they make me crazy sometimes, but they also make me laugh so hard I can't breathe and THAT IS A SERIOUS COMPLIMENT.

Want some proof? Here is a sample of our conversations and drunken non sequiturs. Bet you can't guess who said what.

"I like bold flavored meats."

"I tend to download a lot of porn on my work computer."

"Pour me a glass of sake and let's watch something on the telly!"

"Let's drink this and watch Godzilla!"

"Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto."

"Isn't this what Iron Chef drinks? If it's good enough for him, it's good enough for me."

"And we can use the bottles as Molotov cocktails if there's a riot."

Thank God I don't have to be at work tomorrow. I can almost feel the hangover now.

I love them so much and want to squeeze their faces!

The Cabbage Patch Doll Incident

It's Crazy CKD Thursday kids. Today we move away from the food neuroses and into my generally pissy attitude that was in serious need of adjustment.

Enter Dave.

Let it be known that now, in 2008, neither one of us can recall the actual catalyst that set his plan into motion. I assume it's because I was being a little bitch and needed to be taught a lesson, but it could just be that he was bored that day.

When Dave first moved in with us he was working as our apartment complex manager, which was a pretty sweet gig. Excellent break on rent, and he was home during the day with me when school was out. The only drawback? He was home during the day with me when school was out. He grew up in a LOUD family of five boys and while generally comfortable around kids, wasn't really sure what to do with this overly sensitive, awkward, ridiculous little girl. So our days were spent alternately playing (swimming, playing basketball) and bickering (who drank the last of the milk? who ate the last cookie?) which must have been exhausting for the poor dude. Apparently no one gave him the memo that in addition to never getting involved in a land war in Asia, you don't engage in the craziness of a child.

One day I must have done something particularly annoying, like called my mom at work to report that Dave made me a sandwich with tomatoes, and since I was allergic he was clearly trying to kill me. From here on, the details are a bit fuzzy, but there was much stomping and pouting on my part. I went back to my room and there she was.

My Cabbage Patch Doll was hanging from my curtain rod, my bathrobe sash used as a noose. I started shrieking and Dave appeared behind me and quitely said, "She was depressed. You couldn't have known. Don't blame yourself."

Clearly I was pretty flipped out. I knew this was Dave's handiwork and more than anything I was annoyed he had touched my stuff. Only child issues? Yes, right here.

Neither one of us is really sure what this was supposed to accomplish, other than showcase Dave's sick sense of humor. And maybe pass some of that down to me, which he did. Well-played, Dave.

And the Yogurt Hits Keep on Comin'...

There has been a request for another Crazy Little CKD Loses Her Mind Over Something Stupid and this one is also food-related. In fact, it's another story of Dave messing with my yogurt.

When the yogurt supply got low, I would go into a bit of a panic. See, I had some issues with food and control and being crazy. You know how it goes.

Anyway, I knew I was down to one yogurt and went about my little OCD morning routine. I reached for my snack, calling out to my mom and Dave that it was time for a trip to the store before my head exploded or whatever.

I open up the yogurt and my not-fully-awake-brain doesn't quite grasp what is in the container at first. Because it sure as hell isn't yogurt.

It's a KOOSH BALL. Remember those? Well, I had one and apparently someone who shall remain Dave thought it would be funny to scoop out my yogurt, replace it with a Koosh Ball (so I wouldn't be able to tell at first that the container was empty) AND a post-it note with a picture of a clown on it. Why a clown? Because they are fucking horrifying, that's why.

For those of you keeping score at home, Dave is 30-ish at this point in his life, and I am but a wee, high-strung girl of maybe 9 or 10. And HE is the one pulling this crap. I think you know how the story goes: much shrieking, stomping, yelling for my mother to DO SOMETHING before Dave relented and revealed he had simply scooped out the yogurt and it was ready to eat. But of course I freaked out again because it wasn't IN THE PROPER CONTAINER and I was convinced he had tampered with it.

Next week...Cabbage Patch dolls are caught in the crossfire in a battle of wills.

This is What Hundreds of Thousands of Dollars Worth of Private School Educations Gets You

After Kevin the Crazy Plumber left today:

Dave: "Does it smell in here? Like chemicals or something?"
Me: "Yeah, Kevin probably used something to fix the sink. Like CAULK. Hey, it smells like CAULK in here!"
Dave *giggling*: "Huh huh I smell some CAULK! Has someone been LAYING PIPE?"
Me *trying not to fall over laughing* "Wow, decades of excellent educations and all we can do is yell 'CAULK' back and forth."

*Calls Mom at work to give her an update*

Me: "Kevin just left. That guy is a trip."
Mom: "Yeah, he is."
Me: "Anyway, it smells like CAULK..." *laughs uncontrollably*
Mom: "You're retarded. What's for dinner?"

The End.

Because Apparently I Live in an Episode of 30 Rock

From Dave this morning: "Whatever...all white people look the same to me."

The Great Yogurt Incident of 1988

Last week I wrote about my bizarre OCD tendencies and generally uptight nature as a child. My dear friend and fellow blogger Cece requested the Yogurt Story as another illustration of how nutburgers I was. Cheaper than therapy, right?

This story is really proof Dave's patience and good influence in my life, although at the time I thought it was child abuse.

As mentioned last week, I was partial to (read: completely obsessed with) one specific type of yogurt: Dannon Fruit-at-the-Bottom Mixed Berry. No other flavor (say an individual berry, as opposed to the mixed) was acceptable. As you can imagine, grocery shopping and menu planning was an absolute joy for my parents what with me being so easy-going. Really, they should get some sort of prize for not putting me up for adoption when I was 9.

I'm not entirely sure how it came about, but I think at some point Dave ate one of "my" yogurts and when I pitched a fit, he suggested I eat another one, or find some other snack. So what did I do? Retire to my room and pout. Sure, of course.

Fast forward to a week or so later, the yogurt supply has been replenished, along with other flavors since my parents are not freaks and eat more than two things. I head to the refigerator for the yogurt portion of my breakfast, grab one, open the lid, and begin stirring. Stirring was essential because the fruit was at the bottom (hence the name) and I needed an even distribution of berries. (Has the OCD thing become obvious enough at this point? Because it really should.)

As I'm stirring I notice that the color of what should be the berries is NOT RIGHT and begin freaking out, thinking it's a bad batch or spoiled or something gross. But then I smell it and it's...apple. This is where tiny CKD loses her mind and her tone of voice could only be described as HYSTERICAL AND CURRENTLY DYING.

"THIS IS NOT MY YOGURT!!!! WHEEEERRREEEE IS MYYYYY YOGUUUUURT???" I begin wailing as Dave laughs hysterically on the couch. It's apparent to me that he is evil and must be thrown out immediately. Never mind that this is the man who taught me to swim and watches "Pee-Wee's Playhouse" with me every Saturday. I am despondent and want him arrested.

My mom is trying to get ready for work and I burst into the bathroom where she is drying her hair. I remember this clearly because she didn't even need to turn off the hair dryer to hear me shrieking. She finally turns it off, tells me to calm down, and comes into the living room to ask Dave what happened. He explains the innocent prank: he thought it would be funny to switch the yogurts out. Why? Oh, because his stepdaughter is clearly out of her mind and needs to snap out of it. Also, he grew up in a family of five boys; pranks were part of daily life. No big deal. My explanation? Because he is Satan and clearly was trying to give me a heart attack or get me to starve to death.

My mom tells me to grab another yogurt and continue getting ready for school. But can I let it go? Oh no no no no NO! I proceed to sulk, and open EVERY SINGLE YOGURT AND INSPECT THEM to make sure this won't happen again. In retrospect, I think my mom probably stayed late at work just to avoid us.

At some point I started eating other foods and laughing and even playing my own pranks. But at that moment? High drama.

Grocery Shopping Made Fun

Conversations with Dave in and around Trader Joe's today:

While in line to check out, referencing a woman in another line:

Dave: "Her face bugs me. Why is that?"
Me: "She has 'bitch face.' You can just tell she's a bitch. Kind of like guys with 'date rape' face."
Dave: "You're right. It's total 'bitch face.' That, and 'skank face.' I don't like her."

While looking at some dry skin on his arm:

Dave: "Look at this. Is this cancer?"
Me: "Hey, remember how I'm not an oncologist?"
Dave: "Oh, yeah. Maybe it's just my bug bite healing."

And, SCENE!

Viva Las Vegas! Oh, and Mom and Dave, too.

Today is Mom and Dave's 6th wedding anniversary. After 18 years of togetherness and a two week engagement (during which time I circulated pregnancy rumors) we jetted off to Vegas with a handful of friends for the world's most low-key wedding. Why make it official after so long? Tax breaks, people. My parents are nothing if not practical. And they kind of like each other too.

I convinced my mom at the last minute to get some flowers, just because it felt like we were running an errand and we needed to girl it up a bit. Dave's good friends Kurt and Mike showed up as a surprise, which was great fun. I'm glad they made it not only because they are cool guys, but because Mike hooked us up with a poolside cabana at the Four Seasons. Princess Christen could stand to roll like that all the time.

The weekend was not without a bit of drama: someone who shall remain me managed to faint in the airport en route to Vegas...and was denied the ability to board a flight for the rest of the day. After riding in an ambulance with the most attractive paramedic I have ever seen in real life, I was deemed dehydrated, given an IV and released. Still made it to Vegas in time for the wedding and acted as the official witness for the big event. Way to rally!

Here's a tip for all of you: when you call your mom from an emergency room the day before her wedding to tell her you lost consciousness and hit your head, expect a little bit of freaking out.

I'm not sure what the official anniversary gift is for six years so I am gifting my parents with my unconditional love and an Interweb shout-out. Go Team!

This is the Dave I Know

While watching Family Guy tonight:

"So, what was the deal with Knight Rider? Was he a cop or just a guy with a talking car?"

Why I Love Dave 2: Electric Boogaloo

He always lets me have the Datebook/Style section of the paper first.

He held my hand while I cried during the flight home and acted like it was totally normal and not at all horrifying. Which it was.

He made hot dogs and potato salad so we could have picnic food even though the fires have made a picnic impossible for now.

He opened up the wine after I managed to get the corkscrew stuck.

Everyone needs a Dave.

Why I Love My Stepdad Dave

Me: "We should get a phone for Scout. Or a walkie-talkie so she can alert us to trouble!"

Dave: "Yeah, but I'd have to teach her it's for emergencies only."

Pause...

Dave: "I don't want her to prank call me or goof off."

Me: "You realize we're talking about a dog and I'm joking."

Dave: "Yes. But still..."

And SCENE!