Essential

Lately I've been thinking a lot about the mess in D.C. and the looming government shutdown. Not just because the whole situation is ludicrous, but also because I was there the last time it happened. I was working on the House side then, for a wee little wisp of a congressman who tried to make up with his lack of stature by acting as if he were quite the lady killer; a travel-sized Good Time Charlie Wilson. Very handsy, only called me "Valentine" and liked to try to impress us with stories of the time he valiantly and against all odds co-sponsored legislation to establish a National Postal Service Workers Day. In spite of the very satisfying electric letter opener and the nice lady who worked in the Longworth carry-out and tried to find me boyfriends, I wasn't keen on the House side; it was too big, unorganized and uncivil, and there really isn't a lot of payout in sleeping your way to becoming Mrs. Ranking Member of the Subcommittee on Fisheries and Wildlife. I loathed my job. I distinctly remember getting ready for work one morning and hearing that someone had been stabbed in Old Town but that they were in the hospital and expected to recover fully; I was actually jealous - what's a a little hole in the gut, he didn't have to go to work. Imagine how thrilled I was to hear that when the shutdown came, all nonessential personnel would be furloughed. Surely I was nothing if not completely nonessential, yes? My boss didn't even know my real name! My chief responsibilities were operating the aforementioned letter opener and tormenting our press secretary; I was pretty sure someone could come up with a way to open the mail in my absence, and since the press secretary was (and is) one of my closest friends, I could do as I do now and torment her electronically. Sadly, I was proven wrong; I was somehow deemed essential. In the end, the shutdown was a bit of a tempest in a teapot. My workload was actually considerably lightened due to the fact that so many other agencies were closed, so the only serious inconvenience turned out to be that Willie Ann wasn't around to further my romantic efforts.

I am therefore owed a furlough. Sadly, I think these days I am actually considered essential to my current short bosses because lately I am convinced they don't have the sense to come in out of the rain. I am truly amazed at some of the things I have to tell these two; I can't count how many times I've thought to myself "how is it possible I have to be verbalizing this? Surely this is the first time in history this particular combination of words has been strung together." A few things I've had to mandate in the last week or so:

stop putting your tongue on the toilet
you may not sleep in the herbie curbie
you may not sleep in the dryer
stop putting your tongue on the dog
do not try to write with your buttcheeks
I will not sleep in the herbie curbie, or the dryer
you may not put your toenails in the deli slicer at Publix
ice does not count as dinner
stop putting your tongue in the air vent
you may not shave your eyebrows
stop trying to eat through your belly button
stop putting your tongue in the pencil sharpener
we will not change your sister's name to Roy Alabama, Hotdog Hotdog or Crispick
getting really sweaty does not count the same as taking a shower
you may not live in the garden shed at Home Depot (Ed. note: unfortunately)

I have a headache in my eyeball. Then on top of it all, I had to go to Kinko's this afternoon and the RM wouldn't stop manhandling the Hello Kittae

Hello Kitty, honey, please point to the spot on the doll where the bad girl touched you

 

so in accordance with my new parenting policy, I was forced to disciplinarily sing "You Don't Bring Me Flowers" almost in it's entirety, both Babs' and Neil's parts (which I don't mind telling you I NAILED) until she knocked it off. "Nooooow after lovin' me late at niiiiight/when it's GOOD FOR YOU, babe, and you're feelin' alriiiight/weh-heelll you juuuust turn over and turn out the light...." At least I was able to bring a little joy into the world; everybody except my severely put-upon kids clapped, and the guy at the jumbo printer asked if I did weddings. Unfortunately, the dubious behavior picked right on up again once we got home - AD threw the Candyland box top at her sister's head, who retreated to her room in tears. I finally got her calmed down and playing with her bristle blocks, but then she built this

 

and immediately started sobbing, yelling "I DON'T LIKE THIS IT SCARES ME LOOK IT'S RUNNING TO GET ME." Obviously! I don't know what to do with this. I'm done shepherding them through the painfully obvious for today.

It's both good and bad that the girls actually come by this quality honestly - JHP has been known to make some very questionable, hilarious and completely clueless observations that I've greatly enjoyed mocking him for. One of my favorites is in regards to a photograph Cslos gave me of a random guy walking into Sun Studios in Memphis.

it's haunted by the ghost of a stunningly beautiful woman with a cell phone camera

 

I love this picture. I love it even more since JHP recently asked me "so, do you think that was taken the very first time Elvis visited Sun Studios?" I let that hang in the air for a bit and then said "Probably. Good call." Didn't even have the energy for that one. Just don't try to stick your tongue on it.

 

I am at the mercy of the ignorant. Shit, aren't we all.