Yeah, so Ann Arbor was pretty enjoyable, even though we were only there for about 24 hours. Got to the luxurious Hawthorne Suites at around 5:00, dumped the shit in the room and did an all-family-swim-a-thon for a good hour and a half, or so. Had the pool to ourselves, so it was nice to know I was only swimming in my own kids' pee. Then, we ordered a pizza from Cottage Inn and watched "Night in the Museum" on Spanktravision. (Actually, if it were truly Spanktravision, we would've been watching "Right in the Spoogie-Bum," starring Ben Fill-her and Ro-bone Fill-bums.)
The parade was pretty much exactly the same as it was last year -- a shitload of floats from unshorn Co-ops and daycares, the wacky olde-tymee-giant-front-wheel-puny-back-wheel bike riders, a handful of Shriners on go-carts, a smattering of saggy yet enthusiastic jazzercisers, and a huge anti-war float with a giant poster of a Dracula George Bush biting into the bloodied neck of the Statue of Liberty. I have some great photos, but the cable for my camera, she be broke, so they'll have to be posted later.
The shitty thing is that since we got back yesterday, I've felt like total carp. For some reason, I'm all dehydrated, my puny brain is pounding, and my fucking colon is being a total cock. I knew something was up yesterday, when I lied down on the bed for a second and woke up an hour later. I think that was my first nap since I was two. I soiled my nappies just to commemorate it.
Tomorrow is a huge fucking day for Mr. Z -- he's going on an overnight at camp. The boy is definitely conflicted. Part of him really wants to go, 'cuz it's his first overnight and I think he just wants to get the fuck away from all of us for a while. The other part of him is pretty much terrified of leaving. I'm not sure which side is going to win. He's devised a plan to stow away his Pooh Bear in the bottom of his sleeping bag, only to retrieve him when everyone else has gone to sleep. It's all very sweet, and if any of his fucking tent-mates give him shit about it, their most-likely-crew-cutted-heads will roll. We'll see how he feels in the morning.
And that's about it -- I've gotta go take 15 more Advil so my brain'll stop bleeding. Oh yeah, Miss O has started taking these GIANT shits over the last couple of days -- like total Ernest Borgnine girth. I don't know what she's been secretly eating, but I've called the folks over at Guinness and they're bringing out an official measuring tape and a caliper. Keep your fingers crossed!
G'nite.
3 comments:
Tell Mr Z that if anyone happens to see the Pooh-Bear, he can tell them his mom snuck it into his sleeping bag. You know, because moms are lame and don't want their kids to grow up. Then he can roll his eyes at what a weirdo his mom is, and still have his street cred.
I stumbled across your page after searching for something on Gabe, that child prodigy/gambling addict whose follow-up episode was on Intervention tonight (not much progress made there, let me tell you, except for the fact that he plinked along on a keyboard and played this song that was actually kind of awesome and sounded a lot like ABBA with a line about "If I have to borrow the wings of tomorrow, then maybe the dream will live on"). Anyway, this is my new favourite blog ever. Right up there with dooce.com. Just thought you should know.
Rita, I like how you think -- blame it on the mom. Gotta remember that.
Hi Melissa! Any fan of Gabe is a fan of mine. Wait... that didn't come out right. Uh, welcome! And for the record, I, too, basked in the awesomeness of Gabe's song. I hope he releases it... maybe with a b-side of "The Gambler." Or "Insane in the Membrane."
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