Someone shoot me. In the head. With a shooty thing. Here's the recipe for my perfect day:
Start with no school for Mr. Z because of "parent/teacher conferences." Add a dash of Miss O is still sick and has to stay home from school. Throw in a pinch of gotta take Miss O BACK to the doctor because she's getting worse. And then top it off with two tablespoons of now Mr. Z is sick and has a 102 temp. And voila -- you've got one fairly unwieldy, somewhat confusing metaphor that really doesn't explain what a fucking fuckshit of a day today was.
I'm telling you, if you're planning on having kids, heed my warning. It can be such a pain-in-the-ass sometimes, you don't even know. Those people who tell you how wonderful it is to have kids -- fucking liars. Oh sure, there are great times, don't get me wrong. But days like today are like one giant mind-eraser that just takes a big, steamy elephant dump on all those cherished moments. And it's not a nice, round solid elephant dump with cute little clumps of hay sticking out of it. It's goddamn elephant diarrhea.
And, excuse me, but should I really trust a pediatrician who has a hunchback? The kids' regular doc, who is great, was MIA today, so we had to see one of the other hacks over there. Last week it was Dr. Wu. Like that Steely Dan song. You know... "Are you with me, Dr. Wu?" No, she's not, because she's a crappy physician. Then there's ol' Quasimodo today. He seems like a nice enough guy, but hunchbacks are so 19th century. You'd think the guy could have that thing lanced or something. Gave me the willies. To be fair, though, he put my mind at ease and said we're doing the right things for Miss O and it's a virus and blah, blah, blah. Then he let me rub his hump for good luck, which was nice.
Oh, how I need a vacation. Everyone I know is going somewhere. Florida, Mexico, some islandy place near Trinidad. I'm going to 123 This Chair I'm Sitting In Right Now, Basementville, USA. Though I do get a free long weekend somewhere. See, since the old lady goes to conferences now and then, I get an equal number of days off for myself. I'd like to go out to Cali and see some old friends, but California on three days is not a good idea. I'd get the bird flu for sure. I could probably do New York, I suppose. I have a friend there. Do some shopping. I don't know. Must go somewhere, though. I need distance. Either that or a big ol' bong-aroonie.