Pillow Talk

Ahhh good old pillow talk... one hears that phrase and many things come to mind... well unless you're me then many stranger things come to mind because my brain is wired as differently as a Martians is. But I digress. Most people hear that phrase and they either think of the sensual sexual talk between two lovers or the sleep talking secrets that lead to a divorce court.

For many years, my bedtime companions vacillated between five children of varying ages and three psychotic cats. Or is that three cats of varying ages and five psychotic children? Anyway, with those choices as my sleeping companions the pillow talk lacked something in the way of sensuality and sexuality was a word I eagerly listened for on The Discovery Channel just to get a cheap thrill. I was the only woman alive to get aroused by nature shows depicting the mating habits of red butt monkeys.

Jordan was always the most interesting one of my offspring to sleep with. First because he was a cuddler and I would sleep next to Sasquatch if he could keep me warm, but mainly because I never failed to get a laugh from him. He had/has a habit of giggling hysterically in his sleep; he has been doing that since infancy. I like to think that because he can't live the same normal life we have, God gives him an extraordinary sleep world. He will out of the blue go from silent sleep to outright laughter to the point where he practically about to roll off the bed he is laughing so hard. All this with closed eyes and then like a switch has been flipped he stops.

Then there are the times he talks in his sleep. Once I was privileged to be there when he talked to God in his sleep and from the sound of it was getting replies. The product of an unstable mind some may say but they weren't the one there getting chills while he talked.
Jordan- "But I didded good today in school didn't I? I got a level three and got to have pizza. Do they have pizza there? I don't remember."
Then a pause...
Jordan- "Dink... I'm glad cause if YOU say I can have pizza maybe then mommy won't say it costs too many dollars. Can I have Lemonheads for breakfast"?
another pause...
Jordan- "Yay!!" then he paused... then... "can I really fly when I live with you?"
A pause...
Jordan- "Oh...ok... well... that's ok... but if you change your mind I want purple wings ok? When I am borned next time after I get old and get to be a baby again, will I be smart and will people like me and not call me names?"

Another pause as I leaned in closer to better hear his quiet mumbles... but this time there was no verbal answer from Jordan... then he smiled very big and drifted back into quiet sleep.

Now, to some this may sound unbelievable. Even to those who know me that may be the case. But I was there... I was the one who was practically in tears by the end of his conversation. THAT is pillow talk with Jordan.

Now Zachie man is on the other end of the spectrum. When he sleeps he becomes a very vocal mixture of snoring and snorting and dreams that involve him saving the world from destruction while seemingly making his cruel mother who makes him eat yucky things like beans for dinner beg for his benevolent mercy. He is a snoring blond Captain Planet mixed with a little bit of The Joker and a touch of Jack The Ripper. I am quite sure he is going to grow up to be a serial killer... that or the President.... not a lot of difference. He is the only 11 year old who has been known to chuckle maniacally in his sleep. Mind you there was also the time he was sound asleep and out of the blue started laughing loudly and screeched "Stop tickling me mommmmyyyyyy" I of course was on the other sound of the bed reading quietly and got scared out of ten years by that outburst. He woke himself up with it and we both giggled like loons for a few minutes before he went back to sleep.

Rachel was always a quiet sleeper... no pillow talk with her... she is dainty even in sleep. She is like me; little movement unless she is having a bad night and no vocalization.

Cammy used to be under rule to bring his own pillow because otherwise by morning I would have to change the pillowcase because he drools like a fiend in his sleep... his only pillow talk is the sound of slurping lol (Lord I'm glad my kids don't read this journal.. I would be killed)

Jared was always the "big kid" and stopped the sleeping with mom stuff fairly young in comparison to the others... last time he did he was maybe 11... and when he was there so was Cammy so the pillow talk there was the two of them comparing bodily noises and smells... I usually left the room to be queasy.

The Pillow talk I get now is mild in comparison to what I got used to. Russell snores to wake the dead... I can leave the room and be coming back and hear "ZIUTRWUYOTFDLHAKGDTG...snort snort snort". It's not exactly "come here you sexy woman you and let me do wonderfully obscene things to your body" but I've grown rather fond of it.

His and Hers Housecleaning

As you read this keep three words in mind please. TONGUE IN CHEEK!!!

How to clean the kitchen...her way.

Start at the top because it makes no sense to clean upwards...everyone knows that. Clean the shelves where you store things and dust and windex all the little knick knacks until they are glittering enough to make an ADHD person stop and say "oooo, shiny things!"

Clean the counters and other surfaces with a steaming hot soapy rag making sure to lift up things on the counter to get the nasties trying to hide under and behind them... germs...ugh!!

Get the Clorox wipes and re-wipe everything after thoroughly drying the counter...germs...UGH!

Look into the cabinets and see how the flour has spilled onto the shelves some. Take the flour out to wipe up the spill and then notice that other things look disorganized and think that there is no way you can cook in a kitchen like that. Take everything out of the one cabinet and straighten it out, again using the Clorox wipes. Get thoroughly grossed out when you find a piece of old stale bread that has somehow gotten shoved to the back of the cabinet. Gag a little as you throw it out.

Notice how nice that cabinet now looks in comparison to the others and with a happy OCD sigh start on the other cabinets, whistling as you alphabetize the spices and make sure all the cans are grouped by food category.

Clean out microwave using boiling water/vinegar method also making sure to move microwave to get anything trapped underneath.

Clean kitchen window, inside and out, cleaning any fingerprints and marks in the door also.

That done, get out mop bucket. Fill with water that is about half a degree away from boiling. Put in enough Pine-Sol and disinfectant to scare away any germs within a 45 mile radius. Mop floor...twice. Then get out floor wax and on hands and knees, cover every inch of the floor in a shiny coating making sure to wipe down baseboards as you work.

Open refrigerator with trepidation because you never know what new mess you will find in there. Take everything out, throwing out anything past it's date or that looks as if it could be an experiment for Dr. Frankenstein (or is that franc-en-steen?). Clean off the shelves with diluted bleach water, again steaming hot. Sigh as you wonder why your kids have opened 3 different containers of mayo and 4 of the same type of jam. Put everything back in, making sure to put the oldest near the front in the vain hope that it will get used first.

Finally done, reward yourself with a cup of hot tea and something chocolate. Relax....for five minutes...until the kids enter the kitchen and ruin everything you just finished. Start over.

His way....assuming he doesn't live with a woman.

Go into the kitchen to get a beer. Notice that to get to the refrigerator, you had to navigate past three full trash bags and a sticky floor stain that you are pretty sure is from when your bud Joe got sick last week after too many brews and nachos. Damn, you thought you had cleaned that. Lean down and inspect it a little closer and think to yourself that Joe really needs to chew his food better; that had to have hurt coming up.

Decide maybe you should do something about the kitchen. Women like a clean man so if you can brag about your spotless kitchen, you may have a better chance of getting laid by that chick at the office with the big knockers.

Search for 30 minutes for the cleaning supplies finally finding a dusty bottle of Windex, some rags and some Mr. Clean under the kitchen sink from the last time your mother cleaned up the apartment for you. Wonder where the hell all those pots and pans under your sink came from and what you're supposed to do with them; doesn't everyone order food in every night? Look at the picture of Mr. Clean and think he has nothing on your buff body. Do some poses for a few minutes in comparison then get to work.

Take the trash outside to the dumpster. Come back in breathing heavy and tell yourself you have to start going back to the gym. Get out a beer from the fridge, recoiling at the stench and sit down in front of ESPN Sportscenter for a few minutes... that was hard-ass work and you deserve a break.

Finish the beer and go back into the kitchen after taking a leak and doing some more Mr. Clean poses in front of the bathroom mirror.

Get the rags and the Windex and spray about half a bottle on the counter figuring more is better. Sop it up with the rags not bothering to move any of the crap on the counter; you'll toss that shit in a new trash bag when you're done with the smelly spray stuff. Sneeze a few times cause of the ammonia smell and wipe your hands on your jeans after looking at the snot on your palm.

Take the now dripping smelly goop covered rags over to the microwave cause you figure nows the time to clean it too since the door has to be pulled with brute force just to get it open cause it's sticky as all hell. Wipe the insides out with the rags laughing a little as you remember when you and the guys blew up one of those little plastic cans of beans in there a few months back cause you forgot to take the lid off. Clean up the beans still stuck to the inside top of the microwave and wonder if that's what fell into your TV dinner a couple nights ago. Oh well, who cares? It tasted fine.

Figure that now that the rest of the kitchen looks so damn good, you should do the fridge and the floor. Shit, that girl at work is gonna fall all over you when you tell her what a housekeeping god you are!

Get one of those pots from under the sink...least they're good for something anyway and fill it partway with cold water and then dump the rest of the Windex in there. Go get the mop from your deck where you were using it as a field hockey stick one night about a year ago to try to make beer cans fly over to the dumpster.

Dunk the mop into the pot and slop it all over the floor. Work on the puke stain for a bit. When it doesn't come up, figure at least it looks like clean throw up now and leave it. You're getting tired; you can always buy one of those girly rugs to cover the spot. That'll just add to your housekeeping/decorating god status.

Finish the floor. Use the mop to have an imaginary sword fight with someone, flinging filthy water all over the counters you "cleaned".

Open the fridge and recoil from the stench again. Find some Chinese take out from last week and sit down and have a bite to eat, scooping away the crusty parts. Set the container on the counter when you are done and toss the plastic fork in the sink.

Go back to the still open refrigerator. Take out a...a...a... something green and hard and smell it. Realize it isn't the source of the smell and toss it in the garbage scoring two points for the free throw. Dig around a little, moving the mayo jar with no lid, the 12 take out containers, 4 McDonalds bags, 36 beers and that tofu your last girlfriend left there in '05 to the side.

Finally, near the back, you find a slimy dripping piece of what you think used to be KFC. Smell it, realize you have found the source of the smell and start to throw it out. Change your mind with an evil grin thinking you will hold on to it until this weekend when Joe comes over to watch the game. Figure you'll let him have a few brews then offer him a snack... this should be classic! Wrap it up in foil so at least it won't reek anymore. Wipe your now windexed, beaned and slimed hands on your jeans. Look around the kitchen and feel proud of yourself and mentally leer at the cleavage of "office girl" as you imagine her nude on your kitchen counter. Get another beer, leave the kitchen and go watch TV. Repeat in six months.

Nineteen and Perky Boobs

We all have our ONE "drunk story" that never fails to crack us up, even years later. Here's mine.

It was a dark and stormy night. Wait, wrong story. Sorry, I'll try again.

Once upon a time there were three bears. What do you mean you've heard that before!? Fine fine fine. Pooheads.

When I was 19, I lived in Cleveland for a time with a penny ante drug dealer named Dave (wth is in my life with men names Dave? Ok, moving on.). When I moved in with him, it was with the understanding that we would NOT sleep together unless I decided I was ready. I had my own room, he had his and never the twain did meet. Which I guess pissed him off enough to get his revenge.

One night, we had an evening of heavy drinking at the local watering hole where we and all our friends hung out. At least I assume there was heavy drinking. I don't remember that night, just the next day. They quite possibly were feeding me toilet water and I was slurping it up and giggling.
The night passed as they all seem wont to do. The next morning, I woke up bleary eyed and with a tongue that had been coated in dirty St. Bernard fur as I slept.

In his car.

With no clothes.

Just a half slip.

It was laid out neatly on the back of the seat.

I woke up at mid morning. This was a fairly quiet neighborhood but not dead so there was traffic of the foot and human variety that time of morning.

After sitting in the car for a while trying to figure out just how I GOT there and where the hell my clothes were I knew I had to make a run for it. I grabbed the half slip and pulled it on. Pull too high and my naked crotch and butt were hanging out. Leave it too low and there were my nice perky 19 year old boobs greeting the day. Pull the slip up... grimace and think I really need to start shaving. Pull the slip down and think that my nipples would be getting out of the car before me.

So I compromised. I pulled the slip down, got out of the car, hunched over like Quasimodos sister and ran like hell for the front door. The door that was always unlocked.

RAN!!!! Holding onto the slip for dear life of course. Grabbed the knob!!!! Fell on my ASS when the door didn't open like it was supposed to. Wth!? That door was always unlocked. I lived with a very friendly dealer!

Being a rational human being, I did what any rational hungover practically nude person would do. I started beating on the door and yelling to be let in. Quietly stand there and hope that he would answer? No way. My way got much more unwanted attention, car honks, wolf whistles and outright laughter.

No answer was forthcoming. So I did the Quasimodo Shuffle to the back door, just KNOWING inside my still half drunk heart that somewhere just out of view, somebody was taking pictures of my wiggling arse and bouncing boobs as I was running around the house.

Got to the back door, tried the knob. SHIT! Locked! Banged again, all pretense of civility gone while at the same time I was able to be outside the situation enough that I was laughing my uncovered self silly as I banged and cussed a blue streak.

Suddenly, from the corner of my eye I see the little old lady from next door slowly walking over. She gets to the back door and stands there looking at me. She sniffs a few times, wipes her face and is very obviously trying not to laugh at this mad woman/child with the mussed up hair, lovely slip and various uncovered body parts as I pushed and pulled the slip in embarrassment.

"Honey, you looking for your man?"

"Yes ma'am" I answered as I turned the color of a ripe Autumn Apple.

"He was here earlier. Saw him take some clothes out of the car. Didn't know until I saw ya running from it that you was IN the car."

My clothes!? You saw him take my clothes?! What did he do with them? Did he take them inside? Tell me he didn't take them inside."

"Oh no honey, they aint inside." At that I saw her glance upwards, biting her lip at this point so as to not laugh.

I followed her glance but saw nothing. "Ummm, Mrs so and so, where are my clothes?"

Her mouth quivering under the strain, she pointed to the roof. There, laid out like a little flat Janet, hanging over the edge of the roof and held down by rocks, were my clothes. My blouse, my skirt and yes even my shoes set next to them.

That was all I could take as well as all Mrs. So and So could take. Looking at the roof yet again and watching the hem of my skirt wave gaily at us, we both burst out laughing in loud unrestrained whoops. The demure old lady and the slightly wild mostly naked teenage girl had bonded... over my lack of clothing.

She brought me to her house and we tried to find something I could wear. But I was 5'8" and she was 5' nothing. I ended up with her dead husbands robe.

I knew where Dave was. His best friend Scott lived about a mile and a half from our place. So gathering all my inner aplomb and dignity, I belted up the robe and struck out on this sunny Saturday morning to go find him.

That mile and a half trek was the longest walk I've ever taken. Yet, also in it's way, the most fun. I've always had an overdeveloped sense of the ridiculous as well as being a ham, even as shy as I am.

Got to Scotts house and walked in. There were Dave and Scott, smoking a joint on the living room floor. Dave offered it to me with a grin. I refused as I always did... but with a grin.I then picked up his morning beer, took a long drink and poured the rest in his lap. Then as he started laughing hysterically, I got a glass of pop and sat down and we proceeded to have a pleasant day. That is... AFTER he gave me the clothes he had brought with him for me. He knew i'd find him.

We split up a few weeks later. I refused to ever sleep with him and he wanted more. But you know what? We split up amicably. Nicest guy I've ever lived with for all that he was a loonbunny from Hell.