I was asked recently by one of Mr. DD’s relatives, "How’s project number two coming along?" I can’t begin to explain how torn I was between scooping out his testicles with a spork or replying, "Glad to know that four of those other pesky non-pregnancies don’t count towards my list of ‘projects’." And yes, I would have been as equally annoyed if he had asked about "project number six"…
A co-worker asked about my due date, with which I replied sometime in July. They persisted and wanted to know beginning, middle or end of July? I said that I was shooting for the middle, depending on when we could schedule my c-section…."Oh, YOU’RE the reason the cost of healthcare continues to skyrocket!" Again, the thought of spork-mutilation crossed my mind as I smiled thinly in reply and thought, "Fuck you sideways, asshole, as I think my insurance can cover that little, minor detail of a surgical delivery considering I’ve hemorrhaged thousands of dollars (not to mention a little blood here and there) these past few years just to get to this point."
In an unbelievable moment of stupidity, I thought I would try to spray paint something for a school project last night while still in my work clothes. When the can sputtered and shot BLACK paint all over my arm, in a panic I did a quick personal pat-down to make sure it only hit my skin. I almost breathed a sigh of relief until I spied my shoes. Right on the toe of my fairly new Sofft skimmers, a black drop of paint. If the tines of my spork were still intact, I would gouge out my own brain as punishment for its uselessness.
A few nights ago, XBoy was watching a basketball game with Dad, and he made this observation: "There are more brown faces than peach faces playing."
I told him that people come in all different colors, not just peach and brown.
He objected to saying, " People don’t have green or purple faces…except in heaven if that’s what color they want."