Manday Randomness

One pair of little boy's uniform pants + one handful of crayons in the pocket = $80 worth of replacement uniform crap for both of the older kids. THAT will teach me to forget to check pockets before I do laundry.

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Letting your son pick a well-armed Saint Michael the Archangel for his class' Saints project/play combo may lead to some nervousness on the part of all involved. Letting a boisterous boy loose in a church with a sword and a spear may be one of the most foolish things I will ever attempt.

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Mandatory, all-hands sexual harassment training this week. I am unclear as to whether we will be admonished that it's bad, or taught how to perform more effectively. Either way, I am going to have to refrain from singing the "Sexual Harassment Panda" song from "South Park."

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Attended a hoity-toity parent's cocktail party Friday night, and realized that I was drinkin'  classy when I went to the bathroom, and halfway through peeing, realized that there was an honest-to-fucking-GOD Jackson Pollock on the wall. And "Pollack in the Pisser" would be a great punk band name.

Bedfellows. Sleep well tonight!

Do want! EPIC want!

This....this is the apotheosis of nerdgeekery awesome.

It is a Discworld-themed cake.

(Here's how it was made, in case you were wondering.)

Two bottles of chianti + me = musical obscenity.

I've been singing Monty Python's "Sit on My Face" all evening. My husband is suitably shocked at my indecency.

(Watch the original. Be jealous of the awesomeness.)

That's right -- it's "Pester the Husband" Friday!

A phone call.

"Good morning. This is Tyfanniegh's mom. She's going to miss her midterm today, so you need to give her a make-up exam."

"I'm sorry, but as per page two of the syllabus, make-up exams are not offered. She either takes the exam with her classmates, or she does not. That's her choice."

"But she has a very upset tummy. She woke up with a headache, and she can't eat -- she is obviously too sick to come in to school!"

"Unfortunately, the mid-term is scheduled today, and I will not re-schedule it to accommodate one student. I can not discuss her academic progress with you further. Good bye."

What I wanted to say:

"I'm sorry your daughter consumed enough alcohol to fill the forward ballast tanks of the Titanic, and woke up with a killer hangover, but if she doesn't get her ass to her exam, she's getting a midterm grade warning for the "F" she's currently percolating."

Dear Discovery Channel: you blow goats.

Yesterday, "Discovery Kids" became "The Hub." In their re-branding, they lost their entire "Ready, Set, Learn!" line-up -- which was Wee Ginger Beastie's favorite.

No more "Peep and the Big Wide World" or "Paz the Penguin" for her! (The loss of "Peep" was particularly painful; she had requested a Peep cake for her birthday, and Quack was her favorite.)

The drama this morning was tempestuous, indeed. Finally defeated -- "I'm sorry, baby, but Peep and Chirp aren't on anymore" -- she wrapped herself in cubboo and snorfled inconsolably for a bit.

Fuckers.

What am I doing?

I'm eating a dougnut (that I do not have to share).

I am enjoying a cup of coffee, uninterrupted.

I am watching a zombie movie. At 10 AM.

Why?

Fall fucking break, baybee!

All three kids are in school, and I have a day to myself!

You may think its funny...

...but it's snot.

Taking a page out of OctoBoy's Big Book of Ways To Annoy an Elder Sister, and yet lacking control over her noxious emissions (both south and north), Wee Ginger Beastie has resorted to the Booger Defense.

SnarkGirl will get up on her high horse and start bossing anyone shorter than her. This bossery usually involves a dog (who will flop bot on the floor and maybe spare her an ear twitch if there's food involved), three cats (who will generally give her the stink eye and a good view of the brown eye as they sashay away), a brother (who will burp at her, or tear ass up to her room to fart on her stuffed animals or her pillow.) Wee Ginge is usually amiable enough, but this morning she discovered SnarkGirl's kryptonite:

Boogers. 

When the directions become too onerous, Ginge will go fishing for finger trout. Having hooked a big, juicy one (toddlers are always well-supplied with a rainbow of nasal mucous), she will admire her find briefly, and then proceed to chase her siblings around, finger extended, giggling maniacally. This is usually accompanied by screeches of, "Booger! Booger! Booger! I'mma wipe a booger on you!" 

I'm usually laughing too hard to intervene.

I wonder if that works at meetings?