Meet my imaginary friend BJ

So says Large Fry. He introduced his new imaginary friend to me this morning. HER name is BJ.

Imagine my surprise upon taking Large and Small Fry to town only to be told we were not alone. BJ was with us. BJ is a fun loving girl who gets into trouble, rolls down car windows, and at times barks.

Today BJ has been a riot. She's pounded the floor, squirted juice, and made a mess on the floor.

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But the most awesome example of how BJ is slowly starting to ruin my life and it's only been one day was at the post office this morning. I was stupid enough to take Large Fry out of the vehicle and allow him to come into the building with me to check the mail. Mistake One-complete.

I then allowed him to talk to people. As we were leaving with our A&W flyers (yes I horde those like a fat kid hordes pie. I love A&W for cheap!) Large Fry runs over to the counter and starts waving the post office lady over. Unsuspecting she walks over to him and asks him "How can I help you?" And he replies "Have you seen my BJ? It was here a minute ago!" Mistake Two-complete

That poor flustered post office worker. She was looking around like crazy, hoping someone would save her from this tiny child asking her where his BJ was. I can't even deny he is mine because we look identical. Sometimes having a clone fucking suck. So I shuffle over to retrieve the child only to have him screeching "BJ! BJ! WHERE DID YOU GO BJ! I NEED MY BJ RIGHT. NOW!"

I have two options at this point.

Option A- Run. Grab him and run as fast as my ass will run and don't ever look back *cue possible looks of contempt and pity.

Option B- Have a short lived conversation about how he has a new imaginary friend named BJ, no I don't know where he got the name from, and yes I realize it's completely inappropriate but have you ever tried to reason with this kid? It just doesn't work on so many levels, but the biggest is because he's smarter than I am. *cue absolute looks of "What the hell are you smoking Lady?" and possibly pity.

Secret option C- Do option B and drink the leftover rum when I get home.

Option C is looking pretty damn good right now. Mission Mortify Mom? Complete

Lesson Learned

Pulling out of the 7-11 last week, I got cut off by some bitch hauling her big ass Navigator into the gas pumps.

Me: What a bitch!

Large Fry: Mommy, you're a bitch!

*insert smile*

The Week the Internet Went Out

You read that right. For a solid week it was me versus them with no Internet.

First- The loss of Internet

I had not realized how entangled I have become with my love of the Internet. When the signal first faded I sat at my laptop and hit refresh for a good 20 minutes. Then a restart. Then another restart.

Finally I called our provider. It was then I was told the awful news- your dish is windblown. We will not be able to come up for a WEEK.

There was an icy hand had clutched my heart at this moment. I felt faint.

No....Internet? What will I do?

Groom suggested housework. Not just normal housework but that deep down cleaning involving gloves and pails of water. Bwha ha. Uh, how about no?

It was then I had went back to the laptop and tried to brainwash it into working. When that didn't happen I admitted defeat and packed it away. Just looking at it reminded me of all the good times we have had together. The chatting, the shopping,..well that's really it. But there was a LOT of it.

Phase 2- The children

As Large Fry spent the majority of this at school, he was not as affected by the loss of Internet. Only when he came home from school did he realize that he could not go on his "lappy" and was doubting my knowledge on the subject, asking every 3 minutes "Is the Internets back?"

I get the feeling he was holding this out for me:

It was me vs Small Fry. Small Fry seems to have a good knack for finding people at their weak moments. He was trouble with a capital T all week.

I folded laundry--he unfolded it.

I put the laundry away--he took it out of the drawers

I mopped the floor--he squirted milk all over it

I cleaned the bathroom--he put toilet paper all over it

I loaded the dishwasher--he unloaded it

I made the beds--he tore the blankets off

This when on all week but one day was really bad. So bad I said fuck it once it was over and had my version of a drink: Reese's Pieces ice cream.

He's a force but I thought I could take him. I put him in the BJD or the Baby Jail Device aka the crib after he had systematically went through the above list, destroying my work and my plan to sit on my ass later.

I put on Godforsaken Mickey Mouse and I attempt to redo everything I just listed. I hear him baby babbling and laughing hysterically. Ahh Mickey. You never fail me do you? You just sing your songs and find your clues and entertain my child while I get some shit done so I can sit on my ass in front of TV later and tell Groom how motherfucking hard I worked all damn day and he should leave me alone to bask in the results of my hard work and my secret TV crush.

It was when the giggles grew louder that I became concerned. Now I know Mickey can be a riot but this was a bit on the dark side of laughter. A cross between Darth Vader and Bugs Bunny with a stern "NO!" entered ever so often. So I peak in and discover that he had pulled EVERYTHING from the shelving unit about his crib off. All the diapers, wipes, bears, everything. He was in the middle of throwing ALL the medicine to the ground (He had already pulled all the wipes out) and resulting in laughing hysterics when they hit the ground.

He hands me one with the most beautiful smile and says "TANK-TOO!"

Seriously?! From the CRIB you have managed to create more work. It's a special gift my son..a special gift you have. The ability to be fully confined and yet still create total chaos around you.

We are all seriously going to fear him one day. I hope he remembers I was once the ass wiper when he takes over the world.

Does this shit only happen to me?

Seriously? Does it? Do I have some sort of "Fucked up situation" beacon on my back that allows for some twisted universe beam to laser me at any available opportunity? For laughs? For shits and giggles? So somewhere, someone can sip on a beer (or whatever the beverage choices are up in Who Knows Where) and mock me as I try to regain control of a hopeless situation?

It started out oh so simple. The grocery store. It's a simple mission. I needed bread and milk. BREAD and MILK. This should be easy enough right? But as past incidents have demonstrated, nothing ever goes easy.

As ingrained into me long ago, I grab a Cola from the cooler as I make my way into the store. This is a long established routine I got from my mother. It seems neither me or her can walk into a grocery store and NOT grab a drink. So I grabbed a 20 oz Cola and I sit it into the cart where Small Fry is sitting up front in the driver's seat, looking cute, and grinning from ear-to-ear at people are walking by. It's the perfect set up for browsing. Calm child, cool drink, and nothing to do but browse to kill time.

During this time Small Fry has noticed the bottle but thinks nothing of it. He's picked it up. He's looked at it. But he's really not impressed and continues to people watch. It's PERFECT. I almost feel smug. "Ha di ha. See my perfectly content baby you assholes? See? He CAN be good."

As we enter the line to check out, I'm gazing lustfully at a bag of Jalapeno Doritos when it hits the fan. Oh literally. Small Fry shrieks, grabs the (unopened) cola, gives it 3 or 4 very fast shakes, and literally hurls it to the ground at rapid speeds. Now this is where it gets scientific: The angle to which the bottle hit the ground was dead on, causing the lid to spew and the bottle to rotate on the ground while spewing cola. An exact replica of the Pepsi Incident of 2007* that occured with Large Fry in my kitchen.

But instead of the privacy of my kitchen, it's the line of the grocery store. And in this instance instead of only me getting spewed, it's other people in the matter of 20 seconds. And once I finally grab the rotating bottle of spew and pick it up (which it's still spewing) I've drenched myself in cola. Small Fry has not one drop on him. The lady in front of me has it up her pants. The man behind me has it all over his carry cart of groceries. The kid running the till doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry at the huge mess that has befallen his till. It's all over the rack of candy, the till and the floor. It's just...everywhere.

I have no words. I'm shrieking and apologizing and scolding all at the same time so it's really just me flapping my arms around a fizzing bottle of cola all the while trying to make sense of the situation before me. I probably resembled a dodo bird before extinction:

Dodo Me: What to do?! What to do?! Maybe I should just flap around and wait for a suggestion or help to fall from the sky!

Oh wait a second! I see! I see..oh nothing. Just my child getting the better of me. Again. No wonder velociraptors ate other raptor eggs. I'm beginning to see their logic.

And the entire time, Small Fry has clapped his hands and cheered screeching babble that I'm sure translates into something similar to "Ha ha smug Mother. NEVER doubt me! Ever!!"

I never will again. For all I know we are banned from that particular store by now.