Our week-ish in a nutshell

Oh boy.

Here we go again.

SO sorry for not keeping you updated of our shenanigans all week. First these random people who just moved into our neighbourhood came over for dinner so we were BUSY... then the power lines outside our house were literally snapped in half by some angry miscreant (read: Jason Voorhees – and I am using his full name because I am PISSED) so the power was off for like four days because that’s how long it takes the damn Haddonfield effing power people to come down and fix our lines (and in case you’re wondering, we never call the Crystal Lake power people because Crystal Lake is a hick town and it HAS no power people).

So yeah. Allow me to make up for my absence by spelling out our entire week to you. Sound good? Good.



Saturday

Michael finally gets out of bed at one P.M. and he’s all, "Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..." and I'm like, "Whathoney?" This was the first word he said to me since we parked him on the loveseat with the cell phone. So it was slightly surprising.

He's all, "Apparently there's this awkward fugster that just moved in across the street." Again? "And he's got a mask on. Whatthefuck."

"Michael."

"Fudge, then. Whatthefudge."

I'm like, "Who told you this, now?"

"Freddy. He was egging Stephenie Meyer's house and then this awkward-ass moving truck pulled into the driveway next to hers down the road and then this van that looks like it belongs to some wench that only dates men fifty years younger than she quickly followed. And then buddy with the fugmask got out."
I tried to make sense of this alien-language-based explanation. "So a single mom and son moved into the house next to Meyer's that's been for sale forever? Well, that's wonderful."

"Not so much wonderful, mom. The fugger is trying to be me!"

"MICHAEL."

"What! I said fugger!" he yelled. "With Gs!"

I started doing some thinking. Eventually, I decided it would only be proper to welcome our new neighbors to the area by inviting them to a wondrous seafood dinner that very night. Just me, Hannibal, Johnny, Robert, Mike and our brand new friends. Hopefully Michael can finally make a "dude friend" that doesn't/isn't A) vastly intellectually inferior to him, B) eat people, C) completely embarrassing to be around, D) a complete bad influence and/or E) have a massive gay crush on him.

Oh, and/or, F) smoke lots of dope.

Almost forgot that one.

"Mom, can we invite Jason, too?" Michael asked hopefully as soon as I informed him of my little plot to make the new neighbors like us.

I said, "No. You're grounded."

Michael crossed his arms, "Well, then you wenches aren't getting any Demon Squares. You know that, right? Jason always holds the pans and does the dishes after. No Jason, no Squares."

"I'm sure we'll survive."

"YOU'LL LEARN TO REGRET THIS!" he yelled before running upstairs to lock himself in his room and play some Korn - punishment inflicted upon the entire world for scorning him.

So I called up the operator and asked for 45 Rippergrove Road. “You know, that random long-ass street right on the border of Crystal Lake and Haddonfield.”

“It’s 544-0468,” said the operator.

“Okay,” I said. “Wait. How did you know that?”

“... I’m the operator.”

“But how did you know that so fast? You spat out that number like it was a lightning bolt about to strike the Earth.”

“Have a nice day, ma’am.”

“Was it something I said? Oh – I’m sorry! Was I sounding like Margaret Atwood again?”

She hung up on me.

But whatever. I had the number. So I called.

After the third ring, a cow-like voice exclaimed, “Yelloh!”

I’m all, “Uh... hi. I’m -”

The... person... on the end of the line promptly interrupted me, “WHAT’SYOURFAVORITESCARYMOVIE?”

I’m all, “Are you on drugs?”

Then, simultaneously, two more voices added themselves to the conversation, “Ghostface honey? Are you talking to a girl?”

“MOM!”

And then Michael was all, “The fuck is this? Mom, are you having a phone threesome?”

“MICHAELHANGUP.”

Anyway, after a few moments, only myself and the other lady remained on the line. I was all, “Okay, that didn’t go exactly as I had hoped.” And she laughs and she’s all, “Do not worry, lady. I know what it is like to have offspring who do not respect the authority of their post-pubescent parental units.”

I’m all, Why is she talking like that?

So I invited them over for dinner. They showed up around seven (two hours late – dinner was cold. I’ll feed it to Mary-Sue later), which was perfectly fine considering they brought about fifty pounds of Belgian truffles. Which happen to be my favorite.

Michael was all, “BELGIAN TRUFFLES?” and ran up into his room sobbing dramatically like the drama queen that he is.

He kinda hates Belgian truffles. Oh well. He would come back downstairs eventually.

When he did, at around eight fifty, he plopped down on the couch next to our new masked little cutie-pie Ghostface, muttered “belgiantruffles...” and then looked at Ghostface with pure hatred for about fifty seconds.

“What?” the poor dear asked innocently.

Michael’s all, “Who the wench are you?”

Ghostface raised his chin in indignation. “I am Ghostface Hammersmith. And who are you?”

“I am your worst nightmare.”

“Michael -” I said patiently as I chatted with Ghostface’s single mother, Marcia-Poppy Hammersmith, who is a single mother. Which is a tragedy because it appears that therefore, the poor child is a bastard. “That’s Frederick’s thing.”

If looks could kill, Michael would have quite brutally gunned me down.

I can’t say the visit didn’t go well. I think we’re all going to be quite civil with each other, thank you very much. Also, the boys did have an actual conversation at one point, which I found impressive coming from Michael, who isn’t usually very good with new people. Usually he just sits there and doesn’t say anything, all the while looking in amusement/contempt at the poor, hapless soul in question as if this is the dumbest piece of poop he’s ever encountered.

Hopefully this awkward type of attitude will disappear once he turns twenty-one. Because everyone in the United States of America knows that once one turns twenty-one, one is officially a perfectly responsible adult, magically becoming mature and socially conscious with the magical age.

We love twenty-one here in America. And twenty-one will love my dear son. It will. He won’t rebel or like, go on a bloody massacre or anything. He’s getting all the “rebel” out now, I just know it.

So yeah. They had a conversation! And it was quite awkward but it’s a start.

Michael said, “D’you, like, go to school?”

“No, I’m homeschooled,” said Ghostface eloquently.

Michael’s all, “Why? Is there something wrong with you?”

Ghostface looked disconcerted. “Um... no. I just need time to do my shit which school does not allow for.”

“And what shit is this?”

“Oh, I develop video games,” said Ghostface nonchalantly.

Michael’s face lights up and he’s like, “LIKE MANHUNT?” Aww, he got all excited. It doesn’t happen often. Especially not when he’s grounded.

“Kind of like Manhunt, actually, although I find that game to be fairly poor in taste and quality. What’s your favorite scary movie?"

Michael’s all, “EFF OFF. Don’t be dissing Manhunt, wench!”

“Sorry.”

“You’re like this huge nerd, aren’t you?”

“..."

“So what nerd video games did you make?”

Ghostface was all, “Well, now I’m working on a new project I’m uber-proud of called Mathacre.”

“Called what?”

“Mathacre.”

“What?”

“Mathacre.”

“Do you have a speech impediment?”

“NO! It’s about math! Math-acre.”

Michael tilted his head in confusion for a few seconds and then he was all, “What the Christ!”

“You have to kill the bad guys, but to do so you need to answer math equations correctly. It’s actually helpful for kids who hate math – you should try it. Not kidding. The tagline is “4+5 = DEAD”. Isn’t that awesome? I’m actually quite thrilled about this one.”

... Okidoky then!


The next few days nothing really happened, so they can all be summed up in point form. Don’t you love point form? Me love point form. <3


Sunday

- Pretty much the only thing of importance that happened Sunday was that Michael went over to Edna’s. She suggested we make her home an extension of ours for the duration of the grounding. Michael seemed pretty content with himself when he came home. I don’t know what she did, but it worked, and I’m starting to think she might be a type of deity.

- Oh yeah, and our power got chopped by a machete. Yeeeaaah. And Michael, whose electronics can all run by battery for extended periods of time, amused himself by laughing in our faces for twenty minutes. He would probably have laughed all day had I not politely informed him that he would be grounded for an extra week should he not shut his trap.

- Hannibal crisised. It is a verb when applied to him, yes. He actually went downstairs and cleaned the whole basement in rage.

- Did I mention HANNIBAL CLEANED THE BASEMENT? Yeah, okay, just making sure.



Monday


- Johnny and Robert were both acting extremely awkwardly. Michael went back to school, as well. I’ve never seen him more thrilled to return to school. He was legitimately giddy. You’d have really thought he was planning on jigging all day to sniff glue in the woods.

- Or at Wal-Mart. Knowing him.

- Johnny bought a new wok that he says will work much better than the last one, which he threw into the lake behind our house the other day in anger. The new wok is misshapen and looks like it might have been possessed by a demon in its previous life. I still don’t understand how the last wok was retarded. This wok looks pretty effing retarded to me, just saying.

- Robert got an e-mail with one of those “Happy Bunny” strips and he literally laughed/chuckled for four hours.


Yesterday

- Frederick and Jason threw eggs at Michael’s Plexiglass bedroom window in the dead of night AND IT BROKE. Busted. The window AND the miscreants. Michael was pissed. He was like, “HOW DO YOU BREAK PLEXIGLASS WITH AN EGG?” And then Frederick was all, “Bitch, you told us to use rocks at first. So suck on that.”

- Michael had no reply to this.


Today

Michael just went to bed. Before that, he, Robert and I argued like fools for a good two hours. At dinner, Robert kept nudging his fork against his plate in a way that was extremely annoying while attempting to hold up “X-Men and Philosophy” in his right hand, turning the pages with his mouth. This was all very annoying, admittedly, but it was not Michael’s place to demean him like he did. I won’t even go into what he said in case one of the younger children in the neighbourhood should stumble upon it. But I mean, this man could be his FATHER. So I confronted him loudly and openly and he’s all, “Unground me and I’ll stop mercilessly abusing your husbands.”

I’m like, “No.”

He’s like, “Yes.”

I’m like, “Michael.”

He’s like, “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. I WANNA GO TO WAL-MART.”

I’m like, “Too bad. Once you learn to respect other people’s feelings and take responsibility for your own actions, then you can go to Wal-Mart.”

So then he starts like bitching at me as typical, you know, “wench” and “gerontophile” and “fag hag” and “you and Pam are probably lesbians together” and whatnot. Just the regular gripes. But Robert has always despised this so much and he basically snapped, yelling at Michael to go to his room immediately or he would force him to recopy the first page of Philosophical Elements twenty times.

To this Michael replied, “Go fuck a wench.”

And I said, “Room-now.”

He didn’t move and we just all kept fighting. At this point Michael was pretty much verbally assaulting us. Johnny and Hannibal were staying out of the way, I knew, just trying not to get involved.

Then Michael’s all, “Me and Jason haven’t gone to Wal-Mart in like twoooo yeeeeeaaaaaaaars.” As though this would make me reconsider his grounding. Pssht. He thinks I’m soft.

Then Robert’s like, “Michael, you are going to have to get used to the fact that in real life, you cannot see your friends every day. Hate to break it to you, but if you want to go to Wal-Mart with Jason every day – every single day – you’re going to have to marry him.”

I looked at Robert. “You know, I really don’t understand how he can even stand that little whiner every day.”

Oh, wait. Did I say that out loud?

Michael ignored me. He said to Robert, “Yeah? Yeah? Hah. You just watch. Now, just to spite you, I’m totally going to go all queen on you guyses asses and then I am going to get married to Jason and you will all come to our fucking Wal-Mart wedding. Oh yeah. Can’t wait to see your face, DAD.”

And now he’s upstairs, and Robert and I just stood in the kitchen looking at each other awkwardly for a few moments before I came in here and posted this.



So yeah. That was our past few days or so. We have new neighbours, Edna reformed Michael for a day, we have to go to the window shop, the power people finally fixed our damn electricity, and my son may or may not be planning a gay marriage out of rage.

Yeah, it’s been a pretty boring, regular old week.

Oh, P.S. – Lispeth, Michael can certainly babysit for you at the weekend. I’ll let him do it even though he’s grounded. Babysitting is an excellent way for him to learn responsibility! Anyway, I’ll give you a call tomorrow hon, just to get the details, but it’s really no problem at all. :)