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.

Why She's My Best Friend Part Deux

In addition to her excellent feedback on my writing, Lili has produced a child destined to follow in her fashionista footsteps:



Argyle legwarmers courtesy of Auntie Francine and Uncle Dave (aka Juno's honorary Tutu and Papa). I love that this is her outfit for yoga. Yes, I am wearing the same Old Navy sweats from 2002 but whatever. Juno can be stylish enough for the two of us. Her mommy will see to it.

Why She's My Best Friend

Me: need a tagline for my blog. any ideas?

Lili: I got it - "you can't accuse me of cockblocking"

Me: I love you.

Lili: or... "your ass looks fat in those pants"

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.

Does Your Mother Know?

I fancy myself a badass, but we all know I'm a Nice Girl. Proof? I'm rated PG, bitches.

Wait, wouldn't "bitches" kick me up into PG-13 territory? One can only dream.

Lessons Learned

Maybe next time I go out for drinks and dinner with my boss and our construction management teams (ie my mom and her co-workers) I won't say or do any of the following:

-ask any of the guys if he has his period (or call him a "pussy") if he sticks to beer

-pretend to fellate an empty tequila bottle for photos

-describe my plan to enchant the bouncer with my wit and charm, but tell the intern she may need to switch to plan B: "Bewitch Him with Your Ta-Tas"

-tell the waitress to keep my whiskey sours "light on the sweet-n-sour"

-do the "Peter Fawzi" dance: pantomime licking my hand and then spanking an imaginary ass at the dinner table

So with me off to an excellent start a few of us headed to the Mother Hips show so I could wish the birthday boy well. The show was fun but it has become increasingly obvious that I cannot handle roughly 98% of my fellow humans. I understand you're trying to drunkenly maneuver your way through the crowd, but please don't put your sweaty hand on me.

Then the cab driver and I had a cool talk about sustainability and bringing some small changes into your home. He's going to start replacing his regular lightbulbs with CFL's. Good to know I can function after five whiskey sours and two beers. Made me feel like Big Tom Callahan.

Because Apparently I Live in an Episode of 30 Rock

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