Ages ago, before the Toad became the Toad, he was the lead member of The Long Haul Gang. The Long Hauls were a trio (think 3 Amigos, with all 3 of them being about as cool as Martin Short) of pre-teens. They would gather, most often, at our house. And we tolerated them.
The Toad has kept in sporadic touch with the other members, although the group itself has been disbanded in favor of things like KKKKKlarsys (the 2nd K is silent) and zombie wars, and the avoidance of Jerkwood.
Anyway, yesterday, one of the Original Long Hauls was here, and the Toad very graciously allowed him to crumble the Sour Cream & Onion Pringles into crumbs. Said guy has not had the money for a haircut in at least 4 years.
The Howler was not happy. Those Pringles were her sole reason for living, and now, not only were they slightly more than half missing, they were in crumbles. Bitterness, thy name is Howler.
She has been referring to said Long Haul guy as "That Hippy Dude." So, Mr A.L., you now have an official "Howler & Toad" designation: That Hippy Dude. Congratulations, and welcome to the family!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
Absence Makes...
The Howler left to visit her far-away family this morning. She'll be gone all this week. She'll be busy, though, and everyone there is looking forward to seeing her. And everyone here (well, her parents) is looking forward to a relatively OPK-free week.
God help me, I am The Grown Up.
My phone rings, and it is another parent in the 'hood. She's calling because Bonk has just informed her that the other boys are peeing outside. Damien has peed on his shirt (deliberately) and thrown the now-wet shirt at him. The other boys (Dude Jr & Cutie) are trying to pee on the railroad tracks.
Nevermind that there are people living in, you know, the houses on the other side of the tracks. Nevermind that technically, where they are standing is visible from the street. Nevermind that it's just plain not a good idea to drop trou in a populated neighborhood.
While discussing the appropriate course of action, I am informed that Missy is now dropping trou also.
Missy & Dude go into hiding. Damien is crying as he runs across the yards. Dude Sr is not answering his phone and is apparently not home. Cutie happily informs me that it was "just pee" and that Damien dared them all to do it.
Nevermind the hell there was to pay when dares were exchanged last summer.
Did I mention how the Howler isn't even home? How is this MY thing? Why am I involved?
Because I'm a sucker. And evil, apeshit, OPK hater, but a sucker none-the-less.
Pray for me.
God help me, I am The Grown Up.
My phone rings, and it is another parent in the 'hood. She's calling because Bonk has just informed her that the other boys are peeing outside. Damien has peed on his shirt (deliberately) and thrown the now-wet shirt at him. The other boys (Dude Jr & Cutie) are trying to pee on the railroad tracks.
Nevermind that there are people living in, you know, the houses on the other side of the tracks. Nevermind that technically, where they are standing is visible from the street. Nevermind that it's just plain not a good idea to drop trou in a populated neighborhood.
While discussing the appropriate course of action, I am informed that Missy is now dropping trou also.
Missy & Dude go into hiding. Damien is crying as he runs across the yards. Dude Sr is not answering his phone and is apparently not home. Cutie happily informs me that it was "just pee" and that Damien dared them all to do it.
Nevermind the hell there was to pay when dares were exchanged last summer.
Did I mention how the Howler isn't even home? How is this MY thing? Why am I involved?
Because I'm a sucker. And evil, apeshit, OPK hater, but a sucker none-the-less.
Pray for me.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
In Technical Terms
Missy & the Howler have been doing a good job of trying to drive me crazy this summer.
They take turns contradicting each and every thing the other says. They bicker. They argue. They whine. They cry. They have even resorted to the time-testing method of parental head exploding of arguing about whether or not they argued about any particular thing last summer.
Nothing slows them down--oh, no, these two have the staying power of Dick Clark. If all else fails, they'll choose sides against each other, enlisting Damien's help.
After whining and arguing all weekend, this is the week Missy & her brothers are spending with their dad--so the whining and arguing can continue.
God help me.
By Monday, we've progressed to going to Damien's house (yes, inside) and the Howler stepping on Damien's face. She "had to" step on his face because they were upstairs, and he decided that they weren't leaving, and used his face to block the stairs (no lie.) When he & Missy came to tattle to me, he didn't have a mark on him, nor did he look like he had been crying.
But I still had to tell the Howler, "It's not nice to step on someone's face."
Never mind that the Howler is not to be in Damien's house. Never mind that he's a little asshole (even at 6 years old) and has already spent the better part of the week pulling shitty stunts on the Howler. Never mind that 2/3 of this fiasco is not mine, and I am still not happy that I am the adult in the neighborhood. (Hey, CandySandyMandyBandy or whatever the hell your name is--start watching your own kid, or tell your parents to stay sober long enough to watch him while you're at work)
My last nerve is long gone shortly after this.
By 8pm, I am ready to explode. Literally.
At 8pm, the Howler stomps in the door, with Missy & Blondie ringing the doorbell after her.
My Sweetie, God love him, tries to sort it out--by yelling at the Howler, even though Missy is now standing in my open door, arguing with the Howler.
I believe the technical term for what happened immediately is called, "Apeshit"
I went Apeshit. First, I took the thing they were arguing about. I threw it away. Then I stomped outside, in the rain, caught a raindrop, and yelled, "hey Missy, I got your raindrop. nyah nyah. Hey Howler. I have your raindrop, and I'm giving it to Missy. nyah nyah."
As Kevin is reaching for the blow gun so he can shoot me in the butt with a tranquilizer dart, I tell him, "I've ABSOLUTELY had it with this bullshit from ALL OF THEM!"
It's not a pretty picture, but I can't believe that anyone else wouldn't have also gone Apeshit when they realized that the arguement that rolled in their front door was over a BENT PAPERCLIP.
They've been relatively whine-and-arguement free since (although, in their defense, I've thrown away all bent paperclips, scraps of paper, fragments of popsicle sticks, and loose threads.)
They take turns contradicting each and every thing the other says. They bicker. They argue. They whine. They cry. They have even resorted to the time-testing method of parental head exploding of arguing about whether or not they argued about any particular thing last summer.
Nothing slows them down--oh, no, these two have the staying power of Dick Clark. If all else fails, they'll choose sides against each other, enlisting Damien's help.
After whining and arguing all weekend, this is the week Missy & her brothers are spending with their dad--so the whining and arguing can continue.
God help me.
By Monday, we've progressed to going to Damien's house (yes, inside) and the Howler stepping on Damien's face. She "had to" step on his face because they were upstairs, and he decided that they weren't leaving, and used his face to block the stairs (no lie.) When he & Missy came to tattle to me, he didn't have a mark on him, nor did he look like he had been crying.
But I still had to tell the Howler, "It's not nice to step on someone's face."
Never mind that the Howler is not to be in Damien's house. Never mind that he's a little asshole (even at 6 years old) and has already spent the better part of the week pulling shitty stunts on the Howler. Never mind that 2/3 of this fiasco is not mine, and I am still not happy that I am the adult in the neighborhood. (Hey, CandySandyMandyBandy or whatever the hell your name is--start watching your own kid, or tell your parents to stay sober long enough to watch him while you're at work)
My last nerve is long gone shortly after this.
By 8pm, I am ready to explode. Literally.
At 8pm, the Howler stomps in the door, with Missy & Blondie ringing the doorbell after her.
My Sweetie, God love him, tries to sort it out--by yelling at the Howler, even though Missy is now standing in my open door, arguing with the Howler.
I believe the technical term for what happened immediately is called, "Apeshit"
I went Apeshit. First, I took the thing they were arguing about. I threw it away. Then I stomped outside, in the rain, caught a raindrop, and yelled, "hey Missy, I got your raindrop. nyah nyah. Hey Howler. I have your raindrop, and I'm giving it to Missy. nyah nyah."
As Kevin is reaching for the blow gun so he can shoot me in the butt with a tranquilizer dart, I tell him, "I've ABSOLUTELY had it with this bullshit from ALL OF THEM!"
It's not a pretty picture, but I can't believe that anyone else wouldn't have also gone Apeshit when they realized that the arguement that rolled in their front door was over a BENT PAPERCLIP.
They've been relatively whine-and-arguement free since (although, in their defense, I've thrown away all bent paperclips, scraps of paper, fragments of popsicle sticks, and loose threads.)
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