Exciting news...at least in my world

The first is that my best friend may be coming to my graduation. She lives across the country and since she has kids, I usually travel to see her. She hasn't been back to to my neck of the woods since 1995. The sad thing is not much has changed.


The second exciting thing is that I may be going to Ireland for New Years. Some friends of mine are planning a trip and asked me if I wanted to come. Hell yeah I do! How cool would it be to count down to New Years in an Irish pub?!? I would even be okay drinking warm beer if it was served up with an Irish accent.

Those are my wonderful possibilities for today.

The Perils of Bargain Shopping

I am at times a cheapskate. I hate paying full price for things (except books) and love to find a deal. When I need to, say a day before an event or if I am out of socks, then I will drop the money and not be bothered. I bring this up because my desire to wait for things to go on sale has bitten me in the ass majorly.

I found a dress at Macy's a few weeks ago that would be perfect for this wedding I have to go to and for my upcoming graduation. The fit was nice, I liked the style, it was black. It looked retroish had pockets, and it didn't make me look like I have cankles. Everything was perfect but the price. Could I really spend over $100 on a dress I would in all likelihood wear twice? I thought no. I would go back to Macy's in a few weeks and grab it on sale. The perfect plan except...

Women all over found this dress to be a god-send and bought it. Not only is it sold out in my town's store, but it is sold out nation wide. Did I mention that the designer only sells to Macy's? What the hell am I going to do now? Hopefully I can find something almost as good (that doesn't make me look like I have cankles). Crap on a stick. I hate dress shopping.

My wild and crazy weekend

Friday morning I woke up at 3:50am to begin my journey to Seattle. I was heading to WA for a bachelorette party for my best friend in college. I haven't seen her in 4 years (we talk all the time) so I was excited. What I wasn't excited about was waking up at 3:50am to make a 6:30am flight. Another not fun thing is that I live in a small town so getting to Seattle involved 4 hours of traveling (when it really should have been about an hour and a half). I got to my airport in plenty of time and read a fun book til my plane took off. The plane trips were uneventful and I managed to read even more of the book.

I got into Sea-Tac at 10:30 and met my friend's fiancee and her sister. We then went and bought all the alcohol for the weekend and a Playgirl (that was used in a game for the bachelorette.) I was disappointed by the Playgirl (I hadn't seen one since I was 12 and was traumatized at the thought of adult men and their things hanging out). This month edition had 2 pictures of men over 70 and one of a man in a dress (as well as the other typical spreads of men cupping themselves). I also had the pleasure of purchasing it from a older male employee of Barnes and Noble.

Weird WA fact: you can't buy hard alcohol at a grocery store- you have to go to a gov't owned liquor store.

We then picked people up from the airport and from work. I was told that it drizzles in Seattle and Olympia, but no hard rain. I was told a lie. The entire weekend (except for 1am Saturday night) was a downpour. I was not properly attired for a downpour, but luckily my makeup was not badly ruined (which was important to me). My hair on the other hand, ended up looking like Monica's (from Friends) when they went to the Bahama's or Jamaica.

Friday night we went to this pub for drinks and dinner. The waitress was bizarre and when I ordered a drink that was listed on the menu she was confused. And the bartender was confused, and she was giving me a weird smile when she brought it over (note to self- stick with cranberry vodkas). She then watched me eagerly as I took the first drink (I think the bartender watched too, hidden from my view). She then told me it was the first time anyone ordered it (again it was a restaurant special).

After dinner we went barhopping around Olympia. Olympia is a lot like the town I went to college in and at one point I leaned over to my friend and said "You could move this bar and all the people to our town and no one would look out of place." It has this very hippy, naturey feel. And I was totally bombarded by memories of college. Unfortunately I didn't turn 21 until I was a senior so my bar memories are sadly lacking.

I, being the ball of fun I am, fell asleep on the ride home that night (it was about 12am). It might have also been the benedryl i had to take because my friend has a cat and I have allergies to them. My friend has two pets. A pug with "special needs" who has uncontrollable pee and poop, and a cat who will slap your face to get your attention.

The next morning we woke up fairly late and then went to a wine tasting. The wine sucked but the company was full bodied and rich in laughter (we also have great legs-that's it for the sad wine comparisons).

We then made our way to Seattle and thus began the bachelorette party. We played drinking games and laughed at inappropriate gifts. And people compared significant other stories. I was of course quiet during this time. But at least I was drinking my sorrows.

By about 11pm we got ready to go bar hopping again. I realized when we hit the first bar that I am old. I have never been a fan of the meat market bars, but I now really feel out of place in them. I guess that's a good thing at least I'll never be a 40 year old hanging out in the college bars.

The next bar was better, for me anyways. It was a hang out place and we were able to talk and compare wedding horror stories (did I mention I was the only one not married at the party-once again the last single gal I know).

We crawled back into the hotel after 2am and I made my way to my cot (which had straps-what freaky sort of people used these cots?) I woke up the next morning and was not only slightly hung over but late to meet the airport shuttle. Damn and double damn. I ended up barely making it to my plane and then having a layover at my next stop. At one point an older gentleman pulled one of the flight staff aside and said "Sir why is the flight late?" The flight staff said in this snooty french accent, "I have told you 3 times now and I will get back on the intercom and say it again." He then got on the intercom and said "The flight is still delayed. We are having mechanical problems." That is not what you say to people about to board a plane the size of a matchstick box. I was convinced we were going to die the entire flight. Luckily we made it in OK.

So now I am back in my home. Missing my friend and even the colder weather of WA. The wedding is in about 2 months and I have only have 7 words: Catholic wedding, giant rosary, and taco bar.

It should be a lot of fun. I am on the hunt for a date to the wedding. Right now I am trying to convince my best male friends that they really wants to attend this with me. I don't think they're buying it, but I am hoping the desire to help people will sway them.

My office, the fort

The company I work for is in the process of moving. All around my computer are empty boxes waiting to be filled a ton of paperwork. It totally reminds me of being a kid and wanting my desk at school to have a wall around it so no one could tell I wasn't paying attention. Now I have a fort that keeps people from seeing me blog at work. Cool beans.

Why she is my oldest friend

Besides the fact that her family is hilarious and she tells me great stories about her crazy patients, she also sends me text messages like this:

Just thought you'd like to know that Big Bird is cooking Huevos Racheros right now. Am I the only one who is deeply troubled by this? I mean, I know he's not a girl bird, but still... YUCK!

And hats off to PBS for makng Big Bird a cannibal.

What makes therapists take notes? Tell them you had awkward dream sex. It worked for me.

In therapy I was talking about my family drama this weekend, and my therapist asked if I have ever heard of this theory on relationships (I forget the name). The gist is that the person you choose to partner with is a model of your most dysfunctional parent relationship (aka MOM). WTH?!? Like my social life wasn't dead already, there is no way in hell I am going to go search out that. Apparently the first step to avoid this is to be aware of who I am attracting (and here I thought it was only homeless men over 50, but really it's homeless men over 50 with major mental illness. Sweet). I am hoping this is a 12 step program, or maybe something like The Secret (that creepy book The O touts) in that now that I know, I can avoid. If not, then I will learn to be okay with being alone.

I then brought up my sex dream, and my therapist started writing furiously. I asked if this was foreshadowing, but she thinks it means that I am too closed off to intimate relationships. Or at least that's what I think she meant, midway through her explanation she told me time was up (I had a dinner to go to and I couldn't be late), but that we would talk more next week. Fantastic.

My dinner was fabulous. I got to see my oldest friend (we met in kindergarten). First she in the WW like me and is losing weight slow like me too. Then I found out I have actually lost more than her (by only like 5 pounds, but she lives in the land of fried foods so she gets a pass in my book). She is a doctor in the South, and we compared horror stories of our family and our work. Both our families are crazy and we both see addicts (she see crack addicted delivering mothers and I see the DEI). Her patient stories were funny and a little sad. Like the woman who got high on crack by putting it in her va jay-jay-so as not to be busted by the cops (she forgot to put it in the baggie first). Did I mention she was pregnant? But she now thinks my friend is the bees knees and seeks her out for all her pregnancy needs. And my friend is slightly scared of her because she is a major drug dealer and could have her killed so she sees her. It's a nice relationship.

The party, the dinners, and the awkward dream sex: must be another weekend recap


Lets begin with the party. Someone did try to pinch me (which wasn't even on St. Pat's). Lucky for me, I was wearing a green jade bracelet, but I told the girl if she pinched me I would cut her (I tried to sound mean too). Overall the party was fun. I got one drunk hug, played silly break the ice games, and laughed as a friend of mine got a drunk back rub (by the same person who drunk hugged me. It made my hug look tame).

On Saturday I went to a depth psychology discussion group. If you don't know what that is, don't worry neither do I. I went to support my friends and learn something new. It was all mostly over my head, and what I learned is how little I know about things.

I then tried to avoid dinner with my brother so I went shopping. I bought 2 new shirts (I wore one today and got a compliment), and window shopped for a wedding present.

Finally I had to go visit the fam. Dinner was OK (mostly because I stayed as far away from my brother as I could). The person sitting next to me leaned over and told me that my brother was intense. Then she said, "did you see him order dinner for his girlfriend and tell her what appetizers she could eat (none in case you wondered)." I didn't actually see that but it didn't surprise me. He also told my dad he was going to get diabetes from eating a dinner roll, and tried to tell him how to spend his money in general. I had a headache leaving dinner that night. But I did laugh at the impression my brother makes on people. I was reminded of Thanksgiving about 2 years ago. A friend of mine came for dinner and my brother had recently gotten out of prison. About midway through the meal she leaned over and asked me, "Who is the man that looks like he wants to stab me?" Sure enough, I looked up and my bro did look like he wanted to stab her. Needless to say most of my friends stay away from him.

On Sunday I had to go to my aunt's house for a BBQ in honor of bro and his babies. This time it was my mom's family drama. It was OK, but my mother kept getting mad at my brother (I don't really know why), and then she got mad at me for complimenting her hair (apparently she hates the cut). I spent lots of time in the kitchen cleaning.

If my weekend wasn't fun enough I had a dream last night in which I was having sex with a good friend of mine. The sad part was it was uncomfortable, awkward sex. And it was a dream that feels like it really happened so I woke up feeling sad about having awkward sex. I hope this dream isn't foreshadowing of my social life to come.

Pinch This

The St. Paddy's party is starting early this year. I have to attend a work party tonight,and there has been talk of pinching if you're not wearing green. I think I might have to break some fingers. The potential pincher is also the person who got hammered at the last party and told a coworker he wanted to lick her eyelids (and told me I was, "pretty in a weird way").

As if one party isn't enough, my brother and his family are coming into town, so that everyone may pay tribute to the babies. I will be attending a family BBQ in their honor on Sunday. This is definitely the weekend to have a drink.

Ewwwww


Tuesday night I watched Prime Time. They have been running episodes about people who live outside of the norm. The episode this week was on the porn stars and they followed two women. One whose parents basically cut her off, and one whose parents were her managers. The manager parents were really creepy. First off they said that they were proud when their daughter became a prostitute (she was a stripper first, and yes her parents watched her perform,then she became a prostitute for a year, and then a porn star) because she was fed by a chef everyday, had a maid, and was tested regularly. WTF?!? These were not poverty stricken people, but middle class America.

The father then went on to say that he was glad his daughter was a porn star because at least she was not out getting her heart broken. I have heard a lot of different reasons that parents might be okay with having a child in the porn industry or even a prostitute, but to say it keeps them from forming intimate relationships (and that is a good thing) is really sad. Oh, and the parents watch all their daughter's movies. Again with the ewwww. There was no mention by these parents about the toll this lifestyle takes on thier daughter; the only thing talked about was, "if you've got it, flaunt it." and how cool is it that she makes a lot of money doing porn.

The reporter asked the daughter if she thought of her parents as her pimps. To which she replied, "absolutely not, in fact if anything I pay them, you know, to keep me safe and for all they do." Yeah, that's not like a pimp at all.

Daylight Savings is Kicking My Ass

Last night I forgot to set my alarm before bed and today I woke up an hour late. Damn you daylight savings. I do feel somewhat lucky after hearing from Supermommy. She reported that her son has been waking up even earlier than normal (I believe her term was the butt crack of dawn), and he is telling her Happy Valentines Day! when he wakes her up. She told me that's what she gets for doing crafts with him.

My Top Option for Worst Case Scenarios

Sometimes it's hard to be professional. I was helping a fellow student with his dissertation on Friday and I had to take a test of cognitive functioning. First off, I told him that if the test showed I had low intelligence I do not want to know. He agreed but said he would probably avoid me if my score was really low. Nice.

So this test had math, memorizing (which I sucked at), and reasoning and judgement. It was in the reasoning and judgement that I shined. One question asked what I would do if I was stranded somewhere with only a dollar on me. I said I would go find a security officer because obviously I have been mugged, then if I needed money I guess I would have to hook a little. At the end of the test he said I was the first to ever use hooking at an option. I told him it was always an option as a worst case scenario. People who travel with me know that my rule is if we are ever lost and someone needs to hook for directions, I am automatically out (as the driver/owner of the car). I have found it's best is to travel with 2 men: one gay and one straight, that way all my hooking bases are covered. As of yet, I have not had to put my plan into action, but it's there none the less.

I have more to talk about from my weekend. But today I have a migraine. I am blaming the time change. I really hate the time change. Until my body is adjusted (give or take about a week) the time change will be responsible for all all the evils in my world such as; my milk going bad yesterday morning, the laundry not getting gone, my migraine, and the rise of gas prices.

Captain Fritzy Tamera: Pirate Extraordinaire

Last night I attended my first pirate birthday party. It was Supermommy's little boy's third birthday and it was so much fun. We all got pirate names (based on our first pet and the first street I lived on-which also works for finding your porn star name). We also had treasure chest cake (no Lent for me last night), and "rum and coke" (aka Roy rogers). My pirate duties included holding babies, getting hit with a ball repeatedly (a little boy thought we were playing a game of dodge ball, and according to him I suck), being very excited by all the pirate's "booty", and playing with flurp (this silly putty that makes farting sounds- this was the funniest gift the birthday boy got). My big job of the night was to take pictures of the birthday boy blowing out the candles to his treasure chest cake. I tried to get some shots of him while everyone was singing, and then when it was time for the money shot, he coughed all over the cake. I think I took maybe one picture after that, but I was laughing too hard to know for sure. Supermommy really knows her little pirate, because she made cupcakes that were off to the side and not hacked upon.

Speaking of little ones, I went on more preschool observations yesterday and met a really grumpy preschool teacher (which made me really sad for the kids) and a slightly off preschool teacher. The first preschool (with Ms. Grumpmeister) was the exact opposite of the preschool I was at last week. None of the kids ever even acknowledged I was in their room, and I was sitting very close to a group of them playing with Dora toys. One of the kids looked like something out of Children of the Corn, which was slightly disturbing. The teacher also seemed upset that the kids were playing well telling me, "They are never this good." Nice.

At the second preschool I walk in and met my new best friend. This teacher wanted to show me all the wonderful things she does in her classroom, which included making the kids say the Pledge of Allegiance, and that they are proud to be American every morning (twice that day for me). That creeped the heck out of me. Mrs. Patriotic told me that for Christmas (because for proud Americans there is no other holiday) she made all the parents a dvd of their child saying the pledge. Not a video of them playing and having fun, but of them saying they are proud to be an American. I know she totally dubbed crazy pro-America music on it, and had a flag waving gently in the background (and maybe fireworks).

She wanted to show me how much fun they have playing outside. All the kids did was run around (it did seem like they were having fun), but the scary thing was one kid was not playing with the group and this teacher never once went to find him. Just let him play unsupervised for at least 15 minutes (this child also looked like he was a Child of the Corn, which I thought was odd to see more than one in a day). I also got to watch the kids play duck duck goose, which was hilarious part of my day because they were too young to fully get the concept, so it was just kids running in a circle screaming "Goose!"

Update On My Dishwasher Nightmare

At work today as I am telling everyone about the dishwasher from hell, they are all nodding and agreeing that dishwashers catch on fire! We even got talking about irons and clothes dryers (which I have always known were scary agents of destruction). I was shocked that I never knew my seemingly harmless appliance was also a death monger. I knew I should have taken better notes in home EC. Would anyone else like to share their appliance nightmares? And please don't limit it to dishwashers, lets see what else I can become scared of.

I'm No Domestic Goddess, But I've Got a Kick Ass Guardian Angel

So tonight I realized the weird smell in the dishwasher was a wooden spoon that got stuck to something on the bottom. Apparently, things got really hot because the spoon was burned black in places. Thanks be it didn't catch on fire. I really don't want to be the person who dies because of improper utensil placement. Although I bet at least one of my friends would say in the eulogy, "She always said she couldn't load a dishwasher." I once thought the dishwasher was the safest appliance in my house. Now it scares me like a mirrored closet. Or one of those dolls you put in a corner. Shuddering.

Latent Psychosis

Every once in a while I go to a movie and it reminds me of my own life, and not in a I'm married to the hunky guy and have the perfect kids kind of a way. No, it's usually the dramas or the psychological thrillers that make me think of, oh I don't know, my brother. Take for example the movie, The Number 23. I went with a friend to see this movie this weekend and it totally reminded me of my brother. Sigh. It is a great movie, and it does a fantastic job of showing the decent into psychosis. And it has this neat ending (which I am trying very hard not to spoil for everyone). But the manner in which the main character becomes crazy about the number 23 is how my brother is with the number 7. I really need to stop seeing movies that remind me of my family. I go to the movies to escape for a while, not to have it thrown back in my face. I think the next movie I want to see is Reno 911: Miami, that can't possibly remind me of anyone I know. Right?

And The Winner Is...

There has been an unofficial contest going on this week since the birth of my nephews. Since their middle names are Racer and Ryder it has been a challenge for my office mates, and friends to top the ridiculousness. So far I have heard:

Ranger and Rover
Motor cross and Quad (I was calling them this, especially before they were born and I couldn't remember what their first names would be).
Driver and Biker
And pretty much any variation of these things.

So my best friend called me last night and the first thing she asked me was, "How are Low Rider and Speed Racer doing?" And I couldn't stop laughing. So those are the new nick names. And in case you are wondering they are fine as far as I know. Supposedly they are coming to town, but I am trying to make myself scarce from this blessed event. Last week filled my family quota for the month.

Because I Didn't Expect The Spanish Inquisition

So today I had to do a preschool observation. I went when they were outside playing. I walked over to where they had different stations set up. Two little girls approached me (at one time there were like 7 or 8 kids around me though). And apparently they were active members of the Inquisition Reenactment Society. And so began the questioning.

"Why are you here?"
To watch kids playing.
"Why?"
Because that is my job.
"Why do got a purse?"
Because I keep my stuff in it.
"Why do you got a notepad?
To makes notes of kids playing. If you go play I could write something about you.
"Can I read it?"
No.
"Why not?"
Because you're not a grownup.
"Where is your mommy?"
She lives in another town.
"What's her name?"
Emily.
"Where's your daddy?"
He lives in another town too.
"What's his name?"
Murphy. Why don't you go play so I can write about you.
"Where's your kids?"
I don't have any kids.
"Why not?"
Because I don't yet.
"Are you sure she's not your girl (pointing to the girl with the purple flower pants who was standing by me pointing
out the flowers)."
She is not my daughter. I bet she has a great mommy. Time to go play now.
"Can I look in your purse?"
No. (I realized a second later my purse was open on the ground. I was tying a shoe). Get out of my purse please. Thank you.
"Do you want to see: my doll/hair/purple flower shirt and pants/ rocks/ninja moves/ me doing cartwheels/ princess t-shirt/see how fast I can run/ a branch I picked up off the ground/my purple flower pants (this girl came back twice to show me the wonder that is her clothes)/me pretend I am a horse/ me on the slide/my friends?"
Sure. That was: pretty/neat/cool/wow, good cartwheel/pretty shirt you look like a princess too/you're a fast runner/why don't you put the branch down before someone gets hurt/again your clothes are pretty/nice horse/don't slide down that way please.
"Did you know my daddy doesn't live with me anymore? He spends the night with his new friend."
I didn't know that. Do you want to show me a cart wheel again?
"No I can't I fell, so now all I can do is walk (sad face). Hey kid, you need to walk with me. But all we can is walk because I fell."
Me laughing at ninja kid. Don't worry he later recovered and later showed me his ninja-riding-a-horse moves.
"Did you know I liked Power Rangers?"
I did not know that. I bet they're cool. Have fun on the slide.

I also broke up several fights, tied one shoe, received 3 hugs (all by the same kid) and was told I couldn't enter the painting area because I wasn't wearing red (the teacher was letting the kids with red go first).

I was only there for 45 minutes and yet it felt longer. I think the main inquisitor (she was also the hugger) has a future job as an interrogator.

I also got to do hours of paperwork and saw clients. One of whom is a talker. Needless to say it was a long, kind of funny day.

Lunch was also fun. I went out with a supervisor and found out she likes to read romance novels too. And for the same reason I like to read them (and if you are thinking the sex scenes you would be wrong. Very wrong). She is trying to get them up for Lent. And I thought giving up sweets was hard, butI could never give books up. I told her so too. And we also talked shop (lest you think we were simply slacking off talking about Nora Robers for 2 hours).

So I leave you with something else that made me smile today. A newly wedded couple chose to dance their first dance doing the last dance from Dirty Dancing. I had all my co-workers watching this. And since I have no dance skills I was uber jealous.

I have an all day training tomorrow, and I'd like to believe it won't bore me out of my mind, so that by the end I wish I had a melon baller to carve my own eyes out, but I don't have a lot of hope.

"Hands off my meat Pat!"

As I was eating dinner I turned on Wheel of Fortune just in time to hear a contestant shout out "Soup and Nupes" The correct answer was "Soup and Nuts" but he played that about as well as I would. A few minutes later someone got a bankrupt and Pat Sajak told the person, "Sorry but I am going to have to take your meat." This is why I eat in front of the tv.

Why I Am Going To Hell In a Hand Basket

Hi my name is Lorelai and I am a judger. I judge peoples looks, their hair, and even their shoes. I try not to do this, and I know it's mean, but damned if I don't make comments in my head about ugly shoes and prints that should never be seen in public. Making these comments is not really the thing that will bring on the brimstone and hellfire, it's where the majority of my comments are made. I seem to find an endless supply of what not to wear at my church.

Every Sunday I walk in and am telling myself thou shalt not judge. If I am lucky I can make it 30 minutes. This was not a lucky Sunday. I had the misfortune of standing behind the gnarliest mullet I have ever seen in my life. I tried to look away, and I even tried to focus on the great sermon (which was on denying temptation--are you kidding me). By the end all I could do was look inward and pray. Who am I kidding I also had to walk away. As I glance around my fellow parishioners and witness a fashion don't, I make up stories about these disasters. Take the mullet for instance. I wondered how a hairstyle could go so wrong, and decided that her child was becoming a hair stylist and she was the first customer. Because it was her child she had to wear it out. Then I really liked the lady because she owned that tragic hairstyle (my mind is a scary place I know).

As you are reading this you may wonder about my own fashion sense. Let me reassure you, I'm no fashion great. Most days if I remember to brush my hair I am impressed with myself, and my clothing leaves a lot to be desired. I sometimes think I use my comments as my own episode of "What Not to Wear." If nothing else it keeps me from sporting a mullet.

Multiples of 7

This is my aunt story and it actually begins in July, when my brother and his I'm-not-sure-what-to-call-her (they say their married, but had no ceremony, so I just call her by her first name, Lureen) came to my neck of the woods. This was my first meeting of Lureen. She seemed nice, but my brother is a train wreck, so anyone attracted to him brings their own special funk to the mix. A week after I met her I got a phone call at 5:30 in the morning informing me I was an aunt. They just found out they were pregnant. I wish I could tell you I was happy for them, but I honestly felt nothing but dread for that poor little fetus. At this time my brother was convinced that Jesus was really the devil tricking the world, and that multiples of 7 were God's blessing. At any moment he could tell you all the multiples of 7 in his own life (they were always these crazy math problems that never made sense like: 9+3+2/2 is how he knew his apartment was blessed). Lucky for me he lives several hours a way, so I didn't see him often.

In September they found out they were having twins. Again all I could think of was those poor children. Lureen has a child of her own, a 7 y.o with Down Syndrome and I couldn't imagine how they were going to handle twins. My brother also decided in November to stop working, so he could relax before the babies came. Somehow they managed on unemployment, but if I think about this for too long I go crazy. My brother also decided to name his children Racer and Ryder because they were going to be motor cross riders. I asked him once what he would do if the boys did not want to race and he replied, "Kids will do what ever their parents tell them to." And he was not kidding.

Before this blessed event took place my mother and I worked out a system (or so I thought). She would call me once when Lureen went into labor, and I would not answer the phone if it was middle of the night. Let me tell you what happened.


The first of many calls came at 4:30 Wednesday morning. It was my brother telling me Lureen may be in labor. Then my mother called me to repeat this information. For the next two hours my phone rang about 20 times. By the time I answered the phone all I could say was stop calling me I have to go to work. Unfortunately that has never stopped my mother. I think she reached an all new high for phone calls in one day (I think she reached 25). Did I mention I had an important presentation first thing in the morning? Well I did and it pretty much sucked ass.

The babies were born about 5:30pm. Racer came first, then Ryder. They were almost 7 pounds each, and were about 20 inches long. All I know is that everyone was healthy, and my mother hated Lureen's mother (this was their first meeting). I actually heard more about that then I did the actual birthing. Both my mother and father attended the blessed event, but my father booked it right after the babies were born (smart man). I drove up on Friday. I really wanted to stay in a hotel room. Instead I was placed on an air mattress in the nursery, and had the joy of getting woken up and stepped on when ever a baby needed to be changed. It will be along time before I go back.

The babies are fine. My brother is convinced that if he keeps them up during the day they would sleep at night. Did I mention they are only 5 days old? I tried to explain how much sleep babies need, but he didn't believe me. He is convinced they will be on a schedule any day now.

Highlights from my trip include watching my brother yell at his 7 y.o. stepson for putting on a pink pair of socks ("boys don't wear pink!"). He also yelled at him for giving him a kiss too (I believe what he yelled was, "boys don't kiss"). I also got to hear in excruciating detail how Lureen's rectum was all messed up from the delivery. I tried to walk away, and I tried to change the subject, but in the end all I could do was seek out my happy place.

During one midnight changing my brother came into the nursery (aka my room) and mentioned he might be wrong about the whole Jesus-is- the-devil thing. Given the fact that his babies were born on Ash Wednesday, and their birthday is a multiple of 7 (how he figured that out I can't begin to imagine) he thinks JC may be OK. He mentioned he may have to rethink the whole Catholics-are-going-to-hell-for-believing-false-Gods. I made the stupid mistake of asking "Why only Catholics?" To which he replied, "They're the only ones that believe in Jesus." and then walked out of the room. All I could do was go back to reading my book. I also got to drive my mother home. Needless to say she traveled with 3 jamba juices and one big gulp of soda, all were spilled at one time or another in my car. And I got to hear her reasons why Oprah's leadership academy will fail, and how parakeets exercise/eat/groom/sleep.

Someone once asked me if I was excited to be the aunt, and if my brother was going to be a great dad. I told them with my brother it will end up going one of two ways. My brother will get all Tyler Perry and have fatherhood make him a man, or he will kidnap the babies, move to Idaho and join a white supremacist group. It's really any ones guess.