Hump Day and Kardashians

Hey Wifers, what's up?  Say hello to your mother for me.

So it's Hump Day as I'm writing this, and honestly I don't have much going on, so I'm going to just recap today for you.  Since this blog is called A Day In The Wife, I like to occasionally throw in one that is an actual day in my actual life.  In sum, I'm trying to bore you to death.  Here we go:

6:21 a.m. - my clock says 6:21, but it is actually closer to 6:10.  I like to try and trick myself in the morning by setting my clock for a later time, but I know what the actual time is, so who's the fool now?  Oh.  It's still me.  Additionally, I push my snooze twice because I know my snooze gives me another 9 minutes per push.  If I push it twice, I will get up at 6:39, which is actually 6:28.  I get ready to take a shower, but wake The Son up and he has a fit because HE needs to take a shower, so I have a cup of coffee and make some lunches while he uses up the hot water.

7:36 a.m. on my bedroom clock, which is 7:24 on my oven clock, which is 7:26 in my van.  We're late.  Anything before 7:26 is early, anything after is late.  I take five middle schoolers to school in the morning, and they like to be there a little early so they can hang out before school and find out what new drama is going on in the life of the American Teenager.  There is another parent who drives a big black Hummer with Iowa Hawkeye plates that, unbeknownst to him, races us to school every day.  We beat him there a lot, but today he beats us.  Damn it.  I'm very competitive with that Hummer.

7:48 a.m. on the van clock.  I get to work, unpack my stuff, get my coffee, and have a few quiet minutes to check my e-mail, voice mail, Facebook, blog, Twitter, and plan my day.  I have one direct report, she is almost always at least 15 minutes late, which is fine because she stays late too, but once she gets there, we all start talking.  I have GOT to find a way to break the talking.  It's not like I don't enjoy talking to her, but I can hear company money cha-changing in the background, and I feel guilty after about 10 minutes.

8 - 11:30 a.m. I deal with hooker issues.  I actually blog about rug hooking.  It is noteworthy that my rug hooking blog does not have a Whoreticulture Friday.

11:30 a.m.  I pick up Oldest Daughter's boyfriend's mom and we go to the high school to buy musical tickets.  I buy $120 worth of tickets.  I have just committed myself to 9 hours of "Anything Goes" in mid-April.  I hope anything goes, because by my third show I'm coming in sweatpants, flip flops and my carrying my full Snoop Dogg chalice.

12:05 p.m. - Drive thru at Taco Bell.  Take my first drink of Mountain Dew and smell my chicken quesadilla and wonder yet again why I can't lose any weight.  It just makes no sense.  Is that an extra taco in my bag? 

12:15 p.m. - Back at work.  I walk in and someone who is off the clock has pulled up a chair and is eating her lunch in my direct report's cubicle, who IS on the clock for another 45 minutes, so after 10 minutes of me and the two men in customer service having to listen to their personal conversation, I say in a sing-song voice, "Okay, time to go, she's still working for 45 minutes!" and they go silent and I'm sure making facial gestures about what a bitch I am, but honestly people.  Let's get back to work.  I'm her boss and you are flaunting it in front of me that you are monopolizing her time and keeping her from working.  You aren't the first, or the last, people to be mad at me today.

12:15 -4:45 p.m. - More hooker issues, including one person who orders product, tells me she is from out of town and will pick it up in our office on Friday, I agree, get off the phone, and realize we are closed on Friday.  I tell her if she calls me on my cell phone when she is done with her tax appointment in town, I will meet her to give her the rug hooking equipment on my day off because I AM A BIG FAT IDIOT WITH A SOFT SPOT FOR OLD HOOKERS WHO DON'T WANT TO PAY SHIPPING.

4:50 p.m. - Drive home, relish the silence.

5:00 p.m. - George the Superpet greets me at the door, shoves his snout in my crotch, and will not allow me to pass until his ears have been adequately scratched.  Walk in, set my stuff down, start making a delicious dinner of Pizza Rolls, along with yogurt with granola.  Seriously people, this is dinner lately.  CH is taking The Son to baseball practice, I'm taking YD to dance class, but we have to stop at the high school and pick up OD from musical practice first. 

6:00 p.m. - Picking up OD from practice when YD announces she has an upset stomach, and actually she has had one all day, and doesn't think she should go to dance.  (NOTE:  She didn't have any pizza rolls, lest ye think the Totino's did it!)  I sigh, say okay, and pick up my phone to text the friend who was meeting me out for an hour while the girls were in dance.  Sorry Friend!

6:30 p.m. - Go to grocery store because a few people are stopping over late tomorrow night for a quick drink.  Check out and see that out of my $200 grocery bill, $100 is for liquor and brownies.  Just the staples for Easter.

7:45 p.m. - Home.  Time to sign planners and homework showers and brush teeth and get ready to do it all again tomorrow. 

8:30 p.m. - Everyone is in their respective bedrooms, reading or studying, and YD comes back out to me.  She is holding an M Magazine, which features about 16 celebrity heads on it, like Taylor Swift and Taylor Lautner and the Beebs.  I think of it as Junior People, and features a lot of Nick and Disney stars.  I never consider the articles.  "Mom.  I need to ask you a question, but don't tell Dad."  Okaaayyyy.  This is always tricky because CH and I make it a practice to tell each other everything.  It's less complicated than lying and I don't have the energy or the memory to do that anymore.  "Well, tell me what it is and I'll let you know if I can keep it a secret."  YD looks sheepish.  I look down and see a picture of the Kardashian sisters in her pre-teen magazine.  Is nothing free of the Kardashians? 

 "Mom...what's a period?"

Fucking Kardashians!!

I guess they are shilling for Kotex now.

So PLEASE, explain to my child how periods work.

And is that "Berlin Wall" supposed to be a metaphor? 

Why do you have a sledge hammer and 6-inch heels? 

In a red dress?  Are YOU the period Khloe?

9:30 p.m. - Because of the Kardashian sisters, my soon-to-be 9-year-old is now terrified of getting her period.  I know this is my own fault for not screening her M Magazine, which we buy for Victoria Justice and get a sneaky bitchy Kardashian.  It's like buying a Capri Sun juicebox for your child and finding out it's 10% vodka - you know it's not the BEST thing for her but you don't expect that crap in it.  So she's a little traumatized, and she will also never enjoy a raspberry-filled donut because I sort of used that as my metaphor for a uterus and the lining.  But?  A baby who developed in a raspberry-filled donut?  Would grow up to be the HAPPIEST ADULT EVER.  I wish I was in a raspberry-filled donut right now.  And obviously?  Don't mention this to YD.

10:30 p.m. - Take two Benadryl and finish Mindy Kaling's "Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?"  which is a funny title because it's what I always asked my friends in high school, and what actually happened in college.

11:00 p.m. - WHAT WILL PROBABLY HAPPEN: Go to sleep to fitful dreams that I have overslept and didn't set the alarm.  Wake up at 5:58 (really 5:47) and realize I have about 20 minutes left to sleep.  Cling desperately to the idea that I can still sleep.  Oversleep slightly and get out the door late.

But I do have Good Friday off, so that's good news.  Except for that quick hooker meeting in the afternoon, which is conveniently located near a Starbucks.  The perfect way to start the weekend.  A good Good Friday to you, Wifers!