Like The Movie “Night At The Museum”. But Funny.
About a week ago, the teens asked if we could visit our city’s newly-remodeled art museum. They do this thing, my kids, of deciding on something between themselves and then coming to me together as if to say “We are the majority, you are the minority. We highly suggest you make this happen.” It’s like they knew I’d be powerless against their two sets of big blue eyes and trembling pouty lips asking “Pweeease? We just want to wearn about art!” So, I agreed under some duress to take them to the museum on my next day off, thinking “Surely, they’ll forget by then.” God, I hate when I promise people things and they remember and try to hold me to them. Today was my next day off and they hadn’t forgotten.
With a predicted high of 104 degrees, I frantically ran through, in my head, reasons that we couldn’t leave the house. Chicken pox? No bumps. Worried about Lindsay Lohan’s future? They’d never buy it since they just heard me say “Girl, you are about to have SEVERAL freaky fridays! IN JAIL!!” the night before. How about global warming? Surely there’s enough proof now, right? My daughter arched an eyebrow when I tried frantically to convince her that Al Gore was right and we should all stay inside, lest we end up like a 3 Piece Meal, extra crispy.
“You don’t even LIKE coleslaw!”
“Mom, go get in the shower.”
Resigned to my fate (and also a teensy bit curious about art shit but mostly resigned), I cleaned up and grabbed the Gold Bond Medicated Powder. If you’re not a chub or are a chub and don’t know, Gold Bond is basically like grownup baby powder that you can sprinkle in your cracks when it’s hot, to keep them dry and fresh-smelling. The medicated version has menthol in it and, when air hit the crack, it’s like a frozen angel is blowing you a kiss. Under your gut. Or between your thigh and your giant cooch mound. Which is totally where frozen angels would kiss, anyway. Of course, if those areas got much air in the first place, you wouldn’t need the powder. Fresh and dry and a front-runner in the Miss Scowly 2010 pageant, I mumbled to the babies to get their asses in the car and we were on our way.
The heat was unfuckingbelievable. You could see waves coming up off the asphalt and birds were dropping out of the sky in complete surrender, praying to their birdie god for the sweet release of death. A quick caffeine stop perked me up (Is speed still illegal? Then, yeah, totally caffeine.) enough that I let the girl choose the radio station for our twenty minute drive. Usher pow pow pow’d and wow oh wow’d as I sipped my liquid personality with an extra shot and gave myself a little pep talk. I knew that in this city, on a weekday, at an art museum, we were bound to be swimming in a sea of old white people when we got there and I practiced my “How interesting!”, “Pop art is for plebs”, and “Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon?” faces in the rear view mirror. Locked and loaded, we dashed from the relative cool of the car into the relative cool of the museum and grabbed a map.
Now, for the two of you left who don’t know, I have a bit of a poop problem. As in, I do it. All the time. I know every bathroom in this county and the next one over and the quickest way to get from the front door to the ladies at every establishment I frequent. Going someplace new frightens me. What if I can’t find the restroom? What if they don’t HAVE a restroom? I really need someone to do a national potty review blog with a complimentary blackberry/iPhone app so I can have adventures without worrying I’m going to have to poop while crouched behind a bush. Anyway, the run from the car plus that extra shot I had a whole ten minutes ago made it so that I spent the first twenty minutes of our museum trip appreciating the powerful plumbing and flawless acoustics of their shitter. Nothing like a crap symphony to make fancy old ladies clutch their pearls.
After the poopocalypse, we finally got to some art seein’! We wandered through gallery after gallery of paintings, sculptures, photographs, arts and crafts, and furniture. The teens nudged each other and giggled at statue boobies and played “Where’s Waldo: The Penis Version” with nude paintings and cherub statues. I never realized how hilariously dirty a lot of art is, but leave it to a 15 and 17 year old to point it out. But they also appreciated the pieces more than I expected them to, mentioning things that I hadn’t even noticed and I’ve traveled around the world and been to a countless number of art museums. Then again, it could have been the severe caffeine jitters. Hard to seriously deconstruct a painting when you are flying high with espresso brain. Except Picasso cuz his shit always looks like that.
Which reminds me, we saw some Picasso sketches and one was designed sort of like a comic with six panels. The kids had been playing “That’s me, because I’m so pretty” and “That’s me, because I’m so awesome”, finding themselves in paintings, and my son said, pointing to the Picasso comic, “Mom, that’s you,” referring to some hideously deformed man (Picasso Comics presents: The Monstery Looking Guy Who May Or May Not Have Been Based On A King Who Was A Tyrant). So, anyway, I’m all “Haha, you’re right. That’s totally me” when cut to panel five and I suddenly have a GIANT PENIS. “Is that still me? Me with a giant penis?” The kid shrugs and says, “Yeah, I stand by it.”
It’s comforting to know that I am raising goddamn geniuses who love art but can also crack a joke and put their mother in her place. It’s times like these that I hear Maria Von Trapp in my head, singing “Nothing comes from nothing, nothing ever could. So, somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.”
HeatherVonsj@gmail.com
Twitter: thisismommyhood
/ Jul 8 2010
This post made my night especially “Nothing like a crap symphony to make fancy old ladies clutch their pearls”. Bahahaha!
Twitter: comicmummy
/ Jul 8 2010
Haha, I love: “like a frozen angel is blowing you a kiss…”
I reckon you should send that to their marketing department, it sure made me want to get some! Not sure if they sell it in Oz but will get a-hunting!
Comic Mummy´s last [type] ..Life in a Day
Okay, as the (un at times)fortunate mother of a 15 year old girl and 17 year old boy, I am wondering what kind of parallel universe we may be living in here???!!! Smartass kids. Check! Scorching hot weather. Check! Kids contrive schemes together to bat baby blues at mom. Check! Smart but a bit evil. Check! Also, Maria is never in the soundtrack of my life. Usher, on the other hand, daily doses of him.
Wicked Shawn´s last [type] ..Bitch Please………
Twitter: alittlebitrock
/ Jul 8 2010
You had me at “GOLD BOND.” It’s like cocaine for under the boobs.
Andrea´s last [type] ..Crazy Little Thing Called Love
Your kids sound priceless.
And I think Gold Bond might just save my life.
Sara´s last [type] ..Texts From All Day
Twitter: MFA_Mama
/ Jul 8 2010
Gold Bond, huh? I gots to get me some of that, because at least fifteen of the twenty stress-pounds I put on during Hotter’s surgical debacle are on my chest and I think I got honest-to-christ PRICKLY HEAT under my lady lumps the other day. Which…NOT cute.
Also? POOPOCALYPSE! BWAH!!!
Twitter: Elisa_Ashley
/ Jul 8 2010
I can’t remember what it’s called, but they TOTALLY have an app for that!
I’m using regular baby powder. Will have to switch. I’m melting over here.
Elisa´s last [type] ..I Face My QUIRKY PARENTING MOMENTS
Twitter: pattypunker
/ Jul 8 2010
can we get a pic of your “pop art is for plebs” face? also a frozen angel kiss between the thigh and cooch mound would totally make my day.
pattypunker´s last [type] ..she’s wicked in all the right ways
Twitter: alotofnothing
/ Jul 8 2010
not sure if you’re aware, but a more concise word for “giant cooch mound” is the fupa.
go ahead. look it up if you don’t already know it. just don’t look for mine.
Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing]´s last [type] ..This is when you bring me a margarita on the rocks with sugar instead of salt NOW
Twitter: subwow
/ Jul 9 2010
As an overbearing mother who likes to control her kids’ lives, I am secretly plotting how to make your kids be my kids’ friends.
Best friends who are smart with great sense of humor, with high moral standards (I got this from your other posts, so don’t worry…) to boot. Check.
My work as a mother is half done.
Twitter: thesuniverse
/ Jul 9 2010
I am with you on the bathroom blog. I have to know exactly where the toilet is at all times. ALL TIMES.
I started taking photos of bathrooms I’ve visited so that I can start my bathroom blog, but I’m too lazy to put it into play.
ps – Best bathroom? The temporary rest area between Windsor and London in Ontario. Seriously. It’s a double wide, and it rules. It is so fucking clean and sparkly and nice smelling that most regular bathrooms would get an inferiority complex from it.
pps – Oh, and art’s good, too.
Twitter: mommakiss
/ Jul 9 2010
um. clearly i read this post, then the other post about fat girls and i combined comment topics. gold bond. it’s in my other comment. sorry ’bout that.
this? “poopocalypse” my new favorite word.
MommaKiss´s last [type] ..The Non Flip Off Friday
Twitter: katekastelein
/ Jul 9 2010
We have some stuff up here, (in Maine) that’s called Monkey Butt Powder. As in, use this powder to prevent monkey butt, and it shows a picture of a monkey with a big red ass. Anyhow that stuff works awesome.
Also, I’d just like to say – your TEENAGERS ganged up on you to take them to the art museum? Jesus, woman. You’re doing something right. All my other friends with teenagers got dragged to Twilight last weekend…
Mommyk8 -
I also got dragged to see Twilight. It’s called balance and, for some strange reason, involves a werewolf with six pack abs not wearing a shirt.
MommaKiss -
It was the “Chub Rub” title that threw you. Every day in my house is the poopocalypse.
Suniverse -
So, you support my potty blog? Awesome. I’ll have at least one reader!
subWOW -
I am also Controlly McMompants and I’d love to force my kids to be your kids’ friends. Let’s work on it.
Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] -
Fupa is exactly right but when I say it aloud it reminds me of Opa! and then I want Greek food. Believe it or not, this is pretty much the story of how I got my fupa in the first place.
pattypunker -
My question is, how come you can never find a frozen angel when you need one?
Elisa -
Baby powder? Pfft. FROZEN. ANGEL. KISSES.
MFA Mama -
Under the boobs I got under control. Above the mound, not so much. Gold Bond should advertise on this blog.
Sara -
Do it. Even skinny girls have crevices (otherwise, life would be no fun).
Andrea -
My boobs snort regularly. And all Summer my bedroom floor looks like the morning after a Lindsay Lohan party.
Wicked Shawn -
Let’s force our kids to be friends. SubWOW and I are scheming ways. Are you in?
Comic Mummy -
I’m waiting for the checks from Gold Bond to come rolling in. I think they lost my address.
Elle -
Thanks! The gasps I heard from the mirror where a few were reapplying their garish lipsticks were worth their weight in gold.
Um, have you noticed a relationship between coffee and poop attacks? Coffee is a tough habit to break but it sounds like you should. imo. And I’m sure you know there is no good substitute. Dairy might also contribute to the problem. Beware – Some kinds of green tea can be even worse.
I forgot about gold bond – gonna go put some under the boobs right now!
Twitter: KelleyN75
/ Jul 11 2010
You had me laughing out loud! Hahahaha!! I was laughing but then had to take a minute to get my Urrrrrrsher groove OWN. Since we have never met, please know that I know that “on” was the proper word to use there. I had to stop mid-post & get my 2 y/o to drop tha beat so I could get my Usher fix. Thanks for the inspiration! Seriously, I am loving your blog & will be back. Please don’t act like you’re not home next time.
Kelley´s last [type] ..The Unexpected Guest Kit
Miss B -
Oh, I wish I could call it an “attack” but it’s been every day for over a year, with or without caffeine. I had my gallbladder out last May and it’s been poopocalypse since.
Gold Bond is bomb.
Kelley -
Girrrrrrrrl! Get yo Urrrrrsher grove OWN!
Come back. Sometimes I say funny things more than once!
Such vital information is found here! Definitely going shopping for Gold Bond tomorrow.
The best bathroom is the first rest stop just inside Kentucky coming south from I75, or it might be Tennessee (I don’t remember which trip we saw it – to Lexington or Nashville – oh well,just head south from Detroit,you’ll find it). Anyway, it looks like a plantation with several ionic columns, sort of like Churchill Downs. It’s gorgeous and clean.
I used to “suffer” from poopopolous, but it was great because it kept my weight down. I could eat pretty much anything and just pooped it out. Then I went on narcotic pain killers for my very bad arthritis and got stopped right up. Argh. Gained 15 lbs. and I’m fat already, so I surely didn’t need it. So, the answer is to get hooked on morphine sulfate or the like. Hope that helps.
I actually have to go to the bathroom before I read your blog to be sure nothing escapes. You kill me.
Natalie´s last [type] ..Andy Lays Down The Law
physicsmom -
Damn that constipation. Diarrhea is where it’s at. Gold Bond 4 Lyf!
so, don’t know if you’ve ever heard about it or not, but if you haven’t, i believe you might like this site, given your sense of humor –
http://www.poopreport.com
funny as hell.
melaenis -
Hilarious. Potty humor is my jam.