I don't have the energy for this, New Jersey.

Blah blah blah you suck blah blah blah fuckatards, all of you (okay, not 14 of you- the other 20 of you should just sod off) blah blah blah... listen, just go read this. And this.

Oh, and a special double-bird-flip goes out to the backward-out-his-ass-talking Michael Doherty. He's the State Senator from the Washington Township in Warren County. Here's his quote. "Suddenly, today, there's implications that you're discriminating against folks when you want to maintain that definition."

Uhm, yeah. Asshole. If that "definition" you're "maintaining" is "I'm gonna keep it this way because how the hell else can I prove that I'm better than you?" That's exactly what you're doing. Let me reiterate. Asshole. (And, by the by, global warming? Being a skeptic therein? Ass. HOLE.)

And just because somehow there's more about him than New Jersey in general in this post- New Suck Suck Jersey Suck Suck.

Merry Christmas... and yes, he was back in at 6:20, and I expect him there again in five minutes.

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring... oh, wait...

3:08am

*Knock Knock*
"Go back to bed," I say, groggily.
"But I threw up."
"Oh, no."

Poor Ethan. What a way to start Christmas. Poor me. Is there any possible way to get puke out of a mattress? Especially at three in the morning?

I set him up in a little nest right outside the bathroom door. He refuses the light being turned off, though. He's up again at 4:20. And by "again", I don't mean to imply that he sleeps in the intervening time...

5:10am

There is whispered conversation. Connor greets Ethan.
"I'm throwing up."
"On Christmas?!"
Because he has a choice in the matter? He didn't take into account the scheduling conflict?

Emily and Connor wait while Ethan throws up again at 5:20. There's nothing for it. We give up on the notion of sleep and go down to rip open some presents.

We've finally given in and given Connor his cell phone. I decided to put it in his stocking, since it's normally the last thing they tear into, yet it's the first thing he does. I hurriedly grab the video camera to catch his reaction. He's shocked into silence for a solid three seconds. A record. I look down. The friggin' camera is paused.

Moving on, I pull a large present out from under the tree to give to Ethan. Apparently this is the keystone gift. The tree decides it would prefer a horizontal life. It dumps water everywhere, breaks a tree-side's worth of ornaments, and irreparably damages the tree stand.

I think it's time to break out the espresso flavored vodka for my coffee.

I hope this morning is going better for everyone else.

To whoever arrived at my blog by googling: why is it not safe to eat dead crap?...

...please seek the help you so desperately need.

Unless you meant dead crab. In which case- the help you need might be a stomach pumping. Also the ability to watch your typos.

Also, who the hell googles in complete sentences? Stop doing that. Key words, asshole, key words.

Dear UPS Truck Drivers,

Please stop smoking in the goddamn trucks. That's all I'm asking. I'm tired of the receiving room at work smelling like someone set a pack of cigarettes on fire in the middle of the floor of the room for hours after you leave. I'm tired of my purchases showing up to my house stinking so awful. Seriously, Sam accused me of smoking because I had a delivery sitting on the chair next to me. If books can smell that horrid, I can't imagine what any clothing orders are going to stink like. Just stop it. There's no reason for it. Step out of the truck, asshole. No one else gets to smoke on the job, so get over it.

Loves and smoker's coughs,
Sarah

P.S. I don't want to hear any shit about how they don't smoke in the truck or that they're not allowed to smoke in the truck. Because that's bullshit. They do it. No rule is a rule if it's not enforced.

Sam says it doesn't count anyway because Washington DC isn't even a state.

So, today, my friend told me it was time for me to write a new post because my lame ass can't seem to post on a regular basis because of the news that Washington DC is legalizing gay marriage.

Which kinda pissed me off. Not at her- she makes a valid point. It's just a damn shame that we have to applaud SIMPLY DOING THE RIGHT THING.

God damn, people.

Fine. Bravo, DC! You did the right thing.

But here's the thing. When you are potty-training your kid, every time they use the toilet properly, you applaud and dance and give out M&M's (holy hell, I just gave a parenting tip). This doesn't last forever, obviously. There is no jar of M&M's in our bathroom- thank gods we are past that. I mean, do you applaud your spouse or boyfriend or girlfriend when they don't wet their pants? (If you do, there is the possibility that you need to take a step back from the situation and take another look.) No. And the reason for that is? That is just the way it should be. One more time. That is just the way it should be.

I think the problem is perspective. Equal rights for all seems like a damn near unachievable goal- some gold standard. So sad. In fact, we should be viewing equal rights as mediocrity.

So, hurrah, DC. You have reached the level of mediocrity. You are no longer wearing diapers. You get to go pick out some underoos with Iowa, Connecticut, Vermont and Massachusetts. Oh, and New Hampshire, once they get their collective ass in gear.

That is, assuming the US Congress doesn't fuck it all up. Which they will.

To the rest of the states in our fair marriage union: Get the fuck out of the pampers. Mediocrity. Can you see it? There, way up high over your head?

Two Conversations with Ethan

Ethan's terribly shy. He says he doesn't have any friends, but the confusing part of this is that whenever we run into a classmate of his, without fail, that classmate greets him with enthusiasm and calls him "my friend, Ethan". My only conclusion? Little man just doesn't know what constitutes a "friend". He says that, most of the time on the playground, he just walks around alone. I was discussing this with him, encouraging to ask one of the few kids he talks to to play- just say "wanna play?" This led to a conversation about this friend and about how the girls always chase him on the playground, and Ethan doesn't want to play with those girls because they chase him, too.

Me: They chase you because they like you.
He: No, they hate me.
Me: No one hates you! Girls chase you because they like you!
He: What if they growl at you? Like a pug.
Me: ...They're flirting.
He: Oh.

The other night (how's that for a segue?) Emily and Ethan (and I, by extension) were going to a school activity- making ornaments. This was the first night of Hanukkah, which was excellent planning on the PTA's part, giving the poor 97% non-Jewish minority of kids something to do for the evening. For some reason, while I was getting ready to leave (read: turning off my laptop), this was Ethan standing at the door, making it sound like he was threatening to run away from home:

I'm leaving. I'm leaving! I'm leaving now! I'm leaving NOW! Mom, will you drive me? I don't know where to go.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly a conversation. It is, however, life with Ethan.

Eff You, New York

Hey, New York, go join Maine in the corner. Assholes. Ever take a history class? Hell, most of you should remember when our federal government had to make certain states allow interracial marriage. How embarrassing! Imagine being a politician in a state that did something as awful as to not allow two people of different races to marry! Well, you fucktards, that's how history will remember you, too. Have the decency to be ashamed of your actions.