I'm Your Pusher Man

I am in charge of selling the "left over" Girl Scout cookies. J. was very disappointed that we didn't just get to have them. Anyways, I thought it would be a good idea to take them to school. College kids are notorious for needing munchies after a hard day at the library. What would you have done for a sleeve of Thin Mints at midnight?

So I pack up my boxes. I only bring the good stuff, no silly Trefoils or sugar free Chocolate Chip (why bother). I made a fatal error in judgment. I hate coconut, therefore I thought everyone hated coconut. I did not bring the Samoas. I got a some Thin Mints, some Tagalongs (my personal favorite), the Do Si Do and the new Lemon Creme. I figure I'll sell out in minutes.

I was having a really difficult time this AM with my clothing. I was wearing shoes that Katie can wear, but I cannot. I stepped in a crack, my heel sunk, COOKIES WENT FLYING!!! I hadn't even made it to the car and I was having this much difficulty I was not going to be carrying two boxes of cookies the 150 miles it is from my car to the building. (I didn't have any quarters for the meter) So, I decided that if someone was really interested I would go out after class and get the boxes. If no one was interested I would just take them home.

After class I make the announcement: I HAVE GIRL SCOUT COOKIES! All of a sudden I have five kids waving dollar bills in my face asking for Samoas and Thin Mints and All Abouts. My head is spinning with anticipation. They'll have to come to car with me.

It was there, in that dark cold parking garage,surrounded by young kids, selling cookies out of the back of my car that I felt it. This must be what crack dealers feel like. THE POWER! THE MONEY! THE CRAVING IN THEIR EYES!!

Then the girl said it," What, no Samoas? Are you kidding me?
Me: No, man, just wait, wait I got other shit. I got Thin Mints, you know you like those, and here are the Tagalongs. They'll make you happy. Just like Reese's peanut butter cups ya know.
Girl: Oh, well, um, gimme two boxes of Thin Mints. Do you know if anyone else around here sells Samoas?

Then I got the girl with no change...I give her the cookies. She owes me now. Hopefully with those Do Si Dos, I got her. She'll be back. If she doesn't pay me, she better watch her back.

Sorry Stall #2

I violated women's bathroom etiquette today, so to the woman in the second stall, my deepest apologies.

I don't know if most men realize that women have rules...even in the bathroom. I don't know who taught us or if it just part of the DNA. Women, in general, do not poop or fart in public. We also recognize that sometimes we all have those situations when we have to use a public toilet. With that knowledge comes some respect.

I walked into the bathroom at school today to pee. Someone was already in the second stall (my stall of preference). When I chose the other stall and started to do my business, I realized that the person in the second stall was silent. This meant that she was was holding it in. The only time you hold it in is if you gotta poop.

So, the proper etiquette for the non pooper is to hurry so that the person who is holding it til you are gone can get some relief. So, here is where I goofed. I hurried to pee. I am ready to get out of there and let the woman have her peace and I can't get out of the stall. The lock is stuck. I am trying to imagine what she must be going through. Silently cursing me. I want to shout...I AM TRYING!!!! But there is the anonymity piece. You can't know who the "holder" is. As the pee-er, you know it's embarrassing, so you move quickly in order to lessen the humiliation.

Finally after jimming the lock for a second or two I am freed. I hurry to wash so that this woman can be. She can't hold it anymore. I hear EVERYTHING. I'm sorry.

I am too late

I just watched the Oprah show that I was shooting for. Again I am too late. Woe is me.... I guess I can start smoking again.

I just checked the website. There are upcoming shows about how Drew Barrymore has changed my life. I am not sure if they are talking about her ET years or Charlie's Angels years. WHAT THE HELL?!?!?

The other topics are about being crazy. I know that I am crazy and you know that I am crazy but I don't know if my vanity will allow me to tell the whole world that I am a nutball. Smoker, yes. Nutball, not sure.

PLEASE OPRAH!!!

As most of my friends know, one of my biggest goals in life is to get on Oprah. I really want an Oprah makeover but I am not willing to be naked on national TV and I stopped wearing overalls and Birkenstocks two years ago.

So, how excited was I when they started the "Quit smoking" series? I am a smoker, I can do that. I quit smoking after watching Dr. Oz. I CAN TOTALLY BE ON THE SHOW!!! I am articulate and somewhat amusing, I would be perfect.

I wrote my letter. Now I just have to wait. What happens if I don't hear back? Do I write again? This is my fourth letter to Oprah. Do you think she has a "coocoo" list that I will automatically be forwarded to? I HAVE SOMETHING TO CONTRIBUTE!! PEOPLE CAN LEARN FROM ME!! I CAN CHANGE LIVES!!!

So, we'll see. Hopefully I won't have to tell the whole nation that I had to stop taking Chantix because I couldn't poop. What am I gonna wear? Maybe they could do a smoker's makeover. OH THE POSSIBILITIES! Please, Oprah, call me back.

The Third Ring

When I die and go to hell, I realize where I will be. I will be driving carpool with five kids before I have had coffee. FOR ETERNITY!!!

Oh and I found a rosary. I got a free one from campus ministry. I took an extra for good measure. (is it stealing if they are free?) I think that they were probably taken from old dead ladies' hands before they were put in the ground.

The Quest

The quest for the Holy Rosary began today at 5:00. A. came home with a note requesting each child bring in their rosary. We don't have a rosary. The tears began to flow. CRAP!!!

I start the phone calls. I call everywhere. In this Catholic town, no one sells rosaries. I think it is a conspiracy. I get a hot lead on a church that has them in the back of the church. I pile everyone in the car. We brave sleet and snow and dark of night to find the doors to the church locked. Our beacon in the night, extinguished. Our weary souls found no rest.

So, I call people. They think I am nuts. I have people call their mothers. Good Catholic mothers should have rosaries. They do not.

Finally, cold and tired, we return from our journey empty handed. Then Sancho Panza and Dulcinea attempted a coup. I don't recall that in the musical.

I know that I love my kids

J. has been out of town for three days and plans to be out of town for two more. We had a snow day on Friday. We've been trapped together like rats for three days. I quit smoking. I quit eating (feels that way). I may be on edge.

I know I love my kids because I have not left them at a public place.
I know I love my kids because I have not beaten them.
I know I love my kids because I have not locked them in the basement.
I know I love my kids because I have not put them up for sale on ebay.
I know I love my kids because I have not gotten in my car and driven away from the house mumbling incoherently and calling myself Chantae.

Please let them go to school tomorrow.