Last night . . .
Each of the girls got a balloon. I don’t know who gave them the balloons, and I don’t care. That’s not the point.
Kallan’s balloon breaks almost immediately.
Kallan apparently decides that she now has joint ownership of the remaining balloon.
Maj does not agree. And so . . . yelled from the floor above, I can hear Maj’s voice, growing increasingly more frantic. There is no response from Kallan to any of these protests, so I know that Kallan is being just hideous.
Anyway.
Here’s Maj . . .
“Leave my balloon alone!”
“Kallan, put it down! It’s not yours! Leave the balloon alone!”
“Stop rubbing it on your head! All the static is mine! Stop it!”
“KALLAN! Give it to me! It’s mine! GIVE IT TO ME!”
“Kallan, I’m going to tell on you. Give me the balloon. Give it to me.”
“GIVE IT TO ME!”
“KALLAN! YOU ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY!”
“AUGHHHH!!!! KALLAN! GET THE BALLOON OUT OF YOUR BUTT!”
“GET IT OUT OF YOUR BUTT!”
“Take that balloon out of your butt, young lady.”
“Right this instant, Kallan. Out of your butt. Now.”
Oh my god . . . I am laughing so hard . . .
Take that balloon out of your butt, young lady?
Snort!
Which reminds me of a conversation I had recently with the man to whom I am married. That man would prefer to remain anonymous for the purposes of this story, so he will need an alias. Hmmm . . . .
OK, so Mark will be Andy Strauss for the remainder of this story.
OK, I just fucked that up.
So now you know I am talking about Mark. Fuck. Never mind the Andy thing.
Anyway, I am talking to Mark about the screw tops on bottles of prescription medication (this is not the interesting part of the conversation, so I am going to skip right past it), and then Mark says . . .
“You know what they should do? They should figure out a way to customize pills so that all the medication a person needs to take? Is in one pill. That way, there would be no confusion . . . you just take your pill every morning and you’d be all set.”
OK, people? There are about a bazillion things wrong with Mark’s plan, and so I list several of the problems.
He waves aside my arguments, “Yeah, but there’s a bigger issue.”
“What?”
“The pill would be huge. How are old people going to swallow a pill that size?”
And he holds up his hand to demonstrate the golf-ball sized pill he imagines would need to be swallowed.
I . . . am . . . destroyed.
Mark is all thoughtful over my hysterical laughter, “Although . . . if we could get a whole army of senior citizens trained to swallow huge golf-ball sized pills? We could make some serious drug-running money.”
People? Sometimes Mark makes me laugh so hard I cannot breathe.
He continues, “Line them all up at the border and have them swallow a big plastic ball of heroin. You could dress like a nurse and dispense their medication just as they cross! We’ll be rich! No one’s going to check old people for drugs.”
I am dying.
Back to the balloon up the butt issue . . . (which does tie in with Mark’s drug-running plans, if you think about it) . . .
I scream for Kallan, and she appears before me . . . the picture of innocence.
“Yes, Mom?”
“Sweetie, why are you sticking your sister’s balloon up your butt?”
“Mom? I was up in my room reading my book. I heard Maj screaming, but I have no idea what she is talking about. She is insane, I believe.”
“Really, Kallan?”
Kallan meets my eyes in challenge, “Really. You might want to talk to her, Mom. She’s seeing imaginary extra sisters.”
Sigh, “Repeat after me, Kallan. Repeat after me or go straight to bed. Ready?”
“Oh, fine . . . ready.”
“I will not touch my sister’s balloon to any part of my body, and I will certainly not shove that balloon up my butt.”
She repeats after me, all giggly.
“Now go apologize to your sister!”
I turn to Mark, “Kallan wants to join your drug-running army, I believe.”
Mark is not really listening.
He’s working on something, and he’s not really listening.
But then he turns to me and he asks, “Does manhole have a hyphen?”
Seriously, people . . . sometimes Mark makes me laugh so hard I cannot breathe.
I answer through my giggles, “I guess it would depend on what you’re writing, babe. Is this your drug-running business plan? Because then I guess there might be a hyphen . . . like in the phrase man-hole drug balloon.”
“What?”
People?
Mark and I are going to be rich!
And right about here is where Mark asked to be anonymous.
But that ship has fucking sailed.
Snort!
(That’s a laugh snort, by the way. Not a drug snort.)
Snort!
I’m back!!
I’m laughing at your last tag, “We will not be turning the girls’ grandparents into drug mules.”. Ahh, the hilarious imagery in that one!!
I’m with Mark though, I hate having to take more than one pill a day.
And what in the world was Mark writing about that he needed to know whether or not manhole has a hyphen??
Happy sighs.
Mark’s parents are going to love this post. Hee hee!
And Mark only takes a vitamin, in case you were wondering. No big pills for either of us. In case anyone is concerned.
And it turns out Mark was writing about a soap-box track at which the girls will be racing . . . a road-track which has several manholes that interfere with smooth driving.
See? All reasonable.
Snort!
Exactly how many crowns do you have over there? Jeez.
2 things.
1. I am amazed at your patience. I do not have this patience. But I do make an excellent Evil Stepmother.
2. It must be such a relief to know that Kallan has lucrative career options available to her.
Lots of crowns.
I rule over many imaginary kingdoms.
And all of these kingdoms require patience. No one was on board with my “Off with their heads” proposal.
I have no worries about Kallan’s future . . . that girl will make things happen.
Seriously.
If you and Mark are in the market for East Coast expansion?
I’m always in the market for a new gig.
And I’d look cute in a nurse’s uniform.
Yes!
Our empire expands!
nothing to do with your post…ginger has been found and her new alias? hot socks baby???? what the fuck?
I am dying.
Hot socks baby?
Oh my god.
That Kallan of yours….is going to be all sorts of trouble when she gets to the teens….
Mom, we weren’t making out…seriously, I don’t care what you saw, you must need an eye doctor appointment b/c you seriously are seeing things….
I know.
Mom? You are going senile, I believe. You are seeing imaginary inappropriate daughters. I was in my room reading the whole time.
Sigh.
HAHAHAHAHA
You always have the best tags.
“I am looking forward to wearing my drug-lord crown.”
Classic.
Hee hee!
I would like to be royalty of some sort.
And if drugs are involved?
All the better.
I believe our hubbies might be long lost brothers. exhibit 1) constantly is asking me how to spell words that seem out of place exhibit 2) he just keeps going on things like drug running plans of elderly people
Hmmm looking at that last one makes them sound kinda evil.
Perhaps.
1) Mark is the worst speller and he tends to just speak his questions into the air even as the spell-check is helping him out.
2) Mark has all sorts of ridiculous plans. Which I find hysterical, because in his real life? Mark is all kinds of responsible and law-abiding and adult.
He is just privately evil.
That works for me.
Remember how I told you about all the meds I have to take because of my kidney transplant?
I can take 17-20 pills all at once.
Just sayin’.
That is crazy.
Just crazy.
We can use talent like yours!
Yay!
Good thing you clarified about the “snort”! Snort.
Hee hee!
To be a fly on a wall of your house…I could only imagine.
In related news, sort of, I tried to go grocery shopping with my son last night. The store was having a huge sale and obviously the best way to promote the sale was by covering the aisles with big red star balloons. I could not get my son’s attention off of them and needless to say went home with a huge red star.
Did he steal this balloon?
Because that’s the sort of talent Mark and I could use in our new empire of illegal activity.
Or did you break down and buy the balloon?
In which case, you are a good mom but of less use to us.
Snort!
Love you.
A box boy happened to be standing there about the time my son let out his 50th, “mmmeeeeeeee” (which obviously means “I want, please, Mommy.” so I asked the boy if I could have a balloon and he let me. So I guess a little bit of both.
I like your mom-interpretation of meeeeeeeeee.
So funny.
HAH!
you know, does Kallan realize that shoving a balloon up your butt can have disastrous consequences? I’m guessing even if she does, she’s prepared to accept them, however painful.
much like drug mules. snort.
Snort!
I think Kallan’s only hope was to so contaminate the balloon with butt-ness?
That Maj would surrender it.
I am imagining that sanitizer was required once the balloon was returned to Maj’s hands.
Pretty sure.
even in pieces, it was sanitized. then placed back in its proper place.
Snicker.
I am dying. Ah …. I miss my sister. Good times, good times. And beatings, of course. She was much younger, but much tougher and definitely meaner. And would never hesitate to transfer butt-ness to an inanimate object (or animate, I guess. I just remembered the “kitten incident”).
In any case, if you change your mind about the mules, I happen to know a few old ladies who are down for the cause. Just sayin …
The kitten incident?
Now I am dying.
It occurs to me we should keep these ladies’ names out of the public eye . . . these would-be drug mule friends of yours.
Email me.
Snort!
Note to self: don’t eat when reading Kris’s posts. Or drink. Or anything that could induce choking to death from too much laughing.
I adore Maj. ALL THE STATIC IS MINE!!!! Ha.
Balloons are really one of the worst inventions ever.
Maj is fabulous.
Kallan is evil, but Maj is fabulous.
Thank you, laughing one!
Thank you.
If you find yourself on a no-fly list? Blame Andy Strauss. Has to be all his fault.
Also, as I was reading the ballon fight. I could imagine Kallan innocently reading. While Maj played out this wonderful scene with the balloon.
It would be the ultimate revenge.
But I have read other “Kallan and Maj” posts. So I guess it is just too unbelievable that Kallan is innocent.
But it would be so awesome. For Maj to pull it off. Imaginary extra sisters.
Of course, sometimes those meds for hallucinations are multiple pill cocktails. Which could be combined into one. Largish pill…,
I try never to to fly, so being placed on a no-fly list?
Would simplify my life enormously.
Yes, Mark. I would love to overcome my fear of flying and visit your family in Michigan, but I can’t! The government says so.
Snort!
Maj tells on her sister constantly. And sometimes the offenses are minuscule.
But they have generally really occurred.
Maj is a terrible liar.
this reminded me of my day today when I said, “no, don’t put your butt on ANYTHING of his. We are not putting butts on things, we are doing Spanish review.”
and then, because apparently I didn’t make myself clear to a 14 year old with perfectly good hearing…
“WHAT DID I JUST SAY?!?! NO BUTTS!”
sigh.
Yes, we have been having a lot of butt-rubbing over here.
The girls are in the mood to mark things with their butts recently.
Sigh.
I do a lot of yelling about butts.
Keep your butt off of your sister’s belongings!
Sigh.
It must be the age. I teach 14 year olds, but by the time they get to sophomore age (15/16) they are not marking their territory with their ass anymore. I am guessing it’s a phase kids go through from upper elementary school through 9th grade.
That is my scientific hypothesis anyway.
Not that it helps you or me with all the butt rubbing.
You are all scientisty!
Yes, I am hoping that my girls outgrow the butt-rubbing stage before entering high school.
ACK at the thought of those lovely conferences with the principal!