I talked to my mom a while ago and she said “I was worried. I hadn’t talk to you in a while and you hadn’t been blogging so I thought something might be wrong.” Aw. My mom said “blogging”. That is the cutest. Truth is I haven’t had anything to write about. Not that I ever have anything truly interesting to write about (VH1’s StripSearch, anyone?) but I guess I wasn’t feeling inspired. Plus both of the kids had this freakish virus where they get fevers of 103 and are just wiped out. Hadley puked a few times too. Sick kids take a whole hell of a lot out of you.

Thursday we went the whole day without turning on the TV though and you would have thought I discovered the cure for Cancer I was so freaking proud of myself. It is a lot for me though because I use it as a babysitter. I will fully admit it. I heard a woman say “I just didn’t know what to do. Little Timmy had used up his daily 30 minute allotment of television and I was just at my wits end!” 30 minutes a day? No way. But I’m going to try to get it down from 17 hours a day. I mean, that can’t be good, can it?

I also had my first experience with someone where I wanted to rip them a new asshole but I couldn’t because I wanted to set a good example for my little sponge, I mean, daughter. We were at Marymoor Dog Park, which is phenomenal. It’s 40 acres where the dogs can run free and there are trails and they can swim and play. Atticus LOVES it and actually so do we. We go every weekend. I try to go during the week with the kids too. So we went on Friday and shortly after hitting the trail a scruffy looking dog came up and mounted Atticus and starting going to town on my dear dog. I shooed him off and we tried to keep going. Cut to 20 minutes later and this dog will NOT let up. I am looking around for its owner who is nowhere to be seen. I am getting pissed. I have Finn on my back, Hadley trailing behind and my dear 5 year old lab is getting raped by this mutt. His owner suddenly appears. He talks really slowly and low. He is about 6 feet tall, with a huge beer gut and an oversized Tshirt that has some sort of beer slogan on it. Normally this dog park is full of conscientious, really great dog owners. I’ve met nothing by nice people there. Obviously Bubba did not get the Memo. While his dog, Smokey, is humping away at Atticus he is standing there doing nothing. Finally he says “Hm. He hasn’t done this to any other dog.” As if it is MY dog’s fault that he is devilishly good looking and docile. My patience is waning so I say “Well, he is DOING IT TO MINE!” and I smile through my teeth. I grab Atticus by the collar and tell Hadley we’re going to run. We run about 20 feet and I foolishly think he will control his dog. He doesn’t. It just keeps happening and this lazy fuck does nothing. I am standing there with 2 kids just trying to walk the rest of the trail and have a nice time. He slurs “Well, we’re going to the parking lot too.” I am seething not looking at him. “Do you have a leash??” “Nah,” he says “I left it in the car.”  Now, at this point there were 16 opportunities where I wanted to say various things but I didn’t. I refrained. And I’m glad seeing as how recently my daughter asked “Why’d you say What the Fuck, Mom?” Yes. That came out of my daughter’s mouth so I thought of that while refraining from verbally slaughtering Bubba and his mutt. Instead I said “C’mon sweetheart, we have to run to the car so this dog will stop raping our dog.” Then I turned to Bubba and said “Please hold your dog until we get to our car.” I was glad he understood me because up until that point I was worried that we couldn’t communicate because I was using words that were polysyllabic. Sigh….I was very fired up.

I rented Season 1, Vol. 2 of Alias for dear husband and I tonight. I’m so addicted to that show. I know I know. 3 years later.

There has been much hoopla over my  “I really hate Tom Cruise” entry. (May 23) People are freaking out. There was one jackass who wrote this:

“Post pardum depression this depression that depression all you losers that need drugs. What would you have done 100 years ago. Crawl into a ball an whaaaaaaaaaaaa??? You want to kill your baby when its born? Keep your legs closed before that. Save us all alot of grief.”

Dear Jackass,

It’s called GRAMMAR and PUNCTUATION. Look into it. If you’re going to be a dick, at least be a smart one.

Sincerely,

Emily