Beer Makes Hair Healthy! (i.e. Piss for your Hair)

After the ‘bout-with-the-bug’ yesterday, *surely* nothing but boredom would ensue for the remainder of the day. Wrong.

That’s when you decide to see what that watery noise is – that’s clearly NOT someone peeing – coming from the loo. Ahhh, Duke – ever the metrosexual – is already into taking care of his beautiful blonde curls. He’s standing by the toilet, with the measuring cup – from the sugar bowl? Yes, the sugar bowl. Because haven’t you heard? Everyone who’s anyone exfoliates with sugar at the toilet – and rinses off with cup-fulls of liquid from it.

I *finally* figure out what’s going on.

Duke, has heard – from countless years (what? 2.5 years – that’s 30 months) of media bombardment, that beer? Is good for your hair. Being the genius he is, he’s determine from the best of all sources (read: me!) that beer…. Smells like horse piss. Tastes like horse piss. If you look up beer in the dictionary, it shows a picture of – you guessed it! Your Mom. Kidding. It shows a piss-laden horse stall.

It’s *obvious* the boy wanted to take care of his hair – knew the horses were on the *other* side of the ranch – and used what was available at the moment.

Kinda like when you’re in the mood to do some stained glass artistry – and out of supplies – so instead, you throw a marshmallow in a glass bowl, put in a fork, and voila! It catches on fire, explodes, and creates the most interesting looking stained glass bid’ness I daresay I’ve ever seen.

We do NOT drink piss in our family!

So it’s been a coon’s age since I last blogged. We’ll just say my unfortunate run-in with a pine tree gave me writers block for a bit (or 3 months). The pine tree *finally* met it’s ultimate demise a few days ago, when I saw it being chopped and loaded into a trailer, and the rest being put into a wood chipper. Suck on *that*, pine!

You may not have any idea of what I’m referring to with all this pine tree talk. In October, on my way to drop off my girls at school, a pine tree smite me in the SUV, so to speak, and I nearly met Jesus up close and personal. Fortunately the girls were unharmed. My SUV died and went to junk heaven, and I was taken to ETMC. I don’t remember a thing, but I got 8 liters of blood (thank you very *much*, donors), and spent 6-8 hours in surgery for them to save my now-gimpy left arm. After a few days on a ventilator, and some good drugs (from the best parts I recall, of course), I was released about a week after the accident. I’d also like to extend a *very* personal thank you to the suckbag pine tree, who forced me to have to drive a minivan now.

I had to have spots on my biceps closed up a few times, because it kept coming open, so *that* was nice. My stupid arm is still numb, and burns all the time. A few of my fingers won’t bend, and that pisses me off when I need them to help button my pants, but honestly I shouldn’t complain. I *do* have one of the best scars EVAH and it instantly makes me 10 times hotter. I’m lucky I’m alive and that I have 2 arms.

Now, on to *more* important things.

I’ve come to the conclusion that Duke should live in Japan because he likes to drink piss. Piss is, after all, sterile. If you’re stranded out somewhere for a long while, and need something to drink, you can drink piss if you need to. It still doesn’t make me a fan of it. I’m not sure how long I’ll have to wait before I can kiss Duke on the mouth.

Fa’real yo. He managed to escape the carefully planned out trap doors we have put up around the house; this particular one made up of about 7 pillows. He was able to squeeze his little fat body underneath them to the other side of the couch, and made a beeline down the hall. I wasn’t worried, since I knew I shut the doors in the hallway. No problem. Until a few minutes later when I hear Gracelyn screaming, “NO Duke! You can drink that! Oh my gosh, Mom! Come here!! Duke is drinking pee and sucking on toilet paper!!!” LOVELY.

Apparently Gracelyn went into the bathroom earlier to wash her hands and forgot to shut the door. It was *also* disgustingly apparent that Byron is in 3rd grade and *still*, at 34 years of age, doesn’t know how to flush the toilet. Duke was standing at the toilet, leaned over with his arms in it, and covered in piss water. Holy piss indeed ma’am. Needless to say, Duke was bathed in GermEx.

Later, in the bat cave, all was relatively calm. Duke was upset because he didn’t think I’d ever kiss him again, so he crawled over to one of his favorite parts of the house. The Liquor Cabinet. He took out his favorite old bottle of tequila, started beating a spoon on it, and chewing on the lid. It *was * pretty cute, so I even ran to find the camera to take a picture. I switched over to look at it, to make sure he wasn’t all goggle-eyed, and noticed something more important. The lid was sitting behind him, on the floor. The cap to the bottle. A UWS (unidentified wet spot) was on the floor behind him. It seems Dukers took it upon himself to get the lid off, and washed his mouth out all antiseptic-like so I’d feel better about kissing him (he *knows* I love margaritas). Fortunately I was only gone getting the camera for 15 seconds, so he wasn’t *totally* soused. We’re SO waiting for his 1st birthday party for that!!

PS: I got extensions, so I look like this now:

Weekend in hell….err, Dallas: Part Uno (01.04.08)

I was really looking forward to going to Dallas last weekend, for the New Year, and spending time with my best friend and her family. Good things happened, but from what I can recall, the bad may have outweighed the good.First Night

Ahhhh, the first night visiting. Everyone’s glad to see everyone else. People are happy. Kids are decent. Dog is good. Or that’s what my stupid brain had me thinking for the first 5 minutes!Hmmm. Did I sleep the first night? Nope! Sure didn’t, Bob! I was up cleaning couch covers all night long. Let me digress.

My friends have a huge “L” couch that numerous people could fit on. Seeing how there’s only 3 of them, I’m not sure what they were thinking when they bought it. Maybe when they had 20 kids they could line them all up on it. No really….it’s a nice couch, comfy, you can fall into it, and just about everyone from both families could fit on it. Sooooooo….I’m laying on the couch with “All My Children” when I’m getting ready to go to sleep. I figure I’ll just stay downstairs and save myself the trouble when someone needs something to drink, diaper change, etc. I was kissing the kids good night, when I realize……….. Smartie pissed on the couch. Lovely. That’s the exact word that came to my mind. She couldn’t have picked a more expensive couch to pee on unless we’d been at Saks or something. I stay up the next 1.5 hours trying to get the flipping cover off the cushion, so I can wash, dry and put it back on before telling Jackie.

Fast-forward a bit….I’m heaving and huffing, trying to stomp the cushion back into the cover, and finally! I get it. I put it back on the couch, and then kiss the kids goodnight, again. This time at 3:00 a.m………ooohhhh…..the time when the spirits are most active. Apparently there was a spirit of bodily excrement following me around. When I got to Smartie, guess what I found? JUST GUESS! Another patch-o-piss! Seriously! It’s a conspiracy!!!! This was followed by more foul language, washing, drying, and stuffing. I finished up around 7:00 a.m. Why go back to sleep now? The day is just getting started!!!!!