Put These in Your Dictionary

I'll let you in on a couple of new words my daughter Bliss and I have coined. I like them so much that I wish I could find some way for us to get paid for thinking them up, or at least get the credit for them, but I've pretty well given up on that, so I hereby release them into the wilds of the English language.

The first one is hers--which figures, since she's in high school--and the word is IMPREGNITO. When you're pregnant but you're trying to conceal it, you're impregnito, see?

The other word, mine, is SARGASM. That's when you get finished having unfulfilling sex and your partner says "How was it?" and you roll your eyes and go, "Woo-wee, that was really something."

And come to think of it, it would really suck if you wound up impregnito when all you had was a sargasm.

My Son the Famous African American

A note came home from school with Brandon the other day. "Help us celebrate Black History Month," it said. "On Friday, dress your child as a famous African-American."

Why must they tempt me to mischief so?

Do you think they only gave us one day's notice due to rampant senses of humor in the Foster family which are liable to run amok if we had a little more time? That's my theory, but we still put our heads together to contrive a costume on one day's notice. Brandon does a hilarious imitation of Dave Chappelle doing Samuel L. Jackson, but it entails too much cussing. We had a lot of other great ideas for him--he could be JJ from Good Times, or Redd Foxx, or even Beyonce. I personally was voting for Flava Flav, since it would have been pretty easy just to tie a clock around his neck.

However he decided he'd be Barack Obama. He has a suit that used to be the Clark Kent part of a Superman costume, and an old cassette tape carrier that could be a mini-briefcase. All he needed was a mask. I called Party City and Spencer's. Nothing. All that was left was a rather uppity costume shop, but since we happened to wind up having supper at the Blimpie right beside it, we popped in to check.

An old fat queen--think Truman Capote without the voice--was sewing something when we walked in. His back was turned but after a few minutes he deigned to glance over his shoulders at us. "May I help you?" he asked boredly. I didn't like him already, but y'know, you do anything for kids, so I politely asked, "Would you happen to have a Barack Obama mask?" "NO," he snorted, as if this were the most obscure thing anybody could want. He then proceeded to recommend some oddball place in midtown or whatever, because he didn't get that I needed the mask right then.

So we were screwed, and Brandon just went to school in regular clothes this morning. Only tonight did we recall that he ALSO does a hilarious imitation of Lil John. So next year, we're gonna be ON the costume thing in advance. Get him some long dreads and dark shades and a grill and he'll be all set. YAY-uh!!

Product Recommendations

Three products have I to recommend unto you this evening.

The first, which somebody purchased for our restroom at work, is LYSOL CITRUS spray. I don't know whether it kills any germs, but it smells so damn good you'll be hoping one of your family members will get in there and stink up the bathroom just to give you an excuse to spray it.

The second product is ARM & HAMMER WHITENING BOOSTER. Or maybe it's called "tooth whitening booster." Anyway, it costs about four bucks and you put it on your toothbrush right on top of your regular toothpaste. Brian and I could both tell a difference in our teefs within a couple of days.

The final recipient of my kudos is KABOOM TUB & SHOWER CLEANER. It's not quite so miraculous as my beloved Mr. Clean in the pink and blue bottle, which they abruptly snatched off the market (after hearing how much I liked it, no doubt). I don't want you to get the idea that I like to clean things--in fact scrubbing a bathtub is my very least favorite household chore. That's why I like to buy a product that doesn't screw around. Don't mix it up with that Arm & Hammer stuff, though.

In all fairness I have to mention a product that sucked. I wasn't surprised that it sucked, but it did suck in that not only did it not work, at all, but it cost me twelve dollars. I am speaking of Garnier Nutritioniste Skin Renew Anti-Puff Eye Roller. WHATEVER. This fancily-named cosmetic thingy did nothing whatsoever to lessen my resemblance to an alcoholic racoon who just went a few rounds with Mike Tyson.

Do you have any recommendations for me?

Workplace Tale 4: Joanna and the Speculums

One time I worked in a doctor's office. We had this one nurse named Joanna who I guess maybe wasn't what you'd call a clean freak... though most of her failings were dog-related. I mean she had these dogs and she let them ride around in her car and get their fur all over it and mash their noses up against the windows and all, so we never went to lunch in Joanna's car.

Joanna also had some white nurse-pants that her dogs jumped on with muddy feet one day. At the time we figured that was the last we'd ever see of those pants, but no. The mud stains never came out but she continued to wear the pants at least once a week.

Still I can't say that her work habits were dirty, at least so far as I knew.
But one summer Monday I arrived at the office to find the waiting room doors propped open by electric fans, the patients gagging, and an aggressive smell in the air--a downright shocking odor suggesting that perhaps a corpse had been stuffed with expired tuna and left to decompose behind the magazine rack.

Joanna had forgotten to clean the speculums.

Apparently once speculums were used, the nurses dropped them into a container of cleaning solution temporarily and then sterilized them all at once when the day was over. Joanna had neglected this little duty, and the result, after a weekend of marination, was a smell so thick it made you embarrassed to be a girl.

I don't know if she got into trouble for it or if the doctors figured she was suffering enough already. I just remember thinking that I hoped it wasn't a first visit for any of the patients that morning. No excuse in the world could have convinced me to be examined in that office after one whiff.