It rained this morning. Thank Shmuppie’s Teacher! (I’ll say that in lieu of saying Thank Jeebus from now on).
We’re having ourselves a wee bit of a drought here in NC. It’s to the point that they think we’ll be out of water in a few months. Like, we’ll turn on the faucet and it will say (in Samuel L Jackson’s voice, of course) “Bitch. Ain’t no motherfuckin’ water here”. So, just the other day, the governor announced that, perhaps, residents of the Tar Heel State may want to consider using less water.
So, Shmuppie learned the following little poem:
If it’s yellow, let it mellow.
If it’s brown, send it down.
We’re also encouraged to not have the water run while we brush our tooth and to collect graywater during showers.
That one has me confused. We’re going to put a 5-gallon bucket in the bathroom for shower time. As it is, water needs to come up from the basement to get to the full bathrooms. So, it takes at least a minute for it to warm up. We can collect that water and use it to flush the poopies away. But, it seems they want us to try to collect all shower water. Can anyone suggest how the fuck one is supposed to do this? I can’t exactly stand in the bucket while I shower and hope the water lands in it, can I?
Shmuppie is somewhat confused over the flushing thing. She’s very into repetitive patterns. It’s the retard in her.
Speaking of the kid:
Last Monday night, I was getting her undressed to go shower and noticed a nasty scratch on her neck.
Me: Hon? (To JewelrySlut) Did you see the scratch on the kid?
JewelrySlut (From the depths of a rum bottle): Blerg?
Me: Shmuppie, how did you get that scratch?
Shmuppie: Umm…it’s a bug bite?
Me: No…tell me the truth
Shmuppie: Frank (a kid in her class) did it?
Me: Hon…you may want to sober up and come see this.
JewelrySlut: Who did this?
Me: Fuckall! Who was it?
We finally determined that Devin had attacked her on the playground. This is the same Devin who, on the previous Friday, had bitten and slapped Shmuppie in the middle of class.
So, on Tuesday, we took Shmuppie to school and had to go see Jesus…er…Shmuppie’s teacher. She knew right away about what had happened. We looked a little puzzled because, the week before, the school had called as soon as Shmuppie had been slapped. This time, while the kid had a big scratch on her, they didn’t call. We expressed our concerns and were told that Devin was having a sit down with the principal and his mother to discuss things and that they were trying to remedy the situation.
Now, is this bad? Yes t is. But, we didn’t freak out and start yelling because we believe the teacher that she’s trying to fix things. Devin’s been a problem from the first day of school. See, Devin doesn’t speak a lick of English and his teachers don’t speak Spanish. Kinda makes for difficulties in the classroom.
We told the teacher we’d be keeping an eye on things. My mother, the NJ-based Wop in her rising up, wants to go start killing people. We’ve politely asked her to fuck off.
But, Shmuppie is OK. She’s been moved to a new table in the classroom and has been in Green ever since the incident.
Nightmare asked me to write down things she says:
Here’s one from a few weeks ago that JewelrySlut just recently found in her little notebook:
Setting: My car. We’re driving to dinner to celebrate Shmuppie’s promotion to the big kid swim class.
Me (looking in the rearview mirror and seeing an obviously pissed off kid): What’s wrong?
Shmuppie: I’m bored (mind you, we’ve been in the car for 4 minutes)
Me: I’m sorry. What would you like me to entertain you?
Shmuppie: I don’t know
JewelrySlut: I don’t think you know what that word means.
Shmuppie: Yes I do. It means you can’t hear