The Mystery of the Freshly Brewed Pee

Before you say anything, let me just admit now that after my month of daily blogging, I readily admit that I have become a huge slacker.  Glub glub, I've been busy.  (Not really, but I've been wanting to work "Glub glub" into a blog for a while.)

On Friday, I was going to do a Whoreticulture Friday post on going to the bathroom, as in "Maybe I should drink more water because every time I pee it smells like someone just brewed a pot of coffee."  But then I remembered that Oldest Daughter is going to Homecoming with an actual boy in a week, and locals keep finding out about the blog and I don't want her to get dumped BEFORE the dance because I have to keep those Shutterfly books full so the kids think they had a full and rich stable of childhood experiences.  So, mother of Homecoming Date, if you have stumbled across this blog, my pee does not smell, nor would I even think of blogging about it if it did.

I've had a bad headache all day, and I already took an Aleve and a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, and it's not going away.  Oldest Daughter is at a birthday party overnight, Youngest Daughter is at a friend's house overnight, and The Son and Current Husband went to a movie.  I stayed home and watched George the Superpet and the GD Dog tear the shit out of my yard (pics later this week) and thought about doing something fun, but my head kept pounding out the rhythym of a Sex Pistols song and I polyurethaned something, which oddly did not make my headache go away.

The Son and CH got home, and I sat at the dining room table and asked The Son to rub my neck to make my headache go away, and he balked and said, "Did you eat ham?" and I said no, and he said, "I'm going to wash my hands and get gloves if I'm doing it."  I looked at CH and said, "What the hell?" and CH shrugged his shoulders apologetically and said, "Cowboys and Aliens was out of the theater, I took him to see Contagion."  Apparently Gwyneth Paltrow eats some ham, gets a headache, and dies a horrible death, and spreads it to everyone whom she touches.  SO not only does GP get to travel the world, be skinny, and bone Chris Martin, she is now preventing me from getting massages.  WTF, GP?

I'm going to sell these and raise ONE. MILLION. DOLLARS.

So here is The Status of The Wife in a nutshell:

• I have a headache.
• The Son thinks I am the Contagion.
• My yard has been destroyed by the GD Dog.
• My pee smells like coffee.  Or it doesn't, depending on who you are.

That is all.  Have a lovely weekend, Wifers.
And?  Read the latest post on The Bloggess.  Honestly, people.  She has created some sort of alternate, bizarre, comedic universe where I want to live.  "Knock, Knock, Motherfucker" towels are now on my Lifetime Gift Registry.