We had the worst night on Monday.
When I got home from work, Mister was very angry because Alice had gone through the kitchen trash again even though we keep it in a cabinet and even though I give her a tummy yummy to keep her busy when we’re not home.
And then he went upstairs to find that she had also carpet bombed Girlfriend’s room, which never happens.
I’m serious. This dog is a saint.
And she was obviously fucked up on something because she was panting and shaking and looking at her bum like it was some sort of entity she didn’t recognize because that’s what she does when she has The Farting.
So we figured she must have eaten the empty bag of cocaine coffee filter from the trash and that she has a cocaine Starbucks buzz like you read about. But we weren’t too concerned because we thought it would wear off and she’d be fine.
Around midnight, Alice was very much not. fine. and was sitting on my head and panting with her whole body so I got out of bed to seek advice from the Internet to weigh her chances of surviving the night sans medical attention as opposed to putting on a bra and driving 45 minutes to pay out the ass at the 24 hour doggie emergency room when she hurled and had explosive swamp ass simultaneously on my foot (!) and all over the only room in the house that still has wall to wall carpeting.
Why do dogs always pick the carpeting?
It was so violent that it scared her so she ran around the room spraying evil from both ends.
It was a lovely experience really and exactly what I wanted to be doing at midnight.
So I snapped on my rubber gloves and cleaned up the mess with some bleach and paper towels and oh my it was a smell that dare not speak it’s name.
And you know I wasn’t going to let Mister sleep without being informed of current events in the computer room.
So I woke him up and he brought Alice outside while I cleaned and then joined them outside to wait out the storm. She seemed a little better after running around the yard and doing her thang so we all went back to bed and fell asleep.
And then our drunken friend called to tell us George Carlin died.
Yes, thank you but he’ll still be dead tomorrow so…yeah you’re a douche.
So we went back to sleep for maybe an hour when Girlfriend falls out of her bed and screams her head off demanding Tinker bell band aids and medicine for the pain which were totally unnecessary because she landed on her feet when she “fell” about a foot and a half to the floor.
We’re nothing without high drama around here.
That’s just how we roll.
And then she demanded to sleep in our bed and knee and elbow us all night.
And then we were out of coffee in the morning.
I was so groggy in the shower that when I went to put shampoo in my hair I missed and put it in my left eye instead. As if that wasn’t irritation enough, when I was soaping up my bath poofy I splashed body wash into the same damned eye so I walked around all day with a stingy red crack whore eye.
It’s a look I sport quite often actually.
Once out of the shower I noticed that the house still smelled of last night’s doggie pukeapalooza and upon investigation discovered more issues under my nightstand. And under my bed. And in my closet.
Having finally cleaned up what I thought was the last of the shit or barf or whateverthefuck it was I head downstairs to make breakfast and I find what?
On the couch.
So I cleaned that up too and headed off to bring Girlfriend to her 3 year doctor’s checkup. She did great and didn’t tell the doctor to fuck off even once and I even overheard the doctor say to her nurse “kids like her are the reason I went into this field. She just made my day. She’s just adorable.”
I’ve never been more proud.
And then we left with our prescription for a lead screening blood test but apparently our stop off at the potty was enough to make me forget that the blood lab is downstairs and upon exiting the potty I marched us right back up to the window at the pediatrician’s office and presented them with the slip for the blood lab.
The receptionist was very polite and didn’t really judge me much and directed me downstairs.
“Oh, right. I knew that. How stupid of me…”
So we got through the blood lab and Girlfriend received 2 stickers and a giraffe band aid for being so brave and I got nothing even though I cried twice and almost passed out.
Once I got out to the car I realized I didn’t have my sunglasses.
So I went back to the pediatrician’s office with my crack eye still stinging like a motherfucker to see if anyone had turned them in.
The receptionist who clearly has prior experience working with the retarded, the infirmed, and the drug addicted just looked at me, patted her head, and said “do they look like the ones on your head?”
So we made a couple of quick stops and came home with a special treat for lunch for both Girlfriend and for mommy for being brave at the blood lab and found out that the entire house smells like a diarrhea swimming pool.
It’s funny how you don’t notice a stench until you’ve been away from it for a while.
It’s also funny how when you’re totally focused on your child you don’t notice that your eye is fucked up.
Upon investigation in the mirror I noticed that my still stingy crack eye had apparently leaked yucky goo that I must have wiped across my face inadvertently and it had dried on in a lovely cumshotesque pattern down my cheek.
I’ll be expecting that call from both the ASPCA and Child Services any moment now…