Saturday, June 30, 2012

Ambien Aimee Strikes Again....and Again....

This Ambien is a complete crazy pill.

These things all happened, unbeknownst to me.  Separate nights-otherwise, I wouldn't get any sleep at all.
1. I ordered some custom T-shirts.  I hope I got my size right, and I REALLY hope I spelled everything correctly.  I would have been more alarmed had they not sent an email confirmation. Either imma be lookin GOOD next week, or a random relative is going to get a really fucked up gift for Christmas.

2. Sky King asked where the remote was, so he could turn off the TV and go to sleep.  Apparently, I responded with, "in my panties.  Get it.". He got up, and shut  off  the TV manually. Likely after a big sigh.

3. A smell woke me at 2:30.  I got up, and hand-scrubbed the carpet. I didn't remember until Sky King said, "why is the carpet wet?". I had to say, "I think I cleaned them last night".  He followed with "nice. I think i'll be leaving the car wax out tonight."

I have heard similar stories prior to taking Ambien,  but I didn't believe them.  Until now.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

The (Un)Official E. L. James Word-a-Month Calendar

I'm not picking on the Shades of Grey trilogy.  Really, I'm not.  Any time erotica makes the headlines, gets people out buying books, and makes any improvement at all in people's sex lives, I'm all for it. Really.

But I DID have some issues with the books.  There was waaaaaay too much repetition for my tastes.  It was as if E. L. James used a three page thesaurus, or maybe her editor was hoping to appeal to people with limited vocabulary that loved reading about sex. Either way, the repetition was making me want to stab myself in the eyes. 

Yes, I read the whole series, so I can't claim I hated them.  But.  BUT.  I read them more so for some sort of twisted closure, not unlike Sky King Fast-forwarding to the end of a movie, just so he could go to bed. It's sick, I know, but it's what we do.

So, here goes-
The E.L. James Word/Phrase-a-Month Calendar

Directions: Every time you use the official monthly word or phrase, a fairy gets her wings, a whore loses a crusty hunk of labia, and an Emo kid accidentally smiles.

Use this handy-dandy calendar the next time you wish to write a best-seller:

Word or Phrase
What the hell it means
Shades of…
·         Shades of Grey
·         Fifty shades of fucked up
·         Seven shades of crimson, etc
Varieties of, kinds of.  It is used to denote a wide range of issues, personality disorders, or psychiatric conditions
Oh, my.
·         Oh, my.
·         Oh, my.
·         Oh, my.
·         Oh, my.
·         Oh, my.
·         Oh, my.
·         Oh, my.
Use this whenever you are surprised, overwhelmed, confused, overwhelmed, turned on, horrified, verklempt, angry, overwhelmed, taken aback, naked, distressed, frustrated, or any other emotion.  Really, it’s the tofu of emotional phrases-it will take on any connotation.  ANY.
·         My mercurial man
·         Mercurial Fifty
·         Mr. Mercurial
Whenever you are referring to someone’s ability to change their emotions, they are “mercurial”.  Unless it’s you.  Then, you are appropriately expressive and asserting yourself. Except when you’re not, and that’s okay, too
·         He gives me that salacious look
This word is the only word you can use to describe a naughty, yet sexy look-there are no other words that are appropriate.  Sorry.
Fair point, well made
·         Fair point, well made, Ms. Steele
·         Fair point, well made, Mrs. Grey
·         Fair Point, well made, Mr. Grey
·         As always, fair point, well made.
Use this phrase whenever you are tempted to use, “I concur”, “you’re right”, “I could see that”, “I guess so”, or, “Touché”.  Except for possibly “touché”, all the other phrases make you sound middle class and American, which does not work. Even though the main character is supposed to be middle class.  And American.
Laters, Baby
·         Laters, Baby (Christian)
·         Laters, Baby (Ana)
·         Laters, Baby (Elliot)
It’s cute to use phrases that make it sound like your characters are way more immature than they really are.  Otherwise, you won’t appeal to young hipsters. Use this phrase immediately after the two main characters fight, to let the reader know that all is forgiven, because they can NEVER discuss their true feelings, relying only on juvenile cute-isms to signify they are again, in fact, “cool” with each other. In fact, it will come to be a running joke with you and your readers and will give them something clever to say at book signings.
English phrases and words
·         Her dress was smart
·         I shall let him know I’ve fallen ill
·         …in the most delicious fashion
·         Amongst
The best way to write a wonderful book is to make sure no one knows where you’re from. So, make sure to use colloquialisms from at least two continents-it makes you sound worldly and intelligent.
·         He cupped my sex
·         His manhood entered my sex
Never EVER use any other words to describe a vagina.  Especially vagina.  Even though you are writing a descriptive erotic book that relies heavily on imagery, using any other word to describe a woman’s “sex”, including but not limited to: vagina, gash, slit, pussy, twat, throbbing meat locker, or crevasse is UNACCEPTABLE.
·         His throbbing manhood entered me
·         His glistening manhood
·         He released his ample manhood
*For further clarification, See “sex”, above. No one, I repeat, NO ONE, wants to read about cocks, dicks, penises, man sticks, salami buffets, schlongs, or meat straws.  Ditto for pork sword, taco injector, purple-headed yogurt slinger, or raw banana.
Inner Goddess
·         My inner goddess jumped for joy when his manhood entered my sex
·         He looked at me salaciously, as we walked away.  “Laters Baby”, he muttered.  My inner goddess pouted.
Don’t ever allow your main character to take responsibility for her feelings, especially ones that might make her appear honest with herself, or make her seem like a cum-gobbling gutter slut.
Instead, use a cute multiple-personality-like character, so that she can justify acting like a gown-up once in a while.  Reminiscent of the early 1990’s series, Herman’s Head.  Or the book, Sybil, but without the crazed psychopath.  
·         My subconscious peered over her glasses
·         My subconscious gave me a sharp look
When you don’t want the main character to take personal responsibility, it’s important that they have a good reason to “defy” someone who knows better-that way, the main character can be more sympathetic.  If there isn’t a dad or friend in the picture, or even if there is, a “subconscious” is a great way for your main character to be complex, yet defiant, even when alone!
·         He touches me…..there
·         I feel heat coming from….there
·         I’m throbbing….there
*see “sex”, above.  An alternate to the word sex when referring to the female sexual area.

Sorry.  This has been driving me crazy.  I wish I loved it like many of my friends, I really do.

Maybe I will have to research valid, awesome BDSM writing to recommend, to make up for my slamming of these top sellers.  You know, for research purposes.

Where should I start, sickos?

Monday, June 25, 2012

The One Where We Never Get A Dog

Princess wants a dog.  So much so, that she writes stories at school about how much she wants a dog, and how she will take care of it, and how she will save her allowance to buy food, and she will wash it and feed it and bathe it and love it to pieces....blah...blah....blah.

Sky King, however, is not on board. He is vehemently anti-dog. 

:::travelling back about 10 years:::

Me: I REALLY want a dog.
SK: No.
Me: Why?
SK: Because I don't want to take care of it, or pay for vet bills, or pick up the shit, or worry about what to do with it when we want to go away.
Me:pleasepleasepleaseplease, I really want one and it will be so great and it will be cute and snuggly and it will lick our faces and go with us camping and obey and sit and beg and not bark and be super awesomely fabulous......

SK: Fine.  You want a dog? Get a dog.  I won't feed it, water it, pet it, drive it to the vet, or pay the bills.  But if you want to get one, fine. Get one.  But don't come running to me when it  is too much work.

Me: ..............................

Well, then I don't want one.  :::scowl....pout:::

Can you tell we used to have a dog, that had a skin condition so bad we had to cook for him? And he bit two people, and finally had to put him down? And then had a cat that had vet bills that made us late on rent? Twice? No?

And, every time we talked to someone with a dog that had problems or expenses or gripes, Sky King is all, "That's reason number 429 why we DON'T have a dog".

Since Princess began wanting a dog, Sky King has been extra super duper steadfast with his, "NO."  This demand for a dog has been going on since she could say, "I wanna doggy". Still, Sky King has managed to not give a shit. It's like he was born without a heart.

Then, two things happened:

1. A friend asked us to watch their dog for 3 weeks, and Sky King thought he had said his daughter's name, so he said yes which confused me because he has always been so anti-dog, then I clarified to him that our friend had asked about their dog, not their daughter, and then when he realized it was 3 weeks of a dog he resigned himself to it because she is such a sweet dog, and he decided it would be good training for Princess. He even prepped her by saying, "This will show you how hard it is to have a dog", which she heard as, "If you do a good enough job, I will get you a puppy.  Or two.  And a pony."

2. My brother came to stay with us for a little over a month and brought his dog with him.

Princess has been in doggy heaven ever since.

Both dogs have been getting dressed up, fed human snacks, rubbed/snuggled/scratched within an inch of their doggy lives, and have been taken in and out over to the poop-filled gravel area 37 times a day. This guy dressed like a doggy Lady GaGa is Chico, a Baby-Killing-Pit-Bull mixed with Tree-Hugging-Pacifist.

(Seriously.  Chico gets his doggy panties in a twist whenever he encounters weapons.  Whenever Monkey Boy shoots things in the yard with his Airsoft gun, Chico goes ape-shit.  He runs around agitated, whining and pissing and moaning, trying to bite the end of the weapon. He's completely anti-violence. The other day, Princess made a marshmallow shooter out of PVC, and Chico keeps trying to eat it, because ammo (pom poms) comes out of it, and it upsets him.  
 He also keeps trying to "save" the kids when they swim, by jumping precisely on top of them, and scratching them til they want to die.  He's Ironic Pit Bill.)

2 weeks into Doggy Day Care, Princess comes down stairs for breakfast.  I remind her, don't forget to feed the dogs.  She gives me her signature eye roll and a huge sigh, and says, "I don't want a dog any more. They are too much work."

Sky King jumped for joy. Inside his head though, because he's too badass to jump for joy.

We have two more weeks of each dog.  The carpets need cleaning, there is hair EVERYWHERE, and we have changed some plans to accommodate our obligations. Chico follows Princess with the intensity of John Hinckley Jr. while Jazzy can't keep her paws off Monkey Boy.  But Pooper Scooper Day is fast-approaching.  Especially with the summer heat blazing. I'm thinking it will be the final nail in the doggy-wanting coffin, for good measure.

Send them luck.  And latex gloves.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

The Thug Doesn't Fall Far From The Bling

Princess takes after her mother.  Those of you that know her have recognized some of her faces, some of her sarcastic eye rolls, and are not surprised.  My mother even says, "You're getting Aimee times 10, for all you put me through".

My little Princess has also begun embracing her thug side.

The other night, she found an errant fortune cookie. (It was in a bowl of snacks from the snack cabinet that hadn't been eaten, so I displayed them differently, and they were flying off the shelves---it's all about presentation sometimes.)

She said, "Momma, this is a Gansta cookie."

Me: "mmmmwhahaa????"

Her, reading intently, "A friend will be important to you and your forthcoming suckas"

Me: :::peering over her shoulder::: Baby, that's "Success, not "Suckas".

Next thing you know, she will get sent home from Montessori for showing her "colors".  "Pink bedazzled" has a gang affiliation, right?

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Who's That Girl?

 I LOVE me some Madonna.  I grew up on her music, danced my heart out to The Immaculate Collection.  She is one of the few artists I would see live.  So I present this post with no harm intended---just an observation about a coincidence.  Enjoy.

Have you seen Madagascar 3?  No?  Well, those crazy zoo creatures are up to their usual antics.  And they inadvertently got some true Star Power this time around:

This is DuBois, the lead Animal Control Officer, that chases Alex and his pals. She looks suspiciously like:

I saw it right away.  My beloved Sky King laughed his ass off. 

Makes up for Swept Away, Dick Tracy, and Shanghai Surprise, doesn't it?

Friday, June 22, 2012

Lyme Awareness Gone Too Far

Sometimes, it's important to keep your eyes open during that pedicure, especially of you're unsure about the color...

I assure you, it's way pukier in person.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Stalking Welcome.

I'm in a funk that is self-inflicted.  I did too much, and now am a complete grumpy bitch.

In other words, nothing new 'round here.

Yet through my pain, genius still peeks through.

Due to popular demand (all two of you!), I have created two shirts for my Zazzle store:



If you want to be super awesome, so one of the following:

  1. Recommend my blog to a friend that needs to laugh at someone else's life
  2. "Like" my Facebook page:
  3. Become a real genuine fully committed "Follower" of this blog (see front page, on left, half-ish way down, click something like, "Join this site"
  4. Comment on how amazingly funny, refreshing, and inspirational I am
I swear, when I get out of this funk, I will be totally amazed at all your wonderful thoughts, likes, follows, and shares.

See? I'm in such a funk, I have resorted BACK to shameless self-promotion to boost my spirits.  Don't let me down. Please.  :::begging, groveling, would-be-on-knees-if-they-didn't-hurt:::

Aimee (FFW)

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Is There A Girl Scout Patch For Being A Skank?

I am a Girl Scout Leader. I use the term, "leader" loosely.

(Kinda makes you question what kind of background checks they do, right? Hey, you're preaching to the choir.)

Each year, we meet with all the other masochistic crazies to talk about how to improve the lives of girls blah...blah....blah...patches.....blah....blah....meetings.....dues...blah...blah.

Throughout the year, we meet monthly. We share ideas, turn in registrations, plan events. And each time we do something like recruit a new girl, or turn something in, or contribute something valuable, we earn paper money. It's very Pavlovian, and we NEVER miss a chance to earn fake meaningless money rewards.

At the end of the school year, we go to a big dinner, and get to use the paper money to bid on things from people's re-gifting piles at home: wrong size jammies that were never returned, Starbuck's cards with $2.93 left on it, Fiber-optic Jesuses (Jesi??), candles that have almost never been burnt, bath stuff that smells awful.  The ironic part is, we eat this shit up. It gets nasty-I love it.

And I'm competitive. VERY competitive.

This year, I was missing one of my partners in crime.  But I had my other two.  We were strategizing.  Once I realized I wasn't getting the massage gift basket (the only truly desirable item out there-who would re-gift THAT????), I sat, pouty faced. I was wishing I had made my own counterfeit fake girl scout money. I know, I know. Depraved. I'm working on it. Sorta.

Then I saw Skank*.

*Skank is a loon that I used to have to spend time with on field trips because our kids were in the same class. She was super batshit crazy, telling you her life story within 3 minutes, complete with financial info, complaints about her husband's lack of desire to find a job, and her mother's mental illness (which you soon realize I'd a dominant gene in their family tree). She had ALSO decided to talk shit about a teacher I love at our last dinner, and I was feeling a teensy bit frisky and combative that night. So, I told her basically, "You're wrong, you weren't even there, you were LATE, we had to leave without you because you didn't follow the rules. Maybe you should talk to your daughter about personal responsibility and communication, rather than blaming the teacher. Oh, and your "friend"? She was on board with ditching you, so get over yourself." It felt good to shut her trap. And my friends at last year's dinner all gasped asst my tirade with shit-eating grins on their faces. It was EPIC.

Anywhooooo, Skank was going around bidding on things at our most recent event.  This is where Aimee-Evil Genius took over.

Me: :::psst::: I'm going to go outbid Skank.  Just because.
Co-Conspirator: Nice!

I followed her, outbidding her by a buck on something my co-conspirator wanted. And something Skank wanted that no one else bid on, that was close by.

Every time she went over, I was about 3 minutes behind her.  This is how the sign-up looked:

Evil Genius----------------$30
Evil Genius----------------$40

And on and on.

They called, "Last 10 seconds! 10..9...8...7..6..."
Skank rushes over to put her name back down.  I had, against my better judgement, NOT taken all the pens add a win strategy.  As they say, "3...2..." she finished the n and k, having bid $60. 

I nudge her hand away, and say, "Don't bother, I've got this...give up.".  She says, "Hey!  Be nice! I just had surgery, you know!"

Instead of saying, "Oh, you wanna play that game? Have a seat, bitch".  I say, "Too bad!"

We ended with my Co-conspirator getting her stuff, me ending up with a basket full of bath and candle stuff.  My brother took the candles, I gave away one of the bath gels, and I'm saving the basket for a work thing, and the remaining bath items will end up in a staff member's hand at a staff meeting.

That high road everyone talks about? Gives me altitude poisoning.

My Stint As a Vampy Vixen Ends

I have been rejected by my husband. Without regard for my feelings.  As if I'm some robot, that doesn't have feelings. Or needs. Or an addiction to sleep meds.

You may remember that we have had an increase in...ahem.....late night activity courtesy of Ambien.

That particular gravy train has come to a screeching halt. 

Why?  Why would Sky King give up such an obvious benefit?  Has he gone mad? Has he suffered some sort of mind-altering, memory-erasing accident, rendering him without recollection of the benefits of Ambien Aimee?

Sort of.

Ambien has strange effects on me, besides allowing me to actually sleep. In addition to feeling more amorous, I also cannot recollect large chunks of the previous night.  It also affects my personality-slightly.  I don't act like my normal self.  I act more like my drunken alter ego, Fun Aimee.

Which is fun.  Once in a while. 

I guess it has gotten old.  I had this convo with Sky King:

SK: Do you remember last night?
Me:  :::sheepishly::: Vaguely.  Sorry. I remember being slightly....assertive.
SK: Yeah.


I'm kinda over the Ambien thing.
Me: Oh.  Why?
SK: You know when you're out with a friend, and you're sober, and the other person is totally shitfaced, drinking shot after shot, acting like a giant moron, and your head hurts from all the eye rolling? And it's completely and utterly brain-numbingly annoying, and all you want is for them to pass out so they will stop talking?

Me:  :::Deep breath:::

SK:. Yeah.  That's you.  I'm over it.


Me: :::full of righteous indignation:::
You know, I've been Fun Aimee A LOT lately. There were benefits.  What you SHOULD be saying is, "Thank you".

SK: Yeah.....Um.....You're hilarious.  NO.

Lucky for me, he has a problem with short-term memory-He'll be back.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

A Light At The End Of The Spoon

Have you ever had one of those weeks where things are "meh", and even though things go a little bit crappy, you still manage to hold it together?

Me neither, til now.  I have had a rough couple weeks, starting a while back with Princess' dental apocalypse. 

This week, the building I run my business in is trying to control how and when I do my thang.  I will not go quietly into the night, however. When I know more, I will share more. Just know that, right now, I'm lacing up my gloves, and those mofos won't know what hit them.

My hormones are freaking out, and one of my docs thinks it's early menopause.  Which would be great if this meant I would stop getting a period.  But instead it means I get it MORE OFTEN (WTF, body?) and sweat about a pound of sweat an hour, without the ACTUAL weight loss.

My home is owned by Satan's mistress, who is horrifically unreasonable, and we already want to move.  We have only been here 4 months.

Still, I haven't stabbed ANYONE despite the growing list of potential victims.

And school is almost out, which means I won't have to do 7th Grade ever again.  Until Princess is in 7th Grade. 

And I got utter happiness in the mail today.  Which made it all sunshine and cupcakes.

A friend of mine that I have known since we were both schlepping burgers and bottomless fries many many moons ago reads my blog.

Somewhere in my rants and excessive commas, she has found some things that have made her smile when she didn't seem to have a reason.  So she picked up a necklace that screamed, "Aimee", and popped it into the mail.

This is a horrible picture, but it is a teeny tiny cute-ass little spoon on a chain.

I have been looking for something like this for quite some time. No one knew that, however.

Sometimes, I need an extra spoon or two to get through the day, and now I have one. See? It's like my friend Tanna KNEW people might die by my hand, and stopped it, single-handedly.  She's like a pet-loving Superhero. Without the tights.

I know a few assholes that owe her a "Thank You" note.

Tanna Banana, you are Uh-Maze-ing!   :::muah:::

Sunday, June 3, 2012

A Crappy Week And How Michael Jackson Made It All Better

Why is the difference of 1 degree on the thermostat either massive amounts of boob sweat or the need for a dog-eared synthetic blanket, haphazardly strewn over most, but not all of my legs?

Just me?  Oh. Sorry for the visual.

This week kinda blew.  Except the part where my Lyme Doc told me I was rockin' the antibiotics, kicking spirochete tail.  That part rocked, but it has come to my attention that the better I feel, the more careful I will have to be that Old Aimee doesn't rear her ugly, over the top, over-scheduled head.  That bitch.

UPDATE: Yesterday I felt like crap.  More of a generalized crap, rather than specific.  I looked tired, felt withdrawn and antisocial, and just wanted to sit on my couch and read/daydream/watch TV.  I keep forgetting that, like getting Lyme, getting rid of Lyme is a constant roller coaster.  One minute you are climbing up, up, up, excited for the upcoming peak and all it has to offer.  The next minute, the track crumbles below you and you end up in a free-fall, hurtling towards certain death.

:::happy dance for the health, to appease the Karma Gods because that's the one treatment option i haven't tried:::

I had a rough work week, dealing with a staff member leaving abruptly.  Because I work with families, staff leaving is a big deal, and puts all my work on hold for about a day until we reassign every child to a new primary caregiver, assuring all our families that we will keep the change as limited as possible, all the while revamping the entire system as to who will advance with which group to the next classroom.  Not my favorite last-minute task.

Monday (Memorial Day) had us floating down the river on rafts.  Sounds great, right? Well, we had kids with us, and the water was about 50 degrees.  Monkey Boy got soaked right away, and it wasn't hot enough to dry him, so he shivered (and scowled/glared/whined) the bulk of the trip.  Which was long, as we floated into the wind the whole way.  Sunscreen does NOT last 6 hours, incidentally.  What should have been a 2-3 hour trip was six, and I was grumpy beyond belief and burnt to a crisp half-way through.  I'm still burnt.

My brother moved in for the summer, and brought his dog.  We love them both, but it's going to be an adjustment for all.  And---We cannot have a dog.  It's only a matter of time before the landlady finds out, and kicks our asses to the curb (knowing my luck this week, she's one of my 44 regular readers...).  Which doesn't seem all that bad, since I STILL don't have a working hot tub, and our deck is a pile of finely aged deteriorating driftwood that keeps tripping people. And the pool guy keeps calling her every time there is a rock in the pool.  The pool that is surrounded by rocks.  I told him, "Snitches get stitches", but I don't think I scared him.  Maybe I will sic the dog on him. That will fix everything.

It's hot.  And Sky King did not tell me the pool had an extra filter put on it, so I can actually USE it.  For 2 weeks, I have been longingly staring at its Tahoe-blue-yness, wanting to get in, knowing I can't be in chlorine.  All the while seething that the jerky landlady hadn't put in the filter she promised us.  Then, during my scathing email, he corrected that one point.  Instead of junk-punching him, I will just be a bitch for 3 days.  That'll teach him.

My kids' school completely revamped the teacher assignments (well, not completely, but it certainly affects us significantly.) They did it quickly, poorly, with no notice.  At 4 on a Friday.  It was handled unprofessionally.  I know, I have been giving bad news to parents for DECADES.  There's a way to do it so that no one wants to punch your head in.  This chick has not figured that out yet.  So I sent a letter, with a few tips.  I'm guessing I won't get that "Family of the Month" parking spot any time soon.

Princess is still in complete dental turmoil, with me cranking her palate spreader every other day. I still can't understand most of what she says to me, which is not helping her mood.  I feel like I need to buy a huge bag of toys, and throw one at her every time I say, "Wha???" three times in a row.  Sort of like some sad carnival game where you get a bejeweled plastic ring for losing. But sparklier.
And Monkey Boy is scraping the bottom of the barrel, academically.  He is smart enough to not get choked to death by me, but disorganized enough to do shit tons of homework each week, only to let it take up residence in his backpack for eternity.  His testing grades are typically A's and B's, but his failure to turn his work in means he is pulling two F's, that best become D's by the end of the school year, which is fast approaching.

I forgot my Ambien one night this week, on the eve of a visit with a friend that had come across the country and had set aside some time for me.  I tossed and turned all night long, and didn't remember the Ambien until 3 am, which would have kept me sleeping through the day. So I toughed it out, and had to cancel everything including work AND my dinner with my friend, because my eyes were gritty and I didn't trust my ability to drive safely. And I got to think about how I'm addicted to Ambien all day.  Which I didn't know until then.

I had to get an IV to test for heavy metals, and then collect my urine for a 6 hour period.  The cup they gave me to collect my "samples" was smaller (and crumplier) than a red Solo cup, so I managed to pee on myself each time.  Sky King mocked me, while retrieving dry panties. On a positive note: the bathroom has never been cleaner.

But you know who made it all better?  Michael Jackson.

Because a lovely friend reminded me there was a Michael Jackson Tribute band called Foreverland and they were coming to a park full of middle aged drunks near me.  So I gathered up my incredibly unwilling family, and made them schlep half our possessions across 472 picnic blankets, all to sit so close we couldn't have a conversation unless it was between "Night and Day" and "Billie Jean".  It was glorious. I didn't bring my sequined glove though. But I did do the "Thriller" dance with 569 strangers, so there's that. And we got to picnic with another family that I love, including another husband there against his will.  I think we are soul sisters.

Monkey Boy had the time of his life, though.  I think most teens enjoy hanging out with bombed middle-agers making asses of themselves in public parks, don't you?

Have sullen teen, will travel. 

Incidentally, he's available for rent.  $5 per scowl.  I may train him to flip off the elderly soon, which I'm sure I could get $10 per.