Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

Just went to see Final Destination 2. It was a laff riot, with two “F”s. Normally this would be a good thing, except it was supposed to be a horror movie.

That’s what I get for saying the baby doesn’t wake in the night anymore.

I noticed tonight that the three year old’s teeth are really grody. We have to practically tie her up in order to brush them and she whips her head back and forth and so the job never gets done very well. It’s showing now because she’s got more tartar than Red Lobster. I had a sneaking suspicion that having her pacifier (or as she calls it, her “two-tattie”) at night was exascerbating the situation, so I took matters into my own hands and went and cut off the entire end of the damned thing and casually left it in her bed like nothing ever happened.

When she went up to bed she was not impressed, to say the least. Her two-tattie was broken, and she wanted someone’s head for it. I asked if she wanted it and she thrust it away, haughtily as a nouveau riche Frenchman who’s been offered wine from a box. So we read a story and said prayers and kissed goodnight and I went downstairs and waited for the other shoe to drop.

Which it did, with a thud. On the monitor I heard statements like “I want another two-tattie”. “This is no good”, “This one is broken”, and “Please, I can’t go to sleep”, gradually increasing in intensity until I felt her pain in every fiber of my mommy-like being.

I went upstairs to her and told her I was very sorry that her two-tattie was broken and that they were out of them at the store; did she think it would help if I sat on her bed with her and read my book and watched her while she fell asleep? She agreed that she thought it would help, and so I settled in with Bridget Jones’s Diary (excellent book, that) and laid there reading while she occasionally snaked out a hand to pat my arm or touch my hair, reassuring herself that I was still with her, until she fell deeply asleep.

Sometime during the baby’s week-long stomach flu she seems to have weaned herself. She’s been politely turning down offers of nursing with a quiet “No.” for the past week and a half. I guess most people would say congratulations, but honestly I’m pretty sad about it. Not only was it a nice quiet time to bond, but it was a sure fire way to put her to sleep at night, or put her back to sleep in the middle of the night if she woke up. She’s also been sleeping in her bed more often, without waking up and crying to get into bed with us. I think she’s really attached to the quilt that I made for her which is nice; at least I have a hug wrapped around her in proxy while she sleeps. It’s amazing how quickly they grow up.

On the other hand the three year old still refuses to sleep without a pacifier, and now I’m refusing to nap with her when she has it because it’s so fricking noisy. I’ve tried poking holes in them, which didn’t faze her a bit. Anyone have any suggestions on 1) de-pacifiering and 2) potty training a three year old?

They just picked the wrong person to mess with. I have 39 pages of logs, webpages, emails, trouble tickets, and receipts, all fully annotated, ready to send off to American Express. I’m going to take them to Kinko’s tomorrow and copy them all just in case the Florida AG’s office wants them.

Feature price

Background Running ProgramsWe may allow programs to run continually in the background. These are called croon jobs and are considered on a one-to-one basis and an extra charge will be incurred based on system resources used and operational maintenance needed, if applicable. In most cases Featureprice prefers not to impose any extra charges on the customers.

(emphasis mine)

So that’s where they buried Frank Sinatra!

Richard “Dick” Cheese and Lounge Against the Machine a/v area. Download. Listen. Watch. Wear Depends and don’t eat anything while doing so.

This kid took an insane amount of drugs while on IRC and webcam and died. The little dumbasses on the IRC channel kept insisting that nobody should call the cops because it might get him in trouble. Even more disturbing – he’d been prescribed Klonopin, Restoril, Methadone, and Inderal – all at the same time, all apparently without a thought to “might a 21 year old guy abuse these drugs with high abuse potential? Shouldn’t we just give him a prescription for a small amount at a time?” It’s disgusting, that he was prescribed the drugs, that he took them all at the same time, that he was egged by other IRC weenies, and that nobody called the police.

Today I would like to explain to you the proper usage of a word. The word is pique. As in “to pique one’s interest”. If your interest is peaked, that means either that it comes to a little point on the top, or (if you’re using the two syllable pronounciation of the word) that it isn’t looking very well.

Now that’s out of the way, I’d like to tell you about what happened while we were out of town. On Monday the lady who cleans our house came. She made up the bed in the three-year-old’s room, which basically consists of putting the quilt straight on the bed. Then we took the baby to Houston, where her sister was already, and then hub and I skipped town on Tuesday. Which is all a long and drawn out way of saying that nobody had been in the room since it was cleaned up, except me to peek in there briefly and make sure nothing was out of place.

When I went in there today to look for a coat, I noticed that the quilt was messed up. It looked just like a cat had tunneled under it, laid there a bit, then snuck out.

Speaking of cats, Lilly’s bloodwork looks better today, and they think she might not have cancer after all, but rather pancreatitis. Keep your fingers crossed!