Charmed

A-hot shit even at 8 months

Recently A has dropped some serious bombs about her mom while out and about in the world.

While putting on boots at school, A was heard sighing and announcing to no one really that "you just got to put B on the boob." Nice. And true.


Last week the doctor asked A if she knew what diarrhea was. He described how it's just when you have way too much poop. A announced that her mom has diarrhea all the time. Neat. Sometimes true.


Today when GJ picked A up from school, she was informed that A talked about B during circle time. So cute. And that she explained that B came out of her mom's hoo. Awesome. And true. When GJ was told this her response was "Well, I didn't have a C-section."


This did not disturb her teacher, as she kicks ass. And this is why GJ's hubby continues to pay the absurd tuition...

Product Liability

The Bad, Old Joo has been having a senseless outbreak of the eczema, which is driving her mad. Mad, she tells you. Naturally, when BOJ itches, she reaches for some hydrocortisone anti-itch ointment. Not mad, you say? Certainly not.



Except that in this litigious age, hydrocortisone anti-itch ointment bears the following warning, amongst others:



Do not put directly into the rectum by using fingers or any mechanical device or applicator.



Someone needs to hire an attorney for this manufacturer. This Joo may be silly, but she believes this means that one could insert the ointment into one's rectum using a hydraulic lift, or chemical propellant.

Fan Mail.

ow

Guest Gay Resurfaces

To begin, I would like to apologize to both Old Joo and New Joo (more on that later) for my tardiness. I was truly honoured (pompous spelling noted and intended) to be asked to blog a li'l, but I was completely unprepared for the responsibilities involved as I find that my good, 2am gay bar-dwelling name has been sullied on this blog. As I'm sure you're both horribly sorry for making me appear as a cyber-slacker, rest assured that I forgive you both and no further legal action will be taken. On with my rambling...

I've known both Joos for, good Lord, 20 years? The entire "Joo" thing has always escaped me. Therefore, this and my subsequent posts will follow the following naming convention: Good Joo = New Joo and Bad Joo = Old Joo. I would like to point out that these names have absolutely nothing to do with age or individual tiredness and/or sexiness.

In my years of being Joo-friendly, I have learned a few things:

1: Old Joo drives too fast. As a young, lithe, attractive male, I was afraid that we'd crash and my money-making face would be damaged. Of course, the only way to die is to be going 90 on the expressway whilst scream along with NIN or Janes Addiction with the one you love. "If a 10 ton truck..." nevermind.

2: New Joo makes me feel old...at every turn. How does a 12 year old get married and have 2 kids? Sure, it's Michigan, but it's not like it Arkansas (Apologies to any hillbilly bastards hailing from the great state of Banjos. I think that should be on their license plates: Keep Your Hands Off My Banjo. I digress...)

3: When meeting the mother of all things Joo (Queen Joo?), have a clean-shaven face and trimmed fingernails. I adore this woman, but she's truly a dead skin nazi and will call you out at family BBQs. Of course, I may have called attention to myself dressed in black and ox blood DMs at a Michigan BBQ in June. Still. Scary.

4: New Joo makes amazingly beautiful kids. Bring 'em out to Hollyweird and I'll make them stars. I swear.

5: The horse statues? Don't ask. Let me know if you figure it out. I have no idea.

6:Did I mention that I adore Queen Joo? I just want to make sure that she's happy with me.

I understand that this should run longer and more entertaining after my lapse, but I'm running dry. Yes, that means something, but I'm not going to tell you unless you buy me dinner and tickets to a show. What do you think I am?

IF YOU BUILD IT, THEY WILL COME

The Bad Joo's gay swears by all things homo that he will post today. If he does not, by the powers of Grayskull, this Joo will disown his homo hide.

A Tale of Two Sisters

This past weekend was one of much joy, as Good Joo and her fambly made the trek up to Bad Joo's for a little visit. Already, the Good Joo fambly is much missed.

As usual, A charmed every breathing human being within a fifteen mile radius with such tidbits as the following.

(Open curtain. A and BJ are playing with model horses.)

A: Aunt Joo, what's your horse's name?

BJ: Caroline. What's your horse's name?

A: Filly Walking Trissity.

BJ: Oh, that's a lovely name.

(Much neighing, prancing, trotting, cantering, and running from dangerous, imaginary mountain lions ensues).

MUCH LATER

A: Aunt Joo, this is Filly Walking Trissity's sister.

BJ: And what's Filly Walking Trissity's sister's name?

A: Lec Trissity.

FIN

Shut Up

Sometimes when A drives GJ crazy...like when A feeds Lu her dinner, she looks at this picture. Because it's awesome and makes GJ laugh. And there just aren't enough laughs lately.

I love It. It does EVERYTHING

That's right. The Garmin Forerunner 405. GJ's hubby's birthday present from the Good Jew of Bloomfield Hills. It has become the new obsession in GJ's house. Why? Because it satellite links GJ's hubby to his home computer through a watch or some shit. It tells him how many miles he has run. AND...(drumroll) when he stops at a crosswalk while running, the little man on the forerunner bends over like he is catching his breath. OH MY GOD. How awesome. It's a frickin' technological masterpiece. When GJ asked her husband (who was plugging and unplugging the Garmin into its charger) why it was so great, his response was, "I love it. It does everything." Like make sweet love to you? GJ does not think so. GJ's plan is to pick hubby up from work, blind fold him, drive him out in Amishland, spin him around 90x, release him, speed off kicking up gravel in his face, and let him Garmin his way home. We'll see how awesome it is. Thanks to the Good Jew whom I would mention by name, except for the fact that he told me to "NEVER MENTION MY NAME ON THE BLOG." Fine.

Of Unicorns and Pegasii

Mother mystical creatures have red eyes. Don't be a hater.

This morning:

GJ: What are you carrying in your mouth?
A: My baby. She’s my baby unicorn. And she's a Pegasus. She will grow her wings when she gets big.
GJ: Ohhh, she’s so cute.
Much prancing and whinnying whilst carrying baby half breed mythical creature around. Suddenly, A’s mouth no longer appears to be holding anything.
GJ: Did she fall out of your mouth?
A: No, she already got big and grew her wings and flew out of my mouth.
GJ: Ohhhh. That’s awesome.
A: She has a bridle so a little girl can ride on her. And I have a big bridle so a big dude can ride on me. My big daddy has big stuff on him. (WTF?)
GJ: Now, what are you carrying in your mouth? Did she get small again?
A: No, I’m her mommy. She burped. I need to take her bridle off.
Proceeds to remove imaginary bridle from imaginary unicorn/Pegasus child using her own mouth.

FIN

This

is Steven. Steven Josephine. In this picture he is roughly 2 years old. He was spectacular. He was God's gift to GJ. He arrived on GJ's last day of work at Wayne State University. He was a tiny, precious morsel. He spent the morning under GJ's lab bench. He ate GJ's turkey sandwich for lunch. He made the big move to Grand Rapids with his mom (GJ.) His dad (GJ's hubby) tried to hate him. He could not. He was everything anyone could ever want in a cat. He was gay. Truly. You can have a gay pet. It was awesome. He cared so much for his coat. He meowed in a high pitch twinkle of a voice. He nursed on everything and anything, but mostly his mom's pink robe. He pranced around the neighborhood. He lifted everyone's spirits. His mom was going to craft "CHRISTmas" cards that said, "Steven is the reason for the season," or alternately "and you thought baby Jesus was a miracle." But before this holiday season Fort Barf took GJ's little man. Stole him. He disappeared into the corn fields for good. And for this reason alone GJ will never love Fort Take All My Animals Away.

Poo-Dazzle

GJ knows that BJ does not want this blog to be solely about GJ's kids, but GJ doesn't care. Once BJ left for La La France over GJ's birthday, GJ decided she would be running La La Show. So here is B. She is 4 months this week. She is on day 59 of a double ear infection and is still a better baby than A was. She weighs what A weighed at 10 months. She is huge. She is jolly. She goes by the following: B, B-dazzle, Poo, Poo-dazzle and Johnny. She loves the boob and yelling at her thumb.

Alphabet Tower

Bad Joo, also known as Aunt Joo, has been silent as of late due to the international travel (unforseen hazard of being married to a dirty foreigner, more on this later). During her Bad Joo travels, BJ had the following conversation with A who, let us not forget, is three years old.

BJ: Hello?
A: Hi, Aunt Joo.
BJ: Hi, A.
A: Aunt Joo, are you in the country of France?
BJ: Yes, A. I am. With Unc.
A: Aunt Joo, and the Alphabet Tower?
BJ: Yes, A. Do you want me to take a picture of the Alphabet Tower for you?
A: *giggle giggle, snort, blending to all Shirley Temple-esque: Oh, yes, Aunt Joo.

So, here you go, A.

Love,

Aunt Joo

P.S. Aunt Joo also took a movie the Alphabet Tower blinking, but the dirty foreigner is going to have to take a look-see at that little number, because the Alphabet Tower is lying on its side blinking, like a dying droid or something, if dying droids also have giant rotating light erections.

Friday Night...

This is what GJ did during the time it took A to feed Lu her dinner one, tiny piece of food at a time:

1. wrote memo to New Dentist (insert expletives)

2. unloaded dishwasher

3. cleaned poop shrapnel out of downstairs toilet

4. sent out memo reminding people that if they need to have explosive diarrhea they should come do it at GJ's house.

5. ate some cheese bread

6. sent out memo reminding people that in lieu of diarrhea they may clog GJ's toilet with giant poop

7. pondered her P90X workout for the night

8. ate some more cheese bread

9. determined P90X was not a good idea

10. listened to A sing to Lu...who after eating dinner had to wear a burp rag like a saddle..."you're a good dog, you ate your food, you are my wild mustang..."

And that Two Joo friends, is Friday party time in Fort Poop.

Tooth #14...

is a dick. It has been a dick for approximately two years. A month ago GJ decided to visit her new dentist in Fort Go Eff Yourself. GJ had an initial meet and greet with New Dentist. When asked if she had any issues with her teeth GJ whined:

“Tooth #14. Don’t look at it (quickly turning head away.) Don’t think about it. Don’t talk about it. Don’t touch it. Don’t “test” it (i.e. put ice on it or shock it.) It hurts ALL THE TIME.”

New Dentist looked concerned, asked some more inappropriate questions about Tooth #14 (see paragraph above) and then announced that GJ “was funny” while looking around nervously. New Dentist then decided that the tooth needed $2800 worth of work. GJ panicked, paced, and threw herself down the stairs over it. Finally, GJ sucked it up. Needless to say, four shots in the roof of her mouth, a root canal, and a crown later the tooth hurts worse than before. After telling New Dentist that this was bullshit (ND looking alarmed), he questioned whether GJ “just wanted Vicodin.” No New Dentist Dick. I want the tooth, which in theory should feel no pain now, to stop hurting like a MF.

New Dentist = not impressed
GJ = not impressed

GJ marched home and dialed up Old Dentist (who also happens to be a jolly, good friend) to relay the horribleness. Old Dentist (as dictated by being GJ’s friend and dentist) expressed appropriate concern, some positive thoughts, and then some “this is what it could be” statements. After this conversation GJ developed her own new treatment plan. Knock Tooth #14 out with an ice skate like Tom Hanks in “Cast Away,” throw it in the street, and run it over with the Pilot. Return half of the tooth to New Dentist with a note reading “FEELS BETTER!” Send the other half to Old Dentist who will mourn its passing, like any good dentist should, with an appropriate ceremony. Fort Go Eff Yourself has failed GJ again.