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About a week ago, I said something that hurt my mother's feelings - and as punishment I had to go over to her house and build her a deck.

I'm exaggerating.  But only slightly. I did say something that hurt her feelings. And I did go over and help with the deck.

15 years ago, the three of us built the deck on the back of their house.  I learned yesterday that it's 1400 square feet of deck.  I don't think you really realize how freakin' big 1400 square feet is until you have to build it - or you move into your first apartment.  Because yesterday, while demoing our creation from 15 years ago it dawned on me just HOW LARGE their deck is...and how very small my first apartment was - comparatively speaking.

So, it's time for the old to come out and for the new to go in.  They got a quote for some new uber cool boards that they are going to use - and then the quote for just delivery of the boards and the quote if someone ELSE would build the deck for them.  Let's just say it was an easy choice to build it themselves.

There are muscles in my body right now that are screaming - and these are muscles that I didn't even know I had. My ass hurts. It hurts to sit down. It hurts to get back up. It hurts to bend over. I actually had to ask my daughter to get my shoes on for me this morning.  It's times like these where you realize you really need to get into the gym.

But given the way I feel I would rather blow up the nearest gym and then go for ice cream and watch it burn.

While sitting on the couch last night I asked my daughter to please not hurt herself in any way because I just didn't think I could muster the energy to save her life. Or even get up for a band-aid.  That's how awesome I am.

I could tell you how awesome my Mom and I are with power tools, or how every single time we accidentally killed an earth worm we would apologize - or how I wasn't allowed to kill any of the 5 million spiders that tried to eat me....But even the tips of my fingers hurt, so this is all you get.

Please send ice packs.

It all started with my folks having to go downtown. He had a "thing" at work. She wanted to go see it. I said I wanted to go too.  What follows is why my mother and I should not be allowed together, in public, without supervision.  Or maybe just not allowed together at all.  Or maybe neither one of us should be allowed out of our homes- regardless of if we are together or not.

We don't go downtown all that often. So when it happens it's kind of an experience. We have to figure how we're going to get there, what we're going to wear, what time we're going to leave, when we'll get home, when the sun will rise, what we will be doing every second we are there, and what shape the moon will be in later that evening.  It's kind of a big deal.  Which to the males in our lives...going downtown is kind of .... "meh".  They do it everyday.

We had a few hours to ourselves to just walk around - no problem. Shops, sightseeing, people watching. Turns out this week is the Policy Unity Tour downtown, so there are about 5 gazillion cops downtown. Makes you feel pretty safe actually. They are pretty easy to pick out - turns out cops come from far and wide to unite for fallen brothers & sisters.  However, they can get pretty rowdy when the sun goes down.  While standing at a street corner waiting to cross...MY mother says:

"You could jaywalk anywhere in town today and no one would care since all the cops are probably already drunk!"  and from directly behind we hear...

"Not quite yet"

Turns out we were standing right in front of a cop and his lovely girlfriend.

Score 1 for Mom and I.

Shortly after that we were chased down an alley by some crazy man talking to himself...or us....or his imaginary friend. We really didn't want to stick around and ask him who in the hell he was talking to.  Or if the voices spoke back to him.

And after THAT some greasy guy asked me for money, and when I POLITELY shook my head.....Well, let's just say he said things about me that I won't repeat on this blog.  And y'all KNOW the language I use on this blog.

When we finally made it into his office, we learned that apparently my mother and I are wanted criminals.....Because it's the kind of office where we have to wear tags with a big red V on it and be escorted every where we go.  Including the restroom.  So, it was actually all very cool and spy'ish. Except I learned that my mother can't be cool when trying to be stealthy trying to sneak to the bathroom without trying to be noticed.  I'm never taking her to break into a bank.  She'll totally break my cover.

That was after we were locked in an office for an hour and decided to put lotion on our feet because we had nothing else better to do. And then realized that the lotion was so slippery and gooey that when we put our shoes back on we both fell flat on our faces. So we spent a good 10 minutes trying to wipe the lotion off - only to realize that we were trying to wipe the lotion off with tissues with lotion built in.

You need to understand at this point in the story that we have yet to actually start the reception or meet another living soul.  We just do this when we're alone.  And frighteningly so, sober.

We managed to get our shit together by party time. We were cool, calm, collected.  We met people, we shook hands - we were thrilled to meet all the folks he worked with. It was a great reception.  We met people we've only heard stories about - and finally got to put faces to names.  And apparently for them as well.  People seemed excited to meet us as well.

And I have to say - I think I have "some girls" now.  Even if I did say to one of them that the lady bug pendant that she was thinking about buying was, indeed, not cute.  And they did ask me a few times if my soda was, in fact, ONLY soda.  I'm sure that was said out of love.

We ended the day with a final restroom break and while using the facilities I chatted away at Mom's feet.  Only to realize while standing out in the hallway waiting for her - that my Mom was on the other side of the building.  I have absolutely no idea who the hell I was talking to in the bathroom.  Or what the hell I said.


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Very few days go by that I don't talk to my best friend. Most of those conversations are nonsense.

I called her the other day to tell her that some lady was walking her dog. In a baby stroller. You can't make this shit up y'all.  She was walking.  With a dog. In a baby stroller. And she was stopping every so often, and peering inside...petting him...and then would continue to walk. I was stuck at an goose accident.  Again, you can't make this crap up. Some asshole hit a goose on a small road behind my house. So, I got to spend a good 10 minutes watching this woman...I don't know...Stroll her dog.

It was one of the weirdest things I had ever seen.  So I called her.

That's what I do when I see stupid shit. I call her.
It's also what I do when I DO stupid shit. I call her. And she agrees. "Wow, you're a stupid shit."

We also talk about Lost.  A lot.  We're scared that come the end of May we won't have anything to talk about anymore and our friendship will end.  I feel as though that as long as there are stupid people in the world, our friendship will survive.

Anyway, I was talking to her the other day - and I'm not entirely sure what we were talking about - but somehow we got on the subject of Cinco De Mayo.  And me, being the stupid shit said, "When is that?"

I'll wait here......Done?  Ok.

We laughed for a while and I explained that on MY calendar at work it doesn't say 'Cinco De Mayo', it says "Battle of Puebla". So, of course we both immediately looked it up.  Thanks Wikipedia.

The point of this post is that neither of us knew WHY we drink on Cinco De Mayo.

But we drink none the less.
And decided that I need a new calendar.
And a history class.

Happy Battle of Puebla Day!!