I just thought I'd pop in and let everyone know that as of this morning, Michael is no longer grounded. I was going to let him share the "big news" at first... but then I decided it might be a better idea to issue a fair, written warning somewhere people will actually see it. You know, just in case some legal issues pop up. Or whatever. At least everyone will have been properly informed.
Have a great end of week, everyone!
Love,
Gertie
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream... at five o'clock in the morning?
So this morning I was all fast asleep in my comfortable-ass bed, like most people usually are at you know, A QUARTER TO FIVE?
But of course, apparently I am not "most people", because what fucking happens five fucking minutes later?
I'll give you three guesses.
Why yes, MY CELL PHONE BLOODY RINGS (sorry for the slight Hannibal&myMom-ism there, it had to come out). However did you guess that, and right off the bat, too? YOU'RE SO SMART. :)
>: Good lord.
So then it's all like, "Mr. Sandman! Bring me a dream!" so awkwardly loudly that I think I may have decided to commit suicide in my sleep... but no, of course not. It's just my fucking fucking ringtone.
Mother of God.
Of course I answered the thing! Hannibal would have killed me had I simply let play that "infernal bitch of a musical disaster". Or maybe he would have skinned me alive and proceeded to cook and eat my body parts. Even though I've warned him on more than one occasion that if he ever even tries that shit, I'mma take an axe and chop him up and hastily place him IN THE DRYER, KTHX.
And then call Child Protective Services.
So bitch please, Hannibal.
But anyway, when I'm like, half-asleep I don't always rationalize that well, so I picked up the little mother and pressed talk. It was Jason, obviously. I was somewhat surprised that he'd finally fucking figured out to call me on my cell and not at home. And then I was mildly impressed. And then I was pissed. And then I was furious.
"JASON WHY THE FUCK."
"Michael, help! I'm confused!"
"I should just hang this fuc -" (And by hang this fucker I would have meant Jason, not the phone.)
"MICHAEL!"
"Okay, what the fuck did you do now? What? Jesus wench it's actually five in the fucking morning!"
I heard beeping in the background. Loud, furious beeping.
"I'm at this sign... on the street... and it says 'no left turns'... but then it says, 'vans turn left'. I'MDRIVINGAVANWHATDOIDO! WHAT DO I DO?!?!"
"You turn left, tard. Why the fuck are you driving a van?"
"My mom's!"
"WHY?"
"I-I-I-I went to Dunkin'! I thought I would get us muffins for first peri -"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, and you thought you would do this at FIVE AM? You know what, I don't even care. Get in a head-on, asswench. Byyeeeee!"
I hung up.
I'M SO PISSED. :
But of course, apparently I am not "most people", because what fucking happens five fucking minutes later?
I'll give you three guesses.
Why yes, MY CELL PHONE BLOODY RINGS (sorry for the slight Hannibal&myMom-ism there, it had to come out). However did you guess that, and right off the bat, too? YOU'RE SO SMART. :)
>: Good lord.
So then it's all like, "Mr. Sandman! Bring me a dream!" so awkwardly loudly that I think I may have decided to commit suicide in my sleep... but no, of course not. It's just my fucking fucking ringtone.
Mother of God.
Of course I answered the thing! Hannibal would have killed me had I simply let play that "infernal bitch of a musical disaster". Or maybe he would have skinned me alive and proceeded to cook and eat my body parts. Even though I've warned him on more than one occasion that if he ever even tries that shit, I'mma take an axe and chop him up and hastily place him IN THE DRYER, KTHX.
And then call Child Protective Services.
So bitch please, Hannibal.
But anyway, when I'm like, half-asleep I don't always rationalize that well, so I picked up the little mother and pressed talk. It was Jason, obviously. I was somewhat surprised that he'd finally fucking figured out to call me on my cell and not at home. And then I was mildly impressed. And then I was pissed. And then I was furious.
"JASON WHY THE FUCK."
"Michael, help! I'm confused!"
"I should just hang this fuc -" (And by hang this fucker I would have meant Jason, not the phone.)
"MICHAEL!"
"Okay, what the fuck did you do now? What? Jesus wench it's actually five in the fucking morning!"
I heard beeping in the background. Loud, furious beeping.
"I'm at this sign... on the street... and it says 'no left turns'... but then it says, 'vans turn left'. I'MDRIVINGAVANWHATDOIDO! WHAT DO I DO?!?!"
"You turn left, tard. Why the fuck are you driving a van?"
"My mom's!"
"WHY?"
"I-I-I-I went to Dunkin'! I thought I would get us muffins for first peri -"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, and you thought you would do this at FIVE AM? You know what, I don't even care. Get in a head-on, asswench. Byyeeeee!"
I hung up.
I'M SO PISSED. :
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Well... that was awkward.
Johnny is still mad at the wok. It is quite upsetting. Hannibal took a shit fit about it yesterday and decided to go "visit his family in the distance" (which means he is probably cheating on me with that Clarice woman on his speed dial again). As a result, I have been mildly depressed. So has Robert, who gets depressed when I get depressed. Which his sweet, but then what does he do? He invites his Philosofriends over to play PhilosoClue and completely ignores me. They are still here. None of them went home last night. They've been playing their little game since three o'clock in the afternoon.
I don't even think they went to bed. At all.
Which is awkward.
Michael is trying to make me feel guilty for grounding him. He sat on the couch all morning like a loaf of bread, sighing repeatedly as he watched game after game of hockey on TSN. And then he watched a really creepy tape of pre-recorded Wal-Mart commercials they made, after which he got up, looked at me and said, in an extremely exhausted tone, "I'm just going to go lie down."
It's not going to work. I have no pity left in my system for the little twat. At all.
Dear Lord. Sweet mother.
Wednesday the 13th was Lispeth's epic dinner party. And I mean epic in the literal sense of the word, not in the many dysfunctional ways Mike and his little friends seem to enjoy using it.
Speaking of this, look what I found while inspecting Michael's text messages on Friday morning:
Michael: duuuuuuuuuude. :o there is some funky shit going on.
Jason: (I have edited Jason's replies to make them more legible) I don't understand.
Michael: Hannibal is being a fugster again.
Jason: So is my dad. He's drunk.
Michael: When is he not drunk?
Jason: When he's on crack. I wish I was drunk.
Michael: I wish I was on crack. At walmart.
Jason: I'm slightly pumped for the party tonight.
Michael: :) Me too. You should tell your dad to bring some crack LOL.
I'm not quite sure what the significance of all this is, but it can't be good.
So yeah. On Wednesday, Jason called our house at seven o'clock in the morning. I got out of bed reluctantly and answered. "Hello?"
Jason was all, "Oh shit, it's you!"
I'm all, "Yes."
He hangs up.
At 7:02, the phone rings again and I pick up on the first ring so Michael doesn't have time to answer. "Jason, stop calling us. Now."
"How did you know it was me?" Jason asked, sounding extremely confused.
"Oh dear..." I sighed. "Jason, honey, we have caller ID. And I know this grounding is punishing you, too, so for that I apologize. But it's only for a little while longer. And then you boys can go to Wal-Mart aaaaaaaaaaall you want!"
"Mrs. LSD, can I please talk to Michael? Pleeeeeeeeeease? My birthday is in exactly five months and I need to remind him that he's invited."
I said, "I'll let him know."
"No, I have to give him his invitation in person! ... Over the phone!"
"Jason."
He sounded like he might be on the brink of tears. "I have to tell him something about tonight's party... thing... which I don't know the purpose of... that we're all going to... and... oh, I'm so confused!"
He hung up.
Yeah. That was awkward.
We only made it to Lispeth's around five-thirty because Michael had a very hard time deciding which blue jumpsuit to wear, but that was okay because other people showed up really late too, namely Stephenie Meyer and her Chinese adopted daughter Sella Bwan. They enjoy arriving everywhere fashionably late by at least three or four hours. Which is okay, because nobody really likes them anyway.
I have to say, Lispeth really outdid herself this year. The house was beautiful... or at least it was beautiful at the beginning. Then it got completely ruined when Freddy decided it might be interesting to spike the chocolate fountain.
This happened around seven thirty, right after Lispeth's youngest daughters had been put to bed. At first, nothing seemed to be wrong. But then Mike and Jason were downing glasses of chocolate straight from the fountain and Jason suddenly keeled over and dropped to the ground. And then Mike just looked at him, shrugged, and kept drinking the chocolate. By this time, I was fairly confused. No one tried to help Jason, which was quite awkward. Obviously, Mary-Sue was not in the room at the time.
Suddenly, Michael looked rather confused. He pinpointed Lispeth and walked up to her and he's like, "Lispeth... I have something to tell you. You know Freddy's a pedo, right? Like, he's a toooootal pedo. Totally."
Lispeth just stared at him going, "Michael... have you been drinking?"
"Whaaaat?"
Lispeth's daughters are usually very helpful and courteous at her parties, but I started noticing that they were flopping about and I found it quite unfortunate that they were all wearing dresses. Suddenly, a still-sober C'Dward noticed that Jason was all flopped on the ground and he very politely went over to help the poor dear up (Such a polite child, that C'Dward. I often find myself wondering why my rotten apple of a child doesn't appreciate him as a person), but then Michael noticed this and he was all "WHAT THE FUCK!" because for some reason he was screaming out all of his words now. I said, "Michael!" but he ignored me, obviously, and he trudged over to were C'Dward was aiding Jason (which reminds me... I still have no aida cloth. Note to self - buy aida cloth immediately.) and he said, "What is going on here?"
Jason was all, "Bluuuuhhh. Mikey, is that you?"
Michael was all, "DON'T CALL ME THAT. Are you on crack?!"
Freddy jumped up from his chair and he said, "Actually no - he's on LSD."
Jason let out a very strangled laugh, which made C'Dward jerk back in apparent repulsion. Jason was all, "Mikey! I love you, man! Huh." And then Michael was poked in the stomach.
And then Jason was thwacked in the face.
C'Dward was all, "Jesus!"
Michael was all, "Excuse me, wench?"
C'Dward was like, "Well, you shouldn't be so mean to Jason. He's always so nice to you. What is wrong with you? Everyone is always so nice to you and you treat them like shit! You're actually soooo mean! Stop being so frigid, you whore."
Michael looked deeply shocked for like two seconds before he frowned furiously. He’s all, “BIZNATCH!” (which, by the way, is the one word Michael uses only when he is extremely angry. And I know this because this was the first word Michael said after he was shot in the head at school.) and then he leans forward and literally whacks C’Dward in the face.
With his fist.
Jason was all, “What’s going on? I’m so confused...”
This was when I decided it might be a good idea to intervene.
I walked over, grabbed Michael by the arms and pulled him backward. I was furious, so I spoke through gritted teeth. “That is enough. We are going home now. Obviously, you cannot be trusted to behave. Keep this up and I’m going to send you over to be homeschooled with Ghostface!”
Michael struggled. “EFF OFF, MOM! He called me a whore!”
“You obviously are not a whore, Michael,” I said patiently.
Then C’Dward was all, “Not that you know of, anyway!”
Michael was all, “WENCH! YOU FUGSTER!”
I was all, “I swear to God, if you say ‘wench’ one more time...”
We went home. Michael struggled mentally. For three hours. On the floor. In the bathroom. With his cell phone. It was dying. He kept telling me, “MoooooooooomMMMmmmmmmmMMMM!!!” varying the intensity and volume of his M’s like a cow in distress, “My phone needs to be CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGED! And also, C’Dward is going to like, rape Jason. And you are going to feel like SHIT if that happens because you forced me to come homeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” He then proceeded to wail like a Beluga for three point five hours in his bedroom. He sounded like Dory in Finding Nemo. Which drove me nuts, Jesuschristlordalmighty. I told him to shut the hell up, but of course, he ignored me.
He literally slept the entire next day. And I mean we actually couldn’t wake him up.
What the shiznatch, as Johnny would say.
But anyway, all of that is over now. Lispeth, thanks for organizing that party for us! Despite the spiking of the chocolate fountain, at least it was more of a success than last year’s. No offense.
P.S. - For some reason, Hannibal was acting very strangely the whole time. I still don't really understand why he was so twitchy and awkward. Maybe he was just embarrassed by Michael's existence. I wouldn't blame him, currently.
I don't even think they went to bed. At all.
Which is awkward.
Michael is trying to make me feel guilty for grounding him. He sat on the couch all morning like a loaf of bread, sighing repeatedly as he watched game after game of hockey on TSN. And then he watched a really creepy tape of pre-recorded Wal-Mart commercials they made, after which he got up, looked at me and said, in an extremely exhausted tone, "I'm just going to go lie down."
It's not going to work. I have no pity left in my system for the little twat. At all.
Dear Lord. Sweet mother.
Wednesday the 13th was Lispeth's epic dinner party. And I mean epic in the literal sense of the word, not in the many dysfunctional ways Mike and his little friends seem to enjoy using it.
Speaking of this, look what I found while inspecting Michael's text messages on Friday morning:
Michael: duuuuuuuuuude. :o there is some funky shit going on.
Jason: (I have edited Jason's replies to make them more legible) I don't understand.
Michael: Hannibal is being a fugster again.
Jason: So is my dad. He's drunk.
Michael: When is he not drunk?
Jason: When he's on crack. I wish I was drunk.
Michael: I wish I was on crack. At walmart.
Jason: I'm slightly pumped for the party tonight.
Michael: :) Me too. You should tell your dad to bring some crack LOL.
I'm not quite sure what the significance of all this is, but it can't be good.
So yeah. On Wednesday, Jason called our house at seven o'clock in the morning. I got out of bed reluctantly and answered. "Hello?"
Jason was all, "Oh shit, it's you!"
I'm all, "Yes."
He hangs up.
At 7:02, the phone rings again and I pick up on the first ring so Michael doesn't have time to answer. "Jason, stop calling us. Now."
"How did you know it was me?" Jason asked, sounding extremely confused.
"Oh dear..." I sighed. "Jason, honey, we have caller ID. And I know this grounding is punishing you, too, so for that I apologize. But it's only for a little while longer. And then you boys can go to Wal-Mart aaaaaaaaaaall you want!"
"Mrs. LSD, can I please talk to Michael? Pleeeeeeeeeease? My birthday is in exactly five months and I need to remind him that he's invited."
I said, "I'll let him know."
"No, I have to give him his invitation in person! ... Over the phone!"
"Jason."
He sounded like he might be on the brink of tears. "I have to tell him something about tonight's party... thing... which I don't know the purpose of... that we're all going to... and... oh, I'm so confused!"
He hung up.
Yeah. That was awkward.
We only made it to Lispeth's around five-thirty because Michael had a very hard time deciding which blue jumpsuit to wear, but that was okay because other people showed up really late too, namely Stephenie Meyer and her Chinese adopted daughter Sella Bwan. They enjoy arriving everywhere fashionably late by at least three or four hours. Which is okay, because nobody really likes them anyway.
I have to say, Lispeth really outdid herself this year. The house was beautiful... or at least it was beautiful at the beginning. Then it got completely ruined when Freddy decided it might be interesting to spike the chocolate fountain.
This happened around seven thirty, right after Lispeth's youngest daughters had been put to bed. At first, nothing seemed to be wrong. But then Mike and Jason were downing glasses of chocolate straight from the fountain and Jason suddenly keeled over and dropped to the ground. And then Mike just looked at him, shrugged, and kept drinking the chocolate. By this time, I was fairly confused. No one tried to help Jason, which was quite awkward. Obviously, Mary-Sue was not in the room at the time.
Suddenly, Michael looked rather confused. He pinpointed Lispeth and walked up to her and he's like, "Lispeth... I have something to tell you. You know Freddy's a pedo, right? Like, he's a toooootal pedo. Totally."
Lispeth just stared at him going, "Michael... have you been drinking?"
"Whaaaat?"
Lispeth's daughters are usually very helpful and courteous at her parties, but I started noticing that they were flopping about and I found it quite unfortunate that they were all wearing dresses. Suddenly, a still-sober C'Dward noticed that Jason was all flopped on the ground and he very politely went over to help the poor dear up (Such a polite child, that C'Dward. I often find myself wondering why my rotten apple of a child doesn't appreciate him as a person), but then Michael noticed this and he was all "WHAT THE FUCK!" because for some reason he was screaming out all of his words now. I said, "Michael!" but he ignored me, obviously, and he trudged over to were C'Dward was aiding Jason (which reminds me... I still have no aida cloth. Note to self - buy aida cloth immediately.) and he said, "What is going on here?"
Jason was all, "Bluuuuhhh. Mikey, is that you?"
Michael was all, "DON'T CALL ME THAT. Are you on crack?!"
Freddy jumped up from his chair and he said, "Actually no - he's on LSD."
Jason let out a very strangled laugh, which made C'Dward jerk back in apparent repulsion. Jason was all, "Mikey! I love you, man! Huh." And then Michael was poked in the stomach.
And then Jason was thwacked in the face.
C'Dward was all, "Jesus!"
Michael was all, "Excuse me, wench?"
C'Dward was like, "Well, you shouldn't be so mean to Jason. He's always so nice to you. What is wrong with you? Everyone is always so nice to you and you treat them like shit! You're actually soooo mean! Stop being so frigid, you whore."
Michael looked deeply shocked for like two seconds before he frowned furiously. He’s all, “BIZNATCH!” (which, by the way, is the one word Michael uses only when he is extremely angry. And I know this because this was the first word Michael said after he was shot in the head at school.) and then he leans forward and literally whacks C’Dward in the face.
With his fist.
Jason was all, “What’s going on? I’m so confused...”
This was when I decided it might be a good idea to intervene.
I walked over, grabbed Michael by the arms and pulled him backward. I was furious, so I spoke through gritted teeth. “That is enough. We are going home now. Obviously, you cannot be trusted to behave. Keep this up and I’m going to send you over to be homeschooled with Ghostface!”
Michael struggled. “EFF OFF, MOM! He called me a whore!”
“You obviously are not a whore, Michael,” I said patiently.
Then C’Dward was all, “Not that you know of, anyway!”
Michael was all, “WENCH! YOU FUGSTER!”
I was all, “I swear to God, if you say ‘wench’ one more time...”
We went home. Michael struggled mentally. For three hours. On the floor. In the bathroom. With his cell phone. It was dying. He kept telling me, “MoooooooooomMMMmmmmmmmMMMM!!!” varying the intensity and volume of his M’s like a cow in distress, “My phone needs to be CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGED! And also, C’Dward is going to like, rape Jason. And you are going to feel like SHIT if that happens because you forced me to come homeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” He then proceeded to wail like a Beluga for three point five hours in his bedroom. He sounded like Dory in Finding Nemo. Which drove me nuts, Jesuschristlordalmighty. I told him to shut the hell up, but of course, he ignored me.
He literally slept the entire next day. And I mean we actually couldn’t wake him up.
What the shiznatch, as Johnny would say.
But anyway, all of that is over now. Lispeth, thanks for organizing that party for us! Despite the spiking of the chocolate fountain, at least it was more of a success than last year’s. No offense.
P.S. - For some reason, Hannibal was acting very strangely the whole time. I still don't really understand why he was so twitchy and awkward. Maybe he was just embarrassed by Michael's existence. I wouldn't blame him, currently.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
I have no aida cloth.
Look, I like watching TV as much as the next 30-something-year-old-woman, all right? But sometimes TV just isn't enough, you know? Since Hannibal cleans the entire house every day out of sheer boredom, and Johnny and Robert both make more than enough money with their fancy-bum jobs to keep us so far out of debt that our non-debt pile might as well be Mount Everest, TV tends to be the only thing I have to do all day. Especially when my son isolates himself in his room texting and listening to Korn, and as a result, I don't even have him to keep me company.
When I get like this - that is, when it gets to the point where I'd rather like to annihilate my televisions against the wall - I do something that probably doesn't sound like something I would do at all. But nonetheless, I do it.
I cross-stitch.
It's so unlike me, I know.
I wish I could cross-stitch today, considering everyone appears to be either grossed out with, pissed off at, or purely on bad terms with everyone else, and as a result, I am Bored with a capital B. But I cannot cross-stitch because I have no aida cloth. Which, for those you don't know, is the fabric... thing... one cross-stitches ON.
They sell it at Wal-Mart, but I'm afraid that if I come home with a Wal-Mart bag, Michael will sense it and have a nervous breakdown.
Sigh.
So, since I cannot cross-stitch, here I am, updating my blog. Like I said, everyone's taking a fit at everyone else currently, so nothing much is really happening at the mo. Thus, I will amuse myself by giving you an account of everyone's issues right now. Should kill at least five minutes.
Robert vs. Myself
I had a frank talk with him yesterday for quoting Epicure excessively. The only philosopher I can tolerate being quoted excessively in this household is Aristotle. And Robert knows this. But yet I'm the bitch. Well excuse me King of the World.
Robert vs. Hannibal
Robert dislikes Hannibal at the moment because of an... incident... with the downstairs toilet. Don't ask.
Hannibal vs. Johnny vs. the wok
Johnny became angry at the new wok, who apparently "has an attitude". Hannibal dislikes this because according to him, woks are INANIMATE OBJECTS and thus CANNOT HAVE AN ATTITUDE. And it angers him excessively that Johnny is being so dramatic when HE is the one who washes it, and blah-blah-blah. Long story short, Hannibal ended up throwing the wok into Mary-Sue Vrees's yard, where it was then run over by Alfred Benedict, who was driving his plough, drunk, on the lawn. The wok is now disfigured completely, and Johnny is really furious with Hannibal.
Myself vs. Johnny
Johnny and I currently are not getting along because, er, I agree with Hannibal. And he refuses to accept this. But I don't give a shit. :O
Myself vs. Michael
IN REGARDS TO THIS WEEKEND. ENOUGH SAID.
Michael vs. Jason
Who are currently arguing like an old married couple over text messages.
Michael and Jason vs. C'Dward Eullen
My expert manipulator of a child has managed to fully convert Jason to "Team Not-C'Dward", it seems, because the latter apparently told C'Dward off when C'Dward sat with them at lunch and later attempted to give Jason a hug. I'm so sorry, Matilda... I thought my life was shitty at the moment, I can only imagine the drama at your house.
Jason and Freddy vs. Myself
They're pissed at me for keeping Mike grounded this long. Bet they thought I couldn't do it! Haha, showed them all right. Still, it's awkward because they keep egging my house.
Lispeth vs. Michael
Despite the fact that Bertha was always asleep before they had their little "liquor escapades", this does not change the fact that a large, large quantity of alcohol was stolen from her by our three little miscreants. Sigh. I know the teenage years are the worst, but do they really have to be this bad?
When I get like this - that is, when it gets to the point where I'd rather like to annihilate my televisions against the wall - I do something that probably doesn't sound like something I would do at all. But nonetheless, I do it.
I cross-stitch.
It's so unlike me, I know.
I wish I could cross-stitch today, considering everyone appears to be either grossed out with, pissed off at, or purely on bad terms with everyone else, and as a result, I am Bored with a capital B. But I cannot cross-stitch because I have no aida cloth. Which, for those you don't know, is the fabric... thing... one cross-stitches ON.
They sell it at Wal-Mart, but I'm afraid that if I come home with a Wal-Mart bag, Michael will sense it and have a nervous breakdown.
Sigh.
So, since I cannot cross-stitch, here I am, updating my blog. Like I said, everyone's taking a fit at everyone else currently, so nothing much is really happening at the mo. Thus, I will amuse myself by giving you an account of everyone's issues right now. Should kill at least five minutes.
Robert vs. Myself
I had a frank talk with him yesterday for quoting Epicure excessively. The only philosopher I can tolerate being quoted excessively in this household is Aristotle. And Robert knows this. But yet I'm the bitch. Well excuse me King of the World.
Robert vs. Hannibal
Robert dislikes Hannibal at the moment because of an... incident... with the downstairs toilet. Don't ask.
Hannibal vs. Johnny vs. the wok
Johnny became angry at the new wok, who apparently "has an attitude". Hannibal dislikes this because according to him, woks are INANIMATE OBJECTS and thus CANNOT HAVE AN ATTITUDE. And it angers him excessively that Johnny is being so dramatic when HE is the one who washes it, and blah-blah-blah. Long story short, Hannibal ended up throwing the wok into Mary-Sue Vrees's yard, where it was then run over by Alfred Benedict, who was driving his plough, drunk, on the lawn. The wok is now disfigured completely, and Johnny is really furious with Hannibal.
Myself vs. Johnny
Johnny and I currently are not getting along because, er, I agree with Hannibal. And he refuses to accept this. But I don't give a shit. :O
Myself vs. Michael
IN REGARDS TO THIS WEEKEND. ENOUGH SAID.
Michael vs. Jason
Who are currently arguing like an old married couple over text messages.
Michael and Jason vs. C'Dward Eullen
My expert manipulator of a child has managed to fully convert Jason to "Team Not-C'Dward", it seems, because the latter apparently told C'Dward off when C'Dward sat with them at lunch and later attempted to give Jason a hug. I'm so sorry, Matilda... I thought my life was shitty at the moment, I can only imagine the drama at your house.
Jason and Freddy vs. Myself
They're pissed at me for keeping Mike grounded this long. Bet they thought I couldn't do it! Haha, showed them all right. Still, it's awkward because they keep egging my house.
Lispeth vs. Michael
Despite the fact that Bertha was always asleep before they had their little "liquor escapades", this does not change the fact that a large, large quantity of alcohol was stolen from her by our three little miscreants. Sigh. I know the teenage years are the worst, but do they really have to be this bad?
Sunday, January 10, 2010
The bus is a mistake. And so is C'Dward Eullen's face.
Eff off, mom. You thought you could control me? Well, think again. You turned out to be just like Sam Loomis the pedo-loon, shitwench. :)
Good God.
I went to babysit at Lispeth (my hero)'s this weekend. She actually knows what she is doing as a mom, kthxcool. Like actually. She doesn't ground people for three and a half weeks. I wish she was my parent. My only parent. LISPETH, CAN YOU ADOPT ME? PLEASE?
So yeah, I went to babysit Bertha because for some awkward reason, her dad like rejected her at birth or whatever. You know like how panda moms see their tiny-ass children and they're like WHATTHEFUCKISTHISSHIT and try to eat them? And usually succeed? Well, that's pretty much Bertha's predicament. Except obviously her dad didn't eat her because she's still here and needs to be babysat. But whatever. You know what I mean.
Anyways, this is the situation: Lispeth was going to the spa for an entire weekend with her eldest daughters, and then like W. Desnay was probably off with some theme park wench, from what I understand. And she asked me to babysit her little brat. So yeah. It was just me in Bertha's fucking wing in the house aaaaaaaaaall weekend with no supervision. :)
Well now, what are we going to do about that? I asked myself this question several times on Friday as I pondered upon the hideously epic adventure which awaited me.
And then I went over to Lispeth's. Thank God I got rid of those four wench-poopies for an entire weekend! Legit, I needed the break. And deserved it. Because I am SUCH a good son. And nothing I do is ever appreciated. So whatever, those wenches can all suck my dick if they actually thought I would be unsupervised for an entire weekend and not get up off my ass.
Hah. They are so epically dumb. They're like Johnny's friend Rob Zombie, except smaller. Because Rob Zombie is like a bodybuilding gargantuan. He thinks being a gargantuan is hot, but actually, it's fugly as fuck. You look like a caveman. Actually? Go on a celery diet. Now.
Aaaaaaaaaaanyways. So I got to the house, grabbed the massive telephone, and called Jason. And his mom answered. Epic fail. So I hung up. So then I called his cell phone. And then his mom answered. And I was like "what... the... fuck... stalker." But it wasn't actually his mom. Jason was just probably wearing that belt that he insists fits him... but really, it doesn't. It really freaking doesn't. And pretty sure he sounds awkwardly like his mom when he wears it. Which is really retarded. And scary.
So I was like, "Jason, that belt does not effing fit you. Take it off. THEN COME TO LISPETH'S."
"What? Lispeth's? Did you run away from home?" Do you see how he just completely avoided the belt issue? Fucking typical, man.
But whatever. "Yeah. Lispeth's. I'm babysitting. For the whole weekend. Just come over, wench. We can watch Freddy's new videos and raid the mini-bar."
"Won't your mom find out? You can't be grounded for any longer. We haven't been to Wal-Mart in like two years."
I'm all, "I know, right? That's exactly what I told that wench the other day. No messing with the Wal-Mart, seriously."
"Totally, I mean she could have just taken away the Korn or something!"
I'm like, "No. No messing with the Korn either."
"Oh. Alrighty then."
"You are a fugwench. We are going to Wal-Mart tomorrow. kthx." Then I hung up.
So Jason showed up at Lispeth's about point two seconds later. He probably just sprinted here because he's such a fugster. You have to feel kinda bad for him, though. He's a bit of a retard and as a result, he only has me as a friend. Which is epic, and he got lucky, because I'm a REALLY EPIC FRIEND.
So yeah. When he got here we put on some of Freddy's home videos, as well as one we videotaped at Edna's. Of me flipping out. Which was slightly embarrassing. But still funny because by the time we got around to watching this one, we had consumed so many coolers from the mini-fridge that we were both laughing our asses off and slurring verses of "Mr. Sandman".
I have discovered that Jason is extremely tone-deaf when tipsy. Or maybe he's just always like that.
Anyway, at one point, I remember we tried to figure out how the shiznatch we were getting to Wal-Mart tomorrow. So we called up Freddy on two phones. "Duuuuuuuuude, tomorrow can you drive us to Wally?" (This was Jason talking, by the way. I am nowhere near this retarded when hammered.)
Freddy was like, "What? Um... if you want to rent Wall-E, you can just walk down to Blockbuster. You know it's like two o'clock in the morning, right?"
I was all, "OhmyGodseriously? That's SO funny. But yeah. Stop being a wench and drive us to Wal-Mart tomorrow. Ksweet."
"Are you two drunk?"
Jason was all. "Holy fuck yes, we're totally krunded."
"And by that he means that we are drunk," I intervened. "WAL-MART! TOMORROW! JESUS WENCH! STOP CHANGING THE SUBJECT! YOU'RE STARTING TO SOUND LIKE JASON WHENEVER SOMEONE MENTIONS HIS GAYASS FIVE-INCH BELT AND HOW HE SHOULD TAKE THE FUCKER OFF!"
Jason's all, "What?"
I'm like, "Shut up. Stop being a tard."
"I'm so confused."
"I know you are. Go fuck the couch again."
Freddy's all, "Ooooooooooooookay. Well. Hate to tell you this, bitches, but my car is completely totaled."
I'm like, "Wonderful."
"Yeah. Some fugger named Ghostbutt Hammerfuck or something inbred like that seemed to think it was a good idea to rip shit at me for egging his house the other day. And by rip shit I mean the asshole destroyed my car."
I'm all, "Wow, man, that's like tragic or something, anyway I kind of have to go now because, like, Jason just passed out on the floor beside the couch and you're starting to get really effing boring, so like, I'll call you tomorrow or something whatever and we'll pretty much hitchhike there okay? Or something? Seeeeeee you tomorrowwww."
So I hung up, all set on this hitchhiking experience. Then Jason woke up at about four, sat straight up and said, "CANWETAKETHEBUS?"
So we did.
We lurked over to the bus stop which is like three miles away from Lispeth's because our street is so retardedly long. As in, after a while it just awkwardly becomes farmland and there are like fenced-off mad cows staring at you as though they want to eat you for breakfast. And it's really awkward. Especially since me and Jason had two massive hangovers of life and Freddy messed up the bus schedule, so we ended up awkwardly standing at the corner of the street like wenches for about forty-five minutes. And we had to drag Bertha with us because like... I was babysitting her?
Freddy's all, "Sorry guys. I thought we had to take the #7, but really, it's the #5. My bad."
I was like, "Dude, Freddy? The #7 goes to CRYSTAL LAKE. How in the fugwench did you mix them up?"
Freddy had no answer to this.
I'm all, "Yep. That's what I thought, wench."
Jason's all, "Man... don't be dissing Crystal Lake."
I'm all, "Crystal-Lake-is-a-fugly-hick-town-full-of-inbred-deformed-simple-retards."
I'm pretty sure Jason actually cried, but sometimes it's hard to tell with him. Was he crying, or were his sinuses congested? Or was he having trouble with his bowels? His fugmask makes it kind of impossible to tell.
The bus finally showed up, and it picked the right time to do so, since one of the cows was getting almost dangerously close to us at the time. Then the bus driver opens the door all surprised and he's all, "Dude... I didn't know people actually lived here."
We got in. At the very back of the bus, there existed an awkward three-person seat, and it was unoccupied so we grabbed it. And we made Bertha sit on Freddy's lap. Freddy didn't seem to mind this. By this time we had a hard time to sit still because we were extremely excited to get to Wal-Mart. Or at least I was, since I'm grounded and I am currently deprived of literally all of life's epic wins.
And Jason was too, since he is forbidden to go to Wal-Mart without me.
And also, Jason always gets stupidly excited for no effing reason. Like this one time when we were like... seven, we were playing with some old pocket knives near Crystal Lake where Jason almost drowned once and then faked his death to escape the clutches of his mom for a couple of weeks, and then Jason found a huge-ass rock and he was all "OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THIS ROCK! MICHAEL! LOOK AT THIS ROCK!!!" It was absolutely retarded. I took the rock and threw it in his face. Then I got bitched at for three hours by our dear Pam, but that is so not the point. The point is that people shouldn't get excited about rocks. It is stupid and probably means you will get excited by pink and purple phones later on in life. Like Jason.
So yeah. He was hyper as fuck.
He pulled out his phone. "Hi mom! I'm good. Mom guess what guess what guess what!! WE'RE ON A BUS. Me and Mike. ... No, mom, Freddy's not here. ... No, I won't talk to strangers! ... Yeah, it's really bouncy. ... It's really bouncy. ... IT'S REALLY BOUNCY? ... Mom? ... Oh, okay. LOVE YOU. kbye."
I stared at Jason for like two minutes. He was like, "Whuh?"
I'm all, "Why does your mom call you every five minutes? It's actually the creepiest fucking shit ever."
"She just loves me."
"Yeah, she's about the only one."
"What?"
"I didn't say anything, you tard."
"Oh, okay!" He smiled weirdly, like a moose. "OH MY GOD MIKE I'M SO EXCITED. Wal-Mart, BITCH!"
I'm all, "YAY!"
Then this lady in the seat in front of us turned around and she's all, "WAL-MART?" And then she started telling us her entire life story, and it was really awkward. We just zoned her out.
We finally got to Wal-Mart. Thankfkngod.
As we walked through the parking lot, Freddy's all, "I would laugh so hard if we ran into Ceddy here."
I frowned. "Um, excuse me while I regurgitate a cow."
Jason's like, "Yeah, C'Dward's a fugster. Except I can't regurgitate a cow... because my dad's Jewish and he gets really pissed if we eat non-kosher. But I'll regurgitate like a block of tofu with you. Does that work?"
So yeah, we got into the Wal-Mart. And it was heaven. kthx.
Long story short, we ran right into Cedward and Sella Bwan. Sella Bwan was all like, "HEYBESTFRIENDDDD!!" to me and it was kind of weird since I've never spoken to her in my life.
So I just glared at Cedward. And Jason pretty much hid behind me. Which doesn't actually work since he's... well... I don't want to be mean, but he's kind of burly. Y'know? And... I'm not? So he can only like... half hide behind me?
Yeah, I'm confusing myself now.
C'Dward was all, "HiJason."
I said, "Wench please. He actually kind of hates your face. Right Jason?"
"I don't enjoy being at the centre of this."
"FUCK YOU."
Sella Bwan was all, "Wanna come to Aqua Massage?"
I was like, "No." But Freddy and Jason were like, "Yes."
Motherfucker.
So we went to Aqua Massage and it was actually kind of epic. They closed you into these big spaceship-looking things and put you in like a body bag and then squirted water all over you and shit. Epic win. But that wasn't the best part. The best part was that Sella Bwan was like, all out. She got a 20-minute session and we all got to stand there while she instructed the worker to bring up the intensity of the water jets.
"Is that hard enough, honey?" the worker asked, and then Sella was all, "No, harder! Harder!"
Can you say LOL?
So then we bailed from Aqua Massage. Pretty sure Jason and I were still kind of drunk, so we were laughing our asses off at Sella's, um, outburst the whole way back to Wal-Mart. And then, when that stopped being funny, I started laughing at the back of Cedward's head. That just never gets old. Fuck. Someone's hairdresser was on coke.
Then we went to McFuckwad, which was rather uneventful because this one is actually not a prostitute.
Then we returned to Wal-Mart and lurked in the awkward towel aisle that no one ever goes into, except this time there was this forty-year-old hobo woman there, and I'm pretty sure she was on ecstasy because she was grabbing like every towel off the shelves and giggling to herself in pure glee. It was really effing awkward.
All of a sudden, like RIGHT out of the blue, and I mean like, we were just minding our own business and then right off the bat, C'Dward pulls out some eggs out of his pocket and starts THROWING them at us.
What. The. Fuck.
I'm all, "What the wench!"
Cedward just kept dousing us with the wenchy eggs. When I was completely DRENCHED in egg whites to the point where I must have resembled a half-melted snowman, C'Dward and Sella just turned the fuck around and ran away.
I WAS PISSED.
So I ran after him, eggs and all, and tackled him to the ground. Then Jason jumped on us. Freddy was awkwardly just standing back and watching the whole thing go down. He might as well have been holding a bag of popcorn.
"Jasongetoff." I yelled, because I couldn't breathe.
Then security came and took Cedward away. Apparently, some kind Good Samaritan customer bitchwench witnessed the whole thing and feared for the safety of the poor innocent child with us (Bertha), so she called the cops on Ced. I for one could not have been happier about this.
C'Dward was all, "BYE JASON!" as they dragged him away.
I said, "Hope you get effed by corpses in prison, Wenchdward Fuglen! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"
Jason felt bad. And then he was just confused. "Michael?"
"What?"
"Why do I feel bad for C'Dward? Even after he awkwardly pummelled us with eggs?"
I'm all, "Because... you're retarded?"
We just left, because there was nothing left in the world to do except raid the bar at Lispeth's. Not the mini one. The big fucker. Besides, it was like six o'clock. And the bus came at like... seven forty. Which was awkward.
On the way to the bus stop Jason flipped the fuck out because he'd lost his precious pink-and-purple phone. "OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY WENCH! WHAT IF MY MOM TRIED TO CALL ME????"
"She'll survive," said Freddy.
"Um... that's debatable," I said. Then I said to Jason, "It's probably in your bag, you tard. Call it."
Jason's all, "WITH WHAT?"
"My cell?"
"Oh yeah."
"You're not the only coolster with a phone, asswench."
"Just give me the fucker."
So he called. The phone didn't ring. It actually wasn't in his bag. Impressive. He might actually be growing a brain, finally.
Suddenly, Jason looked distressed. "Um... hello?"
"Who the wench are you talking to?"
Jason ignored me. "Ummm... yes, I lost my phone... why are you talking like that? ... um... what? ... WHAT THE HELL? ... Just a second... Michael! I'm confused..." He gave me the phone.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed it. "Dickwad. Hello? Who's this? ... Oh, fun, you're a French tourist. Well then. ... Mon ami a perdu son phone, ou es-tu? Dans l'bus?"
Freddy and Jason awkwardly looked at each other. "Is he speaking English right now?"
"I think he's speaking drunk," said Jason.
"Ah, okay. Merci." I hung up. "Your phone's in the bus. Good job, Voorhees."
"IN THE BUS?" Jason exclaimed. "But I'm so confused..."
"You tard."
We got the phone back when we boarded the bus, which was approximately forty minutes late. Awesome. The bus driver looked so much like Jason's mom that at first we thought she'd hijacked the bus to come find him.
There were forty-five missed calls on Jason's phone. Two from C'Dward and the rest from his mom.
I'm all, "Epic fail, Jason."
We got back to Lispeth's, put Bertha to bed and then we got completely smashed and totally trashed the entire effing ward. And also, we watched more home videos.
Lispeth is coming home soon, so I'm going to have to head back home. But this was a pretty epic weekend.
Oh, Lispeth, and my mom, if you're reading this, all of this is part of your imagination. Legit. None of this ever happened. And also, mom, you are a complete wench. And you have auditory hallucinations. Which is why you think the cops called you yesterday.
Jason... you left your machete, three pairs of socks and a substantial portion of your mask at Lispeth's. Oh, and your Wal-Mart bag full of crap.
Epic fail.
Good God.
I went to babysit at Lispeth (my hero)'s this weekend. She actually knows what she is doing as a mom, kthxcool. Like actually. She doesn't ground people for three and a half weeks. I wish she was my parent. My only parent. LISPETH, CAN YOU ADOPT ME? PLEASE?
So yeah, I went to babysit Bertha because for some awkward reason, her dad like rejected her at birth or whatever. You know like how panda moms see their tiny-ass children and they're like WHATTHEFUCKISTHISSHIT and try to eat them? And usually succeed? Well, that's pretty much Bertha's predicament. Except obviously her dad didn't eat her because she's still here and needs to be babysat. But whatever. You know what I mean.
Anyways, this is the situation: Lispeth was going to the spa for an entire weekend with her eldest daughters, and then like W. Desnay was probably off with some theme park wench, from what I understand. And she asked me to babysit her little brat. So yeah. It was just me in Bertha's fucking wing in the house aaaaaaaaaall weekend with no supervision. :)
Well now, what are we going to do about that? I asked myself this question several times on Friday as I pondered upon the hideously epic adventure which awaited me.
And then I went over to Lispeth's. Thank God I got rid of those four wench-poopies for an entire weekend! Legit, I needed the break. And deserved it. Because I am SUCH a good son. And nothing I do is ever appreciated. So whatever, those wenches can all suck my dick if they actually thought I would be unsupervised for an entire weekend and not get up off my ass.
Hah. They are so epically dumb. They're like Johnny's friend Rob Zombie, except smaller. Because Rob Zombie is like a bodybuilding gargantuan. He thinks being a gargantuan is hot, but actually, it's fugly as fuck. You look like a caveman. Actually? Go on a celery diet. Now.
Aaaaaaaaaaanyways. So I got to the house, grabbed the massive telephone, and called Jason. And his mom answered. Epic fail. So I hung up. So then I called his cell phone. And then his mom answered. And I was like "what... the... fuck... stalker." But it wasn't actually his mom. Jason was just probably wearing that belt that he insists fits him... but really, it doesn't. It really freaking doesn't. And pretty sure he sounds awkwardly like his mom when he wears it. Which is really retarded. And scary.
So I was like, "Jason, that belt does not effing fit you. Take it off. THEN COME TO LISPETH'S."
"What? Lispeth's? Did you run away from home?" Do you see how he just completely avoided the belt issue? Fucking typical, man.
But whatever. "Yeah. Lispeth's. I'm babysitting. For the whole weekend. Just come over, wench. We can watch Freddy's new videos and raid the mini-bar."
"Won't your mom find out? You can't be grounded for any longer. We haven't been to Wal-Mart in like two years."
I'm all, "I know, right? That's exactly what I told that wench the other day. No messing with the Wal-Mart, seriously."
"Totally, I mean she could have just taken away the Korn or something!"
I'm like, "No. No messing with the Korn either."
"Oh. Alrighty then."
"You are a fugwench. We are going to Wal-Mart tomorrow. kthx." Then I hung up.
So Jason showed up at Lispeth's about point two seconds later. He probably just sprinted here because he's such a fugster. You have to feel kinda bad for him, though. He's a bit of a retard and as a result, he only has me as a friend. Which is epic, and he got lucky, because I'm a REALLY EPIC FRIEND.
So yeah. When he got here we put on some of Freddy's home videos, as well as one we videotaped at Edna's. Of me flipping out. Which was slightly embarrassing. But still funny because by the time we got around to watching this one, we had consumed so many coolers from the mini-fridge that we were both laughing our asses off and slurring verses of "Mr. Sandman".
I have discovered that Jason is extremely tone-deaf when tipsy. Or maybe he's just always like that.
Anyway, at one point, I remember we tried to figure out how the shiznatch we were getting to Wal-Mart tomorrow. So we called up Freddy on two phones. "Duuuuuuuuude, tomorrow can you drive us to Wally?" (This was Jason talking, by the way. I am nowhere near this retarded when hammered.)
Freddy was like, "What? Um... if you want to rent Wall-E, you can just walk down to Blockbuster. You know it's like two o'clock in the morning, right?"
I was all, "OhmyGodseriously? That's SO funny. But yeah. Stop being a wench and drive us to Wal-Mart tomorrow. Ksweet."
"Are you two drunk?"
Jason was all. "Holy fuck yes, we're totally krunded."
"And by that he means that we are drunk," I intervened. "WAL-MART! TOMORROW! JESUS WENCH! STOP CHANGING THE SUBJECT! YOU'RE STARTING TO SOUND LIKE JASON WHENEVER SOMEONE MENTIONS HIS GAYASS FIVE-INCH BELT AND HOW HE SHOULD TAKE THE FUCKER OFF!"
Jason's all, "What?"
I'm like, "Shut up. Stop being a tard."
"I'm so confused."
"I know you are. Go fuck the couch again."
Freddy's all, "Ooooooooooooookay. Well. Hate to tell you this, bitches, but my car is completely totaled."
I'm like, "Wonderful."
"Yeah. Some fugger named Ghostbutt Hammerfuck or something inbred like that seemed to think it was a good idea to rip shit at me for egging his house the other day. And by rip shit I mean the asshole destroyed my car."
I'm all, "Wow, man, that's like tragic or something, anyway I kind of have to go now because, like, Jason just passed out on the floor beside the couch and you're starting to get really effing boring, so like, I'll call you tomorrow or something whatever and we'll pretty much hitchhike there okay? Or something? Seeeeeee you tomorrowwww."
So I hung up, all set on this hitchhiking experience. Then Jason woke up at about four, sat straight up and said, "CANWETAKETHEBUS?"
So we did.
We lurked over to the bus stop which is like three miles away from Lispeth's because our street is so retardedly long. As in, after a while it just awkwardly becomes farmland and there are like fenced-off mad cows staring at you as though they want to eat you for breakfast. And it's really awkward. Especially since me and Jason had two massive hangovers of life and Freddy messed up the bus schedule, so we ended up awkwardly standing at the corner of the street like wenches for about forty-five minutes. And we had to drag Bertha with us because like... I was babysitting her?
Freddy's all, "Sorry guys. I thought we had to take the #7, but really, it's the #5. My bad."
I was like, "Dude, Freddy? The #7 goes to CRYSTAL LAKE. How in the fugwench did you mix them up?"
Freddy had no answer to this.
I'm all, "Yep. That's what I thought, wench."
Jason's all, "Man... don't be dissing Crystal Lake."
I'm all, "Crystal-Lake-is-a-fugly-hick-town-full-of-inbred-deformed-simple-retards."
I'm pretty sure Jason actually cried, but sometimes it's hard to tell with him. Was he crying, or were his sinuses congested? Or was he having trouble with his bowels? His fugmask makes it kind of impossible to tell.
The bus finally showed up, and it picked the right time to do so, since one of the cows was getting almost dangerously close to us at the time. Then the bus driver opens the door all surprised and he's all, "Dude... I didn't know people actually lived here."
We got in. At the very back of the bus, there existed an awkward three-person seat, and it was unoccupied so we grabbed it. And we made Bertha sit on Freddy's lap. Freddy didn't seem to mind this. By this time we had a hard time to sit still because we were extremely excited to get to Wal-Mart. Or at least I was, since I'm grounded and I am currently deprived of literally all of life's epic wins.
And Jason was too, since he is forbidden to go to Wal-Mart without me.
And also, Jason always gets stupidly excited for no effing reason. Like this one time when we were like... seven, we were playing with some old pocket knives near Crystal Lake where Jason almost drowned once and then faked his death to escape the clutches of his mom for a couple of weeks, and then Jason found a huge-ass rock and he was all "OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THIS ROCK! MICHAEL! LOOK AT THIS ROCK!!!" It was absolutely retarded. I took the rock and threw it in his face. Then I got bitched at for three hours by our dear Pam, but that is so not the point. The point is that people shouldn't get excited about rocks. It is stupid and probably means you will get excited by pink and purple phones later on in life. Like Jason.
So yeah. He was hyper as fuck.
He pulled out his phone. "Hi mom! I'm good. Mom guess what guess what guess what!! WE'RE ON A BUS. Me and Mike. ... No, mom, Freddy's not here. ... No, I won't talk to strangers! ... Yeah, it's really bouncy. ... It's really bouncy. ... IT'S REALLY BOUNCY? ... Mom? ... Oh, okay. LOVE YOU. kbye."
I stared at Jason for like two minutes. He was like, "Whuh?"
I'm all, "Why does your mom call you every five minutes? It's actually the creepiest fucking shit ever."
"She just loves me."
"Yeah, she's about the only one."
"What?"
"I didn't say anything, you tard."
"Oh, okay!" He smiled weirdly, like a moose. "OH MY GOD MIKE I'M SO EXCITED. Wal-Mart, BITCH!"
I'm all, "YAY!"
Then this lady in the seat in front of us turned around and she's all, "WAL-MART?" And then she started telling us her entire life story, and it was really awkward. We just zoned her out.
We finally got to Wal-Mart. Thankfkngod.
As we walked through the parking lot, Freddy's all, "I would laugh so hard if we ran into Ceddy here."
I frowned. "Um, excuse me while I regurgitate a cow."
Jason's like, "Yeah, C'Dward's a fugster. Except I can't regurgitate a cow... because my dad's Jewish and he gets really pissed if we eat non-kosher. But I'll regurgitate like a block of tofu with you. Does that work?"
So yeah, we got into the Wal-Mart. And it was heaven. kthx.
Long story short, we ran right into Cedward and Sella Bwan. Sella Bwan was all like, "HEYBESTFRIENDDDD!!" to me and it was kind of weird since I've never spoken to her in my life.
So I just glared at Cedward. And Jason pretty much hid behind me. Which doesn't actually work since he's... well... I don't want to be mean, but he's kind of burly. Y'know? And... I'm not? So he can only like... half hide behind me?
Yeah, I'm confusing myself now.
C'Dward was all, "HiJason."
I said, "Wench please. He actually kind of hates your face. Right Jason?"
"I don't enjoy being at the centre of this."
"FUCK YOU."
Sella Bwan was all, "Wanna come to Aqua Massage?"
I was like, "No." But Freddy and Jason were like, "Yes."
Motherfucker.
So we went to Aqua Massage and it was actually kind of epic. They closed you into these big spaceship-looking things and put you in like a body bag and then squirted water all over you and shit. Epic win. But that wasn't the best part. The best part was that Sella Bwan was like, all out. She got a 20-minute session and we all got to stand there while she instructed the worker to bring up the intensity of the water jets.
"Is that hard enough, honey?" the worker asked, and then Sella was all, "No, harder! Harder!"
Can you say LOL?
So then we bailed from Aqua Massage. Pretty sure Jason and I were still kind of drunk, so we were laughing our asses off at Sella's, um, outburst the whole way back to Wal-Mart. And then, when that stopped being funny, I started laughing at the back of Cedward's head. That just never gets old. Fuck. Someone's hairdresser was on coke.
Then we went to McFuckwad, which was rather uneventful because this one is actually not a prostitute.
Then we returned to Wal-Mart and lurked in the awkward towel aisle that no one ever goes into, except this time there was this forty-year-old hobo woman there, and I'm pretty sure she was on ecstasy because she was grabbing like every towel off the shelves and giggling to herself in pure glee. It was really effing awkward.
All of a sudden, like RIGHT out of the blue, and I mean like, we were just minding our own business and then right off the bat, C'Dward pulls out some eggs out of his pocket and starts THROWING them at us.
What. The. Fuck.
I'm all, "What the wench!"
Cedward just kept dousing us with the wenchy eggs. When I was completely DRENCHED in egg whites to the point where I must have resembled a half-melted snowman, C'Dward and Sella just turned the fuck around and ran away.
I WAS PISSED.
So I ran after him, eggs and all, and tackled him to the ground. Then Jason jumped on us. Freddy was awkwardly just standing back and watching the whole thing go down. He might as well have been holding a bag of popcorn.
"Jasongetoff." I yelled, because I couldn't breathe.
Then security came and took Cedward away. Apparently, some kind Good Samaritan customer bitchwench witnessed the whole thing and feared for the safety of the poor innocent child with us (Bertha), so she called the cops on Ced. I for one could not have been happier about this.
C'Dward was all, "BYE JASON!" as they dragged him away.
I said, "Hope you get effed by corpses in prison, Wenchdward Fuglen! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"
Jason felt bad. And then he was just confused. "Michael?"
"What?"
"Why do I feel bad for C'Dward? Even after he awkwardly pummelled us with eggs?"
I'm all, "Because... you're retarded?"
We just left, because there was nothing left in the world to do except raid the bar at Lispeth's. Not the mini one. The big fucker. Besides, it was like six o'clock. And the bus came at like... seven forty. Which was awkward.
On the way to the bus stop Jason flipped the fuck out because he'd lost his precious pink-and-purple phone. "OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY WENCH! WHAT IF MY MOM TRIED TO CALL ME????"
"She'll survive," said Freddy.
"Um... that's debatable," I said. Then I said to Jason, "It's probably in your bag, you tard. Call it."
Jason's all, "WITH WHAT?"
"My cell?"
"Oh yeah."
"You're not the only coolster with a phone, asswench."
"Just give me the fucker."
So he called. The phone didn't ring. It actually wasn't in his bag. Impressive. He might actually be growing a brain, finally.
Suddenly, Jason looked distressed. "Um... hello?"
"Who the wench are you talking to?"
Jason ignored me. "Ummm... yes, I lost my phone... why are you talking like that? ... um... what? ... WHAT THE HELL? ... Just a second... Michael! I'm confused..." He gave me the phone.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed it. "Dickwad. Hello? Who's this? ... Oh, fun, you're a French tourist. Well then. ... Mon ami a perdu son phone, ou es-tu? Dans l'bus?"
Freddy and Jason awkwardly looked at each other. "Is he speaking English right now?"
"I think he's speaking drunk," said Jason.
"Ah, okay. Merci." I hung up. "Your phone's in the bus. Good job, Voorhees."
"IN THE BUS?" Jason exclaimed. "But I'm so confused..."
"You tard."
We got the phone back when we boarded the bus, which was approximately forty minutes late. Awesome. The bus driver looked so much like Jason's mom that at first we thought she'd hijacked the bus to come find him.
There were forty-five missed calls on Jason's phone. Two from C'Dward and the rest from his mom.
I'm all, "Epic fail, Jason."
We got back to Lispeth's, put Bertha to bed and then we got completely smashed and totally trashed the entire effing ward. And also, we watched more home videos.
Lispeth is coming home soon, so I'm going to have to head back home. But this was a pretty epic weekend.
Oh, Lispeth, and my mom, if you're reading this, all of this is part of your imagination. Legit. None of this ever happened. And also, mom, you are a complete wench. And you have auditory hallucinations. Which is why you think the cops called you yesterday.
Jason... you left your machete, three pairs of socks and a substantial portion of your mask at Lispeth's. Oh, and your Wal-Mart bag full of crap.
Epic fail.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Ruth is a (drunk) coolster
I read my mom's friend Ruth's latest blog post, and I just have to comment:
Seriously, go you. I didn't think you could last this long without doing a load of laundry or make a box of KD. Just for the record neither does my mom. But she would never say it to your face. :)
I think I'm going to follow your awesome example. I really need to go on strike from my parents. They're all such fugly wenches. Actually. Who grounds someone for three and a half weeks? Legit, pick between three and four. Preferably three. But in any case, none of this "half" shit. kthx. And I also need to go on strike from Jason and Freddy, just because they are so fucking retarded. WHO THROWS EGGS AT SOMEONE'S WINDOW TO WAKE THEM UP? EGGS? SERIOUSLY?
My life is going nowhere at this point (or at least, nowhere interesting). Pretty sure I'm going to go berserk soon and steal some of Freddy's LSD - which he gives to children behind the Esso - and go all apeshit, just like you, Ruth. Then they'll have to make their own effing Demon Squares. HAH. Except theirs will turn out all gross and stick-tasting because asswenches don't make good cooks. Ever.
Ruth, thank you for inspiring me. Just for that, I may spare you if ever I decide to go on a big old bloody rampage. :)
Seriously, go you. I didn't think you could last this long without doing a load of laundry or make a box of KD. Just for the record neither does my mom. But she would never say it to your face. :)
I think I'm going to follow your awesome example. I really need to go on strike from my parents. They're all such fugly wenches. Actually. Who grounds someone for three and a half weeks? Legit, pick between three and four. Preferably three. But in any case, none of this "half" shit. kthx. And I also need to go on strike from Jason and Freddy, just because they are so fucking retarded. WHO THROWS EGGS AT SOMEONE'S WINDOW TO WAKE THEM UP? EGGS? SERIOUSLY?
My life is going nowhere at this point (or at least, nowhere interesting). Pretty sure I'm going to go berserk soon and steal some of Freddy's LSD - which he gives to children behind the Esso - and go all apeshit, just like you, Ruth. Then they'll have to make their own effing Demon Squares. HAH. Except theirs will turn out all gross and stick-tasting because asswenches don't make good cooks. Ever.
Ruth, thank you for inspiring me. Just for that, I may spare you if ever I decide to go on a big old bloody rampage. :)
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
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. :)
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. :)
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