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You know what’s classy? Taking your New Girlfriend (decked out in mini skirt, belly top and fishnets) to the child support devision for an appointment you know that your Baby Mama is going to be at. When Dad and Baby Mama got up to go talk to the case worker and New Girlfriend started to walk back too, Baby Mom turned around and said, “You better SIT. YOUR. ASS. down.” If I’d had some popcorn and a 42oz. soda, I’d have been set.

I’d go into why I was there but not yet. Let’s just say that after letting $24,000 go unpaid just because I didn’t feel like fighting it went out the window the day I was called up and called a cunt because I didn’t feel like letting him get away with what I had in the past. And on the day we buried his uncle, no less. BIG. MISTAKE.

Cassidy is in Bakersfield with Carrielee and Amber for two weeks. I was literally getting in the car to leave and Cassidy and Carrielee were clinging to eachother with tears welling up and:

Amber: OMG! Just leave her here, we’ll bringher back in two weeks.
Cassidy: PLEASE MOM!! PLEASE? PLEASE? PLEASE? PLEASE?

At the same time as…

Carrielee: YEAH PLEASE?! PLEASE?! CAN SHE? CAN SHE PLEASE?! PLEASE ANNA?!
Me: OKAY! GOOD LORD, PEOPLE!

So she’s there with her BFF and her grandma and probably getting spoiled rotten and having a blast. Which gives me two weeks to do the Annual Room Cleaning Extravaganzaâ„¢. But not tonight! Tonight I need to go to bed for because I have to be rested for Gwen Stefani concert tomorrow! YAY! Girls night!

Last night I ate pasta. I couldn’t help it. It came on the plate with the chicken I wanted and it might have accidentally wrapped it’s way around my fork and found a way into my mouth. Like, eight times. Or possibly eleven.

I started having to scratch my leg before we got out of the restaurant and by the time we got in the car my stomach started to bloat and my head was pounding and I couldn’t get my temperature to regulate and I knew that for the rest of the night the wheat would ravage through my body like a herd of pissed off elephants trying to find a way out.

Me: I’m going to spend the entire night crapping.
Mom: ANNA!
Me: What!?
Mom: I’m trying to set a GOOD example for Chrissy!

Break to insert: my niece had been having some disciplinary issues and has been sent to my moms house (another state, away from her friends and the brunt of the problem) to live for the rest of the school year, about two months. My mom offered to do this because my brother has a lot going on that I’ll have to post about later but she’s 15 and all girl and ALL ATTITUDE.

Me: Mom, everybody poops! Haven’t you read the book?
Mom: But they don’t use that word! They say “poop” or “diarrhea” or something else.
Me: Crap was a MUCH better word than what I was originally going to say!
Mom: *vein starts throbbing in forehead* Anna…
Me: It is!
Mom: What kind of example does that set? What are you going to say when Cassidy starts saying that?
Me: She won’t say it. She knows she’s not allowed to use that word.
Mom: Monkey see, monkey do…
Me: Monkey get her butt whooped.

Meanwhile… Chrissy, Cameron and Cassidy are in the back of the car about to keel over from laughter.

My mom totally loves me.

Right after this we told stories of some of our best farts and how we’d used them against each other. One time I almost caused my little brother to get PHYSICALLY ill because I let out an SBD in the BMW and he couldn’t find the window button. German engineers are crazy guys and put them on the center console instead of the doors. Cameron almost OMGDIED and I was laughing so hard I almost had to pull over the car.

My mom just drove, white knuckled, trying as hard as she could to pretend that we were talking about kittens and butterflies.

As we took the elevator up from the parking garage:

Mom: I swear I don’t know how you people turned out this way. THESE are NOT my genes!
Me: You’re right. Three different fathers, but total coincidence. NONE of it is you. At all. Nope.
Cameron: Oh man, something big just hit my lower colon.

Cameron graduated from high school yesterday. It warms my heart to see the mature, intelligent, talented man he’s grown into.

This post was brought to you by the letter T as in ‘Trashy’. And the number 18, the number of years it took him to grow into one of my most favorite people EVER.