Spaghetti Streamers

My son was sick last night. Apparently I had a bull’s eye on my chest because his spews all landed on me, and I felt sexy AND "hot"! My son is a powerpuker. If you measure the distance and velocity of his average "previously digested offerings", you would see the same potential I do. He is well on his way to a gold medal in the Mommy Olympic sport of Distance Powerpuking. As I measure his current qualifying runs, I discover the "companion" Mommy Olympic sport, Sympathy Distance Powerpuking.

My mind is like a highway of absurdity so in every moment it treks off to another experience or rationality about the situation at hand. This time is no exception.

I thought back to the days of old when puking was subsequent to hours of dancing, flirting, and fun (I have not been out since 1902, so these are ancient ruin memories I am sharing with you, you’re welcome!).
I have a friend who can not go out without discharging sick juice at me. Still, she is pretty, blonde and very fun so I would weigh my options and almost certainly still go out with her. I never really drank when I went out because I knew the babysitting and transport job were imminent. If we went out to eat before, I would dissect her meal as to have the most pleasant afterlife effect (Drinking tip #152: plain spaghetti noodles have a nice fun streamer effect when extracted at you at warp speed). Her mom loved me because I always got her home safe. I also had the role of bodyguard and beat up men that were too aggressive with my leggy, limp, giggly, supermodel drunk girl friend.
I was the quintessential "GOTTA GO" girl. If she was dancing with a caveman (she was so easy a caveman could do 'er-----laughing---I have issues...), I walked up, nudged him,"GOTTA GO"!!! (If he didn't listen, I would pull his knuckle hair). When her lipstick was smeared, mascara running and boobs vertical instead of horizontal, I would say "GOTTA GO"! If the T-Rex at the bar was flailing his little arms to touch her and squelching come on lines, "GOTTA GO"!!!!! Many a night it was a mad dash to the door as the men running in slow motion, yelled "noooooooooooo,,,,dooooooon't gooooooooooooo!!" (For effect, say this in your best slow motion voice while moving your arms and legs slowly, further animating the sentence for maximum interactive post enjoyment, thank you). Now I'm no slouch, (I know it sounds as if I have a unibrow and should be called "hairnet Helga”) but that wasn't the case. I was the "pretty" - "GOTTA GO" girl (at least that's what I tell myself). Still, because of my job description, I didn't get much play while out with her and I got called B to the itch regularly. (What The Halibut!!!???)

........Just then, when all my fun young day memories were climaxing, another round of Olympic Powerpuke commenced, and I was back to "mommy" reality, and again I felt sexy!!!!!

(****** Hey, my beautiful friend, if you're reading this, it’s not you I'm talking about, I love you man!!!! Drinks on me (literally, they are after you party!!!)...But seriously, it’s not you...)