You Can Puke on My Head, and I'll Just Keep on Moving

Holy hell, it's already 12:13 am! I dunno where the day went. Last night after I posted, I fell asleep for a bit on the couch and woke up with a start, with my wife on the loveseat sleeping - it was like "Wake Up Little Suzy", except her Dad wasn't waiting up, and we just had to walk to the bedroom. So we did, and then we started yakking, and talked and talked and visited with each other, and then we kept hearing voices outside, but weren't sure if it was down the road, or someone on a microphone. I thought it might be the AA Roundup, she thought it was the Polkafest this weekend, but in any event, we are close enough to the location of these events for sound to carry. When Tom COchrane played during some city-sponsored event a few years ago, the sound carried and it was like he was singing in our backyard. Ain't nothing like 'Lunatic Fringe" serenading you to make a dude happy. Anyway, I ended up running outside in my skimpy underwear and looking up and down the road, and seeing nothing, came back in, hoping against hope that nobody saw me, because I'd hate to get the ladies all hot and bothered (we have a neighbor behind us, who is a single cop who has a police dog in his yard, and he is always outside in his underwear scratching his nuts, blissfully unaware that the neighborhood can see him, and here I was last night FULLY aware that the neighborhood is full of looki-loos). Anyway, we chatted until almost THREE so when I got up at nine, I was dead tired.
We ended up going to see if we could get baby boy his hair cut, so me and him did that while the ladies went to Value Village. We both ended up bumping other people's appointments (let me tell you, that dude is a fucking chick magnet) and got our hair cut. I'm pretty much bald - this chick was supposed to give me a Ceasar, which I always get, with the #1 guard, the shortest one, and she kept saying "are you SURE?" and I was all of course, because at this place THEY USUALLY JUST USE THE #1 ON THE FUCKING SIDES. But the new girl used the one for the whole fucking thing, so I look like a marine. But it's ok, because I have so much hair and it grows so fast. My neighbor, who is like probably young enough to be my son, was lamenting his receeding hairline the other night and it was all I could do not to say "sucks to be you, because I have a mane like a fucking LION, baby! Of course, at my age, I also have hair shooting out of my nose, on my shoulders, and daughter #3 told me I needed to shave my big toe, so I guess I should just shut up, as we all have our problems. However, my back is smooth as a baby's arse, so I guess that is a bright spot - I deduce the ladies like a smooth back?
Anyway, we got the hair done, spent 135 dollars at VV (Margo, if you ever read here, I picked up a copy of Hollywood Wives in your honour - well, and to see if it's as titillating as it was in the summer of 1984, when I was a randy 14 year old. I bet not). I also got Rosie's Celeb Detox and a book about the Green River serial murders in Washington. Let me tell you, that part of the world has waaaay too many crazed killers. When I lived in the lower mainland as a kid, our house bordered an Indian Reservation, literally, and it was all wilderness, and criminals would always be chased through there. It was freaking crazy.
Anyway, after that, we washed the California bugs off the van finally and then went for a walk (daughter #3 learned to ride a 2 wheeler last night) and we went to my sister in laws, and then we came home and I weeded the garden, cut the grass, pulled weeds under the trampoline, hung loads and loads on the line, cleaned the upstairs with Rachel, then got invited to the sister in law's house for Chinese, my favorite, then visited there, then came home, made popcorn and watched half of the remake of Fame with the kids, and here I sit. The wife is super nauseated tonight for some reason, and she finally fell asleep, so hopefully she won't puke. NO, she's not knocked up - Aunt Flo is here. Yay! You know you are done having kids when aunt Flo comes and you are so fucking relieved.
Did I mention I can get my snip done in the city in 2 to 4 months? I got a letter the other day. I am weirded out by it, but I seriously want no more kids, so if it means me getting a day surgery as opposed to my wife getting on some unnatural hormone thing with the pill, I'll suck it up, buttercup. And every fucking month she was on the pill, for like 10 years, I would always fear pill failure each month. So yeah, making it permanent should make things so much better. LOL, it must be the lapsed Catholic in me that makes me think every act of fornication will end up in babyhood?
Daughter #1 just wandered out and blew kisses at me. LOLOL, this kid is crazy. I posted that she walked in her sleep last week and went out to the trailer, didn't I? If I didn't, thank the Lord we have an alarm system we arm now.
Anyway, back to the Mrs. and her pukiness. I didn't tell you, since I haven't posted about all the trip yet, but daughter #3 puked on me in Mesquite, Nevada. At 4 in the morning, she puked all over me and and my head in our hotel - we stayed at the Virgin Rivers hotel and resort. We left Carlsbad, Ca, which is halfway between LA and San Diego, and drove through the dessert and stopped in Vegas at like 5:00 to shop at the outlet mall we went to last year, but when I suggested we stay the night, the kids were all NOOOOOOOOO, because apparently they hated Vegas. It was 110 degrees out too. But anyway, we kept driving and stayed in Mesquite, which is pretty much on the Utah border, and this place had rooms for 24 bucks a night, and nice pools, so off we went. We swam all night, then we ordered Pizza Hut, which my kids love, and we pigged out, then I went to the casino after they all fell asleep, and then at 4:00 am, I awake to #3 puking all over my head. So, we showered off quickly, but still smelled of Pizza Hut vomit and had to sleep with nothing but a bedspread, and the other 4 members of the family slept in the other bed, with Rachel and the boy covering up with my hoodie, and when we woke up in the morning, we tried harder to wash the puke and pizza stink off of us. It was an experience. She was fine in the end, thank sweet Jesus. No more puking, and we made it to Salt Lake City the next day. But more on the trip later. Let me just say that I love California and can't wait to go back.
Anyway. I hope the Mrs. doesn't puke. Her nephews and bro in law were puking with a nasty flu last weekend, so I said, since we were there today, "see, you picked up their germs already!" but she was smart enough to say "I would not get sick that quick!" I love her because she calls bullshit to my crap.
Ok, the last thing I want to mention is a comment my sweet Kateness mentioned. LOL, I love the "My Sweet Katrina" thing, like the VC Andrews My Sweet Audrina book, but anyway - she said something about when I get the snip done to not wear boxers, but instead wear "gauch" that is more supportive. Well, I ain't sure of the spelling (I always just spell it "gotch"), but I find it funny that we Canadians call male underwear gotch or gitch or whatever. It's the same as the word "dink" - it's more of a Canadian thing. Rhea Pearlman said it once on Cheers, but I bet most Americans don't refer to a penis as a dink, like we do. My son thinks his member is a dinky-doodle, I am sure. LOL, I just had to mention how we say dink and they say cock, or whatever.
Also, in answer to Kate's advice, I've heard from others not to wear loose gitch. Actually, I don't get the point of boxers - what a waste of time. The point of underwear is to support the shit, isn't it? Boxers do fuck all. You might was well be free-ballin' in the jungle, if you ask me. I rarely wear boxers, because they don't support, they contribute in self-bagging accidents, and you can't even wear them around the house because the little slit in the front pretty much means you are "selling hotdogs" the second you put them on. I've been told by friends to wear a jock strap, followed by a pair of sweats, along with a nice cold bag of frozen peas, so I think I am prepared.
Anyway, I wanna go read my Rosie book - her blog always annoyed the hell out of me, with her incomplete sentences and talk of yellow, but maybe this book will be better.
Hope everyone has a lovely Sunday.
xo