Thursday, April 12, 2007

Martini? Marti-NO!

You know it's a shitty day when you pour yourself a nice, stiff Hendricks martooni, and it has virtually no effect, whatsoever. The spawn were extry crabtankerous this afternoon, and the Old Lady got home late, so it was a perfect recipe for crab-cakery. I think it was the particulary contentious game of "Chutes and Ladders" that finally pushed me over the edge. At least I won, so the day wasn't a total wash.

Mr. Z's having troubles with a (former) friend of his at school. The kid was like his best friend for most of the year and then, out of fucking nowhere, the turd starts being an uber-dickcissel to the boy -- trying to trip him, pushing him on the playground. Little prick. Of course, Mr. Z is flummoxed by it all, but the great thing is that he doesn't cry about it anymore. I mean, he's bummed and all, but it's much more of a reasoned "why is this fucker being such dickfer," instead of a "I'm miserable and no one likes me" deal. Major milestone for the lad, I must say. Of course, it does make him kind of crabnacious at home, which is one of the reasons I had to resort to late-night martoonerie.

Then there's Miss O. Sweet lil' Miss O. Whining from the minute she stepped foot in the house. Part of her charm is that if I ask her to try not to whine when speaking to me, she denies that she's whining at all... and denies it while whining. Coupled with that is her latest refrain, "You can't tell me what to do!" -- directed in my face whether I'm asking her to wash up for dinner or suggesting that she close her eyes as I wash her hair. It's darling as shit.

So, they finally drift off to sleep and I pour my martooni, and it does crabsolutely nothing for me. Gone is the familiar sensation of my insides being coated with a gin-soaked comforter. No buzz, no floating... hell, even the olives seemed to be missing their gland-drawing punch. Though I'm sure I'll still wake up all dehydrated and cottony, tomorrow. What a fucking rip.

Maybe I've grown beyond the martooni. Perhaps I should try something new, and refreshing. Something like... oh, I don't know... peyote buttons?

3 comments:

Kim said...

DICKFER.

Best.
Word.
Evar.

I'm stealing it. Thanks!

nora said...

Did you see that Amy Winehouse is on the Lollapalooza line-up?

Should we all meet in Chicago?

Maybe we can get Mr. Z and Miss O. a side stage gig.

Jon said...

This is why they always warned you in high school that the martini consumption will lead to heroin addiction.

So I drink margaritas.