Is that a Baby Ruth?

Picture if you will an idyllic swimming pool setting in beautiful, sunny Central Oregon. It's where us perpetually damp Oregonians go to vacation. We go there because it's one part of the state that doesn't rain 90% of the time, isn't flat as a pancake or hopelessly rugged, and doesn't have cows roaming free.

The SubFamily - Me, Bro, Mom & Dad - would go every summer to a resort there called Sunriver. Golf! Sun! Swimming! Horseback Riding! Miles and miles of paved bike paths!

It's starting to sound like the resort in Dirty Dancing, huh?

After I finish this story, you won't think so.

So, I LOVED swimming in the Big Pool. The thing is massive. My Dad was the kind of guy who worked long, hard hours at his job, but when he was on vacation - he played. He played golf, he took us swimming, we went on bike rides, out to dinner, we floated down the river in our little raft.....you name it. Mom was there too, but she's not as adventurous. Mom laid by the pool on a towel with a hat over her face. Oh, but during adult swim, she would get in the water and paddle around with her face above water, making sure to not get her hair wet. When adult swim was over - back to the towel.

So, one day, late in the afternoon, Dad and I were having swim races. These races basically consisted of me saying 'Ready, Set, GO!' and my Dad giving me a head start so I could win. This was one of my all-time favorite games and we had been at it for a long time. Dad was a trooper.

So, one time, mid-race, I came up out of the water for a breath.

And there it was.

Malignantly floating in front of me.

The horror.

It was......

A giant poo.

Yes, you read that right. A big turd. Innocently bobbing along the top of the water, only it was decidedly not innocent. It was a piece of human crap.

Paralyzed, I said "Um, Dad?"

Ever the calm one, he said "That's not good." And, with his medical professional precision, swished it to the side of the pool, instead of leaving it out in the middle.

Here's where I'm going to give my Dad some MAJOR props. He said, ever so calmly: "We're going to get out of the pool and get ready to go. Then, when we are all packed up, I'm going to go over and tell the lifeguard. Ok?"

Still completely horrified, I diligently followed his instructions. We got out, he pulled my Mom over and whispered something to her about me finding a floater and not wanting me to get blamed for it.....and we packed up and walked out. (I think I should clarify here - IT WASN'T ME!)

As soon as my Dad made his way over to the lifeguard to drop that little bomb, they ran to the main station, came out with very large bottles of chlorine, blew all their whistles as loud as they could and started screaming for everyone to get out of the pool.

And we high-tailed our asses out of there.

I've had a REALLY hard time swimming in that pool since. Now, when I swim in that pool, I swim like my Mom. Head above water.....trying not to get my face wet.....can you blame me?

Nope. It wasn't a Baby Ruth.

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I've written this totally nasty memory as part of Parent Bloggers Network Blog Blast and Huggies Little Swimmers. Clearly the offender needed a pair of those little gems.

Random Friday!

1. Wait - didn't they JUST MAKE a version of The Incredible Hulk a few years ago? Didn't it bomb? Why are they making it again?

2. Matt chops off the top of his finger on Hell's Kitchen. Will I EVER get to eat in a restaurant without thinking horrible thoughts AGAIN?

3. Horrible song of the week: That Don't Impress Me Much by Shania Twain. We're goin' pseudo country today. There's a whole lot wrong with this one. It's annoying, the lyrics are silly, and it smacks of 'drunk girl in a country karaoke bar.' Not good. Not good at all. You know, come to think of it, Shania has quite a few that you may see on Random Friday. Stay tuned.

4. Embarrassing song that I like: Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover by Sophie B. Hawkins. Ok, this one was super popular, so some might not think it embarrassing. But trust me, people....it is. Picture if you will, a dark, smoky bar. A drunk girl who isn't as sexy as she thinks she is takes the microphone of the karaoke machine and sings.....this. (I'm on a karaoke theme today, huh?)

No, I'm not talking about myself. But this is what image comes to mind when I hear this song. Know what else? I don't care! It's a overtly sexual cool song.

5. So, a Ginger Vodka drink recipe for you.....courtesty of the good folks who make this stuff.

Love Potion:
2 Parts Yazi ginger vodka
1 Part triple sec
splash of lemon juice
dash of simple syrup

Knock your socks off good.

6. Bumper sticker I saw around town this week: "Lick'er in the front. Pok'er in the back." Do I live in SUBURBIA? Or Trashy REDNECKVILLE? People. You put that on your CAR. On PURPOSE. What's the MATTER with you?

7. I heard this artist's song on the season finale of Grey's Anatomy last night. It will be mine. I will download and conquer. And yes, I watch Grey's Anatomy. There. I said it.

8. Random odd fact about me....I sing my lungs out when I'm in the car by myself. I don't care who sees me and what they think.

9. Random odd fact about SubHub.....the PICKIEST EATER ON THE PLANET.

That's all I got for ya, folks. Tune in next time for......Random Friday!

WayBack Wednesday

Prom through the ages:

I stumbled on this from Digg. Good times.

The section on "Proms Today" is going to give me nightmares.

Then there's my prom(s). Junior year I was going with a college student and I wore a bright red Victor Costa taffeta confection with a bunch of puffy-ness on the sleeves. Remarkably similar to the link, only red and short. It was made all the more "perfect" with red hose & shoes. I'm fairly certain I looked like a giant strawberry.

My senior prom I went to my good friend Eric. Peach & lace Jessica McClintock. There's a blast from the past. A little dress shop in town would write down the name of the dress and your school and then not sell another one to someone from your school in case *GASP* you wear the same dress as someone else. I mean, really. The horror.

It was the peak of the 80's - 1988 to be exact - when my senior prom occurred. They played Forever Young by Alphaville. I'm wondering if there was a senior prom in America that didn't have THAT as a class song, prom theme, whatever for the few years surrounding the release of that Alphaville album.

The sad thing? I'm pretty sure it was used in a Saturn ad campaign a few years ago. Sell outs.

Where was I? Oh yeah, prom. My senior prom was really fun. I went with a group of friends, and afterwards we were given a hotel room by our parents (I must say here - my 'rents - not so keen on it, but folded under pressure, because they knew and trusted who my date was.) The parents also gave us copious amount of alcohol for afterwards.

D-R-U-N-K. That was me. It occurs to me as I write this that you all must think I'm a total alkie. I'm not. I'm not because of experiences like this one. Drunk, puking in a friend's sleeping bag.....yeah. That'll turn you off the sauce but quick. Of course, it took a few more times of puking my guts out in embarrassing situations to REALLY get the hang of Alcohol = Puke = Trying to Piece Your Night Back Together = Headache before I started exercising better control.

I recall also smoking A LOT of cigarettes that night. And drinking. Did I say that already?

Then, someone had a brilliant idea to go check out the hot tub. So - Alcohol + Cigarettes + Hot Tub + Totally Compromised Judgement = Recipe For Disaster.

Chucked in my friend's sleeping bag.

I'm still friends with a few of those folks.

She's married to the twin brother of the owner of the sleeping bag.

Haven't lived it down. Probably won't.

P.S. As my lovely Sis-in-law pointed out in comments, pics are forthcoming. Damn scanner.

Conversations with Girl Child, Part II

So, driving home from school today, Girl Child and I are chatting. Here's how it went:

SM: How was school today, honey?

GC: Good. E. wrote me a note that says (as she shouts) I LOVE YOU!!! I LOVE YOU!!! I LOVE YOU!!!. With THREE exclamation points. Which means you have to shout when you say it.

SM: Do you love him?

GC: No. O. kisses the boys though.

(Side note: As if these two things relate to one another. That's what gets me.)

SM: Oh, really? Who does she kiss?

GC: D. and T.

SM: Do YOU kiss the boys?

GC: Nooooowuh. I don't want to kiss boys.

And inside Submommy's head, she says "Yet."

!&???@^&$(*&^%%$@(*U()*$#(&*%

Dammmmmmmit.

Our garage door went kaput last week. We get garage door dude out here today. He's SUPPOSED to show up between 12 & 2.

Guess what time he showed? 11:15. Did he call to say he would be able to come early? Nope.

Guess what I was doing? Putting Boy Child down for a nap.

I had to get up from snuggle time, set Boy Child down in the crib, at which point, of course, he freaked, answer the door, and let the guy into the garage.

I told him I would be upstairs for several minutes with my son trying to get him to calm down.

Boy Child is beside himself, so it's taking a long time.

The dude just LEAVES. No note, no estimate....nothing. Disappears.

PO'D!!!!!!!!!

And Boy Child is still freaking out. Thanks alot, dude.