My Personal Soundtrack

I might as well throw my ipod into a gutter.  I have neglected that poor little lady for the past few months and I'm sure that by now the charger outlet on her grew cobwebs.  I think that the last adult song that I remember humming as of recent was 'Young Hearts Run Free' by Candi Staton.  Aside from that?  You know... the regular... songs from Sesame Street...  There was once a time when I prided in the fact that I had over 25 thousand songs on my ipod to choose from.  Name a genre and I had it.  My ipod should have been surgically attached to my ears.  Not only did I use it to off-put any potential conversationalists on the subway, but I also used it as a therapeutic release.  My day might have been in a shitty way and all that I did was toss my headphones (that I won in a bet) on and thumb the dial.  Even though I'm not big on west coast rap, my decompressor was always NWA.  So what happened to those days?

                                            

Well... for starters, today when SSL and I had a blowout, I caught myself slamming the door and instead of NWA's 'Fuck Da Police', I was simultaneously humming a jolly kid's tune from PBS.  Even while replaying the fight as I strolled down the street, all the scenes played out in my head to the soundtrack of Reading Rainbow.  Where the hell is Dr. Dre when you desperately need him?  (Oh, wait!  *NOTE TO READER: When I say Dr. Dre, I am referring to an 80's/90's circa Dr. Dre.  No way in hell would I want the headphone extortionist that has come to be.  Don't even get me started...)

It's so bad now with the kid songs that I'm caught humming them on the train.  No, I'm not singing the words, but I'll have you know that there's not a single kid song on the planet that when hummed could ever be mistaken for a rock, rap or even an r n' b song.  No way in hell.  Try it.  Hum 'The Wheels On The Bus'.  Now EVEN if you don't have kids and never heard that song before, you know damn well that that song is intended to sooth and intoxicate a 5 year old's eardrums.  So with that in mind, imagine the looks that I get from strangers on the train when I'm absentmindedly humming a tinkly little mindblowing tune that my kid and I were playing to earlier in the day.  It's uhh... something new that I have never experienced.

So anyhow, apparently my beau has been having the same issues.  SSL boxes and tonight he has a fight.  In about an hour and a half he will be fighting some guy from Ohio.  Now, I'm no psychic, but I'm soooo dead on predicting who would win a fight solely based on the song that they come out to the ring on.  I don't want to give away too much, but for instance, anyone trying to channel Rocky in their song is going to lose.  Also, (no offense God) anyone who comes out to gospel music (Zab Judah) is going to lose.  Who wins?  That's a secret, Silly.   

Turns out, I have no clue what song SSL is coming out to.  The red flag though didn't wave away in the wind until I get a message from him a few minutes ago saying:

"Damn I have that Caillou song in my head.  That little kid's song.  Who the hell gets ready for a fight singing Caillou?"

...Oh boy.  Do you have ANY clue what he is singing right now before he goes in the ring and fights against another grown ass man?  Wrap your mind around these intimidating lyrics:

I'm just a kid who's four, each day I grow some more, I like exploring I'm Caillou,
So many things to do, each day is something new, I'll share them with you I'm Caillou.
My world is turning, changing each day..with mommy and daddy and finding my way.
Growing up is not so tough, except when I've had enough but there's lots of fun stuff I'm Caillou, Caillou, Caillou, I'm Caillou. That's me!

                                                                       ...Shit.

Talking In Your Sleep

So my friend said to me that I don't keep up with my blog because I'm too concerned with motherhood nowadays.  Just for the record, that is NOT a fact.  The truth of the matter is that I tend to hibernate during the blustery winters in the northeast.  How can I get jazzed up about life when it gets dark around here an hour after I'm done eating breakfast?  Don't get me wrong.  I love it when it's dark during the summer.  That's my favorite time to cause trouble.  But dark at 4pm and minus 85 degrees?  Hit me over the face with a wrench.  So until SSL agrees to relocate with me to a much warmer climate, I have resigned to the fact that I will be putting on about 48 pounds, will grow out my leg hair as extra insurance to keep me warm and I might possibly even develop rickets as a result to the lack of vitamin D.  He doesn't care...

And to finish what my friend said after, that I should write about motherhood...  Uggggggh...  I wouldn't even read a blog like that.  The truth of the matter is this: aside from shitting, puking, crying and sleeping, my little monster doesn't do much.  You want an inner glimpse in this shift of life though?  Here you go...

 

Last night.  Well, actually, 3am this morning.  I'm dreaming about Adam Rodriguez picking me up on his motorcycle.  Even though all of the gossip reports claim that he has a two inch pecker, in my dream, he's packing.  How can I tell?  The jeans that he is wearing to showcase his amazingly plump arse.  Muahaha.  So we ride out of the city and end up on this mysteriously desolate road.  On the side, where the speed limit sign is posted, someone spray painted a happy face over the numbers.  What on earth could that mean?  Adam glanced behind and said

"Hold on, baby."

So I grabbed him tighter.  Ohhhhh Adam.  Later in the dream, when we were done riding.  My dream cut to a new scene (why do dreams do that) and we were laughing and running from a seafood restaurant with a bag full of lobsters that we stole to let free into the ocean.  Behind us, the restaurant staff was in pursuit.  Then, all of a sudden, as we were almost to the docks, the restaurant staff, dressed in chef uniforms and maitre'd suits morphed into a pack of French Bulldogs dressed like jesters.  They barked and wagged their stumpy tails while they ran to catch up with Adam and I.

(Cut to next scene)

I'm giggling, Adam is doing an impersonation of the time when he accidentally came home drunk and walked in on his mother in the shower and telling me about how his childhood dream was to become an acrobat.  I marvel at the odds that I had the same exact childhood dream, which has also found a way to infiltrate my current adulthood dreams.  Things are perfect.  The sun starts to go down, creating what photographers refer to as the 'magic hour' when even the ugliest skin tag of a person looks like a Greek God in the light set off by the angle of the sun.  Adam comes close to me as if he is about to kiss me and while he's doing that, I'm re jogging my memory about the information that I read about him in the tabloids. 

Six feet tall?  *Check
Was once a stockbroker before he became an actor?  *Check
Puerto Rican and Cuban?  *Check
Aries?  OH MY GOD!  That's a horrible match for me!  ARIES?!?!  What was I thinking?!

And that is when it happens.  My new life as a mother moment.  I spring awake to sounds of my kid screaming bloody murder and yelling in gibberish baby talk that makes absolutely no sense to anyone sober.  All I can think of is: Was he having the same dream?!  ...Impossible...

I jump over SSL (because even though I sleep better on the left side of the bed, his beauty sleep is more effective when he sleeps closer to the rising sun) and go over to my kid's bed/crib thing.  I'm expecting to see him up and flailing around since he was yelling so vehemently.  You know what I see?  The little monster is fucking sleeping!  3am!  OF COURSE HE'S SLEEPING AT 3am!  My kid inherited this talking in his sleep hobby from my side of the gene pool and he does it quite often.  He talks, laughs, yells, cries, talks some more, all while he is asleep.  Do you know how insanely crazy it is to look down with bloodshot eyes at a 5 month old having a rational sounding conversation when he is asleep?  I stir him awake just to make sure that he is ok and not having a nightmare and he looks at me with the most angry, groggy eyed face, almost as if to say:

"Mom, what the hell are you doing???  Do you know what time it is?  Are you crazy?  I'm sleeping!  IT'S 3am, WOMAN!!!!"

So there...  A glimpse of motherhood.  

Splash Factor

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Strip Clubs That Serve Shrimp

Recently I was on a little drive with my sister explaining why I thought that eating at a strip club (a conversation between SSL and I that turned into a fight) was horrendously disgusting.  I just can't get over it.  For example, why would I play grab-ass with a stripper during a lapdance and then eat a nice dinner with those same hands?  Strip clubs are dark for two reasons.

REASON NUMBER ONE:  To mask all of the bullet holes, cellulite, stretch marks, scars, ugly broads, and to conserve on the electric bill, duhhh.

REASON NUMBER TWO:  Because they are FULL of germs.  The germs in a strip club are large enough to be seen by the naked eye.  Sometimes they are even mistaken as customers.  One word: As the French say, "Yuck".

Sure, I go to strip clubs, so why should I feel this way?  Well, I'm not going there for the amazing shrimp or wings (ahem ahem, motherfucker), that's for sure.  I tend to fancy strip clubs that have pool tables.  (Here's a fact.)  *Strip clubs have the best music, usually the cheapest billiards and continuous live entertainment.  Also, besides the broads dancing, I don't have to deal with any other chicks.  It's just men.  I'm not opposed to that at all. 

What I do have a problem with is this.  Unless you are at a stripclub that's BYOB (thank you Philadelphia), you are being served overpriced, watered down drinks.  Then, to top that off, you might look down the bar one night and (holy shit) see your boyfriend stuffing his face with the "amazing" shrimp and wings that they serve there.  So not only are you too damn sober to look past the fact that he's even licking his fingers clean, but some asshole accidentally flipped on the main light switch while getting a lapdance and you realize that you might as well be laying in a goddamn BFI dumpster.

And that was only the beginning of our conversation...

WTF Was That About?

Sooooo...  I'm fertile myrtle.  SSL looked at me again and voila, I'm pregnant.  Again.  Big deal.  Aside from the uber-cool fact that I'm going to have Irish Twins, I'm pretty jazzed up about decorating the nursery and dressing them in matching clothing.  It's going to be so fun going on play dates with other mommies!  Oh my God; and the sleepovers and crafts!  I'm soooo excited!

I bet you suckers fell for that...  Jesus.  Yes, I'm pregnant again, but let's be real here.  I guess that it's fate.  FYI: breastfeeding is NOT a form of birth control.  Uggggh....

Mannn, this shithead just called me and i lost my entire train of thought...  ....  ....  ....  Uhhh....  ....

Ah yes!  The kid.  Being the nomadic- ugh, Jordan Knight is on TV.  Who the hell booked that?  That's a pure crackheaded move.  He drives me nuts.  Don't even get me started.  You know, I just don't understand why some musical artists keep trying to ...make it.  new kids On The Block is over.  Your solo career nosedived.  Your boyfriend gives you atrocious fashion advice.  Why am I looking at you right now on the television?  Where the hell did you come from?!  Go back to Mass...

So...  Baby number two...  I can't do this.  Focusing on anything right now is pointless.  And why the hell is Adele on Cosmo this month?  Am I the only one on this planet who isn't wetting my pants over her vocals?  And WHY is she doing that side 'I'm hot shit' pose for the camera?
 
                                                   

Females who try to angle themselves like that must be conscious of their asymmetrical faces.  My face?  It's fat.  A straight on shot of me?  Impossibly imperfect!  I'm the asshole in the group who poses like I'm 12.  catch me off guard and I'll resemble someone lost in ...well, just lost.  But if I'm in a group and someone rallies the brood for some snapshots, the girls usually do their automatic, 'i'm not really a slut, but look how sexy I am' poses and I'm the only asshole that you want to completely photoshop out of the 'hot girl' picture because my head looks so heavy, which is only exaggerated even more because I always have it tilted slightly in pictures.  Why?  I'm guessing that while everyone else wants to look slutty-sexy in their pictures, I just want to look like a nice and innocent person.  Not really a come hither pose, but more like a drink the kool aid and join us stance...

Is this dingleberry KIDDING me?!  SSL just texts me to ask if the subway is running or suspended.  So I say "Well how the hell do you want me to do that?" So he goes "the internet".  Give me a moment.

...What in the hell are smart phones for?!  Don't they have the internet on them?  I don't get it.  When he is busy taking a dump on the john, he youtubes Kevin Hart and Chapelle on his phone, takes about an hour and doesn't think twice about it.  The damn subway has issues and he asks me to check on the computer what's going on.  Did I miss something?  Is there some HUGE difference between the internet on his phone than the computer????  Oh...  Crap...  The subway isn't working. 

...Good thing that I'm not due until July.