'let's talk about all the good things & the bad things that may be'

So the other night, I'm sitting at McDonald's with my kids and my Dad and I'm doing what I typically do when I go to McDonald's, which is bitch about how nasty and cold the food is, and rant about how, if I wanted to eat food in a place that resembled the restroom in Trainspotting, I'd whip up a little something at home, take my plate upstairs to the bathroom the penis-bearing populace of my house frequent, and wedge myself between the tub and the toilet. I'm quite the lovely dining companion. A living, breathing Happy Meal, if you will.

As I'm picking at the congealed cheese on my burger, I hear the first in a series of hacking coughs directly behind me. Just as I'm thinking, "Nice one. Geez," I feel something wet hit the back of my neck. Normally, I'd consider this an impressive trick considering the length and depth of my hair, but as the remaining phlegm settle upon me and begins it's decent down my neck, I realize I'd been hacked on by a snot nosed kid who, short of taking my face lovingly in his hands and licking me, forehead to chin, has chosen to share his disease (and maybe some globs of his chicken nuggets) with me with the most intense bronchial prowess I've ever heard. In order to claim that title, he chose to hack on me again. And again. And once more. But wait! As I turned to give him the "WTF?" look (the same one I tried to give his oblivious mom seated two tables over - I knew it was her because she kept telling him to "Shhhh!!!" while she visited with her equally oblivious friend), he coughed directly in my face, assuring the first cold of the season would arrive soon.

So, long story short (Did you stick with me there? I know some people would be scared of my wordy words and be all, "You talk too much. Shut up, bitch!"), this kid's germs have, as predicted, grabbed the reigns of my sinuses and have been yanking on my brain since around 3 p.m. Thursday, and while I have lots of things to say and lots of emails to reply to (eyeez send emalez. prom iz, yeah?), you're stuck with some rambling thoughts for today.

• This week I attended a women's ministry group meeting. It's a social/devotional time for us to get to know each other better. Blah, blah, blah. At the end of the meeting is a time for prayer requests. In my head, I start to sing "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" and I'm at the "...so now I'm praying for the end of time, to hurry up and arrive..." part because we're nearly 45 minutes past the scheduled end of the meeting. As I start humming "'cause if I gotta spend another minute with you, I don't think that I can really survive," I realize the lady seated next to me is asking us to pray for her sex life. *Bink* *Blink* Be gone, Meatloaf! I perk up because who can resist soft core? She wants us to pray for her to feel more sexual and responsive to her husband. "Amen, sister!" shouted another woman, who then asked us to pray that she can please her husband sexually. She would've gone into more detail, but she was interrupted by another who asked if we'd pray for her to be able to orgasm. Normally I go to church on Sunday and have a tendency to tune out (God and I haven't been talking about sex, see, because we've not been talking about much lately), but now I feel the need to start paying better attention because I don't want to drift off and find myself staring at the back of Bob and Sally's heads and wondering what they did Saturday night, wink wink.
• For the past week, we've been a Nielsen family house. This means that every time we've had the television on, we've had to chart our viewing habits. As you can imagine, we've been drunk with power, believing we've a hand in what you'll get to watch. In truth, it really just shows we're suckers and will do anything for $5, which we received as a thank you for our efforts. Rest assured, America. Based upon what's been tracked here, Spongebob Square Pants and Mythbusters (blech!) will never go off the air. And let me apologize now for the pat on the back I've given VH1 for the Salt and Pepa Show. "Cause if I, too, wanna take a guy home wit me tonight, it's none of yo bizzness" Not like I'd do that, though. Evil.
• Speaking of evil, I'm convinced my computer is possessed by it, and knowing what I know, I don't think that's just me saying that to sound all cute and/or paranoid. I would pay $5 and promise never to let such evil into it again to have this thing exorcised.
• So yesterday I'm all, "Motherhood is kinda sucky right now. Who was it that wanted these kids anyway? Blah," when it hit me that my period is hella late. So I'm giving it a few more days, because it's not a clockwork thing, but pretty close. Admittedly, although my fingers aren't necessarily crossed, when I realized this my thoughts went to "Kids are perfect! I love kids!"
• Crap like this "fat suit investigation" pisses me off. I could go on an on about how pathetic I find these so-called investigative "news" pieces, starting with how the women (it's typically always a woman) are transformed into an obese person and then made to appear so homely and ugly, because, naturally, that's' what fat women must look like, right? Give me a break. I've been a fat woman. Having been one, I cringe when I hear the people who participate in these experiences cry and say how they can't stand to look at themselves, how they thank God they don't really look like that. Go to the supermarket and look at desserts. Ooooh! Look at the people look at you angrily for touching the cupcakes! What's that? You feel ignored today because you're fat and no one is acknowledging you, unlike yesterday, when you were skinny, it was all eyes on you? Gag. Guess what. A couple hours later, you get to go back into the make up chair and have all the padding removed and return to "normal." Magic. An added bonus is you don't have to carry around the "fat girl thoughts" in your head after you're back to your fighting weight. There's no new "news" to these kinds of stories, and I just find it insulting.
• I'm further insulted that I stumbled across that piece on Entertainment Tonight as I was browsing the television channels and now, since I watched it, I have to record it in my Nielsen family viewing journal. Sigh.

OK, the night time cold medicine is starting to kick in, so my rambling should stop. It was kind of you to humor the sick girl by reading the ramblings. You're sweet. Feel free to ramble in the comments. Any topic's fine. I totally won't hack on you.