Cotton Balls Dipped in Toe Jam

By the way my mouth tasted Sunday morning, I have to assume that's what I was snackin' on the night before.
Aaron and I had a great anniversary. My sister picked the kids up from our house at 3! Hello! So of course we had an afternooner, which we haven't been able to do since Tatum was born. Prior to children, that was the ideal time of day for it. Lazing around, chowing down, watching a movie marathon, and enjoying a tumble whenever the mood strikes. Sigh. Now it's either right before bed, which Aaron's not too keen on, or first thing in the morning, which I LOATHE. I am not a morning person, don't put that thing anywhere near me unless you're willing to lose it. Rarr hisssss...
So then we went out to eat at Carraba's- is that how you spell it? It doesn't look right- which was delicious. Then we went to see a play called The Lieutenant of Inishmore. It was a very small show, like 30 seats, and it was about an irish assassin that was so psycho the IRA didn't want him, and the only thing he really loved in the whole world was his cat, so they put a hit out on it to lure him back where they want him. It was funny, and also violent with lots of Irish cussing, so it was right up my alley. Some accents were better than others, and some of them would do okay for awhile and then slip up, but it was just part of the charm. They really did a great job, and like Aaron said, just to be so into it that you rehearse for however many weeks, to perform one night to a sold out show of a handful of people, is impressive in and of itself.
THEN we went to a party, and my sister calls while we're there to tell us the girls fell asleep at her house so she'll just bring them home tomorrow. Upon hearing I didn't have to be responsible for anyone but myself, I proceeded to drink excessively. I had a great time, but I also had like 4 too many. And the last two were guiness, which is like fermented pond scum. I think those are what really did me in. Interestingly enough, it's the same toxic sludge on exit as it is going in. At least I didn't barf.

Today at the gym, I'm walking into the bathroom and this lady's walking out, laughing uproariously. She grins at me and caws "I's so sweaty, look! Look at ma pants!" I look and she turns her back to me, displaying the wet splotch extending from the top of her pants down the generous length of her ass crack. It reminded me of those ink blots shrinks use. "Er, I guess that means you got a good work out." She stumbles away, still laughing. I see this lady a lot, and she's strange, possibly even mildly exceptional. She always has on full makeup- although this isn't unusual for the desperate housewives of rincon- and she wears shirts that are way too short, and pants that are way too thin and snug. Her ensemble was the reason her flooded ravine was so obvious. She had on aqua colored stretch pants. She also has a perm she definitely mousses- is that how you spell that? It doesn't look right either. My two favorite treadmills were out of order, and the only spot left was next to the Gulf of Perspiration. "And that wuz only from 30 minutes on tha lyptical! I wunder what'll happen after anuther 30 minutes on hare?!" Thankfully she respected the placement of the Ipod ear buds, but then a friend of hers came in. She carried on a conversation with her while she plodded on, and her friend was on a machine behind her and like four over. So she was hanging onto the bar, looking over her shoulder, squawking in my ear. I could hear her over my music, and believe me, I tried turning it all the way up. Later, I see the friend (pink lipstick AND silver hoop earrings) come into the weight room fresh off of the machine. She shivers, rubs her arms, and puts on her jacket. Yep, that's a sure sign of a great workout! I don't know about you, but I bring my snowsuit to the gym so I can zip myself into it after I slow my circulation with an intense run.
I also saw an old guy with some seriously old school headphones. Like ear muffs without the fuzz they were.


Today, Reese insisted on knowing how babies come out of tummies. She's obsessed with buns in the oven. I was like "Uh, well, there are a couple ways they can come out. If they have any trouble, they can cut a little hole in the mommy's tummy, pull the baby out, and sew her back up again!" She insisted on hearing all means available for arrival, and I was like "Are you sure you want to know?" "Yes." "They come out of the woman's teetee. It's the way all woman have babies all around the world for all time." Pause. "Are you kidding me?" "No." After considering this new info for a moment, she starts talking about the baby she will have in her tummy someday (a LONG LONG LONG LONG time from now, I always tell her), and informs me she is going to look out the window (we're in the car) at the houses and pick which one she's going to live in. She's four.

I bought all of the ladies in the house new underwear today, and Tatum's have Tinkerbell on them. The pair she got out to wear had a big picture of Tinkerbell's head on the rear. She thought this was funny, until I said they'd have to change her name from Tinkerbell to Tinkerbutt. Then she thought it was the most hilarious thing ever. I had fun with it for awhile, told her Tinkerbell was making a sour face from the smell, and wondering why she couldn't have been ANYTHING else. A shirt, a scarf, anything but underwear! Inevitably Tatum did get out of control though, kids don't know what too much of a good thing is. She said Tinkerbutt for like the trizillionth time, and I finally had to be like, "Alright, alright, get your pajamas on." Then of course she had her pants below her cheeks because "Tinkerbell couldn't breathe."

Have you seen the Axe commercial where she says "85% of women agree that dandruff is a turnoff."? I'd like to hear from the other 15%. Do they like the way it builds up between their fingers when they're running them through his hair? Or maybe they like it sprinkled all over the bed like rose petals? Or as a tasty topping on a romantic pasta dinner? Yummm...