- I know, I know. It’s Saturday. And I write my weekly posts on SUNDAY! Sunday! But this week, I’m livin’ on the edge. For two reasons: 1. I enjoy livin’ on the edge; 2. That stupid cast thing was removed from my hand, which means I can type. So I’m typing. Because I can.
- Speaking of typing, I would just like to extend a big thanks to Facebook for adding that special little “edited” feature. Now, thanks to you, everybody can see when I edited a three word comment because I’m lame, and can’t write three words correctly. Cheers.
- And, since we’re on the topic of lame…I fucking hate Walmart. Not on principle (though I’m near that as well), but in reality. I go there and I feel my soul sort of shrink out of my body. This evening I left a near-full cart at the check-out stand because the lines were hideously long and I couldn’t take it for ONE MORE MINUTE. The fluorescent lights and video advertisements and plastic items crafted in China by exploited children – the “roll-back” prices on a bunch of shit nobody needs. I’m serious. I hate that place.
- So why was I there? Because it’s the only freaking store in the town I live in. DON’T GET ME STARTED PLEASE.
- Yesterday, against my better judgment, we went to the state fair. Actually, I’m just kidding. The truth is we had a surprisingly great time. HOWEVER, I broke a vow I made as a very young girl, after puking all over myself and wanting to die: I went on the spinning tea-cup ride (well, in this case, it was strawberries, but you get it). You know the one? Yeah, that one. The one that spins. The one that spins and spins and spins and you can make it spin some more by turning that wheel in the center.
- But I had no choice. You see, my heartbreakingly adorable niece, Lucy, walked up to me with her blond locks and startlingly large blue eyes, in her polka dot dress and rosebud mouth, and said “Auntie Janelle, I want to go on the Strawberry ride and I want you to go with me!” In my head I was saying “Um, I can’t. That ride makes me want to die.” But what came out of my mouth was “Okay, honey! I’d love to!” And then I believe she hopped and grabbed my hand, which obviously sealed the deal. We waited in line. I watched it spin. I held her hand. The terror sunk in. Fucking strawberries. I thought to myself “well, we’ll just sit in our own strawberry and I won’t spin the thing, so it won’t be that bad.”
- But alas, just as the tweaker carnie was about to shut us in the strawberry of death, a dad yelled out to me “Can my girls ride with you?” He obviously wanted them to ride with somebody safe, and, since he didn’t know me, he figured I was the gal for the job. I said “of course.” But in my head I was like “No way, dude. Get your own damn strawberry.”
- So they get in and the ride starts and they start spinning the shit outta that thing. I tried stopping them for a minute but they slaughtered me with their eyes and pig-tails, and since I was outnumbered and now responsible for the strawberry-ride-enjoyment of THREE little girls, I said “what the hell” and I started spinning it for them, twirling that damn thing like a bat out of hell (do bats twirl or am I mixing metaphors?). Anyhoo, the loved it, and yes, yes I did. I did want to die. I was sick for two hours after that. But Lucy. You haven’t SEEN her. It was worth it for Lucy. Next time though? I’m totally saying “no.”
- The other day at work I had like nine missed calls from the nanny’s cell phone. This clued me in immediately to the fact that it was one of the kids, since she’ll just text me if I don’t answer. It rang again. I answered it, kind of irritated. It was Rocket. I was like “Rocket, what is it? You know I’m working. You can’t call me fifty times a minute when I’m working.” And I had irritation in my voice.
- And then, the little guy says, I shit you not: “Mama, I just called to tell you I love you.”
And THAT, my friends, is how they get us to go on the fucking strawberry spin ride.
Because they are wonderful.
However, I THINK they may also do that to keep us in a state of perpetual guilt. You know, for being assholes.
Which lends even more weight to their ability to get us on spinning rides.
All I know is, it’s all their fault.
And I love it.
By the way, is it just me, or is this kid damn cute?
And Georgie and I went on the merry-go-round. MORE SPINNING. But she loved it. She was like “More! More! MORE HORSEY!” But I stood my ground. You know, because I’m tough like that.