gack and gays

Ungh. It's been a month since I've blogged. I blame my employer. They've blocked all blogs from our computer system so I'm unable to access my blog, or any blog for that matter, from work. Work was where I used to do most of my blogging. Work was where I STARTED my blog. Now it's all blocked and I have to find time at home to do what I used to love doing. But that's that I guess.

So last Friday was the big Miss Gay Iowa pageant. Jim and I went in '08, sadly missed last year due to no funding and we almost missed it this year for the same reason. We just didn't know if we were going to be able to afford it all, especially a hotel stay for three nights. That's when I remembered that a good friend of mine lived in that area and I asked if we could stay with her for the weekend. Her exact answer, I believe was, "Duh. Yeah." and so we were psyched to be going.

We got to her house around 6pm after some horrid traffic in Iowa City and left for the pageant a couple hours later. We didn't get dinner so we stopped for some McNuggets on the way. A friend of Jim's snagged us a reserved table that wasn't being used and the drinking began. One long island ice tea turned into two, three, four then five. Getting the fifth LIIT (OMG--did anyone realize that the anagram for that is LIIT?? How appropriate.) is I think the last thing I remember. I don't remember drinking it. I only slightly remember asking Jim where the bathroom was and I remember sort of telling him I couldn't get in because apparently I was going through some wrong door. I absolutely do NOT remember walking the half a block to the car and I don't remember a whole lot after that until I woke up in the bathtub, dry heaving at 7am. From what I'm told I totally Linda Blaired in Jim's car. I sat there with this look on my face:

*sorry--will have to post this picture later. Blogger's being a dirty whore*

Then I looked at Jim and growled out a bunch of puke. I did it several more times with Jim saying to me, "Amy Warren I need you to open the door and puke outside." Of course I never opened the door and he would have to do it. Since the pageant venue and the house we were staying at were a 20 minute drive, these pit stops were taking place on the interstate. Then Jim would tell me, "Amy Warren I need you to get back in the car, the cops were coming." Of course they weren't but I believed him and I would shut the door and say, "OK, go."

So it wasn't just puking that I was doing in Jim's car. It was a whole trifecta. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. I have no idea how I got down the stairs to where we were sleeping in the house but when Jim got me inside and came back in from cleaning up the big chunks he found me downstairs in the bathroom, naked except for a bra and sitting in the bathtub. I'm told I growled a, "turn on the water." to which he did. When I woke up at 7am, dry heaving, the water was warm because I had the sense to keep letting some out and put hot water in. Also Jim was in the bathroom with me (he had shut the shower curtain after the first time he came in.) I was told to wiggle my toes. I complied. I told Jim to get me a pair of shorts and a tshirt out of my suitcase. Then, something to this effect was said, "When you get out of the tub, be careful because there's a lot of water on the floor."

"OK."

"...also...your pants are here on the floor and your...panties. Be careful with those too. You had an...accident..."

"..."

Yeah. In case you didn't understand my trifecta reference earlier, when I let loose in Jim's car. I let loose. I puked. I peed. I schatt my pants. Ungh.

So I put on my shorts and t-shirt and laid down in bed under the warm covers. I got up off and on through the day but basically slept until 3 in the afternoon. At one point Jim had brought me toast but I was only able to eat a very tiny piece. At 3:00 I knew I had to eat something and take my insulin, etc. I still felt really crappy. I drove us into Iowa City and we stopped at Village Inn. I ordered a sandwich and soup but was only able to eat about half of the soup and none of the sandwich. It just didn't look appealing. My meal came with a piece of pie and I was actually able to eat that. I took my sandwich in a box and we headed to Wal-Mart for cleaning supplies. I had some cleanin' to do back at the house.

We spent a couple hours cleaning and I was starting to feel like myself again. I went inside to eat my sandwich and take my insulin and a shower. Saturday night was a dry night for me. We had fun relaying the story from the night before and I got to be the designated driver. I didn't even want to SMELL alcohol.

Sunday morning we went to a local casino for their breakfast buffet and then Jim and I did a little gambling where I won $65 and ended up about $35 ahead. That night was the finals and we took our house host with us. Again I was DD and Jim and Audrey had a good time ordering different martinis off the menu. I was perfectly content with my Diet Pepsi.

I'm sure Miss Gay Iowa 2010 won't ever be forgotten, especially after I pulled a hat trick in Jim's car. I'm also sure Jim will never let me in his car again after even one shot for fear I'll technicolor yawn on his sleeve, pants, seats, ceiling, shifter, seat belt, etc. again!

The Creature on our Fridge

We've been fighting with Blake since just after birth to keep him out of the refrigerator. Last year we got one of those locks for the fridge door and that worked for a while but soon he figured it out and we've been back to square one for several months. He gets in it before everyone else is up, or while we're doing other things. We're constantly finding pasta or chicken or packages of lunchables torn open and under his bed, dresser or wherever he wants to stash them. Today was the last straw.

Blake is horribly, HORRIBLY afraid of Halloween decorations. Two weeks ago we had to go to Factory Card Outlet and that was the day they started putting their Halloween stuff up. They didn't actually have anything OUT just the ginormous sign on their door that says HALLOWEEN. Blake TOTALLY freaked the hell out. I said, "Fine. I'll just leave you hear all by yourself outside." "OK." he said. WTG, Amy. That worked out well. I said, "I can't leave you out here you HAVE to go in with me. We're not even going to LOOK at the Halloween stuff. We're going to the other side of the store."

"I just want to hide here under your shirt." he said and started lifting up the back of my shirt. He screamed and cried and I had to pull on his arm so hard to get him in the door I thought I would end up dislocating it at the shoulder but I got him in. I kept my promise and we went to the other side of the store and he declared himself "very brave" at the registers. Sure ya are, buddy.

So, today after we found four hot dogs STILL IN THE PACKAGE in the trash for no apparent reason and two boxes of lunchables torn up in his room (not the little ones either, the expensive mamas with the candy and drink pouch) we had HAD IT! Adam went to Factory Card Outlet after dinner to find something horrible to hang on the refrigerator. He came home and we affixed this bad boy to the fridge.

It has a sensor so when you come near it it wiggles and shakes, it's eyes light up and says things like, "Let me out of here!!" Blake hates it. We are all loving it. If it works we're adopting it, naming it Tammy and starting her a college fund.

Fucktards and a birthday...not necessarily in that order

I'm getting pretty stoked for Emily's surprise party except I've only got two confirmed guests from her class and one neighbor girl. Three neighbor boys are coming, at least I assume, but they don't "count." They don't get to get one of the fabulous rocker girl parting gifts I'm putting together. I've got so much cleaning to do this week it's re.dick but whatever. At least I'll get some alone time this week during the day while the kids are in school so it will be a bit easier to do just that. I've also got to get the cake ordered at some point.

Blake's bus fucktards are still pissing me off and I can only blame my own laziness for not calling the principal to complain. I'm not usually like that when it comes to things involving my kids. Last Tuesday Blake's bus that was supposed to arrive at 3:55 came at 4:50. That's not a typo. Four motha-fuckin' fiddy! At 4:40 I called the bus barn to find out where the hell my kid was. I told them my son rides bus 19 and wasn't there yet...supposed to be 3:55...what the hell? The guy said, bus 19 is here, the keys are hanging up and the driver is gone. I FLIPPED! I was like, WHERE THE HELL IS MY SON?? He said, are you sure he isn't on bus 27? Oh. Yeah. Sorryboutthat. He said the bus was running about 20 minutes late. TWENTY MINUTES???? It's 4:40! I said, when EXACTLY is this bus supposed to arrive because the last I was told it was 3:55. "Oh, no." he said. "Let me check but that's not right." He comes back to say the bus should be arriving at 4:04. "OOOOOOHHHHHHH. Well now that makes a big difference, doesn't it? Still wanna tell me the bus is running about 20 minutes late?" "He should be there in about 10 minutes ok?" "mmm." Was all I could muster out of my mouth because of the shear anger that was building up inside of me. I hung up, mumbled a bunch of stuff about his mother and the size of his manhood and waited the ten minutes for Blakey to get there. The next day when the bus arrived at 4:37 and I was mumbling to myself about not calling the principal, the bus driver had the BALLS to say, "Not bad. Better than yesterday, huh?" I gave him a look that told him I wasn't afraid to rip his nose off with my teeth and put Blake in the car. I hate those fucktards.