Archive for May, 2010

So for the J-Man’s birthday, all he really wanted was to go to this huge summer concert that is being thrown by the local hip-hop and rap radio station here in Chicago that goes by the name of B96.

The B96 Summerbash is a yearly thing; and features artists that I have never heard of, don’t want to hear about, and probably wouldn’t like. We’re talking young kids with big chains that rap, dance, and have too many microphones on the stage, people. We’re talking the antithesis of rock.

Still, the child really wanted to go, so I called Norton.

“Hey, would you be interested in taking us to the Summerbash?”
“What is a Summerbash?”
“The B96 rap concert thing.”
“Sure.”
“OK. It’s going to make your ears bleed.”
“I don’t care.”
“Right on.”

Norton is thankfully among the most laid-back of the laid-back people.

I bought the tickets, including an extra ticket so that the J-Man could take a friend, which upped the price to say, half a frillion dollars once the lovely Ticketmaster fees and ass-raping charges were included, and we were ready to rock and roll.

I decided to tell J. on Monday when he arrived home from school. I had already told him that no way, no how was I taking him to the Summerbash, because A: it was too expensive, B: it would make my ears bleed, and C: he was too young; so I knew that he would have no idea what was about to escape from my lips.

“Hey, how was school?”
“Crappy.”
“Right. I have a surprise for you.”
“WHAT?!”
“Now, this is for your birthday, but I’m telling you about it early because-”
“WHAT WHAT WHAT?!”
“I got you-”
“WHAT?! DID YOU GET ME A CELL PHONE?!”
“No, I did NOT get you a cell phone. I got you-”
“WHAT?? WHAT IS IT?!”
“I got you and a friend tickets to the-”
“OH MY GOD TICKETS TO THE SUMMERBASH I LOVE YOU MOM!!”
“Yes.”
“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!”

Then he proceeded to jump up and down, screaming, and hug me, a lot. Hard. I think he may have cracked a rib.

Now begins the drama of picking who he will take. He has already announced that he HAS the tickets all over Facebook, so all the little miscreants in his class who normally wouldn’t give him the time of day are sidling up to him in class, trying to get in good with him.

I have warned him about exactly this phenomenon, and told him to take someone who has Always been his friend, someone nice, and someone non-annoying, for the love of Jesus.

In related news, I received child support for the first time in over a year the other day, which makes all of this possible.

While The Shit does not send me regular support and while the charming and lovely Child Support Bureau has not been able to track his ass down, I did get a healthy cut of his tax return last year and now this year. (Which sort of mystifies me. I mean, if they get his tax return, don’t they fucking know where he is working?)

Thankfully the money came again, so we could afford the Summerbash and a lot of other things without having to hock our kitchen appliances.

It’s nice to have a little unexpected windfall. I was so pleased that I charged a new dress on my credit card, which in retrospect was probably a stupid move, but at the time felt really awesome.

In other news, I have a bulimic hamster.

Every night I place Alice the hamster into her ball for a little exercise, and every night she rolls around for a little bit and then vomits all of her food into the ball.

Anyone know of a good hamster therapist? Because I am concerned.

Happy Wednesday.

Friday night I headed over to V.’s house to spend the night, as we were invited to what was purported to be a Lady Gaga dance party.

Thankfully this was not the only tuneage played, for while I can appreciate the odd Gaga song, I am not a slavish fan that would dig hours upon hours of the stuff.

At the party I:

*did not have any seizures
*drank my weight in beers
*sang a very passable rendition of Prince’s “Kiss”
*watched and laughed as my friends did a Romy and Michelle-style interpretive dance to Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time”
*lost badly at Scrabble
*made fart noises at a baby
*drunk-dialed Norton at least three times
*tested out sex lotions on my nipples (the party began to seriously degenerate as the hours went by)
*got made fun of a lot by my bitch-assed friends for having good skin

A great time was had by all in attendance.

I was so lit that I wound up stripping butt-assed naked in my sleep at V.’s house, causing me to wake up at seven-thirty in the morning in a stone-cold panic. (WHERE AM I?? WHY AM I NAKED?? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED??)

It was just like being twenty-one again.

The next morning her folks fixed us a fine Southern breakfast of fried eggs and homemade biscuits and gravy, and I think I ate until my stomach expanded and popped a lung.

I spent the rest of the weekend doing some of the more annoying moving prep – moving heavy unwanted furniture from the garage out to the alley, packing, yardwork, obsessively thinking about Norton, who is on National Guard duty this weekend; and drinking copious amounts of water to deal with my somewhat long-lasting hangover.

I did not have a seizure all damned weekend, though, which rocked.

Now I’m sort of counting the hours down until Tuesday night, which is when I will see Norton again; because yes, I have morphed into this big cheesy cheeseball who lives for the next date.

I fully understand that this is indeed pathetic and sappy and sick and wrong; and I also will fully understand it if somebody slaps me or tells me to snap the fuck out of it.

For God’s sake, somebody needs to.

Happy Sunday.