Dinner, dogs, dreams and drugs.

     Thanks to all the people who bothered themselves to read my first blog.  So far I really like doing this blogging thing.  I may have to give up farmville to have the time for it.  Truth be told I needed a reason to escape farm life.  I went as far as to buy a dog on that game.  I had to feed the dog once a day or it ran away to the pound.  It ran away alot.  I wonder why my real life dog doesn't run away?  Maybe I'm not trying hard enough.  Perhaps I should create a mix tape of subliminal dog messages.
     I thought you would all be interested to know the different things I have broken teeth on.  Here's the list.  Bazooka bubble gum, hard tacos, soft tacos, biting my eyeliner when I lost my sharpener, and most recently a reese's pieces.  That's what I can remember anyways. 
     In another string of unfortunate events, two days ago I went out to dinner with the hubby.  That's not the bad part.  It was the service and what it led to.  A long wait, no refills, and they came and put my husband's food on the table and never brought my order.  My husband was kind enough to share.  Kind of made me feel like we were Lady and the Tramp, minus all the carbs that would have left me feeling full.  We head to the in-laws to pick up the kids.  Because I was starving I snatched a reese's piece, just one, out of the candy bowl.  It was the hardest one I'd ever eaten so I spit it into a napkin, only to find that I was actually trying to eat one of my teeth.  Nice.  As we head home I noticed that what's left of the tooth is slashing my tongue.  I walk in the house and head for the mirror.  I wasn't sure what to make of what I saw.  That tooth had a filling in it, before I tried to eat it.  The tooth and filling were gone but apparently they put a metal post in and built a filling around it, because what's left looks like a nail sticking straight out of my gums.  Literally, no tooth, no filling, just a tall, skinny, sharp nail thing.
     Me and my nail-tooth wake up the next day and start cleaning.  Around 5pm I noticed my house looked worse than when I began.  After trying to get through to my family nicely about picking up after themselves, I declared I was on strike.  Nobody seemed to care until they got hungry, and I said, "Go make yourself a sandwich, I ain't cooking, I'm on strike."  The looks of devastation and bewilderment on their faces let me know that if I can just keep this up, it just might work.  My husband had to keep asking me where things were at, so that he could do all the things I normally do for him.  Like set up the coffee for morning, get his work clothes and alarm clock ready, ect.  I just layed on the couch and said, "I don't know, I'm on strike."  I thought he was going to pop a vessel.  I forced myself not to get up and do it for him, and made sure I never laughed while he was watching.  Really, what would they do if something happened to me?  A bunch of spoiled pansies is what they are.  At any rate the strike was alot harder than I had anticipated.  I did it for 12 hours, most of which we were all asleep for.  In the end I cleaned the house.  I lose.
     As I was sitting here typing this up, I heard my youngest daughter talking in her sleep.  I have had some fun experiences with this so I ran to see what she was talking about.   As I walked in she yelled, "IT'S A GAME I PLAY!!  I PLAY IT!  HEY SIS?  I WAS LOOKING AROUND LIKE THIS AND LIKE THAT AND LIKE THIS AND I SAW A SHOE!!"  As I got closer she kind of woke up and saw me, she said in a drunk type voice, "The twisty things are fuuuuun.....funnnnn, they bend!" then she asked me, "How do you spell bear-bills?"  Back to sleep she went.  Ha!  Earlier this evening at dinner our other daughter told us she had a dream that she walked out of our house and got stuck in a pile of spaghetti and had to eat herself out of it.  Haha!
     When I was growing up my brother talked in his sleep all the time.  About 1am every morning I went in his room to listen to what funny crap he was going to say.  The best time was when I got my parents to listen with me.  Turns out I picked the perfect night for that.  He was talking about riding in a car with my dad.  All of the sudden he says, "Gimme the keys fat a**, I'm driving!"  I burst into laughter.  My dad, not so much.  That was hilarious.
     My mentioning that I need to go to the dentist and all this talk of people doing funny things and having no control over it reminds me of the time my oldest daughter went to the dentist to get a couple of busted teeth pulled.  She was 7.  Her dad took her.  When they got back my husband showed me a couple of pics he took of her after she was drugged up.  She looked high, and my husband said she kept saying she couldn't feel her body, and that she wanted to hear Fergie sing.  When they got back I made her sit down because she kept bumping into the walls.  I sat with her.  After a minute I looked over at her and saw her with the pencil that she brought home from the dentist.  She had the unsharpened end pointed towards her face and she was staring at it with one eye open like she was in some kind of trance.  Funny, but I confiscated the pencil.  She said she was sick of sitting and could prove that she could walk.  I let her try.  She was very serious about it and made her best attempt.  Basically she stood up and shuffled her feet in super slo-mo, but she was moving her arms about a hundred miles an hour.  She looked like one of those speed walkers except she wasn't really getting to far.  I was laughing so hard.
     Time to go make homemade rice krispie treats, thanks to my BFF for the awesome idea!!!   ~Jess