Sunday, July 13, 2008

BloomingtonGirl's Prison of Pokemon, Pickling, Preserving and (not) Pooping

I always did like over done alliteration, Loyal Readers. But, let's not waste time talking about that. Let's jump right into my rant, shall we?
First of all, I am completely sick to #$%@-ing death of Pokemon. It is like our family has walked into some sort of alternate universe. The Universe of Pokemon. All Pokemon, All The Time. It wouldn't be so bad if Jack were not the only child at home. If he had siblings his own age, he might badger them into participating in his stupid Pokemon "battles". Sadly he has no siblings at home. Play dates can stand in for real siblings of course, but when Jack has no play date, I have to be his Pokemon opponent.

I cannot tell you how incredibly BORING and STUPID it all is. Lest you think that I am a completely unfeeling mother, I want to state for the record that there is a part of me that really does understand that these young years go by quickly and that someday I will wish that my child wanted to spend time with me to do anything at all and so I should cherish these little Pokemon battles...blahblahblah. Yes, there is that part of me. But, the larger part of me is of another mind entirely. Behind glazed over eyes during the seemingly endless and completely meaningless Pokemon battles, that larger part is wondering how soon Chris and I can send our kid to boarding school and not look like awful parents. Oh, and not screw our kid up too badly. Don't get me wrong, I do love my child deeply. But, Pokemon is slowly sucking my brain out.

Now, it wouldn't be so bad if my other major compulsory activity were something that didn't maim my fingertips on an almost daily basis. Yesterday, I lopped off a piece of my index finger. So, now I have matching mutilated digits to show for all my cabbage cutting. This time, the injury was from a food processor blade I was employing to shred up some cabbage for coleslaw, apparently my husband's new FAVORITE food. Who knew? I have never once seen him so passionate about any one thing in all the time I have known him. I cannot count how many times a day he says, " I really like coleslaw" lately. I like it, too, but come on, people. It's getting a bit ridiculous.

At least I didn't have to go into the clinic for the index finger injury. I knew I was up to date on my Tetanus shots after all.

This weekend, I have made coleslaw, pickled red cabbage (canned no less) and Japanese salted cucumber pickles. Oh, yes, and I started a batch of homemade yogurt earlier this evening. It should be done incubating by the time I go to bed. If not, my husband can get up from his sleep to transfer the stuff to the fridge. After all, it was his idea to do all this home fermentation.

Yes, your BloomingtonGirl is cranky. And, I'll tell you why, if you can promise to be discreet with this somewhat embarrassing information. No, I am not having the dreaded PMS. I am, quite honestly, CONSTIPATED! That is the injustice in this situation! All this cabbage and pro-biotic crap and I'm not regular!!! How can this be? I am consuming large quantities daily of sauerkraut and coleslaw and half-sour pickles and all I have to show for it is some stinky gas. Some very stinky gas, if I may say so.

Someone wise once said (and it may be my favorite saying of all time) that "There is nothing so overrated as great sex and underrated as a great dump."

Don't misunderstand, Loyal Ones. I am not saying that great sex is not great. It is. Even mediocre sex (not that I ever have mediocre sex, of course) is pretty darned good. But let's face it. While people might often go on and on about how great sex is, you would be hard pressed to get someone at a cocktail party to exclaim, "Wow, I had a GREAT dump today! It was absolutely heaven!" And, let's be honest. Who doesn't feel like a million bucks after a great poop? I would feel like two million if I could have one of those underrated poops right now. Not one million. TWO.

That's enough of that. I am off to put Jack to bed (!!!) and hunker down with Lady Chatterley. I am almost done with it and have to say that I think it to be a rather weak novel. I will finish it however.

Maybe in the bathroom if I'm lucky.




1 comment:

Steph said...

I hope things are better for you! My life is miserable when I can't go - I'm sending good thoughts! ;-)