Calling all nannies

There are many changes happening with my schedule these days. I am taking one final class as well as starting a second job this week. There are things that I need to make sure to pay off before I move out to California next fall. Not only that, but (*covers Moose's ears*) he also needs to have his tiny balls removed.

Anyway, because my schedule will require a lot more time away from home, Moose is in the process of conducting interviews for a temporary nanny. This will be a role with high expectations and total undivided attention. We're talking letting the little boy come into the bathroom with you...there are no exceptions, he's extremely needy and HAS to be near you. Given his cycloptic trait this means no more than 3 feet away, otherwise he thinks you're just a big blurry talking blob.

We have had some success this morning with interviews. He was good to get up early and post an ad on Craigslist. I was rather proud of the turnout since his ad looked something like this:

Deer Sum1, mye name iz MooSe. I live rite here in this kenell, butt most tymes i git 2 run round tha huse. i lik mye weener 2 much, mom sez. im jus a cupple inches off da ground. always happee. lyke toys. kan u come ovurr n watch me while mom duz othur things? jus 4 liddle while. im sweet. shee pays gud.

So far we've had a number of nice candidates. I did happen to also place an ad saying that he is fond of apples and kisses, so that prompted a greater number of resumes. He insisted on conducting the interviews himself since he had a better understanding of what he needed in a good nanny.

"Why? You're not that hard to make happy, honey."

"But, Mother, what if I accidentally pass the silent gas? Those are smelly and you always tell me to go wash myself after. What if the new nanny can't handle it?"

"I guess. And since we're on the subject of smelly, you also need to make sure you let them know how you like to yawn right in their face first thing in the morning."

"I don't know what you're talking about, lady...my bref ain't stank."

Before I could respond he raced upstairs and put on his best little suit and combed his ears back. Since he has no thumbs, he gets clip-on ties and when he came down the stairs he accidentally put it on wrong and got his lower lip caught in it. My son tries so hard. He even asked me to spray him with his little bottle of cologne.

He vacuumed out his kennel and got out his little chair along with a clipboard with a list of questions. He put together the list the night before using his brand new crayons. He was writing intensely as indicated by his little tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth. Note: if you're envisioning this, he's left-handed. Like his mother. He didn't have an extra chair so he just piled up some pillows and said the candidates can just sit on those.

"Why don't you just let them have the chair and you lay on the pillow like you do when you watch Nickelodeon?"

"Mo-om! Cuz this is business! Don't embarrass me! And can you go sit over there when I do this? You always have to be so anal, I can do this!"

"Ok ok. You do it your way, I just go fold some laundry."

The candidate, who will be called Farrah (in honor of the late Farrah Fawcett and for confidentiality purposes), was dressed quite nicely in her little pant suit. I had advertised that it was not necessary to dress up since my son runs around naked anyway. Casual attire would have sufficed. But to each his own.

The interview went a little something like this:

"Ok, Farrah, I see here that you have 2 squeaky toys and like to play all day. What kind of squeaky toys?"

"Well, one is a squeaky hamburger and the other is a squeaky football."

"Okaaaay...well, I think I might be able to work with that. (*adjusts his monocle and clears throat*) Now, just so you know, I am a fan of the hotdog and the soccer ball. This may affect your pay."

"Well, I will work hard, Mr. Moose. I promise."

"I believe you, Farrah. I really do. Now, my mother, she will rub my ears and eyes and she gets on the floor with me to play all the time. Can you match that kind of work ethic?"

"Uh, I---I--I really think I can."

"Ok, well, what if, oh, I don't know, let's just say I happen to get a hold of some of those weird panty things. What would you do?"

"Um, I don't know. I guess I'd let you have them?"

"Is that right? Now what do you know about these panty things?"

"Um, well, I know they are a piece of clothing and I guess that's about it. I'm not sure if this is a trick question but what's the deal with panties?"

"Oh, uh, well, nothing. That was just a test. You passed. If you ever see me with a pair, just look the other way and if my mother would ever happen to ask you if I had some, just remember this phrase: I di'in't see nuthin'."

"Ok."

"Practice it one time for me."

"I, um, I...oh gosh..."

"It's ok, take your time, we can practice all day."

"I....uh....I di...int...see, um, oh what's that word...NUTHIN!"

"Yessss! I think you and I will be fast friends. But one last thing, do you happen to have any apple pieces?"

"I do, but they are Gala apples."

"That's ok, just slip me a few pieces now. When you start tomorrow you can just bring Fuji. Mom's real specific on what kind of apples."

My son, the little clip-on tie-wearing boy just found himself a naive and clueless nanny. And I'm pretty sure that instead of going over his pooping routine he is only showing her where I keep his treats, the best route to my top dresser drawer, and telling her that he's allowed to watch PG-13 when that is clearly NOT the case.

What was I thinking?

Moose gets a Go Kart

I thought that maybe Moose needed a little independence. He's a very social little booger and is always either on his phone texting frantically like Kim Kardashian or he's constantly on Facebook updating his status and keeping up with his fan page.

I decided he may need his own mode of transportation that would be a little simpler and cut down on navigation time. In the past, in order for Moose to get out and meet his friends he always sort of relied on me to hook his wagon up to the back of my car. He'd sit down strap himself in, put on his aviaton goggles and cap, and brace himself for a wild ride through the streets of Overland Park.

What the goal usually was is that I'd pull him up a hill, then unhitch the wagon and give him a push. See, he was too embarrassed to have his mother drop him off to meet his friends. He'd rather I give him that shove and using the increase in acceleration and velocity, it would hypothetically drive him to his destination of interest. The only part of the equation that would typically be impossible to adjust is acceleration--little guy's legs just aren't long enough to use as brakes.

He'd go barrelling down the hill and since he has no thumbs to adequately steer the wagon handle there would be too many instances where his intention to make a right hand turn failed miserably. With the handle in his right paw, he'd make the appropriate right-turn signal with his left paw at 90-degree angle. Upon realization that he was unable to slow down and was gaining considerable momentum he'd end up screaming in both fear and alerting others.

"OOOHHHH MYYYYY GOSSSSSSSSHHHH!!!! COMIN' THRUUUUUUU! THIS THING AIN'T SLOWIN' DOWWWWWWWN!!!"

With that air of confidence and composure, he'd make a sharp turn which only ended up hurtling his tiny body into the air. Good thing that little wiener wears his aviator goggles and cap, they keep his eyes from drying out and his ears from getting tangled in the telephone wires.

I would just get in my car, drive down the hill, help him down off the wires and put his wagon in the trunk. Then it would just be that horrible embarrassment when his friends would see me drop off my son so they could all go bowling. He'd have little goggle impressions on his face and a little bit of road burn.

It was time we tried a new route. I decided that he needed a car, one that would suit his size and would allow him to drive himself to each and every social engagement. He got a Go Kart.

He still insists on wearing his goggles and cap. He also opened an iTunes account and has proceeded to make his own pimpin' mix. It's a combination of Snoop Dogg, Daddy Yankee, Pit Bull, and Madonna. He's my little material boy. He does have a tendency to try and compare rims and hydraulics with our neighbor Juan. The problem is, he has no hydraulics and no rims. And it's not a CD he's made, just a cassette tape and his ghetto blaster is attached to the back to the kart. It's full of Milli Vanilli, Guns n Roses, Salt n Pepa, and Madonna. Yes, Madonna seems to follow us through the years and I'm sure he'll once again be downloading her music when she's still making albums at age 85.

We are currently working on not parking in the yard. He also has a tendency to whistle at the ladies yelling, "Heeeey girl, wanna push play on my ghetto blaster? Then we can drive down the pet store and get some nice squeaky things. You got any money?" (He'd whistle but he can't quite get it and just ends up spitting bits of apple onto their shirts.)

He has a few issues with tact. I'm sure once his voice cracks and he becomes a little older, he'll also mature a little in how he interacts with the females. Until then, for anyone who lives in the KC area, be aware of the little wiener burning rubber and blaring his blaster. He's the one wearing the goggles.

Neutering Moose

I haven't taken Moose to get neutered yet and that is because it is not a financial obligation right now. I figure that he can relish in his masculinity for a while before those tiny balls are no longer taking up residence between his hind legs.

Here is the specimen cooperating with scientists in displaying his teeny balls circa Feb 2010.

I read this statistic on neutering that the descendants of one female dog can produce almost 200 offspring before she is 5 years old. Now let's imagine if Moose was the one who managed to be the patriarch of that line.

Here are the likely characteristics and behavioral patterns that I'm pretty sure will one day be mapped out in a giant genome project funded by the government:

1) They will all have 1 blind eye, which is also known to function as a Magic 8 Ball. You turn the little guy upside down, give him a couple gentle shakes, ask a question, turn him over and reveal the answer.

Ex: Question: Did you just eat the elastic in my underwear? Answer: It is decidedly so.

2) They will most likely try and steal entire rolls of toilet paper and decorate your bedroom with it.

3) They will think it's cool to eat moths and watch ants crawl along the sidewalk using their good eye that just slightly cocked to make sure they get high definition vision.

4) They will poop out teddy bear stuffing.

5) They will expect you to pull out that stuffing when it is obviously tangled up in the chute.

Note: This is only after they have freaked out and frantically run circles around you trying to get away from the poop that has a death grip on their little chute.

6) They will beg for apples, berries, carrots, and PB and cheese ice cream.

Alert: At times this desire will be emphasized with high-pitched yelps and attempts to knock over the bowl. It is a pre-meditated action that is followed by putting their paws up, shrugging their tiny shoulders and saying, "Wha' happen? These dirty now? Want me to eat them?"

7) They will effortlessly dismember rope toys in a matter of minutes. Said rope has a high probability of making an appearance during chute-tangled poop episode. Note to self: Do not buy anymore rope toys.

8) Dryer sheets are their breath mints.

ATTN: This action will also result in similar consequence as pointed out in behavioral pattern #5. Exercise caution should one of those boogers happen to ingest a combination of stuffing/rope/dryer sheet. Make sure to have the number of a tiny dachshund ambulance on hand so as to notify the Wiener Authorities of such an atomic mixture. The nature of such poop should be studied at NASA.

9) They will take great pleasure in riding in the car and randomly honking the horn, thereby scaring Juan and Rosa. No big deal, just wave a nice "hola".

10) This should be at the top of the list, but without a doubt, they will be the most loveable and happy little cuddlers. With the occasional gassy ass. Get some Febreze.

P.S. They make great little furnaces in the colder months.

As I type this, Moose is lying at my feet using my foot as a pillow. He spent the afternoon playing with company and wore himself on a walk to the mailbox.

He always goes balls to the wall. How long that will last with actual balls is a mystery.

We got a drug screen

Sometimes when you get a new job you have to go get a drug screen to prove that you are not high. They tell you to do it and will even give you up to a week to get it done. That's just enough time for Moose to run to the store, get a buncha Flush the Coca-Een, run home and drain his tiny system of all illicit products. If you call peanut butter and cheese ice cream illicit, then so be it--his system is typically drenched in it.

We moseyed our butts on down to LapCorp and proceeded to Suite 218. A big sign on the door read, "Drug Screens and Paternity Tests". Moose laughed, pointed at the sign and said, "Get a loada this, Mother. If they think I'm gonna claim to be anybody's baby daddy, they got another thing comin'." With that, he revelcroed his Spiderman shoes and we entered into the suite.

A pleasant smell greeted us. It was something of a combination between spilled urine, a mechanic shop, Axe body spray, and cheap cigars. Moose and I inhaled as deeply as possible and signed in.

We took a seat next to a woman who was seriously dressed for the prom. Not only was her hair very pretty but the way she managed to teeter on her heels was very elegant. I could tell that in order to walk so agonizingly you had to make sure your shoes were at lease 3 sizes too small. In the 10 minutes we waited, she managed to apply lipstick at least 5 times. Once she even offered me some, but I politely declined.

"Oh no thanks, I'm still trying to get rid of this little herpes hill on my lip."

Moose: Yeah, that thing been there forever. Woman won't just go get it lanced off.

"Shut your mouth when you talk to people, you want those balls bronzed and mounted on my mantle next week?"

The obviously overworked/underpaid employee at the window called me and Prom Queen over to sign the papers and present our IDs. Then she called me back and told me to wash my hands and use the green soap. I did as instructed. Then she presented me with the little plastic cup with a lid.

"Now go in that bathroom and fill to this line. And don't flush the toilet."

I was immediately confused. "So I pee in this thing? But I don't flush the toilet? Am I suppose to pee in the toilet too?"

I could tell by the look on her 5-foot frame that she had no time for someone like me. She was annoyed.

"No. don't. flush. the. toilet."

"But you said for me to pee in this. What does the toilet have to do with anything?"

Her face got a little red but I thought maybe she was just a little bashful. Then I think she was talking at me through clenched teeth.

"Just...pee...in...this. touch. the. toilet. and. I. kick. your. 5-9. ass."

"Okaaaaaay, geez. By the way, I think if you get more protein in your diet, you might feel better. You're kinda tense."

I went in the bathroom. There was red tape on the sink and the toilet tank. Kinda like mini crime scenes. I peed in the cup.

I came out and she told me to wash my hands again. With the green soap. I did. I was scared of her.

"You can't flush the toilet because people will try to cheat that way. But you obviously wouldn't cheat."

"Haha! No way, if anything you'll find a ton of Dunkin Donuts coffee in my system. And protein. Speaking of protein, have you ever..."

"Git yo dingbat ass outta my office!"

Meanwhile, Moose managed to befriend Prom Queen, peed on her heels, and danced to Islands in the Stream by the BeeGees with her. Pretty sure I heard him say:

"So, yeah, like, I got these babes you know, and they all think I'm da baby daddy. But I ain't. It just that I'm a lover and treat the ladies all good...then they want me raisin' they kid cuz I do right."

Me: Moose, really? You have no concept of females. You only learned all that from watching Step Brothers. Now veclro your shoes and let's go."

"Man, Mother, why you gotta bring up the velcro?"

We had to make a stop at Costco on the way home. As I put Moose in the cart and he was swinging his legs happily, he managed to tell everyone we passed that his Mother just peed in a cup.

"My mother just peed in a cup. They wanna look for Coca-Een. She won't get the job if they find it. I got Spiderman shoes. Velcro."

My son is very discreet. He is currently serving a sentence of 2 minutes on the Time-out Bench for telling the cashier she looked like she did the Coca-Een.

The dish on Deals

There's this store called Deals that I was introduced to not too long ago. It's much better than the Dollar Store and everything in Deals is really $1. Moose and I decided that since he'd managed to completely destroy all of his other toys save the squeaky hotdog, it was time he reloaded his arsenal.

I love this store because they will have these brands that no one has ever heard of and I would highly question the true content of some of their foods. The label may say the food is refried beans, but the ingredients are written in Russian, there's a tiny Chinese flag on it, and the location of origin for shipping is from somewhere is southeastern Peru. Moose stood there for a bit scratching his head trying to translate cooking instructions. He asked me a question at one point and I just said, "No, Moose, we don't have any gasoline to marinate that." It's all a little suspicious.

I did read this article once on MSN Money that listed a few things you should buy at the dollar store. One of those items is vitamins, especially the off-brand stuff. But as is my duty as a personal trainer in fulfilling the obligation to fully research various aspects of the fitness industry, we decided to load up on some of those vitamins. Never mind that some of the bottles had a picture of  a cockroach with a machine gun on them. Just a little humor by those funny factory workers.

But other than a few things, there are other great things you can purchase. The article approved shampoos, household cleaners, spices, kitchen utensils, party goods and gift bags, and obviously various toys and games. 

The MSN article said that the vitamins don't digest right. They also said not to buy toothpaste there because some of them contained a chemical called diethylene glycol--you get that crap in antifreeze! I guess it's easily explained away because maybe they just make toothpaste and antifreeze in the same garage and they always have leftover diethylene glycol laying around. They thought, "Gosh, this stuff sure helps the antifreeze to protect a car engine and make it run well while preventing oxidation. I bet if we added it to the toothpaste, it'll keep your teeth from freezing and rusting too! Yeah, that's it!"


We grabbed a coupla tubes of DentaGoo to go with our Lyfe Buz vitamins. I wasn't concerned at all with the spellings of the names or that we had to sign waivers when we checked out. Moose paid with his weekly allowance and home we went. He got 3 new toys, 100 poop bags, and a brush too...all for $6. A real steal.

We were excited to try our new stuff, so we popped open the vitamins and ran to get our toothbrushes. It was like Christmas at our house! As soon as we popped the lid off the vitamins, there was a weird dust that came out of the bottle and for a brief second I thought Moose strongly resembled Little Bo Peep and he suddenly started doing River Dance. But that moment soon passed and we eagerly swallowed the recommended dose of 6 pills each. The warning said something about having a first aid kit and the Jaws of Life readily available, but we just thought that was more factory worker humor.

As we waited for our bodies to absorb and relish in the magical ingredients, we thought we'd kill time by shining up our teeth. DentaGoo came in a tube that had that little symbol for radioactive material. Misprint, I'm sure.

I flipped open the cap and accidentally spilled a little on the floor. It started steaming and then created a small hole in the carpet but I moved my plant over the hole so that I don't get charged extra when I move out next year. Hate those extra fees.

Moose eagerly shoved his Spiderman toothbrush forward in anticipation of a glob of DG. I gave him some and then got my own and we started brushing away. We took the recommended 2-minute time to  brush our chops and then rinsed thoroughly to experience the shine and clean.

We are now watching a movie. Moose has mysteriously swollen up like a little blowfish and has a weird lump growing on the bottom of his lip. He smiled at me and a tooth fell out and landed on his right leg that seems to be covered in warty clumps. I suddenly got a bad case of herpes on my lip and my hair is falling out. No big deal, though, kinda like my right eye all of a sudden going into spasms and I can randomly speak Mandarin.

A day without herpes is a day wasted.

A trip to the Sprint store

My data card quit working last night which means that I was unable to connect to the internet and obsessively keep track of my fantasy football teams. That and fart around facebook. Moose was pissed because he couldn't play minesweeper but that discussion was quickly shut down when I reminded up that as he's frantically trying to sweep all the mines, his good eye starts to get tired and he always ends up going narcoleptic onto the keyboard. So annoying when I'm also simultaneously trying to constantly refresh my facebook page. There is just not enough elbow room for the 2 of us.

Anyway, my Sprint USB760 Novatel Wireless Modem went dump on me and next thing I know Moose and I are completely disconnected from the human race. We are beside ourselves and all we did was run around the apartment flailing my arms and his little nubby things screaming for mercy. Juan and Rosa came over and offered assistance but we quickly slammed the door and resumed the screaming because it is in our nature just to simply refuse to be realistic and take the time to breathe. Instead of collecting our thoughts and figuring out how to fix the issue, we'd rather lose our heads and throw ourselves to the ground in complete devastation.

Then this morning as we emerged out of our cave, covering our eyes from the blazing sun and unsure of our surroundings, I decided that I might as well get my butt to the Sprint store for some technical help. Moose came along for moral support and hopefully a chance to pee on the tech guy's tasseled loafers.

Since we live in such a technology driven world and no one can seem to function without their bluetooth or constantly being connected in some way, it was hard for us to communicate face to face in an appropriate way. Moose started:

"HELLO! MY NAME IS MOOSE. I NEED TO PLAY MINESWEEPER!"

"Honey, we are you yelling? It doesn't make things easier to understand."

"WHAT? BUT HE WORKS FOR SPRINT."

"I know, but speak quietly, he can still hear you."

Sprint Guy took my device and I informed him of the issue.

"I feel like half a person. I don't know who I am and I don't know my purpose in life unless I am obsessively connected to the world wide web. I have no way of functioning without it. It's like my liver."

"Ma'am, you need to calm down. It's just probably a small issue with the data strips and we'll check it out. If anything, we'll just replace this one."

"But Moose here tends to jump up on my laptop and I think he's knocked something loose with it."

Moose says, "Geez, Mother, can't a dude get up in his mama's face? Can't help it if I need to lick your face and my teeny balls just happen to whack up against the data card. Daaaaaaaamn, Gina."

"Stop calling me Gina."

Sprint Guy, who stands about 5' and weighs a solid 105 lbs, smiles and says that he'll call us when it's ready to go. In the meantime, he asks if I'd like to look around the store.

"No, I don't want to look around your store. I'm within spitting distance of Sprint headquarters and I have no bars of service on my phone right now. What makes you think I wanna upgrade to another phone that would only do the same thing. Oh, that's right...this 5000-dollar phone has an instant savings of $299, with a mail-in rebate of $50, which only leaves me with $4651 to pay. Gosh, I can't wait to get it and have all my calls dropped and then the phone crashes because it can't handle all the apps ya got downloaded like this sweet Nascar tracker."

As Sprint Guy is trying to sell me, Moose is over at another help station asking if there are any panty phones available in the new 4G network. "Yes, I need one that is so fast I can get my hands on a nice pair of pink cotton panties that specifically have a 1/2-inch waistband in approximately 4.3256 seconds. Right now, working at my own speed and with the right wind direction I can snatch a good pair of undies in about 6.57 seconds--gotta improve my time, ya feel me? I prefer those that are 50% cotton and 50% algodon. Not sure what algodon is, but it's yummy."

You got any 4G panties?

"Sir, we don't sell those types of phones."

"Are you sure? It might not have reached the Midwest yet. Think I saw in USA Today that it's flying off the shelves in South Dakota."

"Sir, South Dakota is in the Midwest."

"Oh, I meant in the Bible belt."

"Still the Midwest. Now get away from my station."

As he's walking away, he manages to loudly exclaim, "What kind of place is this that doesn't have 4G panties??"

Me: Moose, let's go. You're so embarrassing and we need to get home so we can finally get back to normal by reestablishing a connection and find meaning in our lives.

"Meaning in my life equals a gift card to Victoria's Secret, lady."

We finally got home, got things reinstalled and managed to reconnect with the world. Moose is now ferociously updating his dating websites and sweeping mines like a mudda. I'm trying to watch some Monday Night Football while tracking my fantasy team and also stalk numerous people on Facebook. Thank Buddha that we are back in contact!

It was like a day with only one good eye.

We went to a garage sale

Overland Park can sometimes have the best garage sales. Entire neighborhoods conspire to get each homeowner to dig out their most worthless crap, dust it off, slap a sticker on it and attempt to sell it to those who may not necessarily live within the same zip code. Some of these OP natives can have some pretty good crap, though.

People have everything for sale: TVs, clothes, boots, shoes, skates, Hot Wheels tracks, lamps, chairs, wire hangers, broken coffee makers, etc. There is never a lack of variety when a person decides to hit up a whole slew of sales during these neighborhood events. 

OPer's display such items in a way that makes them seem like they have some actual worth. But what the poor buyer sometimes fails to see is that some items have been strategically assembled in such a way that it will not fall apart until after you have arrived back home with it. And since many of them come from farther away, it's a move made by vendors knowing that buyers will not bother with attempting to return the item once they realize it really is crap. They live too far away and it would cost more in gas money to make the trip than to actually have any hope of getting their money back.

Moose and I decided to head out to a few. I thought that I'd just park my car on the street somewhere between several houses all displaying a vast array of stuff. Then we'd just take our time on this incredibly nice day and browse through old stretched out shirts, picture frames, water guns, and lamps that no longer have their shade.

I was not looking for anything in particular, but just wanted to have an excuse to be out and about and knew that Moose would love the activity and not lack for attention from other garage salers. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure he tried to finagle a lollipop from a little girl who was determined to buy that pink Barbie scooter for a whole dollar.

"Pssst, hey kid, lemme lick that lollipop real quick."

"No, it's mine. (lick lick)"

"Aw, come on...my Mother isn't looking, lemme just see it for a second."

"No, it's mine. (lick lick)"

"I'll give you one of my poop bags that's attached right there at the end of my leash. Please?"

"No, don't wanna poop bag. (lick lick)"

"I'll give you my monocle."

Meanwhile, I found a nice blouse circa 1973 that I am sure will come back into style in about never. But I was determined to talk down the vendor from her sale price of 75 cents. It is my duty, as an aspiring garage sale maniac, to talk them down to at least one-third of the asking price. That's right, I wanted that devastatingly wretched blouse for 25 cents.

"I got a quarter for that blouse. Can I have it?"

"No, this is a one of a kind piece of crap article of clothing."

"But it would look hideous with my new jeans. Can I have it? Got one quarter..."

"No, see this nice wine stain? That was a bottle of Dom...priceless at this point."

"But I'd really like to accent those pit stains with this crusty, cracked plastic belt I just got for a nickel down the street. Can I have it?"

"For 50 cents."

"I'll give you 30 cents and this lint from my pocket."

"Sold!"

Just as I was paying in lint and small coins, I see Moose snatch the lollipop and we take off running. I drop my belt, get it tangled around my legs, and we go tumbling into the table piled up with doilies and snow globes. Moose face plants and gets the lollipop stuck on his ear.

As we get to our feet I spy a faded pleated skirt that would wreak havoc with my blouse and a pair of neon scrunchy socks. After much haggling and a couple of after dinner mints from my purse, I manage to snare those gems for a grand total of 55 cents and fresh breath.

What Moose and I have just demonstrated is the art of "beading" at a garage sale. This means that we have taken on a gypsy-like persona and outfoxed the vendors in selling their item for almost nothing. According to the website http://www.thundergroundfilms.com/zen/ysdictionary.html, we have managed to pull a Manhattan on those unsuspecting sellers of crap. HAHA!

Now that we're back at home, Moose is staring in the mirror at his lollipopped ear and keeps asking me if it's watermelon or cherry flavor. I'm parading around behind him admiring my new look for church on Sunday.

Watch out, Jesus, we are comin' to get ourselves exorcised of these gypsy ways!

We love our neighbors! (Amamos a nuestros vecinos! )

So Moose and I have the best neighbors. They are quiet unlike the last philandering dude who inhabited the proportionately dumpy townhome next to mine. What I most wonder is if they get to have linoleum flooring that doesn't curl and if BOTH of their knobs on the bathroom sink work. If I told them that my cold water knob was broken and has been for the last 5-6 weeks, they'd running screaming into the front office demanding that someone come in and make their place just as equally crappy. I'm positive of that.

Moose and I like different things about our neighbors, Juan and Rosa (those aren't their names, I'm sure, but I like to give nice ethnic people nice names if I think they're nice. I'm sure people call me nice names too based on my ethnicity--Lupe, Maria, Espiranza, Lolita, Helga, Frau Lederhose, etc. If they don't, they need to start.

Here's what I like about Juan and Rosa:

1) He ALWAYS wears the most perfect ironed pants. And his shirts are always crisp and sharp and his hair is cut very neat. He really takes the time to look nice and I have a lot of respect for that. I live my life in workout clothes and while my shirts are always fresh and clean and my pants are fitted and perfect for being a personal trainer, it never seems to attract the eyes the way his outfits do. Ole Juan!! Moose and I dance around our sombrero in celebration of your ability to starch the crap out of your wardrobe!

2) She always keeps a very clean home and likes to vacuum alot. I vacuum alot too and keep my place clean, so I think she and I are secretly twins, separated at birth. 'Cept she is about 6 inches shorter and looks nothing like me. We're still twins. Just different moms and dads. Still twins. She was born in Mexico, I was born in Paraguay. Twins. Her first language is Spanish, mine was German...ah, crap, who cares. We are facebook BFFs, and that is more than you can say about being connected by blood. Facebook is thicker than blood.

3) I'm pretty sure they make some kick-ass tamales and empanadas. Meanwhile, on our half of this dwelling, I have a staple diet of egg whites, chicken, apples, lettuce, and carrots. Not sure that I could ever get much of anything resembling Mexican food out of those pathetic ingredients. But it keeps me lean and since Moose gets apple and carrots every now and then, his little glutes are starting show some good lift and he's quite the lean little booger himself. What my neighbors may have noticed by now, though, is that on Sundays, some pizza delivery boy is bounding up our walk on his way to deliver yet another meal for 6 to my apartment of 1 and a half. If food is such a big part of their culture, with my eating skills I'm pretty sure that I would have had one kick-ass quincenera back in the day! Makes me wanna hit a pinata filled with churros!

Here is what Moose likes about Juan and Rosa:

1) Juan wears these work boots that Moose kinda likes to pee on when Juan pets him and gives him lots of attention. Juan says it's no big deal, they are his work boots, so Moose just can't help but squirt all over 'em. When Moose hears Juan come home from work: Mother, Mother, can I pleeeeeeeeease go outside? Please oh please oh please oh pleeeeeeeease. He's just right there and I jus' need to see him for a minute! Pleeeeeeeease?? He has literally thrown himself against the door before with his exuberance temporarily knocking himself out and most likely dreaming of a good fiesta complete with tres leches cake and platanos machos. Delicioso amigos!!

2) Rosa likes to put the trash right outside their door and Moose can't help but run over and smell it and hope that one day Rosa will treat him to one of her empanadas. When he sees the bag he immediately makes a beeline for it: Man oh man, she put it out there! I just need to see something, Mother, just a little bit. I bet she put a tamale in there and I bet if I dig hard enough I can get it out!! Por favor, Mami! Poooooor favoooooooor!!!! Oh mi pobre madre dulce, ¿por qué usted tortura me tan? (little did we all know that my son is bilingual. He's not bi-ocular, but he is bi-lingual--hahahahahahahaha)

3) Juan drive 2 low-riders. These are especially attractive to Moose who so happens to be fond of shiny tires that he can leave his mark on. There is nothing Juan likes better than for my uni-vision boy to drench his freshly shined tires with his urine. But Juan is a good soul and lets us look on as he fires up that tricked out truck and puts the hydraulics into action causing it to bounce up and down and right to left--it makes Moose quiver with excitement just knowing he claimed that left front tire as his own.

We love our neighbors. They are good people and they also like to eat IHOP just as much as I do. Moose sits by the door sometimes just waiting for any sign of activity from them, while I try my hardest to figure out where he got that little Mexican flag. Hijole!!

Moose and Nessa go to a wedding...

...and we had no idea when to kneel, when to criss-cross applesauce, or which saint went with what. So we decided, that as a coupla Mennonites, we'd handle this day with grace right there in the pew. The priest was one of the coolest either one of us had ever come across and it made Moose really consider having me send him to a monastery. But I said, "Moose, you don't go to a monastery to become a priest. You gotta, like, study theology or get a master's degree in divinity. Then you should probably volunteer at the parish and help the priest with religious services. Then you have to take a vow and pretty much commit to a life of solitude. No more flirting."

"What? That's what I gotta do? I just wanna eat the wafer things and get blessed a lot."

"Yes, honey, it's not just something you can do...it's a serious commitment. Now come on, he's about to do the reading thing and we gotta say something."

"But I like the ladies...and I like to keep my balls. Do those wafers come in peanut butter flavor?"

"Both those gotta go, and no, the wafers don't really have a flavor--it's about the meaning behind it, the spiritual experience. Now do this chant: aaaahhhhh....rooooogata....aaaaahhhh..laaaay....loooo....yaaaaa..."

"What if we do this: boom shaka laka...boom...wow wow.... I think I saw those cute little Spanish nuns doing the Stanky Leg to that beat earlier..."

"No, that's after the blessing and when Melissa tells Fermin that she will be his wife and love him forever. And stop making things up about the nuns, they don't do that. They make play clothes out of curtains and sing about their favorite things--you know, when the dog bites? When the bee stings? When they're feeling sad? They simply remember their favorite things?"

"Oh yeah, why don't you become a nun, Mother? When do we kneel?"

"Right now...and I'm not going to become a nun, I like my Mennonite heritage that always comes with a side order of fresh bread, butter, and a good game of Dutch Blitz."

"Oooh, I love Dutch oven!"

"Dutch BLITZ, you gassy son of mine! Now kneel and say grace!"

Moose proceeded to kneel but due to his lack of the appropriate length in legs, he uncontrollably slid off the pew, fell forward, and face-planted right into the back of Sister Agnes' habit. He was so embarrassed and just blurted out, "Sweet Mother Mary, this is gonna get me kicked out of the next Mennonite Central Committee sale and I'll never get another cheese curd sandwich again!"

I grabbed  Moose and pulled him back onto the pew and told him just to hum the tune of "Whoomp There It Is" as atonement for this most shameful moment. I couldn't help myself with the humming and we both then did Da Dip right den and dare...pretty sure I caught Moose doin' the booty shake out of the corner of my eye. No one told me he learned that while watching MTV.

He did get brave at the reception and thought he'd try his hand at Spanish considering the groom's family is from Spain. Unfortunately, it went something like this: Hola. Mas grande caca en los pantalones. Donde esta la biblioteca?

Alas, my son just told them he had pooped in his pants and then asked where the library is... Let's forget this moment and just dance the night away, shall we? This ended up being yet another tragic event given that Moose bribed the DJ to play "Get Low" by Lil Jon. Appropriately, Moose then proceeded to imitate Sandra Bullock in "The Proposal" where she happens to dance in the woods with Betty White: from the window to the wall, til the sweat drop down my balls...let me see you get low, you scared, you scared, drop dat ass to the floor, you scared, you scared...

That little booger sure knows how to put on a show. Especially when he put his hands behind his head, wiggled his hips and yelled, "Hey Sister Mary Magdalene, get a loada this!"

Once again my face-planting, pants-pooping, wiggle-wit-it son is making a complete spectacle of himself. But at least he looked handsome: I had made sure that his mini suit was fitted perfectly as his little black tie nicely encircled his little neck and his boutonniere really brought out his eyes, at least his good eye.

He's my baby boy and I love him. We are a good pair and there is never a lack of entertainment or total nonsense...it's a wonder sometimes his mother is able to proceed with her PhD and schools actually take her seriously.