Hello, gentle readers. I’m sorry I haven’t posted in the past few days but I was busy fighting the Ebola (I like calling it “THE” Ebola for some reason – like an old person would do). Anywho, THE Ebola seems to have settled itself into a small rash behind my left ear which when I scratch it results in dandruff-like flakes on my suit jacket (more than you wanted to know? Too bad.)
Kitty is coming to visit this weekend so that means Cowboy Dan and Fat Baby’s Mamma will be making an appearance at Casa Floyd. In preparation for such visit, I have lardered up the fridge with two cases of Bud Light and equal number of frozen pizzas. Fat Baby’s Mamma loves herself a snack after having a few cocktails (but since she never eats sober, I love to fatten her up when she’s drunk – makes me feel better about myself).
Princess of Darkness (POD) will be spending the weekend with her pal at a horse show so I can get my freak on. Like all teenage girls, POD loves herself some horses and for some unknown reason, they do not bolt in the presence of her evil.
For your listening pleasure, I relate the following discussion with POD:
Me: “Soooo, any tests coming up soon?” (Please read in my best faux parental voice)
POD: “No.” (Please read with sullen “death is my only release” type voice)
Me: “None at all?” (Please read in my scoffing “kids have it so easy nowadays” voice)
POD: “Well, I have a test in History tomorrow.”
Me: “History?”(A point here - don’t you hate people that repeat your answer back to you in the form of a question? Like some autistic Alex Trebek or something.)
Me: “Cool. What topic?” (Lord forgive me but I was history major and I get all jazzed at the possibility of teaching POD my own completely warped version of historical events. She knows of this trait and after the “civil war fiasco of 6th grade”, she never talks history with me. I believe it has to do with the fact that on my advice, in her younger and more impressionable days, she stated on her test that the “Northern Yankees were constitutional- violating, horse stealing, land-burning, baby-killing thugs that should have left well enough alone and that only won the war by cheating.” Surprisingly enough, Yankee school teachers in Chicago don’t like our version of the War Between the States. And please don’t even bring up when I had her go tell her little classmates that voted for Nader in their mock election, that “you should just throw your vote away, you tree hugging liberal”. Principal called us on that one. Anyway, I digress.)
POD: “World War Two, but don’t worry about it.”
Me: “Ohhhh! World War Two? (says Alex) I can soooo help you with that.”
POD: “No need – I know everything about it….I watched Pink Floyd’s The Wall.”
Yeeeeahhhh. That’s right – POD feels she knows everything she needs to know about WWII by simply watching the drug-fueled fantasy of my rock n’roll namesake. Now, granted, I was possibly stoned out of my mind the one and only time I watched The Wall but when I was scarfing down that box of Entenmanns’ cookies, I don’t remember nothing ‘bout no WWII. But frankly considering my altered state, who was I to argue with kid.
Me: “Fair enough.”
She got a B on the test. I am the parent of the year.