call the bunghole mafia...in need of help here...

hi. dont tell them i was here...i need some help.

im gonna try to type this out fast because i dont wanna get into trouble again. theyre all out of the house and i dont have much time...my head hurts from all the beatings with the rolled up magazine. do you know, they put rubber bands around the ends of the magazine to keep it tight. well, it fucking hurts...those rubber bands. and i cant help peeing on the floor once in a while. im only a puppy.

friggin paws, how do you capitalize letters with paws? the question mark is hard enough.

as you know, i like to browse the web once in a while. i read a few blogs over mommys shoulder too and theres one blog in particular that I feel a certain bond with. especially today. jessica gave me a good idea today. she has this affinity for dana and my family does too.

you see, my big sister...they call her fafa around here...lately, she cant keep her finger out of my own dana. how humiliating. she is constantly jamming crap into it and all they do is laugh or get disgusted and wash her hands. whattabout my leather starfish? they dont check to see if it is alright. they dont wash it out to make sure the crayon is all gone.

they laugh.

and ignore me.

oh im sorry, did i get in your way with that marker up my ass...ok ill move.

so i need your help.

im begging for someone to tell these crazies that dog sodomy should be illegal if it isnt already. what do i hafta do to get some respect around here? i have had ass issues since i got here and they just dont seem to ever end. what is with these people? i think they bring it on themselves. i really do. they are obsessed with ass and i am stuck in the middle of it all.

and this friggin kid is a pest. just as i get comfortable on the couch i see the kid coming and i try to run away. i really do. i just cant seem to run fast enough. i dont have much space to hide. shes always up my butt. literally.

she squeezes my head till my eyes pop put, she yanks on my poor helpless tail, she tries to hug me with her clammy hands. then after she totally kicks my ass they lock me up. thats right. i get an hourly internal exam then i get locked up for it. does that make sense to you?

oh, she pretends to love me. yeah right. but i know the truth. she is evil. how many ass invasions do i hafta take before someone gets the hint here? and the kicker, they think its cute. they laugh and say awww look at dog and big sister...they love each other...holy shit. if only i could wrap my paws around her neck tight enough...then theyd get it.

im suffering people. is this what you humans do for fun? are colonoscopies a treat for you? why do i hafta hear her stomping towards me yelling im gonna put my finger in dogs ass...look at dogs ass mommy, its pink...no shit sherlock. its pink. and my poop is brown you know your colors genius.

im desperate. im asking anyone out there to help. call someone. anyone. help me get this kids fingers out of my ass...jessica...are you there...help me.....for the love of dana....

shit. theyre home....that fucking magazine again....gotta go....

Annual Check "Under the Hood"

(In honor of Groundhog day!! tee hee)

Had my yearly the other day.
Why is that the most uncomfortable appointment anyone can ever have?

I hate it. But I love my doctor. He is an angel, right here on earth.

Anyway, I'm sure you don't care to hear my "Under the Hood" play by play. It was uneventful.

I do have to go for my second mammogram because I'll be *gasp* 35 at the end of the month. That should be a roaring good time.

But I do want to tell you about the time I 'spat' the speculum clear across the room. Doc was trying out his new fangled 'plastic speculum' on me and told me to relax. Well, for some reason, I just couldn't...he inserted. Turned away. And kablooey...it shot out and hit the cabinets right behind his back. He was quite impressed! I was mortified. I helped teach him that plastic and lube don't mix. He went back to the metal one.

This time around there was a young mom waiting with her son in the waiting room. And I was alone (for a change) I was under-dressed with little makeup and I just know I looked 18. Well, this mom gave me the dirtiest look ever when I walked in and sat down across from her and her son. I smiled at them, but she wasn't reciprocating the kindness.

I was a little offended but then I heard their conversation as I sat down.

Boy: "My poopie hurts!"

Mom: "I Know but you won't sit on the potty, what do you want me to do?"

Boy: "My poopie hurts!"

Mom: "Honey, I know"

Boy: "My poopie hurts!"

This went on for a good 5-10 minutes when he started jumping on the chairs and yelling about his poopie.

She finally told him in exasperation to tell the nurse. I guess she just wanted him to stop and that would do it.

So what does he do? He comes up to me to tell me his poopie hurts. Figures.

I asked him if I looked like a nurse in my teacheriest voice that I could scrounge up on a 7pm on a Monday evening. He got shy and went back to his mom.

I asked him how old he was and struck up a conversation with him and his mom. (I was not about to be defeated). Turns out, he's the same age as F and looks and speaks a whole lot older just like she does. I told him I had a girl for him to play with and he got all excited. He's my new best friend. The mom almost seemed relieved that I took his mind off his poopie and she had someone to talk to about 3 year olds...It turned out to be a nice wait.

So we both prejudged even before we opened our mouths to find out that we were similar in more ways than one. It's amazing how mommyhood can connect total strangers that would otherwise never speak to each other.

And I'm amazed that I struck up a conversation with a total stranger and succeeded.

Here's a question...

Thank you everyone for commenting on this one! I really still don't know what to do. And it seems you are all split on your decisions as well. Some of you are all for it while others are all for the privacy thing. At least you have helped me see that I am not the only one who thinks of these things. God, I love my internet friends.

I think I'm going to give BD his privacy and let Fa know that Mommies and Daughters can be in the bathroom together and Daddies and daughters don't. Unless it's inevitable...Ugh. Whatever. Everyone pees and poops right?
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Do any of you let your daughters watch your husbands pee?

I know. Get to the point. But BD and I have been questioning each other on what we believe. We are in agreement so I guess I am really questioning myself.

Fa cries whenever he goes into the bathroom. She watches me in there do just about everything so she wants to watch her dad too. But I say no. And so does he.

But, if she's gonna learn about pottying, shouldn't she see 'both sides'? It is a healthy part of life and everyone does it. I just think it's a little weird for her to see her dad's hay nanny nanny dangling in the breeze, no?

We are in a quandary. I don't want her to cry when he goes, I think it sends her the wrong message when he closes her out. I don't want her to think its a bad thing and I don't want her questioning in her three year old brain why Daddy is 'different' and she can't watch. Then again, I don't think she should see his thang hang. That might scar her for life....

Boys don't sit to pee so why should he? Or do they? If she sees that will THAT be sending the wrong message too?

Or should she just get over it and learn that Mommy's and daughter's do things like that together and Daughter's and Daddy's don't? Mommy's teach girls about pottying and Daddy's teach boys? I don't know.

I guess I grew up in a pretty liberal home. Dad walked around in his skivvies all the time. It was nothing to me. I saw him 'sitting' on the pot and all. And I was always in the bathroom with my Mother. So, that sort of stuff doesn't phase me. But BD grew up differently. His parents were quite secretive about bathroom habits. It was a private affair and something left for 'your eyes only'.

I never thought about it until this week when I noticed F crying every time BD locked her out of the bathroom. What to do?

Do you let your opposite sex children watch your bathroom habits?

The Crying Game

So I'm a little introspective this week. It happens.

I have been thinking a lot about different parts of my life and today I thought about the time when I gave birth to F. It didn't start out such a great relationship between me and her. The beginning was very rocky.

Being pregnant was the best thing ever. I never thought I'd enjoy it as much as I did. I was big and bulbous and I gained 60 ever lovin' pounds from eating McDonald's breakfasts every day and french fries every night. It was heaven. It was an excuse to not exercise and eat whatever I wanted. I was getting fat for a reason and I was growing a human friggin' being inside of me. The only thing I missed was my coffee and my wine. But it was a short tenure in the grand scheme of things so I put up with it.

I loved feeling her kick inside of me and hiccup and rattle around like a wild woman. It was pure joy. I never felt anything like that in my life and I loved it.

By the end of my pregnancy, I was ready. So I thought. I was all set for the new baby. I mean how difficult could she be? All she'll do is crap and eat and sleep a lot. Right? Wrong. But that's for another post.

At 39 weeks, I had high blood pressure so the doctor decided to induce me a few days early because he didn't want to risk pre-eclampsia or any other complication. I went into the hospital on a Saturday morning and I should have known that having a baby 5 days before Christmas didn't leave you with an abundance of hospital staff.

All in all the birth was amazing. I was induced at around noon and had her after one single push at 2:20 pm. I had plenty of Stadol and epidural to keep me cozy and happy and I really can't complain. After all, her head was already out when the doctor came in to check and see "how far I was"! He couldn't believe how far long I actually was. The nurse was at lunch and he had to have her paged. No one was ready for how fast she was born.

How fucking ever. I wasn't ready for what my body would look like a few hours post-partum. Why doesn't anyone tell you that you can't move very well after squeezing out a cantaloupe from a hole the size of a kiwi. Why on earth did no one tell me I'd have a fucking penis after I gave birth????? That's right. I had a penis. Dude. I'm not kidding. It was a penis. A penis. A large penis. Hanging. And hitting my legs as I struggled to walk to the bathroom. Walk to the bathroom to give the fucking nurse my obligatory ounce of urine. That's right. You want the truth. You can't handle the truth.

I had a penis.

I wish I had a camera. No. Not for the penis. But for my husband's face when he saw it for the first time. His mouth agape, asking the nurse if it was supposed to look that horrific. She thought we were overreacting. Then she looked at it. Her mouth agape, she called for the doctor. He assured me I was EXTREMELY swollen. (No shit sherlock). Agony can not even describe how it felt.

I'll never forget that month of recovery. Agony. I tell you. Sheer Horror.

I know all there is to know about the crying game, post partum.

So I get this e-mail this week

I am a member of Parent Center online. It is a very helpful resource for first time and experienced parents. I love getting updates on Fa's milestones and goals for her age group. This e-mail gave me douche-chills though...

No sillies, not the nap part...I can deal with 'quiet time' in her room, just as long as I get a break too...

Did you catch paragraph three??? Here, I'll paste it here for you so you can really get a good look:
"Being interested in the differences between girls and boys is a normal part of growing up. Try not to react with shock or horror if you find your child in the midst of an anatomy check with another child. Just let both children know that penises and vaginas are kept private and steer them toward another activity. They'll probably be relieved, since they may already have some sense that the game they were playing is taboo."

What the? It starts this early?! For Christ's sake. I can't deal with that. Now, I know if you've read this post...you know I am all for being honest and real when it comes to 'life lessons'. But three? Holy Canoli people. I don't think I'm quite ready for honesty that early...I need a drink.
__________________________________________
Also, she still refuses to pee or poop on the potty. I am trying all sorts of negotiation tools. Cookies, m&m's, Littlest Pet Shop Pets, Rubber Gloves...(Yes, rubber gloves the kid likes to pretend to be a doctor, ugh...see above) Nothing. Jeez this kid has a stiff constitution. She will be the girl who walks down the aisle in a Depends.

Oh the grossness!

Today's topic is 'foods that I love that others think I'm crazy for eating'. Well, you see, I am a picky eater so my post is gonna go the other way. There are certain foods that just really make me gag that other consumers in the circle of life find quite normal to eat on a daily basis.

For example, red meat. Red meat of any of the normal variety, really. Hamburgers, steak, veal, meatballs. ugh. It makes my skin crawl. You see, when I was younger, I ate red meat. I loved cheeseburgers and french fries. Then one day, I got one of those gritty little-ballies in a burger, you know..the gristle. The thing that is so tiny yet so horrifically disgusting when you are taken by surprise by its hardness. Yeah, one of those. I swore off burgers forever.

Then, as I got older and started taking note of what I put in my body, the whole idea of cooked flesh just weirded me out. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not all for "saving the cows" I know they are there to be consumed, its nature. I wear leather (rowr) and I have black & white, calf skin cowboy boots...(I know you're jealous now) I am not a member of any of those "save the fill in the blank's" and I think that red meat is a great source of iron and protein. I just don't wanna eat it.

This however, causes a great deal of raucous in many houses I visit for dinner. I don't understand why! Just because I can't eat the pasta with the meat sauce you cooked because I taste the meat flavor or the veal shank you prepared for hours because the bone sticking out just makes me quiver. Don't get so upset. I'll eat plain pasta. I eat chicken too...(even though when I think about what it is really, I get queasy, so I try not to think about it) I'm not all that hard to please. Salad works just fine too. I even sometimes bring my own turkey burgers or chicken cutlets to bar-b-q's just in case. (I have been caught with nothing but hot dogs and burgers one time too many!)

Don't panic though. I'll eat before I get there if you want. I can gladly eat a bowl of rice or cereal if you truly have nothing else. I just don't like the taste or the smell or the texture or the idea of red meat. That's all. I am a picky eater. But I don't think dinner hosts should freak out every time I come over. I am very flexible...Just as long as it hasn't mooed, baa'd, oinked, quacked, meowed or barked before you got your hands on it. Now is that so bad?

Bugger!

Ugh. I know I keep saying that I'm not gonna talk about this farkin' dawg. But he STILL has those buggies in his poop.

I am so grossed out, I could spit.

To top it all off...I sent in a sample of the infected shit on June 27th...go ahead...do the math. That's 12 days...no call from the vet to tell me his poop is being invaded. I had to go there for vaccines for them to finally open this dawgs files to discover his infestation. I'm disgusted. They had his medicine in the office waiting for me to pick it up. How could I pick it up if I didn't know I needed it in the first place? Why didn't they call me after 5 days to ask why I haven't picked up the meds? Didn't it occur to them that after 12 days of the meds sitting on the counter, maybe I need to get phone call?

Then, THEN. I tell the vet that I have a two and a half year old in my house and this full-of-shit dawg dances all over his poop after he shits and before he eats it. She almost gagged herself. Then...THEN....she tells me: "Well, if your daughter has diarrhea or vomiting...call the pediatrician." Thanks you fucking genius.

So the moral of my story. Find another vet. NOW!

Crap, crap, crap!

I'd like to retract my previous statement:

This dawg is a pain in the arsse.

We (BD and me) woke up (Saturday morning...a day to sleep late all around) to eviscerated wee wee pads, pee and remnants of eaten poop all over the floor, the walls, the door, the dawg. Our jaws were gaping and we were outright gagging at the odorific find. I am flabberghasted. I can't stand it. What a way to start the weekend. "How can we clean the floor and leave just enough bleach on it for the dawg to lick?" That's what BD wants to know. I am curious myself at this point.

There's gotta be a better way.

On a brighter note...Back to bigger and better things...I took Fa to the Long Island Game Farm yesterday with my Friends. She had a ball. Once again, she rises to the occasion, never ceasing to amaze me. She rode on the Tea Cups, the Merry-go-Round and the Choo Choo Train...With Glee...She had a ball. I always expect her to cower in fear or to cry and she always does the opposite! She jumped onto each new experience with a smile and a song. I couldn't pry her off the rides. She fed the Giraffe and giggled over his gigantic, black tongue and sticky, stringy saliva.

We had such a great time. I am grateful that we had this experience together. She loved hanging out with her friends and wanted to do everything big kids did. I know even more now that when she is faced with new situations and other kids to play with, she's all for it. It's me who holds her back and who doesn't allow her the new opportunities..because I am afraid. She is practically fearless...I am the one with reservations.

I gotta get over that!

Full of poop, full of heart or full of shit?

We took RT's poop to get analyzed again. $50.00! FIF-TY bucks for me to gather and transport his poop the the vet. Jeez. It' s more expensive than diapers. I am praying with all my might that the little buggies in his poop are all gone. If not, I might puke. For he has taken to the wonderful past-time of eating his poop now. Fantastic. Less to clean anyway.

So I finally got a call from the cardiologist a few days ago. I have Mitral Valve Prolapse with, of course, a leak or murmur. Why wouldn't I really? It only makes sense that the palpitations and other wonderful symptoms should all point to that. And why should I ever be normal? I can't. It's not in my nature. The doctor had some woman call to relay his message from the results of my echo cardiogram. Wouldn'tya know, I get the most moronic message-relayer out there? I had questions like: "Why is it only dental work that needs a pre-treatment of antibiotics and not, say, a kidney operation?" Her answer: "I don't know!" I felt like Mr. Hand in Fast Times at Ridgemont High...I. Don't. Know...Can you repeat that? What a loser. Why call a patient and be ready with some answers to questions she might have? That would be way too professional for me.

Between the poop and the heart I am ready to scream. By the way, Fa hasn't even looked at the potty since her last review of it...I just wish she'd use it regularly already....What's so special about pull ups anyway? I think they are ugly. There are so many cutsie undies out there in the world..I know, I've bribed her with about 100 different pairs...She's just not interested.

She's just not that into them. I guess.

Is that a geoduck in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

We watched "Dirty Jobs" last night on the Discovery Channel. The host Mike Rowe (cute, btw) was diggin up Geoducks. (Pronounced "Gooey-ducks".) Wholy crap. These things were obscene. I have never seen anything like them before in my entire life. BD and I were laughing so hard, his geoduck almost fell off. (hee hee) I can't imagine that there is a need for theses things out there in the world. But there are. People eat them. I know, you're saying of course, silly. What else would someone want to do with such a gorgeous phallic symbol...

I eat sushi. I love it. I look forward to eating it as much as I can. But jeez, I would never go for that...OK, So it doesn't look exactly like that when you are eating it, but whoa...just the thought...I'm surprised someone hasn't come up with a dirty movie featuring the exploitation of said Geoduck. I missed my calling.

To prepare it for cooking. You have to boil it for '6 seconds' then rip the outer skinlike layer off of the 'tube'. It looks just like a 'used' prophylactic. The thing is gross. Then you rip it out of its shell and cut off what looks like; you guessed it: a scrotum. Ugh...I was mesmerized. I couldn't take my eyes off the T.V.

Whatever you do in life, you must check this episode out. It's not up on the Discovery Channel website yet...But don't you worry, just 'google' the name and you will be stuffed with a plethora of information...I am obsessed with these things...I have such a dirty mind...

This is not fun!

So this is what happens when I leave RT alone for an hour. (Notice the wee wee pad is nowhere in sight) I want to strangle him. I went up to put Fa in for a nap and when I came back down that's what I was greeted by. And now the friggin' dog is doing this. I am truly beside myself and the shit. To top it ALL off the dog has parasitic poop. I hafta call the vet and send in another stool sample tomorrow (after his meds are finished). If this dog is still parasitic, I'm gonna puke. I am not happy with buggy-shit embedded in my tiles for Fa to touch accidentally. Whattif she gets sick. I'll die. I'll blame myself and I'll be very pissed off. He better have those buggies gone tomorrow or you'll hear it from me.

If anyone is out there and reading this...Please give a sista some advice because I am ready to choke the BT Pup. I know you're out there. Come on, come out from the shadows and save me. Or you'll be reading about how a young mother poured cement on her puppy's paws, wrapped him in a rug and sent him to sleep with the fishes. I'm italian, I'll do it.

Don't make Fa grow up with her mother incarcerated for puppy murder. Have a heart. If not the puppy, save the girl. Any advice can be posted as a comment. Please, please for the love of God please. Give a gal some advice. Please.

Scatologist to the Stars

That is me!

Just ask. I know all about the doodie-goings-on in this house more than anyone else on earth. I guess you could say, I'm totally full of shit. Because I am. I feel like I'm covered in the stuff from head to toe. It's nauseating. I have it stuck in my nostrils and I think I see it laying around when it really isn't there. It's like a horror movie. Haunted Shit. Children of the Shit. The Shitville Horror, I see shit people!!!!

OK. Now if you want your shit analyzed just let me know. I can tell you when the best times for you to go are, and could tell you what you ate just by a single glance.

Farfallina:

• Goes once a day (usually in the morning)
• She's constipated unless she eats whole grains and fruits
• She has IBS
• She loves fruit but doesn't eat many veggies
• Hides behind the loveseat when she hasta go and tells me to go in the kitchen
  
• When she eats blueberries her poop is blue, but frequent
• Loves Farting like her mom
  
• Still would prefer her Pull Up to the potty

RT:

• Poops 3-5 times a day - definitely morning, noon and night but also after nap and play time
• Eats 3 times a day
• Farts like a Champ
• Still has some sort of parasite in his poop that he's being treated for (YUM!)
• His ass bulges out when he hasta go and he squats in a circle
  
• Only eats puppy food
• Comes out like Carvel Soft Serve
• Stinks

Want your Shit analyzed call me...I'll do it. I'm good at it. Tom Cruise, eat shit.

We Have Poopie!

Fa POOPIED ON THE POTTY!!!!!!!

I am so frickin' excited I could spit....

I promised her we'd go and buy some more Backyardigans books...(her faves) and we'd celebrate when Daddy gets home!!!!

This R is turning out to be quite valuable. Right before she went, I asked her when she was gonna poopy in the right spot like R and she said; "Right now!" SO, we ran to the pot and she sat and shat!!! I am filled with elation and fear. I scratched her behind her ears when she was finished I was so excited (and confused...thought she was R there for a sec.)... She has jumped over a major milestone today and she knew exactly what she was about to do. She was happy and proud and we even called Daddy to tell him. She told him, not me. She is getting so big. I know this is only the beginning and it may not happen again for a while, but a Mom can dream can't she???

Happy, happy, joy, joy! The good times are a- comin'! I can feel it. See, I know deep down that if I expect too much, I will be let down. But the joy of seeing my girl act like such a biggun and be so mature and proud really makes me tear up.

I am very proud!

Wee Wee Pads and Toilets and Pull Ups, Oh My!

That is what my life revolves around these days. I feel like I'm walking down the Yellow Doodie Road with The Tin Poop, The Scare Toilet, The Cowardly Fa and Tarto the dawg...Except I'm not as pretty as Dorothy...I'm looking more like The Wicked Witch of the West.

And I'm feeling like her too. I want to click my ruby slippers together and keep repeating..."There's no place like home!" However, instead of ruby slippers I have doody covered flip flops and 'home' smells like a toilet so I think I'd be better off in the Men's Bathroom in Penn Station...There's no place like the toilet....

Emerald City is by far, the longest way away from here...that's for sure.

Fa is still in a pull up. I can't get her to even look at a potty, let alone sit on one. I am running from one doodie filled pull up to a doodie covered wee wee pad...(If I'm lucky) Usually, he hits the pad. But when he's bored and rips up the pad from the 'pad protector' that it's supposedly locked into...he shits and pisses on my slate floor. Gotta love it. Advice: Don't buy the pad protector. It sucks. It doesn't hold anything in place and he shits and pisses all over it..including the ring that holds the friggin' pad into place...Nothing like fingers covered in doodie. Yum. Finger Lickin' Good.

To top it all off. Fa broke her crib. She uses it like a trampoline in the summer olympics. She is fantastic at 'high jump' and ' front tumbles'. She loves to hold the railing and see how high she can go. Gold medal trampoline. One day she's gonna find herself on the other side of the railing. She's gonna flip right outta there. Head first. So, we are talking up the 'Big Girl Bed' issue. She seems quite enamored by the thought of sleeping in a bed like Mommy & Daddy. However, I can see it now. Girl twister doesn't sleep in one spot either. She sleeps like her Dad. Tossing and turning and ruffling up the covers and sheets. This should be another adventure in itself. I can't wait. She wakes up in a different position every morning. How is she gonna keep her head 'sneepy' on her 'pinnow' every night? (That's how she says sleepy and pillow, by the way)

She is the full length of her crib right now. Head to toe; headboard to footboard. Pretty soon her stinks are gonna be sticking out of the crib footboard just like her daddy-long-legs. His feet haven't slept in a bed in 25 years. They always hang off. The poor things.

So much fun, this life is. "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore"....

Yuck!

So I smell this odor. We’re not it the house for very long, 4 weeks max. We just moved in for Christ’s sake, it can’t be that I haven’t cleaned.

I notice this odor on Saturday night. Big Daddy and I are sniffing around the garage and nearby and it just lingers, all the while stankin’ harder.

Sunday night, the smell is really getting worse. I am starting to think that “someone” died in our garage. Ya know, Long Island has critters. Critters that Queens doesn’t have. We have lived on Long Island for 4 years now, but this new neighborhood is more country than these 2 Queens natives are used to. Critters can crawl up in your car and sweat to death in this heat. It’s possible, don’t laugh. That type of crap happens to me you know.

Monday morning (today). The heat is oppressive. I want to go out but the sun is scalding. I have a plan, I’ll take Fa to TJ Maxx to look for sunhats for her gorgeous head. Then we can hang out in the yard. But that smell is following us. I really think that someone has died in the Jeep. I call My Man to let him know of my newest theory on the stink. I notice flies. Shit flies. Yes. In the car. Flying all over. More than one. Five or six or twenty. You know the ones that you can’t believe can grow that fat in only a few hours. How do they do that?

I pull over. I contemplate taking the car to the car wash but I am embarrassed. What if they find someone in my engine? I’ll die. Thoughts of that scene from “Cape Fear” pop into my head. You know the one where Robert DeNiro is hiding under the Jeep…my mind can really wander if I let it, so I get back to reality. I pull into the store’s parking lot and check out the hatch back of my Jeep, praying that I don’t find a furry, decomposing body hidden in its crevices.

Bingo! A “Whole Foods” bag. We went frickin’ food shopping on Saturday morning. I notice amongst the flies, a turkey burger box, a Bell & Evans Chicken Nuggets box, Cream Cheese and a jar of BBQ sauce. I am overcome by mixed emotions; nausea, fear, joy. I want to scream but I don’t want to scare Fa or any other innocent passers by. We must’ve forgotten the frickin’ bag in the car for two days; in the radiating heat of the weekend sun. I can’t stand it. But it does answer my morbid question of what rotting flesh smells like. I never want to go there again.

Don’t hate me, but I left the offending bag in the middle of the parking lot. I couldn’t gather up enough courage to hold it long enough to drag it to the trash…I’m sorry. Please forgive me for my stupidity and ignorance. But I was acting selfish and I had to dispose of the evidence quickly and quietly. If you are wondering what that smell is in the parking lot of TJ Maxx…it was me. I did it.