Pool Snark

Local temperature:  hotterthanfuckinghell for the past few days.  i’d managed to ditch work, and get poolside by 4pm.  Silence.  Between baking in the heat, and dipping in the cool, chlorinated water, i was enjoying a fine decompression cycle.

Fifteen minutes into my human laundry operation, i heard a gaggle* of boyz descending upon the communal facility.  Five of them, ranging in age from about eight to twelve years old.  Equipped with squirt guns, they barreled through the gate, and dive-bombed the water as i was relaxing on a lounge chair…

Their mother/keeper and a friend settled in a few minutes later on their chairs, a few yards away from me.  As the boisterous boyz played a noisy game of “Capture, Drown and Torture”, their mom said “Watch out that you don’t get other people wet with those, okay?”

i was the only ‘other people’ there, so i appreciated that she was attempting to manage the chaos.

Within minutes, however, it was clear she was going to SUCK at managing the chaos.

Running on the concrete, taking one of the metal pipes apart, and very nearly drowning the youngest.  “Don’t squirt water in his face!  You hear me?”  They were having a blast on a hot day.  “I said you need to stop running, okay?”  The noise didn’t bother me, as they were having fun.

It was when i got hosed with the squirt gun unexpectedly that i started to get a bit miffed.

Mom:  Boys!  Be careful with those!  And stop running!  [to me] Sorry!

i waved it off.  Went back to dunk in the pool again to re-soak my body and swimsuit.  As i walked down the steps into the pool, one of the kids ran past Mom (who was now back to yakking with her friend), and then cannonballed himself into the pool nearly on top of me.

Mom hollered some more ineffective parental-sounding statements, and the boyz went back to their chaotic play.

It wasn’t the noise, or even the splashing, that finally got me to leave.  It was having to listen to one of those milque-toasty, door-matty, victim-moms pretending to be an adult, while a herd of kids run her over like a sailcat on hot asphalt.

Started to pack up my gear.  Put the towel around my waist, slipped on my sandals and headed toward the gate.

Mom:  Sorry they’re so loud!

daisyfae [cheerfully]:  Well, being sorry and actually doing something about it are apparently two different things!  But hey, enjoy the rest of your day!

pic found here, along with a nicely written post on wimpy-ass parenting.

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* What’s the collective noun for a group of boyz?  In this case, i’d have to go with “A Feral of Boyz”.  For crunchy, middle-aged broads like me?  Pretty sure it’s a “Snark”…

Not quitting my day job

Over the weekend, i attended a friend’s 50th birthday party.  It was an outdoor picnic, complete with roast pork products, many dozen friends and relatives, and perhaps a few coolers full of beer.  She’d asked me to bring my guitar, and be prepared to drop in with one of her other friends to provide some entertainment.

With my arm twisted so tightly behind my back, it took a full nanosecond for me to say “Sure!”, while simultaneously blowing the dust off my set books and digging my guitar case out from under the spare bed.

Dragging my friend Studley McRocklegs along as roadie for the day, we spent a pleasant afternoon celebrating.  When it was time to set up the amps/microphones, we ran the extension cords, and grabbed a few more beers.  i had a wonderful time jamming with her friends, encouraging crowd participation*, and throwin’ down like a wannabe rock star!

On the drive back, Studley couldn’t wait to tell me about a conversation that occurred while i was performing.

Charlie [grillmaster, full of Bud Light]:  Hey, you’re wife’s really good!  Do you think she could play at our pig roast in September?

Abby [Charlie’s patient wife]:  She’s not his wife! 

Studley:  She loves doing it!  I’m sure she’d be willing to play…

Charlie:  How much does she charge?

Studley:  Nothing, she just does it for fun!  If there’s a roasting pig, you probably can’t keep her away.

Charlie:  She’s good!  Seriously, how much does she charge?

Studley:  Seriously, she’ll do it for free! [grinning] And careful how you ask that, Charlie!

Charlie:  Oh, I ain’t sayin’ she’s a whore or anything…

*Always bring a cowbell.  i never leave home without it…

Surf’s up

Funny thing about being stung by a jellyfish?  It doesn’t die after it stings you.

Unlike a bee sting, where you at least have some satisfaction in knowing that the little fucker has just flapped his little wings for the last time after he injects you with venom, the jellyfish just swims on.  Probably pretty oblivious that he has just fucked with your morning.

If a dog bites you?  You can smack it.  If you are attacked by a snake?  Crush it’s head with a shovel, and leave the body as a warning to the others.  But if you reach down to smack a jellyfish after it stings your legs?  It will happily sting your arm, and then swim off without a care.

On the bright side?  It’s not going to ruin the weekend…

Not too long ago, i realized that it had been about 6 years since my kids and i have had a vacation together.  Starting in about 1998, we’d take off somewhere for Spring Break*, and it seemed a good time for us to do it again.  They’ve both been working overtime, and a long weekend seemed like the thing to do.

So here we are.  i let them choose from a short list of east coast locations.  The winner?  Tybee Island, Georgia.  No major plans, other than a couple of beach days, then a couple days farting around in Savannah.  While they were snoozing the morning away, i hit the beach.

And that was when the beach decided to hit me back.  All in all, there are worse things than being stung by a jellyfish.  Like returning to your hotel room, informing your children that you’ve had a minor scrape with the local wildlife, and getting the sympathetic response of “Hey, want me to pee on it?” from your son…

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* My approach to avoiding the dreaded “Mom, can I go to Daytona Beach with a car full of stupid teenaged boneheads for spring break?” question?  Take them somewhere better from the time they were in junior high school.  Germany,  England, San Francisco, the desert southwest…  We had some adventures.