The Birthday Jerk

Yesterday was John's birthday. 36! I can't believe it. FYI John: at 36 my parents were done having kids. Ahem.

Anyway, I think birthdays are SACRED. And by SACRED I mean special. Holy. The ONE DAY A YEAR when it really DOES all revolve around you and you CAN (and should!) get the whipped cream on top. Where people go just a smidge out of their way to acknowledge you but it's enough to make you feel incredibly special and loved and wrapped up in a warm fuzzy blanket of Hallmark and exclamation points. SACRED. Anyone who pointedly tries to make you feel anything less than awesome on your Birthday is a super lame jerk.

So when an acquaintance of John's made a point to address John's birthday to everyone BUT him yesterday, it got under my skin. With the advent of Facebook and social networking, we have no secrets anymore. John chose to hide his birthdate from his Facebook friends, but those of us close to him knew and left him messages anyway. Some of us even wrote whole status updates regarding his birthday! Crazies.

This person that pissed me off yesterday went and left an incredibly inappropriate John's-Birthday-related-comment on MY Facebook page, and when I deleted it, he went and left the same comment on a friend's page (in his words, he meant to leave it on the friend's page all along).

Now, I am hardly a lily-white individual, but I have my limits - and this isn't the first time this guy has crossed the line between funny and just plain crass. Not to mention that for all his obnoxious-comment-leaving, he hadn't once wished John a Happy Birthday. That's right, this guy directed all his "Hey, Happy Birthday, John!" energy into crapping on other people's facebooks.

Well, since I am obviously a justice-for-all type, I called him out on it. His response? "No one told ME that it's John's birthday today. What, I'm just supposed to find out through facebook?" And that John hadn't wished HIM a Happy Birthday back in March so why should he go out of his way to wish John a Happy Birthday?

O
M
G

First of all... I am so, so sorry that neither John or I sent an email to that guy letting him know that it was John's birthday. John doesn't share that info on facebook because it's not a big deal to him. Next, if John didn't wish that guy a Happy Birthday, that's one thing. We all forget birthdays sometimes, especially John who basically never uses facebook for anything other than posting about Healthcare Reform. But if John not only didn't wish him a Happy Birthday but also went out of his way to let others know that he was aware of said birthday, that's ANOTHER THING ALTOGETHER.

It's good to know there are still people out there that are just petty enough to try and draw all the attention to themselves on YOUR special day. Stupid. This guy must have been that 3rd Grader who passed out Birthday Party Invitations at school and made sure to do it in front of kids that weren't invited.

Throughout all this, John told me just to drop it, that he'd had a great day surrounded with friends and family that cared about him and really wasn't offended if that guy wanted to be an @sshole. He is a much bigger person than I.

With all that being said: Happy Birthday (yesterday), John! You are one of the smartest, funniest, most caring people I know. You deserve all the happiness in the world and I love you more than anything. :)

hey.

yo.

I'll be better. It's been a busy summer. And - I've lost track of all my great stories. What the crap is that?!

Maybe this weekend I'll sit down with a Coffee Bender, get a buzz on, and blog. That seems to be the only way I know how to make the ideas flow. Hey, I'm just being honest.

Mmmmm, Coffee Bender. Perfect Fall beer.

Here's a quickie, to tide you over until I get some solid blog fodder:

Last night John & I both worked late and were too tired to do any grocery shopping for dinner, so we ordered take-out from our favorite Indian place (Taste of India - delish!) and headed home to eat, watch the Twins game and collapse. I decided to finish up the rest of a bottle of champagne (leftovers from this weekend... don't I sound like I have such a fab life?) with my dinner - because if you can't celebrate The End Of Monday, what CAN you celebrate?

Now, after drinking said champagne on Saturday night, I thought it would be a brilliant idea to seal it up with a Zyliss bottle stopper. Pause and consider for a few, if you will. Remember this: carbonation.

I definitely forgot the carbonation part, because last night when I flicked up the latch and started to pull the stopper out of the bottle, there was a "sssssssssssssssssssstBOOOOOOOM!" and that puppy sure didn't need any further assistance in removal.

After checking to see if a) I was still alive and b) all my limbs were accounted for, I just kind of stood there, dazed and staring. I was brought back to reality when John shouted across the room at me, "HEY. How did THAT go for you?"

Good one, Ma

My brother's mother-in-law (whom I refer to as "Ma" because, I mean, isn't she?) just made me choke on my water.

When my sister-in-law mentioned on Ma's facebook that she was shocked and incredulous to not have received a panicked phone call from Ma during today's tornadoes, demanding she seek immediate shelter, Ma replied with:

"Hey: It's a new and improved me. I don't give a shit if my kids blow away. And their little dogs too."

Everything Nice

Then there's this one. She really, truly IS sugar & spice & everything nice. She embodies ADORABLE on a daily basis. That definitely comes from her mom's side, although James might argue that one (he called himself BullaBoy for the first few years of his life AND he has dimples).

Babysitting her is like dreaming you're on a bed of clouds surrounded by puppies and kittens and twinkly-eyed grandmas feeding you whipped cream and strawberries.

She is also not 4-and-a-half-year-old twin boys. I'll give them that. She's got it easy.

SweetPea here has gotten extremely vocal and outgoing over the past few months. She says anything and everything and there's a lot of "I HAPPY!" or "There's Alzheimer's!" followed by a finger-point at McCheese.

Point being, the stuff that comes out of her mouth is priceless.

We were all up at the cabin for the 4th of July (we being Watson Fam minus P&N&Owen&Will, who had escaped to Nicole's cabin for the weekend). As we sat around drinking coffee one morning, everyone perfectly content to let Clara run the show while we started our engines, she announced, "PO PO!"

Po Po? (side note: say this as you would when referring to the police... po-po)

"Clara, do you have to go po po?"

"No! PO PO! FLOOR!"

Great. Great! This sends Nurse Jane into a frenzy, collecting paper towels and rug cleaner and deodorizer.

"Did one of the dogs po po on the floor? OUT OF MY WAY, PEOPLE!"

NJ tries and tries to find what Clara's talking about, locates a tiny CAT HAIRBALL, and starts cleaning it up.

"Oh, it's just a hairball [just, mom?]. Pickles must have done it."

"NO! Po Po! OWEN!!! OWEN PO PO ONNA FLOOR!!"

Owen? Owen wasn't even in the room.

"Owen PO PO! Owen do it! Owen po po onna floor!"

I mean, the guy was an hour away. At least. She hadn't seen him in a week. There was no logical explanation for her blaming him, other than maybe she thought someone would blame HER and she'd better shift the attention.

I made her high five me. Because if you can throw your cousin under a bus at age two, I definitely want to be on your good side. Sugar and spice or not.

So. Mean.

I mean, just look at them. Do those look like the faces of evil? Of DON'T EVER TURN YOUR BACK ON ME BECAUSE I'LL POOP IN YOUR SHOES AS SOON AS YOU DO?

No.

In fact, on the outside, they look like the sweetest, purest, most innocent cherubs. Like you'd expect to find them holding harpsichords and shining their halos in a field of white daisies.

It's a trick.

Now, granted, my nephews are not the purest form of evil like some people I know, but - like all Watsons before them - they have their moments.

A few weeks ago I was babysitting their sweet patoots, and after a hard afternoon's running around, followed by ice cream and some more running around, it was time to head inside to get ready for bed and have a little snack of applesauce (I'm super fun like that... applesauce). Owen got right down to the business of applesaucing but Will had to take a quick potty break before he could join him.

Commence fire and brimstone.

After a few minutes, I heard this pleading call from the bathroom:

"Bring me my snack!"

Really?

"Finish your biz, and you can come out here and have it."

WRONG ANSWER, AUNT MOLLY.

"NO!! BRING ME MY SNACK!!!!!"

"No way. No snacks in the potty."

"BRING IT TO MEEEEEE!!! BRING ME MY SNACKKKKKKK!!!"

"Nope. Finish and come in here and eat it with your brother."

The pain. The anguish. WHY WON'T AUNT MOLLY LET ME EAT WHILE I'M ON THE POT?!?!?! IT'S A TOTAL TIME SAVER!!!!

"I'M SO HUNGRYYYYYYY!!! BRING IT TO ME! BRING ME MY SNACK!!"

I abandoned my post in the kitchen and went and stood outside the bathroom door.

"Stop. There will be no eating in the bathroom. ESPECIALLY no eating while you're doing EXACTLY what you're doing right now. When you're done, wash your hands and come eat your snack IN THE KITCHEN."

A pause. I figured maybe he'd just gotten bored and wanted some attention.

Nope.

"Just bring me my SNACK!"

I closed the bathroom door and ignored him all the way back to the kitchen.

"YOU ARE SO MEAN."

Ignore.

"MY MAMA LETS ME EAT IN THE BATHROOM."

Well, that just made me laugh. Because, come on, buddy. Do you know your mom? Have you met her? Have you gotten plowed with her off a variety of mixed drinks on a random Sunday night? I would venture a guess that eating in the bathroom is probably not very high on her list of "These Are Things We Should Do On Any Kind Of A Basis".

Anyway, he finally let loose whatever demon was plaguing him and emerged from the bathroom, red-eyed and exhausted.

"WHERE IS MY SNACK."

I handed him his applesauce.

"My mama isn't gonna be HAPPY with you. She lets me eat my snack in the BATHROOM."

Dammit, Nicole. I'm sorry I didn't let your child eat & poo at the same time. I mean, in his defense, it would definitely be more efficient that way. Live and learn.

Watson Family Vacation

Back in the day, WatsonFam used to take a trip to Sanibel Island every March during Spring Break.

For most of us, it was a welcome chance to escape our regular lives (read: drinking on the beach instead of drinking in the kitchen). For McCheese, it was a welcome chance to pack 31 pieces of luggage and convince the flight attendant not to worry, that all 31 pieces strapped together to equal his one carry-on. See?

It was also a welcome chance for McCheese to show off his frugal (cheap) side and save as much money as he could on airline tickets. Rather than biting the bullet and accepting that airfare from MSP to RSW during March is going to be $REALLYFCKINGEXPENSIVE, McCheese would grumble something about, “Oh, these airlines, they always drop their prices the closer you get to the departure date,” and put off buying tickets. Eventually he’d realize that the prices, they weren’t a-droppin’ and he’d pull out a map of the good ol’ US of A and circle every airport between Florida and Georgia. You know, to compare prices. And then he’d map out the distance from each airport to Sanibel, figure out what make and model of minivan he would rent, determine the cost of gas and the mileage of the minivan, and make his final decision based on Avagadro’s Theorem or something. I mean, the guy had a plan, folks.

Which is why on one such trip we found ourselves arriving in Fort Lauderdale (across the state from Sanibel Island) at around ten on a Friday night. By the time we’d gotten our bags and picked up the rental minivan, it was close to eleven, and we were all tired. McCheese had factored spending the night in Fort Lauderdale into his equation, so we headed out to find the hotel. Blindly. Meaning that when the rental agency rep had asked McCheese if he needed directions, McCheese half-listened, took the guy’s map, and threw it in the back of the minivan saying, “Directions. Directions! As if I hadn’t already thought of that,” and pulled out his OWN already-marked-up map.

Now, McCheese is famous for getting directions wrong. If he ever tries to explain to you a new route up to the cabin, nod your head, tell him you’ll give it a shot, and then NEVER BRING IT UP AGAIN. You’ll inevitably get lost and feed right into his “now they’ll get lost and call me for directions and they’ll NEED ME” plan. And why should it be any different in the state of Florida? After we’d piled into the minivan and driven on the freeway for forty-five minutes, searching for the hotel that the rental agency rep had said was fifteen minutes away, McCheese decided he’d just take a quick look at that other map.

Which was in the back. Of the minivan. Unreachable completely unless you were to pull over to the side of the freeway, get out and go ‘round back and open the rear doors. At midnight. Did I mention we were on the freeway? Did I also mention that the freeway DIDN’T HAVE A SHOULDER? And that if we were to pull over RIGHTTHENANDTHERE that we would be parked directly in front of the “Fort Lauderdale Gun ‘N Pawn” and “The Sex Emporium”?

We pulled over.

Amidst my oldest brother’s protests of, “DAD. WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FREEWAY AND IT’S MIDNIGHT AND WE’RE ALL GOING TO GET SHOT BY SOMEONE WHO DRIVES BY AND SEES YOU WITH A MAP AND THE DOME LIGHT ON AND DECIDES TO DEMAND ALL YOUR MONEY WHICH YOU WON’T GIVE THEM ANYWAY. ALL OF US! WE’RE GOING TO DIE! OH MY GOD! THIS IS IT! WE’RE DONE FOR,” Dad got out of the minivan and went digging in the back for the map from the agency. He came back & got in the driver’s seat, opened up the map, garumphed something along the lines of, “G.D. THIS ISN’T THE RIGHT MAP, “ crumpled it up and threw it in the backseat, and got back out of the car again. My middle brother James, asleep in the front passenger seat, barely stirred as Patrick started up again:

“LOCK THE DOORS!!! LOCK THE DOORS!!! SOMEONE IS GOING TO COME AND SHOOT US!!! SOMEONE! OHMYGOD, IS THAT CAR SLOWING DOWN?!? THAT CAR IS SLOWING DOWN!! HERE IT COMES!”

McCheese then entered the car with yet another map and proceeded to open that one up, realized that the first one had been the right one all along, and turned around to get the balled-up map from the backseat. All the while Patrick was shouting at him to just get off the freeway, drive, for the love of GOD DO SOMETHING!! and my mom, sister-in-law and I sat in the far back row of seats watching the drama unfold and trying not to laugh.

Suddenly, we all heard a vague chiming sound and looked over to see the sliding door of the minivan start to open. Slowly. And of course, it was the door right next to Patrick. Suddenly, he no longer seemed like such a crazy and we all joined in his chorus:

“OHMYGOD THEY’RE HERE!!!! THEY’RE HERE!!! WE’RE DEAD!!!!!!! DRIVE, DAD!!!! DRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVVVVVVVVVVE!!!!!!!!!”

Patrick was holding on to that minivan door for dear life, trying to close it while convinced he was fighting off six or seven Miami Drug Lords who were there to take our money and our booze. McCheese, of course, simply turned around and stared at all of us who were screaming like banshees, begging, pleading for him to JUST DRIVE!!!!!!!

Somewhere in the din came this sleepy little voice saying, “JEEZUS, PEOPLE. WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!??!”

At some point during Patrick’s tirade and McCheese’s map fiasco, James had woken up. He’d yawned and stretched his arms out behind him, bumping against the automatic-sliding-minivan-door opener button on the wall next to him as he did so. Unbeknownst to any of us. Thanks.

We eventually made it to the hotel that night (although not before we’d had to screech at McCheese not to ask directions from the cops who were in the middle of a drug bust). And did enjoy a fine family vacation. But man, I’ll tell you. The Fort Lauderdale Gun ‘N Pawn almost did a fine deal of business that evening. Just sayin’.

It's That Time Again!

Here is the latest from my Outlook Custom Dictionary here at work:

Activiaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
Adderall
Ahahaha
Anglophilia
Anywho
Aquatennial
Argh
Arrrrrrrrrgh
Augh
Autowrench
Awwww
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
aaaaaaaaaaaahahahaha
aaaaaaaaaand
aah
abc
aberdeen
acai
ack
afterparty
ahahaha
ahahahaahahahahaha
ahahahah
ahahahaha
angsty
animalhouse
argh
arses
asap
asiago
auggggggggggh
augh
awkwardfest
awwwwwwwww
awwwwwwwwwwwwwww
BAHAHAHAHAhA
Baaaaaaahahahahaha
Baaaaaahahahahaha
Bahahaha
Barbies
Baybay
Beeker
Beertenders
Birfday
BOGOs
Booo
Boooo
Booooooo
Booooooooo
Boooooooooooo
Brulee
Btch
Bullshtters
BunFest
Butterful
b!tch
b!tches
b!tchy
b@lls
babie
bahaha
bahahahaha
bahahahahahaha
bast@rd
beachy
beatle
beaut
bejeezus
bfast
bff
biatches
bleh
bluffin
booooo
boooooo
booooooo
booooooooooooooo
britney
buncha
burper
butterface
buttondown
byerly's
Cakebread
Cao
Celebri-sotan
Cetaphil
Champps
Chatsville
Ciabatta
Cinco
Cmon
Crayola
Crocktober
Crotchester
camo
candids
capris
carb
carbs
cas
casjh
catchup
caucasian
cbou
changeroo
chapstick
cheeeeeeeeese
cheeseball
cheetos
cheez
cheezballs
chex
chicka
chickn
chocolat
christmas
chunnel
clusterfck
coff
coffs
colbert
convo
cr@p
cr@ppy
crabcakes
crabster
crunked
crusties
D@mmit
D@mn
Daddio
Daikon
Dammit
DBag
Derrr
Donzo
DQs
d'ouerves
dbag
dickish
diego
dinero
dipsh!t
donutttttttttttttttttttttttttt
donuttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt
douchebags
dramz
drumline
drunkfest
drunkies
drunky
duckies
dumbed
dumbing
dunno
dutch
Elmos
ee-ee-ee-ee
eep
eeyore
eff
effed
effing
effs
ella-ella-ella
emo
enorm
Flo
Flo's
Freebirthing
f@rt
fa-reezing
fab
fam
fams
fave
faves
fbook
fbooking
fbooks
fck
fckd
fcking
fishtank
fizzies
flowy
fo
fockers
forev
franzia
frickin
fricking
fuglier
fugly
fugs
Gah
Galifianakis
Gandolfini
Garumph
Giada
Gma's
Golddigger
Grapefruiter
Grood
g.g-mas
g.gma's
gah
gajillionaires
garumphed
gatorade
gd
gestural
ginormnose-itis
glamazons
godawful
golddigging
gonna
google
googled
googling
goosebumps
goss
goth
goths
grood
grr
gummis
gyno
H.Inn
Heyooooooo
Holla
Hoo
hammyfay
hatey
hatin
hemangioma
herp
herpe
herpecin
hershey
hippyish
hiv
hm
hml
hobag
homegirl
homewrecker
hoo
horsepucky
hotchickswithdouchebags
hotties
hungover
hungovery
Invisalign
insta
intarwebs
ish
Janeville
Jerkview
Jorbz
jekyll-and-mr-hyde
jello
jesus
Krazy
Krust
Leggs
Luvya
lefse
losery
lunchables
Maywho
McBabe
McCheese
MOOOOOOOOONday
Moooooonday
Mozzerella
Muahahaha
makeouts
mamacita
manscape
manscaping
meh
melty
mojito
mojitos
moolah
moooooooovies
mtv
muchos
nakeyness
nasties
nommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
noonish
Obamas
Omggggggggggggggggggggg
Ommmmmmmm
Ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Oooh
Oooo
Ooooh
Oooooh
Ooops
obama
obamarama
obnox
obv
obvs
ohmygod
omg
ooc
ooo
oooh
ooooh
oooooh
ooooooh
ooooooooo
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhh
oreo
outta
outttttttt
Pantser
Peni
Penii
Pepitos
Pohlad
Puddlebaby
perv
pickpocketed
pleather
poo
pottying
puddley
Queenie
Rainboots
raoul
redfern
redonk
rockstars
roofies
Samoas
Sarcasmo
ShamWOW
Sheesh
Shhh
Shoop
Skeezy
Soooo
Soooooooooooo
Spamalot
Spaz
Spewsroom
Spitty
Srsly
saki
seeya
sh!t
sh!ts
skort
smackdown
sp'gettis
spaz
spazziness
spazzing
spazzy
stabby
stalky
stanky
subt!tties
eeeeeeeeeeeeeet
sweeeeeeeeeeeet
sweepy
swoonworthy
TweedleDee
TweedleDum
Twerpies
thickies
toesies
trainwreck
tummyache
tums
turd
turds
Ummmmmmmmmm
Unviagra
uber
ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
undies
unfriend
utero
Wagamama
Wah
Wah-wah
Wahahahaha
Wahhhh
WalMart
Weeeeeeee
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Whee
Whoo
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Wtf
waaaaaaaaaait
wah-mbulance
wah-wah
whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatttt
whachu
whatchu
whatev
whatevs
whee
whenev
wherev
whoo
whoooo
whoor
whoors
wifey
wishy-washyness
wuss
wussy
www.twinsbaseball.com/newballpark
Yo
Yogs
Yoinks
ya
yatchy
yay
yayyyyyyy
yeesh
yer
yessssssssss
yo
yog
yoinked
yutz