Monday, April 27, 2009

Sunburned in All the Wrong Places


I used to be such an uber-informed woman, but somewhere along the way, I've become so out of touch. I don't even keep up on what's going on with PopTart Culture. I guess Maude died, which makes me a little sad (Guess god finally got her, Walter) because she was such an icon of my youth. And Tyra Banks will be testifying about something or other. And I'm sure that somebody said something bad about President Obama's policies and someone else said something good about them on a Sunday morning talk show, but I'd have to be totally living under a rock to not know those things.

It doesn't help that MathMan and I made a pact Saturday night before we went to bed to sleep in on Sunday morning, have hot monkey sex upon awakening (after a compulsory tooth brushing first, of course), and keep our computers in the upright and locked position until we had actually accomplished some of the things on our looooooong to do list.

I'm pleased to report mission accomplished on all counts. Well, except, my to do list turned out to have about six things too many on it. Sadly, today is already Monday which means I'm at the office doing work that doesn't involve folding, scrubbing or digging. Doesn't sound half bad, does it? Well, that may be true, but while I'm doing busy and important things at the office, the things around Golden Manor that must be folded, scrubbed or dug up (possibly buried?) remain undone.

Such is life, I suppose. If we ever completed our to do list, I think we might just end up like Maude.

So what really kept us busy yesterday was a lot of yard work. And now I remember why people hire other people to do that stuff. MathMan has a tee shirt that reads "Math is hard." I want a tee shirt that reads "Yard work is hard." I think I raked leaves that were from the fall of 2002. They were mingled with all sorts of flotsam and jetsam - an empty Jack Daniels bottle, a Playtex tampon plastic applicator and enough styrofoam containers to make the foundation in front of the house look like my mother-in-laws refridgerator back in the day when MathMan and I would open it and play "You Smell It and Figure Out What Food Group That Used to Belong To."

My favorite part of the day was realizing that I could diabolically use yard work to get back at The Ninja who likes to tease me with misogynistic comments such as "That's women's work." I finally go to turn that line of reasoning around on him. He was ordered off the XBox live to come out and do some manly yard work.

On the upside, we had our first new neighbor introduction/MILF sighting. Pink Tube Top (okay, how sexist can I be?) MathMan thinks we should call her Mrs. Milfington. (Hmmmm. Did MathMan listen to Morning Sedition?) The point is the woman has magnificent boobies and that's enough to keep MathMan happily working away outside in hopes of catching another glimpse. My only concern in that regard is what does her husband look like in case we get invited to one of those key parties at some point and if MathMan abandons me to go do the hard yard work for Pink Tube Top. (Fill in favorite mowing the lawn joke here.)

On the downside, Garbo's battle with the little halfwit friend of the boy across the street continues and has escalated. Parents are involved. That's never a good sign. Especially when I'm the parent who starts stuff.

The little guy just might be sweet on Garbo, but is ill-equipped at the age of ten to show it. Instead he employs the acceptable tween tactics of shoving her down and calling her names. He hasn't let up and seems to look for every opportunity to provoke an incident. I'm not sure the boy is right in the head, but am loathe to overreact.

Yesterday, the Halfwit and his two friends from the neighborhood were "hiding" in the culvert next to our house, hollering rude stuff at Garbo who was reading in a chair in the backyard. I just did what any mama would do, I sneaked up behind him and his buddies and yelled one word these yahoo kids around here understand. "Git!"

He didn't stop running for a block and a half.

Later, he decided that it would be clever to ride his bike back and forth in front of the house, then stop for a sit and stare in the neighbor's yard across the street. Garbo and one of the other Covered Bridge Springs tarts were on our front porch mooning over a stray kitten. Words were exchanged, including rude finger gestures. Garbo, who'd been instructed to go the back yard if the Halfwit kept it up, reported the incident, prompting a much put-upon sigh by me. Time to have MathMan handle things with his Teacher Wits. And he did. Thank you, MathMan. Me chasing a little cross-eyed goonbah down the street with a rake isn't really going to make us any friends.

MathMan was kind enough to bring me inside later for some cream cheese frosting which I ate off a spoon while he spread some on my sunburn. Or maybe that was aloe. I forget which has soothing qualities for the sunburn.

So here it is Monday and I'm wishing for another day of weekend so I can soak in the tub and rest my sore muscles who'd lost their muscle memory for digging and such. What a difference two years makes. I take last year off from gardening and I atrophy to the point of creaking when I stand up from crawling around, placing plants and showing the new neighbors my bottom.

I realize that I have plenty to catch up on and I hope that work will be calm enough this afternoon so that I can actually do some important stuff like check my Facebook page and read blogs because I understand that here's some big news about swine flu or something?

27 comments:

  1. That actually sounds like a near-perfect weekend.

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  2. Mathman's Faces of Lisa with a Spoon is lovely.

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  3. My shoulders still hurt from painting on Saturday. I'll be using that as an excuse for whatever for several more days. Ow.

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  4. You say 'MILF' like it's a bad thing...

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  5. Does the half-wit play banjo?
    What happened to the all-girl goon squad she had started? Maybe they could open a can of whoop-ass on the half wit. But then again, he might enjoy that.

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  6. "Mrs. Milfington" - that is tooo good. I think every neighborhood has one at least. (btw - it's not me in this neighborhood.) Sounds like a "fun-filled" weekend to me. I can appreciate the aches, pains and sunburn. Rest up tonight.

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  7. Garbo needs to pound the shit out of the twerp. Sorry, but once she does that, he'll do anything to be her friend. I'm pretty sure his parents would appreciate it, too.

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  8. Long ago in a galaxy far away, a young neighbour expressed his ardor for my kid sister by throwing eggs at her. Dad, once he got home, marched down to the kids house and demanded of his father that little Casanova come clean up the driveway where the eggs had landed.
    When the father refused to have his little darling do that, dad hauled the father up the road, tore his shirt off and cleaned up the eggs with the guy's shirt.
    Life was so much simpler then before every confrontation ended with cops and court.
    Casanova found other ways to express himself and all was well with the force again.
    As for parents having any sort of sex. Eww! Thank god my parents never did that sort of thing.

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  9. I first heard Mrs.MILFington on the Simpsons. We both took pics of the clematis and they look like different flowers.

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  10. I thought 'clematis' was a STD.

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  11. I though Jack Daniels was the sunburn remedy: take internally as needed. Repeat. Also, best used in conjunction with cream cheese frosting.

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  12. I agree that Garbo needs to pound the little bastard until he's her slave. But that's just me. Note to Garbo. I have lived alone for decades.

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  13. Your life is much more fun!! Well minus the sunburn, sore muscles and half-wit in love with Garbo....LOL!
    I blogged about the pandemic today.........ugh!

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  14. I hugely admire your ability to make yard work and "meeting the neighbors" sound entertaining.

    I've noticed that my occasional time-outs from being well-informed do not seem to harm the world very much. BTW, apparently swine flu has hit the UK. "Airborne" has more than one meaning, apparently.

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  15. Wait, cream cheese frosting. Can I have some?

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  16. One day after school, my soon-to-be 12-year old told me a story I still laugh at (notice that preposition?). Her class was standing in line, and one of two boys standing behind her said, "Hey, Scott, do you like Moriah or something?"; Scott, being a tween boy like your neighbor boy, made a near-retching sound and said, "No." His friend said, "Then why are you staring at her butt?"

    We keep telling her that Scott McLaughlin - who is a very nice-looking boy whom Moriah will be panting over in a couple years - likes her (he doesn't seem to be able to leave her alone; all that attention obviously means . . .) but she gets annoyed at his "immaturity" (snicker; we never really grow up; ask MathMan).

    Monkey sex? Too loud with children . . .

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  17. Sounds like my Sunday without the monkey sex and half wit neighbor boy (seems I fill that role on our block)

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  18. Sounds like a busy weekend. I remember when we first moved into our house and did yardwork. I don't think the people before us had done anything to that yard in 70 years. Didn't find any tampon applicators but we found lots of other weird things. I like to think of it as a type of archeology.

    Sorry to hear about Garbo's troubles with the nasty kid. We had one of those on our block when I was little. Glad you're sticking up for her!

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  19. The comic strip "For Better or For Worse" had a nice segment about a boy bullying the little girl April. I'm sure they're all archived.

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  20. Pink tube top? What NASCAR tatoo did she have?

    As for Bea Arthur, Golden Girls is one of my daughter's favorite shows. I think that's all she did when she was in college, watch the Golden Girls (instead of studying and ging to class.) She was quite upset when she heard the news yesterday.

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  21. Latka, I did not even think to look at or for tatoos. I really was only looking at one - well two things. Lisa did tell me that she did have a tatoo.

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  22. In case you missed it my favorite story of the day was about the Goombas who decided to fly Air Force One with a military escort jet at low altitude around NYC so they could have a picture of it with the Statue of Liberty. Panic ensued. Have these people never heard of Photoshop?

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  23. I agree with Kirby and Utah Savage. I think the half-wit needs to get his ass kicked by Garbo/Resident Evil. That said, if Garbo objects, then I guess you'll just have to scare the shit out of him. I think you are up to it.

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  24. Sunburns in April - my idea of a nice weekend.

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  25. Sorry to hear you have sunburn and aching muscles. What a pain that child must be too.

    my theory on swine flu is its a capitilist ploy to take our mind off the monetry situation. Or they ar egoing to kill us all off so we won't have to worry about paying bills etc.

    Hope today was a good day. I have been gainfully employed and actually enjoyed a maths lesson!!!!

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  26. Boy, your kids and the neighbors give you lots of blogging material! I guess you should count yourself...lucky?? *smiles*

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