Thursday, August 27, 2009

Sex and Pizza

A sure-fire way to make your pizza be delivered 20 minutes earlier or for the cable man to arrive at 8:03 during an 8-6 window is to have sex. Crazy, naked, loud and spine-tingling sex.

Because as soon as you figure you have a good hour to kill and decide to strip down and feel tingly, your doorbell will ring. And then a stream of expletives will drip from your tongue as you struggle to put your underwear on. If you don't have sex, then expect your pizza to be delivered an hour late and your cable man to arrive at 5:57. And expect the tips of your fingers to be bloody and callused from all the tapping they will do while you call the cable man a couple of words that imply he performs carnal acts upon his mother wait patiently while your day is wasted to shit.

That's just the way things go in life.

So what is the best way to ensure that DCF will drop two children on our doorstep at any minute? No, not sex you pervert. The best way is to agree to help two of your friends by watching their children while they work and/or take classes at local colleges.

The first is Tariku, a 19 month old fireball who hysterically points and says "fuck, fuck, fuck" every time he sees a truck. I believe I will read him a book all about construction vehicles just so that I an hear him say that word over and over.

The second is a 2 month old baby named Chase. I watch her at the YMCA on Mondays and her mother came to me in desperation when her care provider backed out. Of course I accepted because I felt her pain and I adore Chase.

I'm watching them in the afternoons on varying days. And I have to mix this with Bear beginning pre-school and Bubba going to pre-school AND Kindergarten and Birdie going to second grade. I will be juggling nap times and bus stops and pick-up times.

Lord help me and give me strength because to say that I will be busy in the afternoons would be an understatement. Like saying that our country has "a little money trouble."

And maybe two weeks into it, I will get that fateful call that my new son is on his way. I'm just gonna go ahead and call fate's bluff. I'm gonna play chicken with fate. I'm gonna put my thumb on my nose and wiggle my fingers at fate. Bring it, fate.

I'll be sure to tell Howie to let you know the address of the mental institution I will be living at for a while. So you can send me flowers.

5 comments:

  1. So true! God's mercies to you, sweets! You have your hands full!

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  2. Have lots of sex too, since that seems to work with the pizza guy. ; )

    I know 4 couples who, in the middle of adopting a baby, found out they were pregnant.

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  3. Well, if I were to turn up pregnant I would have bigger problems on my hands because I would have to explain to my vasectomied husband how exactly I went about getting pregnant :-)

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  4. ah, thats where i'm going wrong, i can't see my husband complaining about the new sex rule lol!

    you have your hands full, but you write with such humour...brilliant xxx

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  5. Damn. I don't know what was more distracting! The idea of food arriving at my house already cooked, or sex that didn't involve the phrase "hurry up, Handy Manny is almost over!"

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