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Sunday, May 30, 2010

Bachelorette Party

Husbands, boyfriends and batteries. That's all we talked about last night at my sister-in-law's bachelorette party. Hope she had fun because my head is aching. It wasn't the beers or the hot wings - it was the volume. My ears are still ringing.

Every two minutes we were rotating our priorities at ten decibels. What flavored shot - cheers and a toast - my retarded husband this, my crazy kid that - honey barbeque or buffalo - pass the chocolate penises...thank God we had it at someone's house instead of a restaurant. People would have thought we just got out of prison the way we were carrying on.

Well, I guess if a woman's partying without her significant other and minus the kids, it's kind of like a jailbreak.

This is the guest of honor with her whip and a package of Dicky Charms.

Charming, don't you agree?

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Rain, Don't F Up My Weekend

Sorry, I had to get foul there but last I checked, we were supposed to have sunny skies throughout the holiday weekend. It was supposed to be sunny, pool-enticing degrees - as hot as Ho Chi Min city and did I mention sunny? I packed my bathing suit, which meant I was ready to pound beers by the pool. Now, it's all cloudy and threatening, like my husband's gas. Ick.

Whatever. A day off is a day off. Sometimes it's even better when it rains because it gives you an excuse to sleep in. Although, with a five and three-year old there ain't no such thing as sleeping in - except on school days. And speaking of a day off, that doesn't apply to stay at home moms, who actually work double time on the holidays.

As it is, my boys started early with their crap, literally. The three-year old crapped his pants twice on Thursday. He's been doing that a lot lately. I think what's happening is, he's just can't tell the difference between an overly ambitious fart and having to go. Either way, Thursday doesn't count since my husband actually dealt with it. Although, I had to do the wash.  Thank God, we have a slop sink.

After I finish this post, I'm getting out of my mother-in-law's house because her platter of homemade chocolate chip cookies sitting on the counter are making me do strange things, like drink milk. They are so dangerously addictive, I heard the DEA considers them to be a narcotic. I better stop writing about them because it's distracting me already and if -

Never mind. Hope you enjoy your Memorial Day Weekend.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Jesse James: Wah! Wah! Wah!

Until now, I honestly didn't have an opinion on the Sandra Bullock/Jesse James scandal because I think it's not our business. But if you're going to provide an interview on ABC Nightline to clear the air, then don't come off as a big baby, seriously. All I want to know is, who is this guy kidding?

First of all, to accuse your parent of abuse is a big deal. I grew up with kids that were abused. I still see kids who live in conditions that border on abuse and it's far worse than fear of a raging dad. As far as I can recall, my mom was always in a rage too and she was scary. I'm talking Nurse Ratched scary. Sure, I got smacked upside the head when I was being fresh - yes, I got locked in my room when I was being a disobedient teenager. And until I had kids of my own, it did seem unjustified but eventually, I got a taste of my own bullshit. It's called the lion, I mean the circle of life - life - it's called life.

His whole "broken arm" sob story - he fell down when his father was chasing him to beat his whiny little ass. I hate to say it but watch where you're going! If you're going to be a klutz and break your own arm trying to get away then I'd say, isn't it less crippling if you just took the beating? I'm just sayin'.

But the cherry on top was when he confessed that he cheated because he wanted to sabotage his life - that he wanted to get caught. That's all that rehab fraud talking. Rehab trains you to say the right things and divert the responsibility, so they can charge famous people a couple of thousand dollars a day. That's what his "excuse" sounds like to me.

He wanted to get caught - like this was all his idea. To ruin his marriage and hurt other people because he doesn't feel worthy of love, and he's still that scared seven year old that pushes people away because he can't trust anybody to stay and...can I shoot him now and put him out of my misery?

To their credit, when men like these guys - the Jesse James, the Tiger Woods, the Bill Clintons - fuck up their marriages and childishly breach the sacred union with a skanky whore, it makes me appreciate the jerk-off I married. Because my husband may be an inconsiderate, foul mouthed wind bag full of noxious gas but a cheater he is not.

And that's the One Thing I always say to our boys, you're only as good as your word - now go clean your rooms before I send you to Siberia.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

The Puker

Forget Susan Boyle, my son's got talent. Yes sir, when he wants out of school he can make his temperature go up to 98.9 and earn him a trip to the nurses office who inevitably has to call me and ask that I take him to his pediatrician.

Three out of the four times, he faked it.

Yesterday, he used a different strategy, however - he puked.

The nurse called me and said, "Kazuki just threw up!" For a second, I thought he might have tossed his cookies on her or maybe in the classroom - she sounded so alarmed. But alas, my son is a diplomatic puker but a puker nonetheless.

He was always able to make himself throw up to get out of trouble - a bad report card, a broken toy, a mysterious bruise on his brother's forehead. Instead of owning up to it, he would just heave until he produced something. Then really, what could we say other than, are you okay?

So, I picked him up at school and wouldn't you know it - three lovely girls escorted him down to meet me. The Kindergarten Sirens. Alondra had his school bag, Melissa was holding his hand and Maria...I don't know what Maria was doing but my three-year old was really interested in her.

The security guard asked if I needed to speak with the nurse - tip of the day, if your kid doesn't have a note from the nurse and you don't speak to her, chances are she won't be able to tell you to keep the kid home the next day. No news is good news - so, No Nurse!

I took his hand, "C'mon Cassanova."

When he stepped outside it was like jailbreak...again.

He horsed around with his younger brother and when he saw my mother, he asked her for a toy. Yes, a toy. I thought to myself, oh this boy is definitely sick, alright. Then his younger brother took out a PB&J sandwich and started eating it. Well, when Zuki saw that, he looked at me and said he was hungry and could he have something to eat.

Something to eat?

"I thought you said your belly hurt?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah. My belly hurts. I don't wanna eat nuffin," he said.

If he was disappointed about the food he wasn't going to get, he was devastated when I told him No to TV, Yes to Homework, No to cookies and Yes to a nap.

"Aw man! That's boring!"

Boring. Can you believe it? He cuts school and expects Norwegian Cruise activities. All I can say is, he's going to be home with me all summer and I got plans for him, yo! There ain't no way he can cut summer vacation at home.

Merciless...merciless Mom.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

So Much For Education

As May draws to an end, the end looks inevitable - for the After School program that is. I hate to be a pessimist but I knew those politicians in Albany weren't going to change their minds about cutting the program completely. No matter how many petitions we signed, phone calls we made and letters we wrote, we were not going to get the money to continue running it. And I can understand - hookers cost a lot these days.

What's really sad is I can't seem to find a comparable program in our neighborhood. I Googled "After School Programs," "Tutoring," "Study Groups," "Help With Homework" but I pretty much get the same results. Sylvan and Kumon learning centers and then a list of private tutors that come to your home.

Nothing against private tutors but I just don't want them in my home. And as far as leaving them in someone's care, would you leave your kid with this guy? If I did that, my husband would be asking me for some weed because I must be high (I don't smoke by the way but sometimes I act as if I do).

We'll get through this, I know. We were so very fortunate to have such a wonderful program at our disposal and I should just appreciate what we had. The volunteers that helped with their homework, devised constructive play and even put on a showcase for Christmas and Spring. And now, thanks to Governor Paterson and a slew of other sleazy politicians - it gets taken away.

So much for educating our children above the standards. Really, what was I thinking - that my taxes should actually go to something I could use?

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Brothers In Arms

As daddy was busy cleaning the fridge and I was racking my brain on a condolence e-mail for a dead dog, our three-year-old was screaming his head off because his big brother just took the cartridge out of his Leapster game.

"Samu," I yelled, "just deal with it. He's your brother - work it out!"

It's funny how he's the second child yet, he struts around as if his older brother is putting him out. He comprehends a whole lot more and in a sense he is smarter but Big Bro has a heart of gold. The little guy's insensitivity sometimes goes too far and I wonder if they'll ever stop fighting.

Then...I get pictures like this that was taken by their Auntie and it makes me realize no matter what I do to arbitrate, they are in their own world of being brothers.

I like the thumbs up by Kazuki - makes them look like genuine mobsters to me. Whereas in this next picture the confidence of the big guy is a little wavering.

Samu is saying, "I got my stinkin' eye on you!"

Seriously. He asks me who's fresher: him or Daddy. To which I tell him, he's got a couple of years to go but he's not far behind. Can't say that's a good thing. As for the toxicity levels of their farts - it really is a toss up. I gotta stop making collards greens.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Back In The Saddle

Two beers and half a falafel sandwich later, I'd say my food poisoning gig is just about over. I'm - in the words of Aerosmith - Back In The Saddle Again. And not a day sooner, because I just about had it with my family trying to be nice to me. What with my three-year-old whining that if I don't give him an ice cream sandwich for breakfast now, then he might never get one tomorrow because I might be DEAD. Or my five-year-old storming into my bedroom at 4:15am to see if I'm alive and finally my husband asking how the rest of my plumbing is doing. Enough is enough.

The whole day while I was laid out on my day bed, I had to listen to my stomach gurgling something that could only be described as the synth riff to Elvis Costello's "Pump It Up".  I did everything to avoid thinking about food. But I was starving - I mean Ethiopian starving. Only whenever I thought about what to eat all I could picture was a slimy piece of salmon and then my stomach would start playing Elvis Costello again.

So I diverted my thoughts to the original Elvis and wondered how he could've survived under today's media scrutinizing eye bloating up as he did. I mean Kirstie Ally made a show out of it because every other actress is bordering on anorexia and they don't even pay any respect to the original starlet who made anorexia cool: Miss Karen Carpenter - Helloooowwww?

But it wasn't Karen's fault. That was the seventies fer ya. Back then, everybody smoked and did drugs - nobody ate. Well, except for Elvis. And as far as my memory can gather, nobody fed their kids either. My mother included. That could explain my mother's comments. Not her harping on how to properly prepare salmon for an hour despite the fact that I told her that the word itself actually nauseated me. Not her telling me that my cooking was geared more for bar crawling stragglers and that I'd best stick to meat and potatoes rather than "try my hand" at seafood. Again, nauseating me to no end.

No, it was the remark after all was said and done, the typical Aquarian remark that's soooo left field: Oh, you're looking svelt now. You must try to keep that figure!

Err, thanks, Ma. You always know how to put things in perspective.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Death By Salmon

Never again, will I buy salmon from the supermarket. I had such bad food poisoning last night, I was ready to crawl into my grave. Funny thing is, my family had the same piece of fish and they were fine - guess it's just my luck.

It's been a while since something's put me totally out of commission. Even my worst hangover didn't cripple me so much that I couldn't get out of bed. I AM IN HELL! Wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy, or Lady Gaga even. Then again, I heard she doesn't eat. That's probably the only good thing about continuous puking is, I've lost two pounds - yippee!

Okay, gonna go hug the toilet now.

Monday, May 17, 2010

The Billy Elliot-Man v Food Weekend

In Charlotte's Web, the spider tells the pig to put up a big fight when the farmers try to put him in the crate, otherwise they'll think something's wrong with him. Men do the same thing when it comes to seeing musicals - real men don't go to shows where there's singing and dancing unless it's a titty bar. Man, did my husband put up one heck of a fight. In the end, however, he was singing a different tune.

It was a family outing to see the musical Billy Elliot on Broadway. The event was to celebrate the birthdays of my mother-in-law, my sister-in-law, her fiancee and my husband. You see, for good seats, tickets have to be purchased about six months in advance, so from the time we purchased them to the time we actually attended the show - we spanned all those birthdays.

But the show was awesome! With a capital awe. We get so carried away with movies and their CG (computer graphics) spelling everything out for us that our imagination gets quite a work out filling in the physical limitations of live theater. It was incredible how the scenes transitioned and yet the most elaborate part of the set was just a rising bedroom. For the most part, the scenes took place in open space with lots of chairs. But the truly breath-taking scene with Billy and his alter-ego, I guess, had nothing but smoke and a pulley to hoist and spin the little bugger around. I called it the NAMBLA dance because there definitely was some man-boy fantasy innuendo there. Thank God, Elton John didn't have to write a number for that scene.

The show was followed by a fantastic meal at the Delta Grill in Hell's Kitchen. It's Cajun cuisine, although I'm sure anybody from New Orleans would argue about the authenticity. I don't care. In my book, any restaurant that plops a basket full of warm, homemade corn muffins on the table while you're looking at the menu, is alright by me.

As stuffed as we were, we made the fatal mistake of watching Man v. Food for the rest of the evening and by 11:30pm, I was hankering for some hot wings. My anti-musical husband was in such a good mood that he drove to the Cork Lounge on Greenpoint Avenue to score some wings. The bar is next to the Fire Station, so their kitchen is open late but regardless, we'd get their wings anytime - it's that good. All in all, I'd say it was a very New York cultural weekend.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Samu's Sixth Sense

It was about two or three in the morning when my three-year old, Samu was laughing hysterically in his sleep.  His chin was tucked into his chest, like someone was tickling him and after a while he subsided back to sleep.

I didn't think much about it because I figured he was just dreaming but then the following day my husband told me that he thought he heard a kid laughing in the middle of the night. He assumed it was the neighbors. What makes this a mystery in an eerie sort of way is that my husband sleeps in his man-cave two levels down in the basement - it soundproofs his snoring. That he too, heard Samu laughing was creepy.

What topped it off was that my mother told me that our close friend, who came to visit the other day, claimed that my father's spirit or ghost followed her home. Our friend realized this when her dog started barking at something behind her and wouldn't stop for quite some time. Then in the morning, she was abruptly woken to the sound of my father's voice saying "Wake up!"

Our friend sent a thank you e-mail with the story of my dad's ghost following her home and mentioned that he must've left because all was quiet at her house again. That was the day Samu had his sleep-laugh.

For a minute, I thought it was endearing that my dad would come home to tickle Samu. Then I felt a little freaked out about the prospect of a ghost - my dad's nonetheless.

What really weirds me out right now is that if Samu has a sixth sense, I don't want him crawling into my bed in the middle of the night. I'm such a sissy.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Clearly, I'm Not The Superhero Type

Iron Man 2, what can I say? If you have boys of your own, you're going to wind up seeing this movie regardless of the reviews. Luckily, it's not as bad as one of those dates that drag you to see Hannah Montana or anything starring J. Lo. Though you won't be raising any IQ's with Iron Man 2, you won't be bored either.

First off, there's Plenty O' Bad Ass in this movie. Starting with Mickey Rourke, who plays Ivan Vanko or Backlash/Whiplash, Long-lasting Lash - oh, what-EVERRR. Once you get over wondering what happened to Mickey Rourke's face, you will enjoy watching him kick Downey Jr.'s butt. It's like he walked off the set of The Wrestler and continued in character only now he has a Russian accent and black hair. He's still smug and says little but I don't care, I like Mickey Rourke and I'm glad he's busy again. By the way, are those his real fingernails?

The next and not least Bad Ass, as always - Mr. Samuel L. Jackson. They need to make a mask of the expression he makes. You know, the one that could make Albert Einstein feel like a dumb ass for splitting an atom. It's the expression that starts with him dropping his chin to his chest, rolling his eyebrows up and taking a breath before he says, "you did what, mutha fuckah?"

Yes sir, if this mask existed, I would wear it on the top of my head so I could just slide it over my face in two seconds the moment one of the three men in my house asked me something. Anything. They'd have their answer and I'd get to conserve my energy for more productive things, like grooming - my hair is a mess.

Now, my husband was really upset when he learned that Terrence Howard would not be playing Rhody. I had to cradle my 198 pound husband in my arms until he stopped sobbing - that's how hard it is for him to adjust to change. But Don Cheadle did good by him, although I thought they didn't quite have the same "buddy" chemistry. For instance, I would never believe the Terrence Howard Rhody would just up and steal his best friend's Iron Man suit but Don Cheadle's Rhody I could. In any case, I hope they don't change actors again until my husband loses at least ten pounds.

My favorite scene was the Black Widow fight scene towards the end. I may have some lesbian tendencies in thinking this, but there's just something about chicks in black, kicking serious butt in slo-mo that is sooooo special. After all, when you've had your fill of bad fight scenes won by Chuck Norris and Steven Segal you get bored of the wrinkled, balding male testosterone angst. Even Mel Gibson makes me throw up in my mouth a little. I'm not Seth Green or nothing but, thank God for boobs.

You can tell I don't get out much anymore. Iron Man 2 - good times.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Happy Mother's Day

Whether you're getting that much deserved spa treatment or sippin' a mimosa or doing the laundry, hope you're having a Happy Mother's Day.

My tip of the day today is: It's okay to milk this day for all it's worth. If you're new to this day, don't worry - you'll get better at taking advantage of the perks with time. If you're a pro, then by all means throw me some pointers. But just a reminder before you get caught up playing Cleopatra, our moms are moms too and what you get is what you should give - your mom, I mean. This rule of thumb is going to come back at you on Father's day, too - so don't ask him for anything you can't offer him yourself.

I'm curious to know what made your day special - go on, melt my heart.

Friday, May 7, 2010

Whoa, That's One Spicy Dorito

Last night, I cheated. On my diet that is. Not only did I throw back a couple of beers with Thumb Head (that's my bald husband) but I also had some snacks. Thumb Head had purchased a small bag of "2nd Degree Burn, Fiery Buffalo" Doritos. He challenged me: Bet you can't eat more than two!

Well, I love challenges - especially with food. So like an idiot, I had three chips then I waited. In about ten seconds, I yelled, "Holy Shit, that's hot."

What was I thinking? My husband LOVES spicy food. When a waiter asks how spicy he wants his curry, wings or salsa, he'll answer, "Kill Me." If he thinks these chips are spicy then I should have known better than to accept his challenge.

I suppose Doritos could use the challenge as a marketing campaign. It would be the opposite of Pringles' "Bet you can't eat just one".

Bet you can't eat more than two.

Yeah, I don't know why Photo Booth takes photos backwards but you get the picture.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

My Morning Talk Show

Wouldn't you know it - seven and a half weeks of school left and I finally got the morning routine down. Of course I still scream my head off with the same orders: Eat your BREAKFAST! Brush your TEETH! Get your socks on....NOW! But it's always at the same time every morning - my neighbors could set their clocks to it.

So this morning as we were walking, not running to school, both boys started talking to me at the same time. It's not unusual and my sleep deprived mind could care less what the hell they're talking about. But this morning, being on track for the third day in a row, I could actually hear both of them on either side of my head. It just so happened that the three-year old was on my right; registering to the left side of my brain. And Zuki - oh, that Zuki - the Kindergartner-graduate-to-be was on my left, subconsciously sabotaging my creative side with his made up stories.

I listened to The Zuki and Samu Morning Talk Show and heard various details of Zuki's imaginary friend, Doctor Ripperts (just so you know, Doctor Ripperts is not a doctor - that's his first name). Doctor Ripperts was going on a trip today and coming over for dinner tonight at 10pm. Oh, lovely! I say.

"Yeah, so make something good. Not chicken." Zuki commands.

All the while, Samu is commenting on every piece of litter that's on the floor - and in New York, that's at least one gum wrapper every square foot. He points to an empty bag of Dorito's, What is that - What's it doing on da floor - Who PUT that there - Dat's Grrooss, right? Do birdies wear birdy pajamas at night?

It was getting inane but it's not like Howard Stern wasn't and I used to listen to that all morning. I'm just glad Samu didn't notice the condom wrappers strewn along the sidewalk. If he asked me what it was and I answered that I didn't know, then he'd pick it up. If I told him what it was, then he'd pick it up. Either way, if he had seen it then by passers would have seen me fighting with a three-year old to drop that condom wrapper! Luckily, it didn't happen.

Instead, as we approached the school, Zuki yanked on my arm and told me he needed to ask me something important.

"Do I have school today?"

"No, Zuki!" Samu interjects. "You are going to JAIL!"

I was waiting for someone to say, we'll be right back after this commercial. Tomorrow, I'm bringing my coffee with me.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Zuki's Zinnia's

I'm a terrible gardener. In fact, I'm not a gardener at all. About the only green thing I've successfully raised to this day is mold. But this past weekend I took on the gardening challenge. Maybe all the neglected issues of Better Homes and Gardens had an influence. Or perhaps the urge to grow my own basil rather than pay $1.99 for a stem made more sense. Then again, it could have been a more noble calling, like creating a learning experience to share with my kids - even if it turns out to be a disaster.

Late Saturday morning, after my husband took off for Connecticut, I took Zuki to Home Depot. Since my husband had the car, I took the shopping cart and made Zuki ride his Razor scooter. I walked and Zuki scooted all the way to Home Depot from our house a distance of about one and a half miles. Although it was hot, it was comfortable enough for a nice stride. Was it good enough for the Prince? Of course not - right away the complaints started. I'm hot. I'm tired. Can I have some ice cream? Can you carry me? I ignored it.

Once we got there, the prospect of playing with dirt overrode every nuisance. He was excited. We loaded everything we needed but couldn't find the seeds. I asked an employee where we could find zinnia seeds since we saw everything but in the nursery.

"Hmmmm," he said scratching his chin. "They're probably around there." He pointed towards the barbeque grills.

Oh yeah, why didn't I think of that? It's only natural that one would want to buy seeds while looking at barbeque grills - duh!

"I don't know if you'll find zinnia's, though," he continued. "They're hard to find. If you don't see 'em, try the end caps around the light bulbs."

Who ever made the floor plan for Home Depot must be a genius.

Luckily, we found all the seeds we wanted by the barbeque grills. There were lots of seeds for zinnias and Zuki was so happy he grabbed five packets. He also grabbed seed packets for eggplants, cucumbers and pansies. Said something about being hungry.

Knowing kids and their need for instant gratification, we also purchased some potted flowers to transfer. I picked the PW (Prize Winners) because Home Depot claimed they were hard to kill. Not exactly in those words but that's how I interpreted it anyway.

My walk home was again riddled with his complaints but the promise of soon getting his hands into dirt had him hurrying along on his scooter. As soon as we got home, however, our plans changed. He gobbled two slices of Papa John's pizza and sprawled out in front of the TV. So much for an early afternoon. Knowing his short attention span, I let him have his fill of the tube and sure enough, even Ben 10 Alien Force got boring after the third recorded episode.

When it was time for our little gardening project, it was like the blind leading the retarded. Zuki had a grand ol' time when he mixed the fertilizer into the soil with his hands. Apparently, he decided to do the same thing after we planted the seeds. Lord knows whether any of them will make it up or where they'll sprout from. It will probably grow in spaced like his teeth. That was disaster number one.

Then we moved on to transferring the potted plants. He saw the long roots on the plant and said, "I'm done." Those were his exact words.

Apparently, they looked like tentacles and grossed him out. Whatever, dude - sheesh.

I finished the rest off by myself as he sprayed the garden hose all over everything - including me. That was disaster number two. It didn't matter though because I probably botched the whole transplanting operation and if it dies, then I'll say it's all Zuki's fault. You guessed it, that was disaster number three.

Meanwhile, we'll know by July how Zuki's zinnias fared. Hopefully they will do better than his Siamese Betta fighting fish - may he rest in peace.

Zuki's Garden