Middle-Aged Retail Employees LOVE It When You Talk To Them About Your Vagina

Sometimes, when you haven't been laid in a while (or when you are only having sex because omg fine, just shut the fuck up about it already), you let some of your grooming habits slide. Eventually though, you get to a point where you realize that your pubes are like 6 inches long and maybe you should do something about that. I had that realization a few weeks ago.

Usually I just shave the lady parts, but I decided I wanted to buy a trimmer. I work in NYC and there are at least 6 drugstores in a 4 block radius, so I expected to find exactly what I wanted rather easily. That was not the case. Apparently, the ladies of this great city prefer their pubic hair trimmers to be fancy, expensive, and much larger than is absolutely necessary (insert dick joke here).

This was clearly not something I needed immediately, so I didn't think much of it. I figured I'd find what I wanted in Jersey one day. Then yesterday I was taking a walk on my lunch break and went outside of my usual 5 block perimeter and came across a CVS I hadn't checked out before. I figured I would see if they had what I wanted.

To my surprise, they did have it. And at just $12, I knew I had finally filled my bush-removing needs. I went to grab it off the hook and realized that I couldn't get it off. The hook had a lock on the end of it.  Have you seen this? I mean, at Walmart in the electronics department, sure. I can understand why they might lock up expensive electronics items. But in CVS? For a $12 pube trimmer? Really?

At that moment, I had to make a choice. I could be embarrassed and refuse to ask for help and walk out. Or I could put on my big girl panties and ask someone to unlock it for me. Because it WAS a CVS, I told myself I would make one loop around the store. In the unlikely event that I found someone who actually worked there, I would ask for help. Right as I completed my loop, as I made my way back to the aisle I started in, an employee appeared before me. In fact, he was in the aisle unlocking a mustache trimmer for some other customer.

I marched up to this middle-aged man and told him I needed him to get something for me. He cheerfully asked "ok, what did you need?". I gestured toward the end of the aisle with the lady products and he followed me there. "This one", I told him. "And thanks for locking up the pube trimmers so I had to ask for help".

He laughed, so I probably only made him a little uncomfortable. On the upside, my pubes aren't 6 inches long anymore.

Adventures in Shitting

I live in Northern New Jersey. It is not even remotely an exaggeration to say that I live within 10 miles of at least 4 different malls (and if we were to add another 10 miles, I could probably double the number of malls). I'm not a big fan of malls, generally, but sometimes I have to drag myself to one of them.

Any time I have to make a trip to the mall, I weigh the pros and cons and decide which one will get me in and out the fastest. When you spent 4 years of your life working in a mall, let me assure you that you don't spend a single second longer than absolutely necessary inside one of those motherfuckers. Let me break down the choices:

1. The Closest Mall: Also the rich people mall with the good movie theater that I will only go to on Sundays (when the rest of the mall is closed) because otherwise it takes half an hour to find parking. I generally avoid this mall like the plague, because I can't stand the traffic and the rich-bitch stores.

2. The Second Closest Mall: AKA the mall in the same town as the first mall, like 3 miles down the highway. A nicer mall, with less traffic, easier parking and significantly less hoodrats bussed in from the nearby ghettos. A fat girl store, which is convenient and Old Navy and Children's Place, so I can get inexpensive clothes for Caitlyn, that I will be less annoyed about when she stains them after wearing something for less than 5 minutes. Also, a little carousel that never has a line. This is my mall of preference.

3. The Third Mall in the Same Town: I'm not even kidding: This is an outlet mall with a Target attached. I only ever go here if I need something from Target, but I make an effort to steer clear of it because I don't need fucking discounted, outlet store Nikes, so it's basically a waste of my time.

4. The Mall Where I Used to Work: It's the ghetto mall of the 4, but I know the good spots to park and where all the stores are, so I never have to look for anything. There is also a Dairy (Diarrhea? What?) Queen and the place where I get my hair cut. Pretty much I go here to get my hair cut and never ever set foot in the store where I used to work, lest I have to waste 20 minutes talking to my ex-coworkers and pretending like I care about their lives.

So. I needed to go to the mall last week (At first I wrote "weekend" and then I realized that no, you literally could not pay me to go there on a Saturday). We ended up at mall #1. The snooty douche, traffic clusterfuck mall. I can't remember exactly why I chose that mall on that day, but it was, in fact, a weekday, so it was slightly less enraging than usual.

We did our shopping. I found a really cute dress to wear out for my birthday celebration this weekend. After that, we stopped by the food court and grabbed some dinner. Then I realized that Caitlyn needed a diaper change.

If there is one thing I will absolutely give this mall all the props for, it is that is has the nicest family bathroom I've ever seen. Actually, let me clarify. It's not just a bathroom. It's a family "lounge". There are curtained off areas for breastfeeding, a tv playing cartoons and toys and sinks and counter space galore. It's truly fancy. Adjacent to the family lounge is the actual family bathroom. And even that is cool. There's a regular sized toilet and a toddler sized one. They've truly thought of everything.

Anyway, Caitlyn needed a new diaper. And mommy had to take a shit. Off to the family bathroom we went! The changing tables are in the lounge area, so I decided to go to the actual bathroom first and take care of my needs first, for once. I locked the door behind me and sat down.

After a moment of trying to prematurely flush my toilet, Caitlyn noticed the little kid toilet. She's a pro at taking off her diaper anyway, so obviously she wasn't going to wait for me to be done to try this thing out. So she took off her shorts. And her diaper.

I'm wondering at this point, if I've mentioned Caitlyn's tendency to want to be completely naked while she lounges (please note that I did not say "uses") on her potty? The fact that we were in a public restroom did nothing to stop her determination to get naked for potty time. Once that diaper was off, she pulled off her shirt, then sat down on the floor next to me to pull of her shoes and socks. I mean, who PEES ON THE POTTY while wearing shoes and socks? Me, actually. I pointed this out to her while she stripped down, trying to reason with my 2 year old, who was now sitting bare-assed on the floor of a public fucking restroom. Did I mention that I was taking a shit? Yeah. There was nothing more I could do.

Just then, the door of the bathroom burst open. There I was, sitting on the toilet taking a shit, my naked kid sitting on the floor next to me, presumably contracting Public Restroom Floor Syphilis, in the fancy mall with the snooty people and the broken fucking locks. It was a middle-aged man and his probably 8ish-year-old son. Of course. Neither of them felt the need to close the door after realizing I was in there, in case you were wondering. Nothing makes a trip to the mall complete quite like having to lean over mid-dump to reclose the door of a room that smells like your ass in front of a couple of strangers who have absolutely no courtesy whatsoever.

Anyway. Caitlyn decided after that to spend 5 or so seconds sitting on the kid toilet, very blatantly NOT actually going to the bathroom, before she milled around naked while I finished my shit, and one other person (who DID close the door behind her, at least) walked in on us.

At that point, I wanted nothing more than to get some clothes on my kid and high-tail it the hell out of there. So I grabbed her, COMPLETELY NAKED, and walked into the lounge area with the necessary counter space to get her off the damn floor, trying to explain to the other families, including the second person who walked in on us, that I was not, in fact, a total weirdo who lets her kid wander around mall bathrooms naked.

I think we need to stick to the ghetto mall, where the bathrooms are just bathrooms, and no one is hanging around directly outside the door to witness your naked toddler/taking a shit shame.

Eleven Things and 100 Posts

I guess I should start by commenting on where I've been. Sleeping. Actually, no. NOT sleeping is much more accurate. Basically I've been buzzing through life like a fucking zombie because I feel like I haven't slept in 10 years.

Caitlyn may or may not be getting her last round of molars. She's been whiny and just EXTRA toddler for the last few weeks. Extra. All the toddler.

The main problem is her sleeping habits. They are fucking awful. I had finally gotten her out of the habit of sleeping in my bed and over the last week or two we just reverted right back. Because she screams and cries and begs until I pick her up. And it used to be that once she was asleep we could put her back in her crib, but not anymore. She wakes up at least 3 times every night crying, and I'm so run-down and exhausted that I just dump her into bed with me so I won't have to get up to comfort her the next time she wakes up.

Sleeping with a toddler is the worst. She's already a restless sleeper and whatever has been bothering her makes her toss and turn all night long. If regularly getting kicked in the face in the middle of the night wasn't bad enough, I've also found that sleeping next to her is a lot like what I imagine it would feel like to sleep pressed up against a space heater. I wake up just about every morning drenched in sweat.

Since I haven't been updating much, I should probably also point out that the sweating at night thing isn't only about Caitlyn. I've been on my MS meds for over a month now. I was really worried about the side effects, and that I would feel like shit all the time, but the sweating has been the only regular side effect I've had. I'm doing really well on them, in fact.

So. Next things... next. I got tagged over at The Last Oyster. I'm new to her blog, but she's cool and funny. You should check her out. Anyway, I have to tell you 11 things about myself, then answer the questions she asked of me. Then I have to tag some of you bitches and create 11 questions for you to answer. Should be way more interesting than the rest of this post:

Eleven things about me:

1. I have a bunch of weird little phrases and words I use that make absolutely no sense in the context in which I use them, or they are completely made up and are only funny to me. Examples? "Dumparoos", "The Brown Cow", "So is your face", "Aces 10 Bojangles", "Everyone hates you", "Facepunch/Mouthfart" and the newly crowned princess of awesomeness "Dirt Floor Whore".

2. Accessories are my own personal nemesis. I have an oddly shaped head (or a gigantic one? Probably a gigantic one) and so hats never fit me right and sunglasses always look weird and I just never wear jewelry. My accessoriless life is sad one.

3. I hate it so much when people combine two different names and give their baby some made-up bullshit name. There are literally THOUSANDS of options. Just pick a normal name. Also? You aren't unique and neither is Jessilynda (Dear Jessilynda, Please don't send me hate mail. My beef is not with you, it's with your mom. Snuggles, Jaclyn).

4. I have an irrational fear of people knowing how tone deaf I am. I have to be really, really (no seriously. REALLY REALLY) drunk to do karaoke.

5. Any time someone asks me what kind of music I like, I tell them I only like shitty music. It's mostly this weird thing of not being able to resist liking something after I've heard it a dozen or so times. Fucking pop music, man.

6. Yesterday, I was cooking dinner and Caitlyn walked up to me and handed me something. It was a piece of poop.

7. I'm a little bit of a science nerd. I find medical stuff and genetics really interesting (not interesting enough, though, to get any sort of degree and put that curiousity to work in a field where I could make a shit-ton of money. Nah. I'd rather just be a receptionist who blogs.).

8. I have a weird sort of... fear, I guess? Of chemicals. If I'm cleaning something with Windex or 409 or anything like that, I hold my breath. The smell of bleach makes me want to scrape out my nostril hairs because I'm convinced they are holding the stank in my nose (when I reread this to edit the post, I added the reason why bleach makes me want to scrape out my nostril hairs, because it occured to me that I maybe sounded like a schizophrenic who was convinced that they were in cahoots with the bleach to poison me). I yell at Rodolfo when he uses air freshener. I'm at work right now and they are doing some sort of "chemical cleaning" of the air conditioning system and I'm 83% sure that I'm developing a tumor as we speak. On the other side of this coin, I also think that hand sanitizer is ruining lives. I'm not evenly remotely weirded out by germs and other naturally occurring stuff that my body has had generations of evolution to learn to fight off. I think people who use hand santizer are underevolved bitch babies. But Pine Sol? It might as well be a bottle of Polio (and I know Nadine is going to say blah blah blah "Method" so I'd like her to know that I recently invested in some Method cleaning supplies and I love them and also they are pretty).

9. Coming up with eleven things is getting kinda tedious.

10. Number 9? Total cop-out.

11. Do you remember that song from that fake band that MTV made up during the boy band craze of the late 90s? U+ME=US. I KNOW MY CALCULUS. Seriously though? That was kinda awesome.

1. Why do you blog? Did you read my "about" page? God, you are such a lazy whore. Ok. But mostly I blog because I have the coolest kid on the planet and as an adult I've always been curious about my own mom's inner monologue from when I was a kid. So I figure this is my monologue for Caitlyn to read when she's old enough to realize I'm not the most uncool person on the entire planet. Or for when she realizes she wants to embrace my uncoolness. Or for when her own toddler is kicking her in the face every fucking night.

2. Dream job: This, I guess? If I could get someone to pay me to write and shit. Obviously I want Caitlyn to see this blog one day, but I could write down all the dumb shit I think in a journal for her or something if I didn't truly enjoy the fact that people like what I have to say and think I'm funny and shit. So, I guess what I'm saying is that I'd like to get super-Bloggess famous and write a book or something. But like, the kind of famous that only writers can be, where lots of people know your name but you still maintain enough anonymity that you can eat in the mall food court without needing a security detail. Actually, you know what? Fuck it. I want the security detail too. I want to be so famous and so beloved that Born Again Christians think I'm the Antichrist (as they do with everyone cooler then them ::coughbarackobamacough::).

3. Favorite Canadian (this is just a test-the answer is not Celine Dion): Ninja, obviously. But can we talk about Canadians and non-Canadians for a minute here? I like to bust Ninja's balls about the extra U's she puts in words that do not need a U (for example, I had to delete a U from the word favorite when I pasted these questions, because apparently BNo is also Canadian. Stop thinking you are fancy, Canada. We don't want your U's). Anyway, I have this... let's call her an aquaintance on Facebook. We went to high school together. She is very much from the USA. She is also very much too old to be deliberately misspelling words so as to appear a certain way (smarter? I think she thinks it makes her look smarter. Fail, aquaintance. Fail). And so I want to punch her through the medium that is Facebook when she puts U's in words that do not require U's. Wouldn't it be great if instead of "like", you could "punch" someone? My life will be complete when Zuckerberg adds the ability to status punch the assholes I went to high school with.

4. Beer, wine or hard liquor? Hard liquor. And honestly, it's a good thing because beer and wine are disgusting. Seriously, why would I ever want to drink something that is fucking fermented? I do not put fermented anything in my mouth. I certainly would not put a fermented dick in my mouth, so why would I ever drink wine? Also? If we were having a debate about the pros and cons of drinking wine, I just won it. Fermented dick wins all arguments. Also, I feel like someone is going to tell me that all alcohol is fermented, but I don't give enough fucks to even Google it. I still win. I don't care about your "logical argument".

5. Favorite book: This answer is going to make me sound like a moron. Up until a few years ago, I was pretty convinced that I did not have the attention span to read books. I would read lots of magazines and online articles, but until recently, when I realized I do not have the time, money or childcare available to do cool shit outside of my house, I never really read books. I've read a few recently though, my favorite being, typically, The Hunger Games trilogy. If anyone has suggestions, I will happily take them (except for Nicholas Sparks. I will puke in your hair if you recommend Nicholas Sparks).

6. Reality TV as the death of well-written comedy and drama-discuss. Nadine keeps insisting that I watch "Jersey Shore", but I say no way. I don't need to see "The Syphulation" doing body shots out of some skank's belly button. I think it's to a point that you have to pay for good TV. Which is why I abuse Nadine's HBO Go to watch Girls (which is where "dirt floor whore" originates. If that isn't reason enough to watch, nothing is ever going to be good enough for you. I don't think you're cool and your mother is poor) and I pay for Showtime to watch Dexter. Dexter is a fucking amazing show, with the exception of the story arc they set up this past season where he starts fucking his sister (Dear Dexter writers: If you think this is a storyline the fans have been clamoring for, let me clear this up for you. No one wants to see him fuck his sister. No one. Never ever. Thanks! Love, A Devoted, Non-Incest-Loving Fan). While we are on the subject though, I'd like to blame reality TV for the destruction of one of my favorite shows, Lost. I'm pretty sure that during the last two seasons of Lost, the writers simply said "fuck it. You know, we've put a lot of effort into this shit and these idiots are watching The fucking Bachelor. Let's slap our balls together over a dictionary and whatever words the drops of our ballsweat fall on will be the plot line this season.". In case it's unclear, I was dissatisfied with the ending of Lost.

7. What do you talk to your spouse about once there's nothing left to talk about? Yesterday Rodolfo asked me if I was dating someone else. Because apparently the fact that I've left him couldn't possibly be about anything he's done wrong. It's obviously because I'm a whore who is fucking all the dudes (bitterness. You're welcome).

8. Favorite type of book: I haven't decided. I always think I would enjoy a good mystery, but then I'll decide against it because it will probably be all scary and suspenseful and I spend enough of my time worrying about serial killers and not getting enough sleep.

9. First thing you would do if you won the lottery: First thing? I'd buy houses for myself and my family and friends. But the coolest thing I'd like to do? Well, as you may remember, I was really poor as a kid. Projects poor. We lived in the projects for most of my childhood. A lot of people hear the word "projects" and assume that everyone who lives there has a drug problem or some other vice that landed them in the poor house. And that is the case a lot of times. But then there are people like my mom. People who didn't have the opportunity to get a really good job because they lacked a college degree. People with deadbeat baby daddies who don't do a single thing to make sure their kids are fed and clothed and housed. People who deserve for something good to finally happen to them. So if I won the lottery, I would go to the projects where I grew up and find someone like my mom and give them a million dollars.

My questions for you:

1. Who wronged you this week? Go ahead, vent. You know you want to.
2. Top 5 bangable celebrities
3. 5 completely unbangable celebrities (for the record, I don't get the whole Ryan Gosling thing. I guess he's not technically "unbangable", but I wouldn't hit it. At all. Please don't chase me with sticks. It had to be said).
4. Tell me the story of the drunkest you've ever been. If you don't remember all the details, feel free to make some shit up.
5. What did you want to be when you grew up? How is that working out for you? Please tell me why you failed to reach the goals you set for yourself when you were 8.
6. You have to be in a room with Newt Gingrich for an hour. Do you end it all?
7. Song you hate the most and why.
8. First and last name of the first boy you ever had a huge crush on, so when that narcissitic asshole Googles himself, he will know all your private shame.
9. Do you like me? Circle one ----     yes               no             I like you so much I know your social security number
10. Why did the chicken cross the road (I suspect hallucinogens but please tell me your theories)?
11. Hot air balloon or white water raft? (I'm not even going to give you context here. Tell me a good story)

Tagged: Nadine, Ninja, Noa, Jen, Misty, Gia, Gweenbrick, Johi, Kendall

Last business of the day: THIS IS MY 100th POST. You're welcome! But seriously, thanks to my faithful readers. I love you and all your comments, and even when I don't have the chance to respond to them, please know that I read them all and very much look forward to them.

The Grandma Chronicles- Part 2

A while back, I promised you funny stories about my mom. Since I can't seem to write in the present tense in a way that doesn't make people want to jump off buildings, I think now is the time for another mom story. I also feel I should remind you that mom stories are the most politically incorrect stories ever. You may not want to read this if you are easily offended. Seriously:

I must have been about 14 years old. It was Christmas time. At 14, I was clearly old enough to know that Santa did not exist, or more accurately, that my mom is Santa (please note that I said IS and not WAS. I don't know that I will ever think of myself as Santa, even for Caitlyn. My mom is the best Santa ever, and she proves that point every Christmas).

Anyway. The point is that I was old enough to go Christmas shopping with my mom for Sammi, who obviously still did believe in Santa. She was 7 or 8, I think, and very into Barbie dolls.

Because we were Christmas shopping, the store was very busy and the aisles were crowded with people searching for gifts (apparently procrastination is genetic, because every single member of my family waits until the last minute to buy gifts. My sister didn't even hesitate to call me the night before Caitlyn's birthday party to ask what she should get her. She knows I wouldn't be offended that she waited until the last minute. Because she knows I do exactly the same thing). What happened next did not happen privately and I remember getting many disapproving looks from horrified strangers.

I can't remember if there was one Barbie in particular Sammi wanted. I simply remember roaming the Barbie aisles with my mom, looking for something. This was quite a few years ago, before stores needed entire toy aisles dedicated to Leap Frog ipads and "things that never shut the fuck up, OMG PLEASE LET IT AT LEAST PLAY THE WHOLE GODDAMN SONG AND STOP PRESSING THE BUTTON 5 SECONDS IN SO I HAVE TO KEEP HEARING THE FIRST 5 SECONDS OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN", so there was more than one aisle of Barbie toys.

I left the aisle I was in to find my mom and see if she'd found what we were looking for. As I turned the corner, I saw her halfway down the next aisle, doubled-over and giggling like a maniac. When I asked her what was so funny, she only laughed harder. She laughed so hard that she could not speak, she could barely breathe.

I walked over, confused, to see what had struck her so hilariously funny. And then I saw it.

"Look, Jac", she gasped through her hysteria... "this Barbie....hahahahaha". "Oh my god. This Barbie is in a.... haaaaaaaahahahaha".... "WHEELCHAIR". Tears now rolling down her cheeks from laughing so hard, she loudly christened the doll "CRIPPLE BARBIE".

Moments later, she informed me that we would need to go home. She had now peed her pants from laughing so hard at the misfortune of Cripple Barbie.

We may or may not be going straight to hell. If God's a big Special Olympics fan, we are pretty much fucked.

On Scrotums- MARINA!!!!

This is a parenting blog. I'm sure sometimes it doesn't seem that way, especially lately. But I still find it odd when I find search terms in my stats that imply that people were looking for a combination of childhood whimsy and porn. Basically, I'm trafficking mostly pedophiles, I think. The following are searches that led people to my blog (much to their disappointment, I'm sure):

Marina Fresh Beat Band Porn- Just no guy. Not at all. Though, I must say I'm not surprised. Once, Caitlyn and I were watching FBB videos on YouTube and I noticed that a large portion of the comments were dedicated to which Marina was hotter and whose snatch they would prefer to lick. Nice jobs, dads of young children.

Girl Gets Fucked By Trojan Twister- I suppose I deserved this one. I did write an entire post about the magnificent commercial and it's sexy appeal.

Moms Licking Scrotums Art- Guy? Can I tell you how much I love that you added the word "art" onto the end of this? Because there is a term for art where any group you fetishize (be it moms or grandmas or whatever) are licking scrotums. It's called porn, eternally classy guy. It's called porn and you don't need to be ashamed.

Lick My F***** Scrotum- This one came up at the same time as the one above, so I'm assuming it was the same person. Still keeping it classy, I see. You may have already noticed though that classiness is NOT the ideal way to find the porn you are looking for (oh, I'm sorry- art).

These are the ones I remember right now, but I've definitely had others, and they more frequently than not reference Marina. Which is just super gross. I'm sure this post is going to help immensely in increasing my traffic of people searching for porn.

In completely unrelated news, I am doing the AIDS walk in NY next weekend. I would really appreciate it if you would make a donation to the cause. Even $5 helps (especially since I signed up rather late and I currently do not have any donations)! Click this link to donate to my personal page! Thank you in advance!

This is the kind of shit I come up with when I don't have anything funny to say

Do yourself a favor and skip the entire middle section of this post. It is insane.

I've clearly been slacking on the blog posts. So I've promised myself all week that I would post something. So basically I'm warning you that I have nothing of substance to say and this is all going to be fluff and bullshit. Consider yourself warned and your time wasted.

Caitlyn... what has she been doing? Smacking me in the damn face, that's what. This started on Monday after I got home from work. She was in a mood. She had baby PMS. Every time she looked at me, it was to scowl and when I'd scowl back, she'd give me her best "whatchu talkin' bout Willis" look and smack me. Little jerk. According to the babysitter, she had been doing this all day. On Tuesday she seemed better, and she was her sweet, pleasant self for the babysitter. Then she got home and gave me dirty looks. It seems it's become something of a game for her. She isn't necessarily in a bad mood when she does it, she thinks it's funny. Obviously, I do not, and when I react unfavorably to her hilarious new game, then she does get pissed off and I get the scowl/smack combo platter.

As I had no real direction for this post to begin with, I'm going to veer off topic right here. The scowl/smack combo. It reminded me of something that I'm going to share with you. You will be better for it. Your life will never be the same again.

You know how sometimes, someone has offended you to your very core? Maybe it's your husband (usually it's your husband) and he's inadvertantly implied that you don't need a second Entenmann's chocolate donut. Maybe you are trying to discuss something important with him (or at least you will pretend it was important after it becomes clear that he has no idea what you just said) and he won't stop playing Call of Duty long enough to listen to your concerns. Maybe you've simply realized you hate his face.

My point is, you need to take action. You need to make it clear to him that these kinds of behaviors (and faces) are unacceptable. But how can you accomplish that? He's already ignoring you, and it only gets worse when you start to nag him. What can you possibly do to make sure you have his full, undivided attention? What will send the message that you mean business and that there will be consequences to his actions?

2 words, my friends:

FACEPUNCH/MOUTHFART.

And yes, I do consider it to be only 2 words. They are compound words, obviously.

The beauty of the FACEPUNCH/MOUTHFART combo platter is the many levels on which it is satisfying. First, you get the facepunch. A physical manifestion of your feelings. A call to action. The action of punching someone in the face. Don't feel bad, he totally deserved it (that donut thing? Yeah, he totally DID call you fat.). And it makes the second part of the platter so much easier to administer. Even if you've not been successful in knocking him to the ground, you've stunned him momentarily. He can't believe you just did that, you crazy bitch! And he surely isn't expecting part 2.

The mouthfart. This one isn't easy, and it rarely works more than once, because you only have the element of surprise on your side that first time. Pick your mouthfart moment carefully. You don't want to waste it. Also, nobody is going to stand by and willing let you fart in their mouth, so you have to be quick. Don't try to pull your pants down or some shit. That will put you in a vulnerable position and end your moment of triumph before it even happens. The mouthfart must be stealth for it to work. The elusive and unexpected mouthfart is the thing of legends. Make yourself a legend. FACEPUNCH/MOUTHFART will live on forever, haunting the dreams of your victim (husband).

Now back to our regularly scheduled program:

So Caitlyn is scowling and smacking. And besides that one day, it seems to only be directed at me. Last night, since time-outs haven't done a damn thing to head this off, I thought that maybe if I smacked her on her hand, just hard enough for her to realize it was unpleasant, maybe she would knock it off. I didn't do this unprompted, of course. I waited for her to smack me first. And when she did, I gave her a little slap on her hand to show her that hitting hurts.

And she smiled at me. And not just a regular smile either. She cocked her head to the side and gave me her best, side-eye "is that the best you got, bitch?" smile. She was unimpressed. Apparently hitting only hurts if your baby isn't a thug.

So I'm working on this. My mother thinks that maybe her time-outs need to be more than 90 seconds long. I wish I were exaggerating for entertainment value. 90 seconds is the absolute longest time-out she has ever gotten. So it's probably my fault for being terrible at disciplining my kid. It would probably be a little more impressive if I could wait a full 2 minutes or something.

So, any suggestions? Is my kid an asshole? Am I? Obviously she has decided to hate me from an early age since I'm the only one she's smacking, right? I thought I had till she was at least 13 before she hated me.

Questions to ask your new babysitter...

I'm sure I mentioned that my sister won't be babysitting for Caitlyn anymore starting in June. I haven't had a ton of time to think about it with everything that's been going on- vacation, then Caitlyn's birthday, then plagues, but I did manage to do some research and find someone I'm interested in. We met last week and it was awkward. That isn't to say I didn't like her, actually, I really did. But it's such a strange thing to be in someone's home asking them nosey questions.

When I was a manager in a clothing store, I did hiring all the time. There was a very specific protocol, with certain questions I always asked. There was also always the very obvious list of questions you don't ask. Things about people's age and religious beliefs and families. Those are all very, very off-limits in a real interview. And the questions I had to ask, well, let's just say it made it very easy to weed out the people I didn't want working at my store. I'll give you a few examples:

Q: Why did you leave your last job?
Possible appropriate answers:

1. I'm looking for better opportunities (even though we all know that's code for "I hated my last job", at least you are trying to make it sound like you didn't).


2. I left for school and now I'm looking for another summer job (it was retail, so we had lots of kids who did this).

Inappropriate answers I actually received from applicants:

1. My boss was a racist (translation: you sat around doing nothing all the time and when they fired you because you were LAZY, you said "It's because I'm black, right?").


2. They fired me because I had a family emergency and didn't show up or call for 3 days and they said that was "job abandonment" (me: why didn't you call? them: I didn't have a phone and I was in another state and they didn't have a phone there. me: yeah, no phones, that sounds totally legit. I'm 1000% sure you didn't go to the beach when you were supposed to be at work).


3. The manager hated me even though I worked really hard. I had a problem with this girl who worked there and she was friends with the manager so the manager fired me cause her friend didn't like me.


4. I was seasonal (Really? What season runs from February to March, exactly? And it looks like you had 4 other jobs that also all lasted a month or so, and you say you left all of those because you were "seasonal" too.).

Q: Tell me what your idea of good customer service is.

Inappropriate answers:

1. Uhhhh.... ummm. I don't... well. When you say "customer service"... could you repeat the question (I HAAAAAAATED the "can you repeat the question" motherfuckers. It was always on a simple question. They would just "uhhh" and "ummm" for 5 minutes till I was ready to blow my fucking brains out).


2. The customer is always right? (This is always a question and never a statement. This is the equivalent of saying "this is what you wanted to hear, right?" And so I'd always follow it up with "give me a specific example" and then their heads would explode).


3. Well you know, sometimes the customer wants you to help them but you have do other stuff and they have to understand that (You failed buddy. You definitely just failed.).

Besides the questions though, there were other things I always looked for and I could tell almost immediately if I would hire someone or not. My company was very customer service focused and they fully expected you to go up to every single customer and say hello and offer them help, so if an applicant seemed shy and barely looked at me, or snotty and didn't smile, I politely conducted a 5 minute interview and sent them on their way because I already knew they weren't right for my store. Some other immediate tip-offs that I wasn't going to hire you? (I swear- seriously all this shit really happened).

1. If you came in with a group of your friends and all wanted to apply at once. I never, ever, ever hired people in groups. I don't need you and your stupid, slacker friends dicking around for your entire shift. I got shit to do.


2. If you came in with your mom. More specifically, if your mom wasted 20 minutes of my time explaining to me how her little boy needed a job (this only ever happened with boys) and how I should hire him. Something always told me that your mom would also be the one calling out for you when you wanted to hang out with your friends instead of coming to work.


3. If you couldn't figure out how to do the online application. I get it that not everyone is tech savvy, but if you called me more than once so I could hold your hand through the application process, I immediately put a retard check next to your name in my head.


4. I had a guy who came in for his interview and the person he asked to find me happened to be standing next to another manager. He didn't know that and when the other manager tried to introduce himself and shake the guy's hand, he refused to acknowledge him and wouldn't even say hello until I came up there. Did I mention the other manager was actually MY boss?


5. I had a few interviews scheduled right in a row and I was halfway through one when the next applicant showed up in my backroom a few minutes early. I assumed one of the other employees brought him back, asked if he was my 11:30 interview and told him I'd be with him shortly. When I got to interviewing him and started asking about his job history, he said "oh, that's not me". He had just showed up and came into the back room expecting me to interview him. My actual interview had been sitting outside, waiting patiently for my first interview to be over.


6. There was a guy who spent the majority of the interview complaining about the air quality in my office and asking if the ventilation system was working properly. Then he answered his phone mid-interview. Yeah. He didn't get the job.

Anyway. My point is that it was easy to know if someone wasn't what I was looking for. And the stakes weren't exactly high. Sure it was annoying to put the time and effort into training someone who didn't work out, but it's not like I was risking my kid's life or anything. So now, here I am, back to square one. Interviewing the new babysitter. It went a little something like this:

Me: Ummm, so you aren't a serial killer, right?

Babysitter: No, I'm not a serial killer.

Me: I see you and your son are of mixed racial descent. My family too! It's a good thing, cause now I know you aren't racist. White people like to say racist shit to me and they think it's ok cause I'm white so I must be racist too.

B: ... Yeah. I guess you can't just flat out ask people "are you a racist".

Me: Yeah. People would probably lie about that. So... yeah... I don't know what else to ask you.

B: makes an effort to play with my daughter and show me stuff around her house because clearly I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing

Me: Your house is clean, but not like, museum clean. I think museum clean people are scary. I'm glad you aren't putting on a show for me (which really probably came off like I was saying her house WASN'T really that clean).

B: Yeah, you wanna see my son's room?

Me: Oh yeah, that's nice. A crib and stuff. And you say you have a pack-n-play too? That's good.

B: Does your daughter have any special needs or food allergies or anything?

Me: No.

B: That's good. My son has food allergies. He can't eat wheat or dairy or eggs.

Me: Wow, that sounds like a pain in the ass.

B: Yeah. We hope he grows out of it.

Me: So, I like you. I have to talk to my husband though. He won't say anything till we leave.

B: Ok. Well I hope he likes me too!

Me: I think he does or he would be rushing me out of here. Rodolfo, do you have any questions you want to ask?

Rodolfo: I see you have a PS3. Do you live with a guy?

B: Yes, my son's father lives here too, but he works 2 jobs and he is hardly ever here. He will be off the Thursday and Friday of Memorial Day weekend. If you would like to meet him, we can make plans one of those days. Maybe we can take the kids to the zoo.

Me: Yes! All good ideas. So, I like you and I want you to be my babysitter.

B: Great!

So yeah, clearly I'm not blessed with an abundance of social graces. We did talk through email a few times, so it's not like some of the normal people questions weren't already out of the way. But it was just so strange, sitting in a stranger's home, hoping my daughter would be safe there. It felt safe and comfortable, and Caitlyn seemed to be immediately comfortable there. And I like the woman. She's around my age and normal. I can't explain it a better way than that. I didn't feel like I was meeting her "on my best behavior" self. I felt like she was relaxed because she knows she isn't a total weirdo and she doesn't have to edit herself on the regular. I wonder what that's like. Because I was definitely editting. In fact, I didn't say fuck even once. It was hard.

So we are going to give her a try. But it feels so wrong, barely knowing this person and just the idea of dropping my daughter at her home and leaving her there and not really knowing how it's all going to go. My sister and I have had enough drama for a lifetime, but at least I always knew what to expect, even if it was annoying. So. Yeah. That's all I've got.