Spew

The most judgmental people in the world aren't Judges. They're parents. Especially first time parents. You don't want to be judgmental by nature, but it's simply the insecurities that go along with having no idea what you're doing, that seem to create this sort of environment.It's just human nature that, to feel better about yourself, it's easiest to put others down. The best way to conquer this, is to just admit that you don't have a clue and drink your way through it. Anyhow, as I'm a perfect mother, I'm sure no one can pass judgement on anything I do, however for the purpose of this blog I will share a moment when perhaps my mothering came in to question.

Dex is in daycare a few days a week, and as a result, is building up an immune system that even Agent Orange couldn't penetrate. He's pretty much always sick at this point, some times worse than others. A few weeks ago happened to be one of these times. He had ear infections, chest infection and just general malaise.
So I kept him home from daycare. That day, however, I was sick. I had the Norwalk or some other disgusting ailment where you feel really sorry for yourself and everything you ate since 1998 is coming out.
Since Dex is nearly 2, it's pretty hard to just layabout with him, because he's constantly moving. I decided that I would take him to the drop-in center down the road, where he could just run around with all the other little kids, while I quietly switched between a combo of sweat and shiver, in the corner.
So I'm sitting there in my own vile filth while he's doing his thing. At this point, I hadn't barfed and didn't really think I would because I'm not much of a barfer. I've only barfed from booze a handful of times in my life. Pretty good eh? Anyhow it's this kind of barf arrogance that ends up getting you into trouble.
Suddenly it starts happening. The warm spittle and constricting throat starts to creep it's way up into my mouth. I try to mentally push it back but even my Jedi mind isn't strong enough to conquer this influx of reflux.
Oh shit, I think, here it effing comes.
I jump up from the play mat, push some creepy twins out of the way and make it, just in time to the bathroom, which, you should know, has a tiny toilet.
I get myself together and think "crap, I hope someone is watching Dex."
I leave the bathroom and scan the room for my son. There's tons of kids there so I can't seem to spot him, and have a mini panic. My eyes are darting back and forth. Where the hell is he? As I feel like I'm going to barf again from panic I spot him at the front entrance way. Pheefuuuf. Wait a sec. What's he doing? My eyes adjust to the fluorescent lighting after I've been barfing in the dark comforts of the kiddy bathroom. Yup, he's doing it. He has dumped some woman's purse upside down and is emptying her wallet and rooting through all of her crap.
I moan and say (out loud) "You must be fucking kidding me" , lurch towards the front door, grab Dex and all of his crap and get the hell out of there. I didn't bother with the purse. Just left it there, strewn about.
Oh! I almost left out a very important part of the story. Like millions of Canadians, I suffer from Oral Herpes. Hot. So I happened to have a boiler on my lip, this particular day. I hadn't bothered to look in the mirror after the "incident" and hadn't realized that this little beauty had started to bleed. Must have been the force of the spew. So when I left the kiddie bathroom, having just spent 10 minutes heaving and moaning, I appeared with blood trickling down my face. Nice. Let's not forget that I dropped an F Bomb, out loud, as well.
I got in the car, came home and allowed the cat to parent Dexter for the rest of the day while I tried my hardest not to fall asleep.
There are a few things in my life that I need not repeat. Finite math,trying to install a dimmer switch, getting a gum graft and taking my toddler to a really bright indoor playground while in the throws of the stomach flu.

Park Life

I'm going to be completely honest here: the park is boring. The only time the park isn't boring is when you're 1 until 12 and the againa starting at 14 to 16, when you steal a bottle of Ouzo from your parents and get wasted with your other stupid teenage friends. Yes, it's sweet and cute to see your little one run around and go down the slide and giggle, but it's got a pretty short entertainment window, for me anyhow. I'm pretty much over the park in 10 minutes, so I do my best to entertain myself my striking up conversation with others. Sometimes it's well received, other times I'm given the major cold shoulder. That usually happens in the posh parks like the one in the Beaches. I was at the park the other day with Dex and started talking to this dude who had a SUPER cute little baby girl. Turns out he moved from Sudan 10 months ago. He was pretty interesting and we had a nice conversation. It got weird when he scratched my back as he said goodbye. I mean a real scratch, not like an accidental swipe of the finger. I was wearing a tank top and he put all five finger nails on me and gave me a quick back scratch. Under normal circumstances, I welcome a back scratch from just about anyone, but this one seemed oddly misplaced. A back scratch from a dude you just met at the park? Am I being too judgemental?
I was sitting around a sandbox last week and there were about 6 toddlers playing in it, which meant there were 6 adults sitting around it. We just sat and stared at the kids and no one said anything. Here's the thing:if you took those kids out of the equation, and it was just 6 adults, would we try to find something to talk about or is the sandbox like the playground equivalent of the bus? Just look forward and make sure your kid doesn't bite someone. As you may be able to tell by the verbose nature of these blogs, silence makes me uncomfortable. I then am wracking my brain to think of something to say to someone but the trick is to not make it about the kids, or about being a parent. So then I ask some dude about what he does for a living and now I feel like I'm hitting on him at the sandbox. Fuck. That wasn't my intention but now everyone is listening and he feels the need to answer me. So he does. And doesn't continue the conversation. So now all I've done is blurted out some question to a stranger, which he politely answered, and we all continue to just stare in the middle of the sandbox.
That, however, is preferable to listening to some annoying people talking about, or putting into practice, their stupid parenting techniques which I find so nauseating.
Dex was going down this baby slide. He was hanging around the bottom of it when some other little girl was about to go down. Her Dad said, "Char Char, wait for the little boy to move." I'm going to assume her name was Charlotte. Dex moved about a second later, so I wouldn't necessarily say that she waited, it just worked out that he got out of the way. She goes down the slide and the Dad says, "Char Char, come over here.Char Char, Daddy is so proud of you! Daddy is so so so proud of you."
Oh my god disgusting. She's effing 1 1/2, she doesn't give a shit dude and seriously? You're proud of that? If she were to start speaking Yiddish and tap dancing, then ya, you can tell her you're "so so so proud" of her. This is the reason that there are so many effing entitled young adults out there who think that because they wake up in the morning, they should be given a gold medal. I'm certainly not against encouraging your kids, and telling them how proud you are of them, but lets make sure it's something worth being proud of shall we? Waiting for someone to get out of the way is not an accomplishment. What happens when Char Char graduates from College? This dude is going to lose his mind. I can just see him in the audience, uncontrollably sobbing, snot running down his face while he screams, "CHAR CHARR. I AM SO SO SO PROUD OF YOU! OOHHHH CHAR CHAR." She'll grab her degree from DeVry and trip off the stage.

What a rip

Right so it's been like 6 months since my last blog. In that time I have been working, sleeping, eating, farting and seducing. In that order. Dexter is now a year and half, which is outrageous. Why is it, when you're a kid, time passes so slowly? It took FOREVER for Santa to arrive. It seemed like a million years before the next summer rolled around. Now a year is just a blip. Is it because we drink? I mean because I drink?
So now that I am working my butt off on my new company (if anyone knows or needs online video content, let me know) I put Dex in daycare a couple of days a week, which I think I already mentioned. I just needed an organic way to plug my company (www.elpeaproductions.com) so that's why I mentioned it. Anyhoo, you want to know what the biggest rip off is? When you pick your kid up from daycare at 5pm, and you still have to clean up two shit diapers. I figure he's there for 8 hours, surely he should have gotten all of his pooping done. What the hell are we paying for? Education? Love? It's one of the perks of having someone else take care of him all day. I don't have to deal with disgusting turds. As a matter of fact, I'm thinking I might ask Shakira(the daycare lady) for some money back. I think it's only fair. Unfortunately, due to her limited English, I'll probably end up just getting his poop diapers from her or something.
The other day I picked Dex up and was just going to head straight to the cottage. I had forgotten his sippy cup so when I went to get him from Shakira I asked her, "Shakira, can I grab Dexters sippy cup from you? I'll bring it back on MOnday it's just that I've forgotten his and we're going to be in the car for 2 hours." She is standing smiling at me. "Ok Shakira, so can I have his cup?"
Shakira. "Jes"
She's still smiling and staring at me.
Me, "Can I have it now?"
Shakira, "Jes. No problem."
She's not moving, just smiling.
So now I start to make the motion of drinking and I've now started to talk really loudly because for some reason I think volume might help,
"SHAKIRA. I NEED TO GET HIS CUP SO HE CAN HAVE A DRINK." I'm tipping my head back and making the drinking motion. I can see people walking home from work looking at me like I'm an alcoholic. "Jesus Christ, just forget. He can drink out of the water bottle."
Shakira, "Jes."
She has a good enough command of the English language, I guess I'm just going to have to brush up on my Persian.

Speaking of daycare, can we seriously start some kind of Egypt style revolt to change how daycare works in this province? It's bullshit. It's expensive and impossible to get into and expensive. The problem is that the people who are willing to fight for this are too busy and tired because we're all trying to work, be parents and look hot. I don't have to try too hard at the last one, just wanted to be inclusive.
If anyone from the Black Bloc is reading this, maybe you can give me some ideas as to how to start a pointless riot to get my voice heard. Until next time.

Can someone else do this please?

Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been 22 years since my last confession. Oh woops! I thought this was my sinning blog. I like to keep a blog of my sins, then confess them to the Internet. It's less creepy than a priest.

Anyhow, Dexter Jean-Claude Macky is no longer a tiny little baby. He is nearly a year a half (or will be in about 2 months) and he is running around like a lunatic. It is the cutest thing ever to see him walking, with his hands in the air, and his center of gravity high on LSD. It looks hilarious. I always say this but honestly, his cute levels are through the roof. Except for yesterday morning. I went into his bedroom at a little after 7am, because I could hear him whining to get up. I go into the room, smile and say good morning, but something isn't right. What's that smell? Has there been another garbage strike? Did someone just do an egg salad burp? Have we been bombed with Agent Orange? Nope, Dex has done a colossal turd and it is everywhere. He slept in just a onesie because it was ridiculously hot. The poop had seeped out of his diaper, on to his legs, into his hand, and all over his face and his crib. It was a goddamn Poo-nami. It was Poomaggedon. Just as I realize what's happened I see him go to put some in his mouth. "NOOOOOOOOO!" I yell as I dive in slo-mo, "It's not a shit biscuit!" He tastes it and, quite obviously, starts spitting and makes the most hilarious/disgusted face of all time. He ate his own shit. I figure it's a tough lesson to learn but I'm glad he learned it early. You don't want to be learning that lesson your second year of University or anything.
Anyhow, I had to get Will in for backup because I couldn't handle the mountain of turd that surrounded me.
In other news, we went to NYC for the long weekend, which was the best. It was the longest we had left the baby, and let me tell you, it was awesome. I felt anxious before we left, because I knew I would miss him and would he be ok, and all of that. But then, when Will and I are sipping cocktails at 2:30 in the afternoon at some cool bar we're not cool enough to be at, any and all anxiety I had went out the door. Here's the thing. Getting away from work is THE BEST. Waking up when you want to, not answering emails, not dealing with your weird co-workers; it's all well deserved. When you have a toddler, that feeling of freedom is times 10,000. Don't get me wrong, I was happy to see him when the weekend was done, but I didn't pine for him, let me just put it that way. If you're a Mom and you don't think you can be away from your kid for more than a night or whatever, I'm here to tell you that you can, and you'll love it. Although I don't know too many Moms who seem to have a problem with that.
We saw Joey Fatone in New York, I know you're jealous. Will thought it was Lance Bass and when we walked by him said, "HA! It's Lance Bass." Hilarious.
I'm sweating my armpits off right now so I have to go. Until next time.

What did you say?

I am officially the worst blogger in the world, but this just in: I don't really give a care. That's right,give a care. So Dex is fully walking now. It is super cute and I am constantly laughing my head off but at the same time, we're constantly running our asses off and it's hardcore. I normally try to give him decent food but I pretty much just fed him cookies tonight so he would stay in his highchair while I drank Newcastle Brown Ale with my neighbour. It's a beer worth getting your kid hopped up on sugar for. So he's in daycare a few days a week while I work and the other days I send him to work as Rob Fords taster. There are far too many people who want to poison that man.
His daycare lady is called Shakira, as in the she wolf, as in my hips don't lie. I was at first attracted to this woman because of her name. It's awesome. The only other name that could compare to this, with regards to the person who I am going to entrust with my child's life, would be Magnum. If I could have found a daycare provider whose name was Magnum, that person would have beaten Shakira as Dexters daycare provider. There was another time I based a decision solely on the name of a person. I was looking for a new voice agent here in Toronto. I was going through the list of agents and saw that this one guy at AAB Talent was accepting submissions. His name was Warren Beatty. I called him right away. I wanted Warren Beatty in my corner. I met him and he looked like a regular sized Webster. I was going to say giant Webster, but that's really just a regular Webster right? Anyhow, turns out Warren was useless and I wasn't getting any auditions. I started asking around if this guy was any good. Turns out the A A B stands for Asian Action Booking. I am neither Asian or capable of any action. Well, that's not entirely true; I can do a pretty sweet high kick. Anyhow, I learned my lesson from making life decisions based on cool names and decided to do a little more research with regards to Shakira. Turns out she's awesome. Her English is a bit Persian but we seem to communicate effectively, except for the other day. When I picked Dex up from daycare Shakira tells me, "Oh Lareesa, diahrrhea sooo bad."
"Oh" I say, "That's too bad."
"Yes",she says, "it's very stinky."
"Oh ya? Well, was it something you ate?" She replies, "Maybe, what you eat him?" I say, "Oh ya, he's so cute I just want to eat him up." She looks at me really confused. "Well" I say, "I hope you feel better. Diarrhea's the worst." Her face twists from confused to understood. "Oohhh, noo" she says, "Shakira no have diarehhea, baby has diarrhea" She's saying this as she's pointing to her own bum. OHHHHHHHHH. Woops. She was telling me the baby had diarrhea and here I am telling her I hope her trots clear up. Hilarious but I think this makes our relationship even stronger. I was ok with hearing about her diarrhea and she was cool with me thinking she was talking to me about her floopy poops. That is precisely the kind of relationship I need with the woman I entrust my baby's life with. That's it for now.

It's been a while

I am not the best blogger in the world, this I can admit. I think this might be the first one this month. Don't judge, I've been busy. I got married and became the Duchess of Cambridge. I just had my last show after 25 years of talk show magic and I've been trying to come up with more ways to make myself sound like a giant idiot by going about trying to disprove Barack Obamas citizenship. I've been busy. Needless to say, chasing around a toddler may be as exhausting as having a newborn suckle on your teat. Dexter is hobbling around like I do on a Friday night after a bottle of $7.50 Fuzion. He's so cute it's hilarious but at the same time, he's definitely figuring out how to push the old buttons. It's so interesting to see his little mind work. What blows my mind is how much and how well I know this little person. What's really scary is that my Mom knows my mind this well. God help her. She must lose sleep at night knowing what goes on in this warped mass of brain matter.

I'm still working on my business while mothering while scanning for other jobs. It's pretty busy but what the hell. If I didn't have this taking up my time I would probably just be scanning the internet for porn. I'm still taking Dex to baby swimming lessons on Monday mornings. I think I'm the baby swimming lesson pariah. Here's the thing; I'm a talker. When I'm in the pool with a bunch of babies and adults, I'm going to chat to the adults. Let's just be honest here for a second. The babies are cute and everything but after about 10 minutes in the pool with them, it sort of gets boring. How many times can you sing "The Wheels on the Bus" until you want to shoot yourself in the face? I can tell you. Once. You will sing that song once and then you're over it. So, I spend the other 20 minutes of the lesson bopping Dex in and out of the water while I chat to the other Mom's and Dad's. At first I think they were a little bit weirded out by me and I can't blame them. They're probably thinking, "Um, how does a professional fitness model get Monday's off?"
The Filipino nannies have been the chattiest, and I appreciate it. After swimming, myself and two of the nannies go to Tim Hortons where I drink too much coffee and pretend to know what they're talking about. One of the nannies asked me who I was nannying for. I said, "I'm not his nanny". Maybe my disinterest in baby swimming lessons made them think that there's no way I'm the Mom.
So one of the Dad's in baby swimming lessons has started to warm up to me. We'll chat and laugh and we share weekend stories. I'm 90% sure he's gay but I'm sure people say that about me too so I try not to jump to conclusions. Anyhow, I hadn't noticed up until recently, but he has a nipple ring. It's not as if I haven't seen nipple rings before. The 90's were a real boom for piercers and nipple piercing was the norm. I didn't go for the nipple but like a lot of idiots in their 20's I thought it was an AMAZING idea to get my eyebrow pierced. Lesson number one in making yourself more unattractive: Pierce your eyebrow. So I'm chatting to the nipple pierced Daddy in the pool and for some stupid reason I couldn't stop looking at his nipple ring. We're talking and I KNOW my eyes are bobbing up and down from his face to his nipple. I know he knows I'm looking at it, but I couldn't stop! 'What the hell is the matter with you Larissa?' I internally scream at myself, 'Stop looking at his freaking nipple!' but I couldn't. It was like I was in a nipple trance. I was being hypnotized by his nipple and it started to get uncomfortable. Now I was staring at the spot directly above his nose so that I would stop staring at his nipple, but I felt that was super obvious too. I started to sweat, even though I was in a pool. He then looked down at his own nipple. 'Oh shit. He's onto me'. Yup, he was. He took his baby girl and waded over to the Filipino nannies. 'Oh God', I think, 'Don't tell my nannies! I need them.' They started talking and I swear one of them gave me the sideways scorn. Anyhow, class ended and I got the hell out of there. I didn't even bother to stick around afterwards to pee in the pool. I like to leave my scent.
I've been to baby swimming lessons since and he's not been there. I hope I didn't scare him off with my staring problem. I'll let you know if he ever returns. My relationship with the Filipino nannies seems to have survived the incident. We're still just smiling and laughing at one another even though I'm pretty sure neither of us understand the other.
Maybe to smooth things over , I'll re-pierce my eyebrow so that he knows he wasn't the only one in the 90's who got sucked in.

Math nurd

When I send an email from my Blackberry it does a spell check before I actually send the email. Most of the time this is a good thing but whenever I write our sons name as Dex, it auto corrects it to "Sex". Do you know how many emails I've sent where I refer to how cute our little Sex is? "Oh, you should see Sex these days. Sex is nearly walking and Sex is chatting up a storm!" The best was when I sent an email to an old friend and signed off with, "Gotta go, Sex just took the biggest shit and I'm about to be elbow deep in it."
I really have to figure out how to fix that.
In other news, Dexter is 1 year and 1 month old. Yup, that's how I'm saying it. Here's the thing, everyone speaks in months, after their kid is a year old. "Oh, she's 17 months", someone will tell you. Well guess what? I was never particularly good at math and making me sit there and figure out 17 minus 12 is annoying. I don't even know my 12 times tables! Seriously I don't. I had measles that week and I honestly missed the time when we learned them and unless it's 12 times 12, I don't have an effing clue. I think we all need to agree to speak in years and months, after the babies are a year old, d'accord? I'll start the trend. Right now I'm just saying, "He's a little over a year." I'll continue to do that until he's a year and 5 months, and then I'll say, "He's a year and five months." I also feel the same way about the 24 hour clock. Please don't tell me it's 19:00. I am not British and it's not the 18th century.
A while back I wrote about a crazy week but I never got around to talking about the 2nd crazy thing that had happened to me. Spring fever is in the air in East York and I think the fever has turned scarlet because people are slightly more crazy than before. So I was heading to the pharmacy to get my prescription (by pharmacy I mean the LCBO and by prescription I mean red wine). So I'm heading down the Danforth when about half a block away I see, what appears to be a very old woman, collapsing into a young woman. There was another older lady looking on. I was pushing Sex in his stroller and started running, to see if I could help. I was right. The woman couldn't really stand up, she looked to be about 85, she was super hunched over and it was as if her legs were simply giving out on her. The girl that was helping was about 20 and was not doing a very good job holding her up. I said frantically, "Can I call you an ambulance? Are you having a stroke?" As if she could actually answer. So the old lady responds very calmly and clearly, "No, I'm fine,I just need to sit down. I know they have chairs in there, I just need some help to get there." She points to a community centre, the door to it just around the corner. The other older lady was standing there and said to me, "Don't worry, I'll watch the baby, you just help." Now I generally expect the best from people but for a split second, I thought I might be in some crazy granny kidnapping ring. Totally irrational, yes, but I smelled stranger danger and it smelt like old mothballs. Anyhow, I said, "Ok, just follow right behind us." My adrenaline was pumping and the 20 year old was useless so I literally put this old bird over my shoulder and proceeded to carry her to the centre. Remember I mentioned earlier that she was super hunched? So even stooped, she was slightly taller than me. I'm a leggy 5 ft 3 inches so if she could fully stand up, the old bird was probably about 6ft 2inches. She was one tall fossil. What I'm trying to get at here was that she wasn't a petite waif of a Granny. Baby had back...which was hunched, and full of what I thought was lead. Anyhow, as I'm carrying this woman, keeping an eye on my baby that another old lady is pushing beside me, I catch a whiff. A whiff of what? Oh, I would say it was a bit of vodka, maybe some whiskey with a beer chaser to get it all down. She was totally drunk. I was carrying an 85 year old waste case to the community centre. At first I thought, "Holy shit lady, it's Tuesday at 2pm and you're 85!" But honestly, I can't judge. I've been a total waste case at 2pm on a Tuesday afternoon so who the hell am I? Maybe when I'm 85 with nothing to do, I'll throw back some Jaggerbombs in between bridge and naps. Why the hell not? I figure if you make it to 85 you can do whatever the hell you want. Honestly, I might even try heroin if I make it to 85. Needless to say, we got to the community centre and as luck would have it, there was a doctor on site! I pretty much dumped her there, told them what had happened and left. She was in good hands. So there you go. Never assume an old person in distress isn't just having the best trip of their life.
Until next time.

Spring Fever

Dex had his first fever a couple of weeks ago. I would like to tell you that I calmly handled it and did everything right but I did nothing of the sort. I was using an electronic themometer that I put in his ear. The reading seemed pretty high and I had heard, from a friend, that if you take their temp up their butt you get a more accurate reading. Well, in my haste I just went and tried to put the ear themometer in his butt. Doesn't work like that. Lesson number one in taking a baby's temperature: Don't try to use your ear themomater up their butt. I felt kind of weird trying to put something up his butt anyhow. I mean, if he wants to do that stuff when he's a consenting adult, more power to him, but for now I'm sticking to the ear reading. I thought I would have been a bit cooler when he got a fever but I have to tell you, I was slightly hysterical. The problem is I read the newspaper everyday and I pretty much assume that whatever has happened to everyone else, is going to happen to me. I've been a wreck with the whole Omar Khadr debacle. It could happen to me, you never know.
I think we`re led to believe that when we become Mothers, suddenly we`re bestowed with this amazing ability to know what to do in ever situation that requires mothering. I think I have clearly disproved this theory time and time again. Secondly, I am not a nurse or doctor and have no medical instincts. Here are instincts that I have:
a) if a dog is chasing me, I instinctively run.
b) If I'm talking to a member of the opposite sex in a suggestive manor I instinctively make sure he's over 18. I won't make THAT mistake again.
c) If I take a sip of a beer bottle that has cigarette butts in it, I instinctively spit them out.

These are a few of my natural instincts. Knowing what to do when my baby has a temperature over 100 degrees is not an instinct that I had developed, at that point. Now that's it over with, I'll know what to do next time but don't feel bad if you're a lunatic when your baby has their first fever. At least you didn't sodomize them with an ear themometer.

So a few strange things have happened to me this week. There is something in the air in East York and whatever it is, it's laced with crazy.
I went into Tim Hortons after swimming lessons on Monday. The lessons are for Dexter. I am a world class swimmer as you probably can tell from my broad, strong shoulders. The woman who walked in before me didn't bother holding the door for me and it came crashing into the baby buggy. In her defense, she had a newborn strapped to her so who knows if she had even slept in the last 48 hours. This beast of a woman behind me yells."What the hell! She could have opened the door for you! Like you don't have your hands full or something."
"Yes" I reply as she holds the door for me, "she must just be lost in thought or something."
"Ya right" beast replies, "you need to look out for one another."
"Sure", I respond doing my best not to encourage her.
Now we're fully in line at the Tim Hortons and her voice is getting increasingly louder with every word. Did I mention that she had an INSANE mop of wild gray hair and her eyes were a freaky yellow colour? On anyone else, they would have looked amazing but on her they just screamed perscription-meds-overdose-waiting-to-happen.
I thought she was done but oh no.
"I mean especially as WOMEN. We need to look out for each other AS WOMEN."
As she's saying this, she's inching closer to me, but looking over my head at the girl in front of me, who is the one to whom she is directing this whole exchange. She turns around. She is a sweet looking girl with a tiny baby strapped to her that doesn't have a clue what's going on. Crazy looks at her and says, "You've got to watch out for each other. AS WOMEN."
Now she's kind of puffing her chest out, like guys do to one another when they're about to fight over me.
Holy shit, I think. Is this lunatic going to try to fight this woman with a baby over not holding the door open for me?
I say, "Really, it's ok, just leave it be. Please."
The young girl with the baby turns back around and crazy miraculously shuts up. Now we're just standing in line waiting for our coffee and I feel the need to keep talking because it's gotten quietly awkward.
"So" I say to crazy, "Have you won anything on roll up the rim to win?"
Why did I feel the need to continue to engage crazy in a conversation? If I didn't, what kind of blog would this be really.
Crazy responds, "Ya, I'm here to collect my free coffee."
I point to the sign that says there's been 10,000 winners at this particular Tim Hortons. I say, "Well, I guess they'll have to change the number to 10,001 when you get to the cash."
'Whatever", she replies, "That's just what they WANT you to think."
"Huh?"
"They want you to think 10,000 people have won here, so you keep coming but I know different."
Oh, is that right crazy? Have the CFO and CEO of Tim Hortons been in touch today? I'm sorry , I didn't realize. What a nut job. Who actually thinks there's a big Roll Up The Rim conspiracy? I don't even know why I'm asking that question. She was about to fight a young Mom with a baby over not holding the door open.
Anyhow, I have another crazy story that happened yesterday but I'm getting carpel tunnel from typing this blog. Ta for now.

Can you do it any better?

I think the most boring way to spend your time would be watching church on T.V. Church is so epically boring in real life, sitting and watching it on television would be my Guantanamo.

I tend to have a lot of conversations with cashiers. I don't mind, I'm a pretty chatty person and if someone wants to strike up a quick conversation, I'm up for it. It's amazing what people will tell you in a 3 1/2 minute conversation. Here are some of my most memorable ones:

Me: "Hey! You're pregnant! Congratulations."
Cashier: "I'm not pregnant"

Cashier: "My husband isn't a cat person but he likes mine if you know what I mean."
Me: "...............oh god."

Me: "So nice out isn't it."
Cashier: "I'm losing my eye sight."
Me: "ha ha ha ha ha....oh wait."

Anyhow, now that I have Dexter with me, I have even more conversations, only this time it's usually only about the baby.
A couple of weeks ago I had walked to the Metro with Dexter. It was pretty cold out so he was in his snowsuit. As I went through the cash, the cashier peered over and saw Dexter. She remarked on how cute he was. I responded, "I think you mean hot, not cute."
I didn't really say that.
Anyhow, she looks at him and says, "Oh ,it's so cold out. Is he ok?"
"What?" I respond, "Ok how?"
"Well, is he warm enough?"
I chuckle, thinking she's joking because he's wearing a GIANT snowsuit.
"I think he's fine." I reply
"Do you have something to block the wind from him?" she asks
"Yes" I respond sternly, "the Gortex snowsuit that he's wearing that is covering all 2 ft 5" of him."
It was like a baby snowsuit burka for eff sake. You could see his eyes, if you really looked hard, but other than that this baby was in full winter combat mode. He looked like a mix between Maggie Simpson and the kid from The Christmas Story who couldn't get up because he was in such an intense snow suit.
She looks at me and gives me this look that says, "you're freezing your sons tiny balls off and you should be ashamed."
Well, that's how I interpreted the look.
I was about 2 seconds away from lambasting this woman with a barrage of insults attacking anything I could but I really wanted my Airmiles so I kept my mouth shut. The woman behind me said , "He's fine, he's a good little Canadian boy." Thank god she said something because all I could think of was the f-word.
In other news, I took Dex to his first day of daycare the other day. There were a lot of tears, but Will's doing much better now. More on that later. I've gone out and gotten myself ANOTHER hangover so I have to go and eat dangerous amounts of bacon. Ta for now.

Happy Birthday to the baby and to my stretch marks!

I went into this kind of hipster coffee shop in Leslieville the other day. I asked the hipster working there if they had a highchair, for the baby. I only need a booster seat, cause I'm 5ft 3".
This girl looked at me like I had asked her where they sell their Nazi paraphenalia. The look of disgust on her face was so shocking I nearly apologized for bringing a baby into her den of douchebaggery. What the hell? I guess it isn't hip to have a baby and even less hip to bring that baby into a coffee shop where it's a prerequisite to wear skinny jeans if you're a guy, and your Mom's 70's poncho if you're a girl. This just in hipsters: Justin Bieber stole your hairdo and smelling like Value Village is so 90's.
Anyhow, in other news, Dexter turned a year old on Sunday. Woooooo! He's so cute it's ridiculous. He devoured a chocolate cupcake and it may have been the greatest thing of all time. He treated that cupcake the way I treat the teat on a box of red wine: with respect and a tiny bit of fear.
It really is crazy how quickly it all went by. I guess life just speeds up the older you get, because you just become way busier. Either that or you just start losing memory because you're old and your mind is going. I should technically be going back to work but I got laid off about 6 weeks ago because they sold the company I work for! HA! It doesn't really bother me. It was time for a change anyhow. Do you know that the longest I've ever had a job was my job back in highschool? I worked at Longo's for 4 years, and haven't had a job for that length of time since. I'm a real committment-phob when it comes to jobs.
I've decided to dedicate my time to finding the perfect cheese anyhow. I feel like this is something that will be both satisfying and a challenge.
Happy Birthday Dexter! You survived year one with me as your Mom and Will as your Dad. God speed young man, God speed.

Seemed Like A Good Idea

Being hungover, with a 1 year old, might be the worst punishment for bad behavior....of all time. In fact, screw Guantanamo, get all the criminals drunk on champagne, then force them to care for a litter of cranky-ass toddlers. I don't think you'll see many repeat offenders.
Thankfully Will didn't come out Saturday night. It was just me and 6 other girls, drinking like we were 23 again and looking for tail like we're 32. It was a fun night at this restaurant at Yonge and St.Clair but let me tell you something, champagne, red wine, desert wine and fois gras do not make for a pleasant-following-morning. And fuck-you very much for the time change too, by the way. That really helps.
Here's the thing. Just because you have a baby asleep at home doesn't mean that you don't like to occasionally tie one on. Maybe your occasionally is once a month,like your period, or maybe it's once a week, like your masturbation routine, or maybe it's once a day, like a teenage boys masturbation schedule. Whatever your "tie-one-on" scenario may be, the hangover is extra painful when you're awoken at 7am by the needs of another human being. It's not like when you were without kids and you thought, "shit, I should really stop watching Miss.Congeniality for the millionth time on showcase Diva. I should really do my laundry." But your laundry isn't going to suffer if it doesn't get done. Your child, on the other hand, requires a lot more maintenance. You have no choice but to get your disgusting hung over ass off of the couch, put the jacket on the baby, strap him into the car, and get yourself to Swiss Chalet or some other greasy joint to cure your ails.
Speaking of which, don't ever get the chicken sandwich at Swiss Chalet. It was like swallowing luke warm chicken flavored sand. Disgusting.
If anything happens to your baby, while you're in this state, the guilt is doubly as bad. I'm not naming names, but a certain first husband of mine (we'll call him Sharon) was in the hungover state and the baby did a major bonker on his head. He was screaming and crying and Dexter wasn't in very good shape either. I mean, Dex does a thousand head bonks a week, the pains of learning to walk, but the fact that he did a mega one on Sharon's watch, while hungover, just makes you feel like a real skid. God, what happens when you have two kids? Maybe by then I'll have grown up enough to have some will power.
Maybe.

Weird things of late

First of all, I've never watched The Apprentice before, let alone the Celebrity Apprentice but any T.V show that puts L'il John and Gary Busey together, is screaming for me to watch it.
So I feel like the winter is making everyone, myself included, pretty effing squirrly. Can we please just get to April already!?! This winter has been brutal and, like every other winter, I question why we live here. Then I read the paper and I realize why.
Then I go to Scarborough and I question my choices again.
I went to the Costco in Scarborough the other day. There aren't any in the city.To begin, you know you're getting old when you get a Costco membership for Christmas. No one says to a spunky 24 year old girl, "Here, Have a Costco membership! You can get all of your paper towels, cat food and diapers for so much cheaper than the grocery stores." I tell ya, if I had a Costco membership when I was 24 I would be getting giant packages of giant condoms. Cause I was getting so much. HI-YOOOOOOOO. I would probably have also gotten a lot of perogies.
Anyhow, I'm in the produce section when a woman who really had that Scarborough air about her approached me and Dexter. Dexter is going to be 1 in a few weeks so he is absolutely ridiculously cute and gets approached by a lot of people, cause he's so effing gorgeous. She says in a pack-a-day voice, "He's so cute, how old is he?"
I say, "Nearly a year." I look in her buggy and she has a car seat with a newborn in it. I look in and say, "She's so beautiful, congratulations."
"Thanks" she replies.
Then she leans in close enough so that I can smell mock chicken, Players extra light and semen. She says, "You'd shit yourself if you knew I had 6 others at home."
Wow.
I mean, seriously, wow.
You're right lady. I have just shit my pants right here in front of the ceaser salad sample lady. I don't know what's more disturbing; the tear you have tattooed down your cheek, the fact that you have 7 children or that you've just said to a complete stranger, "You would SHIT yourself". She could have said, "you would be surprised", or "can you believe" but nope, she went right for it. Anyhow, as I shuddered away from her I thought to myself, it's time Costco in Scarborough started to sell club packs of birth control.
Not that I'm some high-society flyer. I went up to Markham, baby in tow, to fight a parking ticket, this week.
Here's the thing. The parking ticket is only $30.00 but when you're getting them on a semi-regular basis, you have to fight the man. If you fight your ticket, there is a small chance you'll have to go to court. Most of the time they get lost and you hear nothing of them. It's a bit of effort to take them downtown to fight, but worth it if you're getting a lot of them. Anyhow, I actually had to go to court for one we got in 2009. We had gotten it on my father-in-laws car, parked in front of our house. Bringing the baby with me, I knew I would get attention and that I could treat the experience with a light heart. That's one of the best things about having a baby by your side; everyone is way nicer to you and you can get away with a lot more.
Here's an example.
As I was walking through security the cop asked me, "What are you here for?" I replied, fist pumped in the air,"JUSTICE!"
He laughed. Now if I didn't have the baby with me he probably would have thought I was a jackass and a weirdo. The baby is a great accessory for comedy. People assume, if you're a Mom, that you're a responsible, tax paying citizen. Little do they know.
So now we're in the courtroom, along with about 20 other people who are after justice. I was the first person up to fight for my rights. They say a bunch of stuff, and the judge looks at Dexter and says "Is this Michael Macky?" The courtroom giggles. Ok, cool, this judge wants to joke around. I think we all know that Dexter isn't the one who got the parking ticket. I say, "No, this is my lawyer." The courtroom laughs even harder than before. "ORDER IN THE COURT!" I yell. No, just kidding, I didn't do that. The judge didn't even crack a smile at my joke, I think he was pissed I got a bigger laugh. Anyhow, the ticket was reduced to $10 from $30. That's what always happens if you just plead guilty. Did I drive all the way up to Markham to save $20? Yup, and I'll do it again City of Toronto by-law a-holes.
If anyone wants me to go and fight a parking ticket on their behalf, let me know. I'm pretty much V.I.P up there.

Baby Proof my boobs

Dexter just turned 11 months old. Are you kidding me? What the hell is going on? He's doing great, nearly walking and learning quickly how to make a dirty gin martini for Mommy.
Here's something they don't tell you in pre-natal class, even though you're done breastfeeding,( I've been done for about 3 months) you still have some leftovers in there. Not quite the same as Thanksgiving leftovers, doesn't taste as nice on a sandwich. Your boobs really do take a beating after you've had a baby. I mean, we all hear (before we get pregnant) that they change and all that, but I really think we all think we'll be different. "Oh, I'll get my body back right away", we think quietly to ourselves. "My boobs will just get right back to their former glory." These subtle thoughts lurk in the back of all of our minds , pre-baby, right? I mean look at Gisele Bunchen or Brooke Burke or JLo. They're all just regular women and look at them. Right back to good in 3 months or under. That's going to be me. I'm here to tell you it's not. Listen, you get your body back, but it's a bit of a softer version. Genetics play a part in it of course, and I'm pretty lucky, I feel like I've done ok considering I haven't really done much exercise. Maybe you'll get super lucky and your body will be exactly the same, and maybe monkeys might really fly out of Mike Myers butt. Don't get too upset, things aren't too drastic. I mean you won't be able to touch your bellybutton with your (can't wait for that!)but lets just say that the girls become slightly dough-ier than they once were. Simply not as firm. When you first stop breast feeding your actual nipples are kind of funny too but I don't want to ruin the surprise for some of you so I won't reveal that amazing secret. And as for your belly, it obviously goes down but the fact is, your skin has stretched so much, it's pretty hard to get it back, unless you get some Goslin-surgery. Sit-ups and exercise and diet help but how do you reverse stretching skin? If anyone knows, please share it and if you're one of those people who got their flat stomach back pretty quickly, shut up and get a paper cut. I should probably care more, but I honestly don't. I refuse to stop eating cheese and that's that. Anyhow, I'm off to eat some curds. Cheese curds.

Please don't sue

A few blogs back I mentioned that for a few months, late last year, I was the spokesperson for a large company that sells baby product. I have to be careful what I say so I'll tell you that the name of the aforementioned company rhymes with Scabies R' Pus. It's true! I was paid to fly around Canada, go on Breakfast Television in the major cities, and be one of those buffoons who carries on (at way too early in the morning) about some idiot crap no one cares about. In this case, it was baby crap. I took the gig because, well, the money was decent and I've been on Mat Leave. Why not? My friend hooked me up with it and for that I'm totally grateful. She could not have known the experience that would ensue. Needless to say, I got the boot, not really surprising. Hawking baby crap is the antithesis of what I am but money is money and I'm not above selling my soul for a few bucks. Or selling my body. What a sec, who said that?
I may have mentioned , on live TV, that I was going to drink wine out of my sons sippy cup, but in my defense it was in Winnipeg and I was just trying to be relateable. In Vancouver I may have mentioned some people are really into thumb sucking...like a fetish, so I can see how they figured I wasn't a good "fit". They were totally right to fire me. My loving husband tells me that I'm not allowed to come on this blog and speak negatively of Scabies R' Pus. He's right, we could get sued. So that being said I will say only positive things of the company. For example, Scabies R' Pus does a great job at saving money on travel, using only the most economical hotels for business travel.As well, Scabies R' Pus does an AMAZING job at avoiding employee obesity by limiting their food and drink Per Diem to as little as humanly possible. If you're an employee of Scabies R'Pus it's probably less painful than being Rob Fords wife during intercourse.
Is it wrong that the baby is in bed and I'm drinking scotch? Butch? Yes. Delicious? Absolutely. I have to honestly say that not drinking while pregnant was really challenging. Honestly, hardest 5 months of my life.
Until next time.

It's in a name

I've discovered that even though I live in the city, I am far from urban. How did I come to this conclusion? I looked at a flyer today and went to No Frills to buy the ribs that were on sale. I am officially a Mom. I'm only a heartbeat away from cutting coupons. I don't know if I'm ready to accept this harsh reality. Anyhow, let me tell you, No Frills lives up to its name; especially this one. See, not only was I at No Frills, I was at a No Frills in Scarborough.This particular No Frills really adheres to the whole "No Frill" philosophy when they're hiring staff. It's like it was a prerequisite for employment to no longer have even one of your original teeth. I felt like I had walked into a needle exchange program. Where do they find these women? Normally I enjoy grocery shopping. It's one of the few domestic chores that I genuinely enjoy. I usually go to Loblaws or Sobeys where the lighting isn't too harsh, the music plays gently over the speakers and the aisles are wide and inviting.The cashiers are pleasant or at least without a criminal record. I sound like I'm being a bit hard on this No Frills, but you should seriously go have a look at these cashiers. It's where cashiers go to die, I'm sure of it. The beast that was checking me out looked to be around 65-ish. She smiles at the baby and makes baby noises at him. I stand there awkwardly. I give my obligatory remark, "Oh, do you have children?"
"Yes", she answers, "but they're all grown up." I say, "Oh that's nice."
She responds, "One is 5 and the other is 7." Whaaaaa? Unless she had some incredible fertility treatments (which something tells me she hasn't) that means that you're probably only in your 40's. Smoke another cigarette lady, it's really working for you.
In other news, Dexter is 10 months old and beyond cute. Kissing and crawling and being hilarious. It's more work now, I mean you really have to keep an eye on him instead of an eye on him and an eye on the bottle of wine, which is what I've been doing up to this point. I like to make sure that the wine is always behaving itself. Anyhow, he puts EVERYTHING in his mouth so I've had to pick up all of the bread crumbs that I leave for myself so that I don't get lost.When we were in the Domincan Republic, Dex was crawling around the floor. I see him put something in his mouth and say, "Will, he's got something in his mouth, can you please take it out?" Will puts his hand in and pulls out..... a beetle. Gross! He put a freaking beetle in his mouth! I started to freak thinking he could have some weird Domincan beetle poisoning but that wasn't the case.
A couple of weeks ago I was in The Home Depot...cruisin' for dudes. This guy who works there came up and started cooing at the baby. He says to me, "You know, you have to be careful, babies put everything in their mouth." Thanks Dr.Spock.
"I have a 2 year old, and when he was this age, he picked up a razor blade and put it in his mouth. I had to very slowly extract it, using all of my concentration."
Holy shit! First things first, Dale from Home Depot, why the hell do you have razor blades lying around your floor? Did you just happen to lose one while you were shaving, running through the living room? Were you making a pinata and had butter fingers that day? If you have razor blades lying around the floor willy nilly, yes, willy nilly, you have bigger problems than I can deal with right now....in aisle 3 at Home Depot. Honestly, what a weird story to share with a complete stranger. Anyhow, my point is, your baby may put beetles, cat food or toilet paper in their mouth but don't ever feel bad. Dale's kids are one step away from getting decapitated by a circular saw.

Roses?

First of all, I want to clear something up. Just because it's your own baby, doesn't make cleaning their shit any better. When you don't have kids, and you see someone cleaning a big turd and you curl up your nose, you often hear, "Don't worry, when it's your own, it's different." Not true. Shit is shit and it's shitty.It's just that you have no choice so you just do it and suck it up. Your own flesh and blood doesn't make poop any nicer than someone elses. It's still waste that travels through the lower intestines and comes out as a disgusting blob. SOmetimes it's more like the softserve icecream machine at McDonalds has unleashed in your kids diaper and you think, "Good God, should I take this baby to emergency? How can such a tiny human survive after such a massive expulsion?" There are many different kinds of baby poop, for those of you who are unaware.
To begin, there's the tar sands. This is the first poop that comes out of your baby and it is super sticky, black and thick, much like this guy I dated once. I believe the medical name for it is merconium but I just refer to it as rotten tar. Then comes the honey mustard. This is easier to clean than the rotten tar but has the terrifying sweet smell. Like a decaying peach. Then you move onto the Green Giant, which is exactly what it's name describes. Then the real magic happens when you start feeding your baby real food, like fruits and vegetables. This stage is actually quite facinating. This is when every shade on the colour wheel comes into play. It's like every day you get to witness a new rainbow of fruit flavours. If you're lucky, you may even get a sneak peek into the world of floopy poops, or for the lamen, diarrhea. This is a stink that will actually burn, not only your nose cilia, but your retnas as well. It starts to get worse before it gets better. I've changed the diaper of a 2 year old and that's when things seriously start to get real. There's always something to look forward to. So onto other things, I recently got fired as the spokesperson for Babies R Us. Surprised? I hadn't even mentioned that I was doing this busted ass job because I had signed this contract that forbade me from basically, well, being me. They still owe me a bunch of money so I'll save the story until I see every penny and then will regale you with hilarious tales of me, flying around Canada, going on Breakfast Television, talking about idiot baby stuff. Here's a taste of what's to come. When I was on BT in Winnipeg I had said that I would be using Dexter's "no spill" sippy cup on Christmas Eve to drink my red wine out of, so that I wouldn't spill it down my front and look like a total alcoholic. That may have been the final nail in the coffin.Ta for now!

Boom goes the dynamite

I left off with a story about our trek to the resort we stayed at in the Domincan Republic. It was the first time Will and I had done one of these all-inclusive jobs. To be honest, I sort of thought they were a bit gross before. A bunch of food, booze and Americans. I was wrong, I will admit. It was great and perfect for just simply relaxing. I love to travel but I find it hard to settle down, always needing to see everything. It's nice when you really have no choice but to sit, read and drink booze. The food was actually pretty good too. In fact, it was great. So anyhow, that's my review Travelocity.
When you left the perimeters of what was the resorts beach, there were security guards that would get you to sign out. I guess in case you get kidnapped by pirates, they know what time the resort had no legal responsibility. There was this security guard, who looked like he was maybe 20, but who knows. They all look the same to me. Security guards, that is. This guy loooooooved the baby. He came running up to us as we were walking down the beach and just started speaking Spanish to Dex and cooing and going crazy. It was really cute. He then started speaking Spanish to us. Now, having taken first year Spanish in University and scoring an impressive 58% in the course, you would be surprised to know that I can't speak Spanish. So I say, "No hable espanol." Didn't matter. He just kept talking. So he gestures for us to follow him to his chair where he keeps the clip board for people to sign out. In the meantime all of these other people were just walking by, not signing out. Ok. So we follow him and he gestures for me to sit on the chair. I sit with the baby on my lap. Will has the clipboard, signing us out. He continues to go cookoo over the baby. He's yammering on in Spanish and looking at me and laughing and I'm laughing, at what, I don't know. He may have been saying that we all look the same to him. Models, that is. Anyhow, the next thing I know, he's clucking Dex under the chin, then he swings his massive shotgun around to the front and hands it to the baby! Of course Dex goes right for the effing trigger. It all happened so fast I thought I was in a Saved By the Bell dream sequence. "Holy shit!" I say, "don't give the baby the gun!" I jump up and say, "Ok see you later! Have a good day." He continues to follow us and I just keep turning around saying "Ola, Ola,Ola", which I obviously know means "Hello" (did you already forget the 58%?) but I was so flustered that it's the only thing that was coming out of my mouth. Imagine how insane that sounded? I'm running away, clutching my baby to my chest, yelling out "Hello!Hello!Hello!" So anyhow,that was that. About 2 days later, I'm alone walking down the beach with the baby. He's there again. This time he just waves for me to come to him. I walk up to him and he starts with the baby again. He wants to hold him this time. Now I'm getting a good look at this guy. I don't know for certain, but I'm 58% sure that this dude may be slightly mentally challenged in some capacity. He's sitting down and holding up his arms to me, wanting to hold the baby. I figure it's ok, he's just a sweet man who loves the baby. I know what you're thinking, you're saying to yourself, "Oh wait Larissa, but where's the gun?" Yes, maybe I should have thought of that. As I'm handing my only child over to the stranger I realize the gun is just lying across his lap and now Dexter is in his arms and jumping on the gun. I discover this and yell, "Ola!Ola the gun!" Again with the misuse of ola. He says the only words I've heard him say in English, "No problem lady, no problem." Well, maybe I'm just a soft Canadian who has never been exposed to guns before but I'm pretty sure a 9 month old jumping on a loaded shotgun is a bit of a problem. I grab Dex, sign the stupid clipboard and take off. Then I went and drank a Banana Mama.

Is that a gun in your pants?

Happy New Year weirdos.
Will, Dexter and I went to the Domincan Republic on New Years Day for a nice week in the sun. Well, the shade really. For those of you who know my little family we are the whitest people around.SOme may even say that we're translucent. My Mom says I'm porcelin and fair, so suck on that. Will and I would come out of the shade at around 3pm. This is the time when the nightwalkers can roam in the sun without fear of complete anihilation. Anyhow, it was an amazing week and the baby loved it. The flight was a bit of a gong show but even more of a gong show was the hour and a half ride out to the resort. Dex had been ok during the flight but now it's like 10pm and he's getting super squirrly. Everyone on the bus is from Toronto and ready to get to the resort. Some skids from Milton have cracked some Canadians, butts behind their ears ready to hoser it up the moment we get to the resort. This crazy Domincan guy is on the microphone (of the greyhound) cracking really dumb jokes like this one: "I hear there's 2 feet of snow in Canada." Then he laughs really uncomfortably loud. That's the joke. Not to mention the sound system is ancient and his voice is really loud and distorted. Now the baby starts wailing. I'm holding him, well trying not to drop him (it was a really bumpy ride) and doing my best to get him to settle down. He's just getting louder and louder and now people around me are craning their necks to see how I'm torturing my baby. Here's the thing. Everyone thinks that if they were in my situation, they would be successful at getting him to calm down. I can see it in their judgemental, sympathetic stares. I'm getting frustrated as the baby is getting louder. Now amateur night at the Apollo says on the mic, "Oh tha' bebe is 'ungry." Thanks Domincan Gilligan. As a matter of fact, the baby isn't hungry but you would probably know better than me right? My blood is starting to boil and I'm getting really stressed out. This super fat guy was sitting next to Will and I can hear him say to Will, "Oh wow, she's getting really stressed out." No shit fatty, this is probably how your heart feels every minute of every day. I turn to Will and say, "I don't know what to do" and I see this sea of faces staring at me. It was like a TV show when they use the effect of peoples heads floating around to show confusion and craziness. I snapped. Now I'm effing crying. The baby is wailing, I'm bawling and fatty is shaking his chins saying, "it's ok! He's just a baby."
I mean, he was right but once the tears started, they were out there. I couldn't take them back. It was like Dexter sensed how crazy I felt because suddenly he stopped crying and passed out. Amazing. This one is short and sweet because I have to go to the airport and pick up the stroller. We left it on the sidewalk when we went to get into the Park and Fly Van. Parents of the year. Here's what's coming up next: I suffer from Tropic Thunder (if you know what I mean) a half mentally retarded security guard gives Dex his gun....twice, and Dex discovers that not everything you put in your mouth tastes like beautiful boobie nectar.