••• Friday, August 27, 2004

Friday Kabbitch
Things that bugged me this week:
Reality Olympics. If they're going for the Reality TV effect for the Olympics, maybe they should hire some professional reality TV camera operators.

I'm talking about coverage of the Men's Gymnastic High Bar Debaucle. I'm talking about the clumsy camera work as it followed Greek-Olympic-God-Like-Official-Glancing-Nervously-Over-Shoulder Guy as he approached the Crappin'-His-Pants-Malaysian-Judge Guy (or Deer-Caught-in-The-High-Beam Guy), who was sitting next to Woman-of-Unknown-Origins-Giving-Classic-Hey-I-Didn't-Crap-My-Pants-But-I-Think-I-Know-Who-Did look, while the spectators screamed for blood.

Pssst...Hamm...On that other matter, if ya didn't really earn it, do ya really want it?

Fruit of the Loo, (or Lemon over Poo). I'm talking about fruit scented air freshener used in the bathroom. Bad idea.

It's Just a Shame, Shame Shame... The current Viet Nam Veteran War is hurtful to both candidates, all Viet Nam veterans and me. The war was a tragedy. Your issues are trivializing. Trifling. Let's move on. (Frankly, I'd think the Power That Be might want to steer clear of topics related to War Without Reason.)
Things that scared me this week:
It's 8am, Do You Know Where Your Son Is?My teenager sleeps in late in the summer. Real late.

Sunday, about 12:30a.m., I gave him a kiss and went to bed. The next morning, my husband left for work at 8:00 and I was up 30 minutes later with the Cakers.

As I walk past Cam's room on my way to get Ana up, I notice his door is slightly ajar. That's weird. He always sleeps with his door locked. I peek in and he's not there.

Downstairs, his wallet is on the kitchen counter, along with his cell phone and the key to my car. My car is in the driveway, just where he left it the night before.

I call my husband, who says he noticed Cam's door cracked when he got up at 7:45. I call my ex-husand who does not know of any appointments. I expressed to him a worry that Cam had snuck out during the night and maybe been injured. In my mind, the sneaking out was a slight reality, but the not sneaking back in before being missed, unless he was mortally wounded, was not. My ex can't believe Cam would sneak out, but I can't believe he would be up at 7:30am without cause.

I'm trying to appear calm and rational, while fighting the urge to throw up. The Cakers has picked up on my frenzy and is running around the house calling her big brother's name and becoming increasingly upset.

I look in the back yard, to see if he fell climbing up or down his balcony. I look in my car, in the weight room. In the garage, his basketball is where he left it. Basketball was the last hope. There is no other explanation for his being gone than that he snuck out and was injured somehow.

Finally, at 9:00am, I call his best friend's cell phone. Oh, he's at the high school getting his schedule changed. He got there real early to sign up, but at 7:30, there were already 17 seniors in front of him.

I cried a little, but no one heard.

When Cam returned, 30 minutes later, he knew he had effed up big before I even said a word. He explained that he had started to write a note on the whiteboard, when his ride showed up. Worried that the dog would bark and wake the baby, he slipped out without detection. He also assumed he'd be home before I got up.

I was obviously relieved that he was safe, but what really excited me was he had gotten up at the crack of hell, on his own, to perform a responsible task. Whee!

First Day Jitters Or Delirium Tremors?
Didja hear about the teacher in Kentucky who was pulled over on her way to work on the first day of school? She blew a .2 on the breathalyzer. At 7:30 in the morning. You can read about it here

Things That Made me Sad This Week:
Amy has a broken heart.
Wrap up
Sorry about the lengthy post here. I've been off my game this week.

And my brain feels like it's trying to crawl out of my skull so as to open a can of whoopass on my unwitting soul.

We're going to the cottage for the weekend. The weather is supposed to suck, but I don't care. That's what I call love.

P.S. When you're not in the mood for blog, is it better to post crap anyway or not at all?

P.P.S. Yesterday's post...face appearing to be smooshed through a too small opening?...like birth? Okay. Lame. Thanks anyway Teresa!

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