About Me

My photo
I'm 25 and clueless, trying to find my way through a world that is becoming more and more complicated. I'm a single mommy, learning the ropes of parenthood and adulthood and trying not to mess my child up too bad in the process. I moved to Kansas almost 5 years ago from Ohio, where I currently live with my beautiful 5 year old daughter, and our dachshund Oscar. I'm a shy person on the outside, but on the inside I'm a total weirdo. I always speak before I think, (yeah, read that one again) I dance like an epileptic, and I laugh at myself constantly. I love fart jokes and dirty language...who doesn't? And if you're one of those people that don't...well then, fuck you. *fart*

Monday, January 10, 2011

The company dinner from hell.

I’m back! Sorry it took so long, folks…writer’s block is a real sonovabitch.

Plus there’s that whole thing about me being a professional procrastinator. Really, there should be a procrastinator title match, where you can win one of those fancy gold wrestling belts cuz I would totally dominate that shit. I’d get in that ring, crack my knuckles, look my opponent in the eyes….and sit on a couch. And maybe file my nails while looking bored. Throw in a Snuggie and I would be the undefeatable queen of laziness.

So, what has been going on in my life lately, you ask? Well, we went to the yearly office party last Thursday. (Fucking EXCITING, let me tell you.) We went to a really nice country club for dinner, and the food was awesome. I put Peanut in a cute little dress and did her hair all nice, hoping she would be the epitome of a well behaved child. After all, she is usually really good in public and I expected this time to be no different. But that night…let’s just say she really set the bar high for mischievous children everywhere. She’s a trailblazer, all right. A real visionary.

We started out with fresh salads, which Peanut and I both like. But for some reason, every bite of salad that went into her mouth got chewed up – and came right back out again. Why, you ask? No fucking clue. The worst part? Every bite she spit out went right into my hand. I mean, the place was fancy, with real cloth napkins and everything. And let me tell you, if I was that waitress I would be pissed if I picked up a napkin and a pound of half-chewed food fell out. I’m sure she got a great tip, but not that great. Having been a waitress before, I sympathize with how hard their jobs really are and didn’t want to make it worse for her. She was one of those really nice ones that called me “sweetheart”, even though she definitely walked through a huge fart I let loose around the second course. I saw the look on her face – there is no mistaking she caught a whiff. And she didn’t even say anything! (Unless you include the slight gag.) What a trouper.

So, needless to say, Peanut’s table manners leave a little something to be desired. Not only did I have a pile of partially chewed food on the side of my plate, but Peanut decided that since she was wearing a pretty dress, it was the perfect opportunity to put her legs in the air and show everyone her cool boots. And by association, her panties.



And every time I told her to sit up straight and eat her dinner, she made noises like an angry pirate. Something to the effect of: “AARRRGGGHHH!! NO!!” Since we were in public, I let it slide. And at that moment I practically heard the light bulb click on in her mind - she knew she had found her golden ticket. She knows that shit would never fly at home. But that evil little grin on her face said it all; she was willing to test all the boundaries, not giving a damn that she would have to pay for it later. And then I realized: all hope was lost.

So as the night went on, my patience grew thinner and thinner. She was crawling under the table and grabbing people’s legs, throwing food, climbing on me, and yelling like a crazed hobo. She also spent an adequate amount of time petting my boss’s wife. That’s right, you read it correctly. My boss’s wife was wearing a really nice coat complete with real coyote fur, so Peanut thought it would be okay if she pet her, while calling her “my sweet little kitty”.

All in all, I only had to take her into the bathroom and have a “talk” two times. Which is twice as much as usual…but what can ya do? Kids will be kids. Whatever that means. I mean, could there be a more obvious statement? It should be more like: “Kids will be major buttholes, but you have to love them anyway because if you don’t they grow up to be serial killers.” Or something like that. So maybe Peanut was a rotten little shit that night. But she’s MY rotten little shit, and I love her all the same.

Cue the: “AWWWWWWW!!”

The funny part? Everybody was raving about how good she was. I shudder to think what kind of 4 year olds they’ve been around, if they think that was a good example of how a child should behave. Really. That shit’s gonna give me nightmares.