He said, She said

27 10 2009

A couple weeks ago, I had to phone the local health unit to go over a few safety guidelines for preparing a new food item for the hot lunch program at my kids school.

I spoke to man (whom I shall refer to as R)  about proper techniques, and avoiding cross-contamination. He was very helpful, and mentioned to me that he would have to come out and inspect our facilities to make sure we weren’t poisoning the kids on a regular basis.

The following week, just as we were finishing up the lunch, a woman walked into the gym where we serve the food. She was wearing a pair of fantastic black high heeled boots, which I instantly coveted.

She walked up to me, extended a rather large hand and in a deep man’s voice said “Hello, I’m R.”

Luckily for me, I didn’t a) Laugh out loud, and b) Make a complete ass of myself.

I held it together. I was cool. I kept my shiz under control. I live in an area that embraces all walks of life, all manner of living, and equality of everyone.

I however cannot control my crazy brain-thoughts. Certain questions kept rolling around in my head. Questions pertaining to particular body parts. And whether or not these body parts are still there.

And for obvious reasons, the scene in Crocodile Dundee, where he grabs the drag queen’s twig n’ berries in the bar kept running through my head.

 

***

PS. I honestly and for reals think its great that she is now living as she needs to live.

PPS. I want to get to know her so I can one day ask if I can have a peek.

PPPS. Seriously though, I’m not a bad person.

 

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The Shiz My Kids Say….

8 10 2009

One time, when my son was about 4 and my daughter was about 2, we were heading home from a long day in town, where we had been doing some sort of family thing. The Hubs and I were tuckered out, and I for one, was ready for a glass bottle of wine to make me feel lots better….

The kids were starting to bicker in the back seat. Ah. How absolutely mind-blowingly motherfuckingly EXCRUCIATING to listen to your 2 small children fight about such matters as “She looked at me” or “He said poop”….

Hubs gripped the steering wheel tight and took it upon himself to threaten the children with a good ol’ fashioned spanking if they kept it up… (note for parents-to-be or Judgy McJudgersons: we have never spanked the children, but it’s ALWAYS awesome, and totally acceptable, to use as a threat especially in dire situations such as these.)

Silence grew from the back seat as the children pondered their Daddy’s giant hand smacking their teeny (and cute, IMHO) bottoms….

My son, after a minute of said pondering, crossed his arms indignantly, raised his chin defiantly and said in a loud, disgusted and clear voice…. “ASSHOLE….”

Lordy, let me tell you, The Hubs had a really hard time driving while trying not let on that we were both inundated with a mad case of the Giggles…. Snorts and muffled guffaws followed….

His execution of the word, with his tone and deflection, and topped off with the arms crossed, was absolutely perfect....





This one time….

2 10 2009

Long before I met my Hubs, I used to hang out with my long-ago best friend, S, and her boyfriend, B, all the time. Seriously. ALL. THE. TIME. I was the third wheel, which isn’t as sad as it sounds, because we were all such great friends, and had oodles of fun times together.

Well. One night, a few other friends joined us and we set ourselves to a night of drinking. Duh, of course, what else does one do in their early 20’s for fun??? We tended to get silly, and decided to play Truth or Dare.

(I’m laughing out loud typing this, as I recall the events of the evening…)

So, dares were made and completed, truths, both icky and fascinating were revealed, drinks were drunk…. At one point B was dared to put on one S’s dresses, which he did, although in retrospect he was a little too eager to don the lovely blue frilly lacey number. We had some good laughs about that.

Well, then…. it was  S’s turn, and she chose B. She dared him to go in the bedroom with her, we all rolled our eyes, and they pranced off.

The rest of us drank some more, laughed some more.. and then, hey, we noticed B and S were still in the bedroom.

“Ugh. They are NOT doing what I think they’re doing, are they?” I questioned the group.

We grew silent, hoping to hear proof. (Juvenile? Yeah…) It was quiet.

We huddled and improvised an ambush of drunken and awesome proportions.

A couple of us went outside the ground level apartment to the bedroom window, while the others went to the bedroom door, and on the count of 3, they flung the door open and flicked on the lights, while my partner in crime and I peered through the window like a couple of perverted Peeping Toms.

What we saw was the two of them going for it.

And B was still wearing the dress.





The Shiz My Kids Say…

1 10 2009

One time, when my daughter was about 3, I found myself engaged in a conversation with her about her birth. We talked for a while about how she grew in my tummy, and then I pushed her out and nursed her and so forth.

She was quietly absorbing all this, and then she looked at me, her clear blue eyes intently staring into  my own and asked:

“Remember a long time ago when you grew in my tummy and I pushed you out and I was your Mommy?”

I said that no, I didn’t and she was very insistent that it happened.

You may call it childish embellishment or active imagination. The Buddhist in me, however,  got goosebumps….