Hug your babies and lock your medicine cabinets.

The Weez got a frantic phone call last night from outside an emergency room, from our dear friend TA*. TA's 3-year-old daughter, Cinderella, had proudly skipped up to her mommy and declared, "Mommy, I took ALL my med-sin," and displayed an empty Benadryl bottle as evidence.

Fortunately, Cinderella's mom, Teeny, is an emergency-room PA, and was able to hold it together in the crisis situation well enough to get Cinderella to the hospital, while administering the correct emergency poison-control measures.

Cinderella was given activated charcoal, which induced lots of vomiting, and was kept overnight for observation. She will be just fine. Her poor parents, however, have sustained scars to their hearts that will never heal.

Cinderella wasn't being willful or disobedient. She thought that she was doing something GOOD, that would please her parents. She was so proud of herself, it makes me weep.

I got teary so many times last night, looking at the Small Child. Even when she pitched an absolute fit at dinner time, I couldn't see it as anything other than a blessing.

If I had my way, not getting a second helping of blueberries would always be the most horrifying thing that my kid ever experiences.

*TA stands for "Titanium Ass," which I felt entirely unappropriate for the tone of this particular entry. Rest assured that I will explain the origin of this particularly colorful nickname at some further time.

Why didn't this ever happen to me when I was single?

*sigh*

From: [Tall Male Acquaintance]@CompanyHe'sContractingFor.com
To: Veeg
Sent: Thu 1/29/2004 12:37 PM
Subject: flying

Want to go to Las Vegas?

Faux-jito.

Ah, those evil geniuses at Coca-Cola. They've invented Diet Coke With Lime. LIME, people! It's zesty and refreshing and totally unlike something that you'd use to dust your furniture (yeah, I'm looking at YOU, Diet Coke With Lemon). And it is the basis for my new favorite White Trash drink.

It is cold here in Da Nortwoods. And snowy. But I can pretend that I'm a dippy chippy in a bikini in a dive bar on South Beach when I'm drinking one of these.

Faux-jito
Mint leaves
1 oz of decent white rum
ice
Diet Coke with Lime


Place mint leaves in bottom of highball glass. Pour rum over leaves. Muddle with pestle, meat tenderizer, back of spoon, or Small Child's toy hammer. Let mixture stand for a minute or two. Add ice. Pour in Diet Coke with Lime. Garnish with lime wedges, if desired. Imbibe.

(If you want to know how to make the real thing, go see Pineapple.)

A Mini-Script.

In which it becomes painfully obvious why certain husbands should be excluded from making contributions to interior decorating decisions.

VG : What do you think of the colors on the walls and trim of the room in this picture?
TW: I really don't like that furniture.
VG: Well, right. . . but it's a spread of Restoration homes. It's period furniture.
TW: Yeah. It's fugly. Period.

An Actual Conversation I Had With The Weez

VG: So I was thinking that we should go see this new musical that's coming to town, and then go for sushi. Maybe have your mom watch the kid?
TW: Sounds good. What's the musical called?
VG: Urinetown.
TW: Um, we can NOT tell my mother we're going to see something with the word "Urine" in the title.
VG: It's not like they're going to PEE on the audience or anything.
TW: !!!!!
VG: Sorry. Maybe we could just say it really fast? And she'll think it's like "you're in?"
TW: It's true that it would never occur to my mom that we'd go see something named after piss.
VG: You're so close-minded. Maybe we could just change the way we empasize it? You know, UrineTOWN!
TW: Well. . . .it does have the benefit of making you sound enthusiastic, when talking about something entirely unpleasant. You'reabitchTOWN! Yes. Let's go with that, hon.
VG: Hee! ChlamydiaTOWN! Heeheehee! You'refiredTOWN! IlikeyoubutonlyasafriendTOWN!
TW: I'msleepingwithanotherwomanTOWN!
VG:
TW: Yeah, I got nuthin'.

UrineTOWN, friends. Don't miss it.

Mic check.

One-two-three-four.