It Could ONLY Get Better!
It all started when I went to log back in to my laptop, after lunch. Everyone was fed and I was ready for Friday afternoon blogging (read: visiting Haiku Friday’ers). Then the dreaded “Page Cannot Be Displayed” bullshit appeared. I immediately placed a call to my net tech, Michael. He told me to do some things, none of them worked, so he gave me the number of our ISP. This is the point where it all went downhill.
After pressing a billion-or so it seemed-numbers on my cell phone, and listening to some really bad salsa music, I was connected to a man named “Shawn”. If his name was really “Shawn”, I’ll cut my left tit off. His name was not “Shawn”. If I had to guess, his name was Satyamurty or Kailash or Balakrishna. “Shawn” (or Satyamurty or Kailash or Balakrishna) diagnosed my problem and concluded that it was my modem.
“Ma’am…umm Mishelle… I can have a modem to you in five business days.”
“Sean, that’s not going to work. I need my internet.”
“Mishelle, I could have it to you by Monday. Would that be ok?”
“I mean, yeah, I guess that’ll be ok. My sex-cam business will suffer, though.”
“Excuse me?”
“Aw, nothing Sean. Thanks for your help.”
That whole thing took over one hour and fifteen minutes. I quickly got on another “network” to send some messages out, and then our friends came over. I was able to take a whore bath and change my clothes, so that I would not intoxicate anyone with any offensive odors. Seriously, when all else fails, take a whore bath! I got down to the kitchen to clean up a bit, and in came my friend.
We visited for a bit, drank some coffee, then made and ate some dang quessadillas, and that’s when Davey famously gagged and puked. I cleaned him up, sat him back down to continue feeding him, and more chaos ensued. The second shift of eaters (Benny and Co.) were clambering because the friends wanted to both sit by him, but neither wanted to sit by the baby.
In the meantime, my friend went out to smoke. She said, “Does Sadie want to go outside?”
“Nah, she just went,” I replied, and I left it at that.
A half hour later, when my friend was getting ready to leave (with my boys in tow, for a sleepover) we noticed a wet spot on the damn carpet. I guess Sadie had to go, after all. So, Michelle’s getting ready to leave, Livey’s jabbering about going over to sing karaoke with Kate, the baby is crying to sweet baby Jesus because I’ve put him in his play pen, the dog pissed on the carpet, and just at that precise moment my bowels gurgled. Great. Just. Great.
So, I saw them off and ran to the bathroom. Davey still screaming, all I could do was sing “Uno, Dos, Siesta” from the pot. Yep, a great sight that would have been. I finally finished (honestly, I am not a fast pooper), washed my hands & got to Davey. I took him up to get ready for bath.
We played a bit before bathtime with his little ball run. He loves that thing. Then I got him in the tub. I’m happy to report that he’s finally stopped screaming as if I’m dipping him in battery acid, at bath time, thank God.
I turned on the desktop PC, and lowe-and-behold, I had a effin’ connection. Damn you “Shawn” (or Satyamurty or Kailash or Balakrishna or whatever the hell your name is)! After my quick fix (junkie much?), I gave Davey his bottle, and as he finished it I could hear some ruckus upstairs. I instantly knew what it was. Stupidly, I had left Davey’s pee-pee diaper on the floor of the bathroom. Summer, in the past, has exhibited a love of diapers. So, I knew. When I ran up the stairs, Davey on my hip, I could see her. She saw me, dropped the diaper and high-tailed it into my room. Son-of-a-bitch! Now, on top of ALL that had happened I had diaper remnants to clean up. Great. Just. Great. Of course, Davey screamed when I put him in his crib while I cleaned up the mess, but afterwards he went right to sleep.
What else could humanly go wrong? I hope nothing, because here I sit, one margarita in, and I’m ready to do some Blog Hopping. I guess only one thing COULD go wrong: Michael could call me and tell me that the Rambo movie he went to see tonight was actually good. Yeah, that’s not happening. Or could it?
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11 Responses to “It Could ONLY Get Better!”
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I guess there is no such thing as TMI with you eh? ROFL!
At least you have some alone time. Well sort of :)
Oh, Sean who pretends he’s from Cleveland but is really in Bombay, you picked the wrong woman to screw with. Oh, Mish! I’m sorry it was such a pooper of a day. Oh, that’s was bad even for me!
LOL, what a day. I once had to ring my ISP’s tech support in India. It was very frustrating. I couldn’t understand him, he couldn’t understand me, and the calls cost the equivalent, in the UK, of more than a dollar a minute. So I gave up and fixed it myself. What is it they always say? Never work with kids or animals? Sounds like you had one crazy day. Enjoy your margarita(s).
Oh, honey! What a night!! Hope you’re enjoying your margies…you are making me jealous girl…hmm, I DO have some tequila AND some lemons…not QUITE a margi, but close!
OMG… throw in two more dogs and some dog barf, and you just wrote about my morning! Wait… were you there?
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Aw! Poor Mishi! What a horrible night! Nowhere to go but up, right? ;o)
I know one should not laugh at another’s misery, but you are so funny, girl!
Enjoy the next few hours of silence, peace and much-needed Mishelle time!
it’s GOTTA get better, right? right? RIGHT?????
of course it does.
breathe in. breathe out. ommmmmmmm
“Seriously, when all else fails, take a whore bath!”
Oh god, I am seriously putting that on a t-shirt… and maybe a bumpersticker too.
Can you sing “Uno, dos, siesta” from the pot for ME the next time we have a visit? hehe
Yes, I will! Gladly. You’re coming ….? Soon, I hope!