Saturday, February 19, 2011

Jackass -The Sequel

I've got to say, upon the last event here, that i feel that the problem lies within the Y Chromosome. I feel somewhat exonerated as i down my Gin thinking back now. The double XX Chromosome seems to be attached to logical thinking. I'm pretty sure i could get funding for this theory, if only to supply me with more alcohol... I wouldn't need to actually put funds into the theory to explain it as it seems that if you give the ppl sporting the "Y" chromosome an hour of unsupervised time, they tend to only build my case.

The test subjects here are The Man and The Boy...both sporting the "y" and I like to think of it now as WHY??? and a Saturday evening to themselves enjoying The boys new scooter. The scooter has recently had it's rear wheel replaced "Y"? Well because The Boy has found a big thrill in starting at the top of our long, steep driveway and likes to zoom full on down it, breaking at the bottom of the house causing the wheel to screech and smoke and doing some fun patterns on the asphalt. Don't look at ME to be supporting this $20 wheel replacement from once was a perfectly round wheel now looking rather square but the other... yes that other Y is happy to go and shell out the dough because he too thinks this is grand entertainment. In fact that afternoon I am seeing both return with the new wheel and heading to the garage but THEN i see them leaving the cave with newly fixed scooter, a flat board and some chunks of wood back down the drive High Fiving each other and grinning like idiots. This can't be good can it....?

No. No it can't, as a short 2 tries later over the newly build RAMP at the bottom of the drive The Man comes in carrying The Boy all bloody in his arms. What the hell??? The two double Xs run to do triage and while picking bits of debris from his elbow we discover that perhaps this is not the main problem here... noooo... it seems that while the boy did in fact get some "air time" off the launch he ending up landing over the handlebars and landing full on his hands. Perhaps an x-ray is in order since he can't seem to move his left one. Awesome! There is nothing better than going to the Emergency on a Saturday night now is there? Little XX packs for the field trip a bag designed to feed and entertain the masses for what i'm sure is to be hours if not days in the petri dish of the city. Big XX grabs cash for the $100 worth of parking we are to pay and the family loads up and heads out into the night. I have said nothing and continue to keep my silence- really if i were to start it would never end.

Auckland's main hospital (downtown) is housed with the most pleasant surprises though... It's almost a valet type feel and you pull into the Emerg with a guard directing you to a lovely little unloading area. From there, you have two choices of Adult doors and Children's doors leading to separate Emergencies. What a Godsend to know that the next 5 hours i won't have a drunk person sleeping on my shoulder while i count the candy slots in the vending machine over and over. Mind you, children scream and cry a lot when they're ill... but it did seem like the lesser of the two evils. We were incorporated into the health machine in such short order though! In no time we were all huddled in our own personal curtain cubby awaiting the Dr. Oh look! A lady pushing a trolly stops by and asks me if i would like some coffee or tea! Must have been a hybrid because i know i asked for coffee but it tasted quite like both. No matter- gave me something to grip while being too slow to follow the two Y's to xray with my Little XX and we ended up standing between a locked elevator and 3 sets of locked doors waiting for someone.. hell anyone to come along and open anything. Turns out it was the WHYS coming down from Xray wondering what had happened to us. Silence continues and my teeth gnaw on my tongue a bit more.

The X-rays turned out to be somewhat helpful in letting us know that we had no major issues of breakage BUT it couldn't show us all the tiny bones in Y's hand and so for safety measure they were setting him in a cast for a few days. As an added bonus, little Y was offered laughing gas while they set his hand of which The Boy took FULL advantage of puffing on it like a steam engine and myself getting into a wrestling match with the laughing loon to pry it from his death grip. Glassy eyed and hiccupping i was told from little Y that i was indeed a killjoy.

I guess the silence was getting a bit much for the WHY ppl in the car on the way home as one of the first things said was "It was pretty good air time you got buddy, which little WHY replied YA! Did you see the first one! The week passed without incident... no, nothing to note other than the day of the cast removal another fun event for me as Mr WHY comes into the house starting up his powered skill saw and with a devilish gleam in his eye and asks "where's The Boy?" I head to the liquor cabinet with my field notes on my study and poor another.


Yes, I know of this that are really boys that do stupid life threatening stunts after a kegger for the camera. I personally have yet to sit thru a complete show or one of their money sucking movies in the theaters. I can't fathom what their mothers must be thinking as one of them lights a fireworks out of another's butt and giggles with glee as they all head off to the emergency. Actually, I think if it were me, I would be going about with a bottle of gin and hanging my head in shame at the whole business. "Where and when did I go go wrong?" they must be thinking to themselves.. and until most recently I prolly would have put a lot on these boy's upbringings but I see now that I too am heading down the path laid with empty bottles of gin.

Sometimes it takes just an hour of boredom and being by oneself that not so great ideas form. Take a look at the boy after school all exhausted from all that rule following and learning. He generally comes home and plops himself in front of the TV for a wee bit just to unwind. One of his favorite shows is WWE wrestling. I have walked into the living room and seen him trying to put a hold on Thabo- who bless his heart just stands there and uses his only defense -farting. Wally is keen to attack The Boy but she doesn't play WWE rules and likes to hide behind the couch and launch herself at The Boys shorts. I have also seen her stalk the boy and while The Boy appears to be taking a break she will pounce on his feet latching onto his socks in her own personal "Wally Hold" and waits to hear the scream in order to gain a point for the match. My living room is the arena and i have walked in and immediately turned myself out when i see all the cushions on the couch strewn about the carpet and the boy attempting some sort of back flip off the back of the couch. Really I don't need to see this do i? The rest of the participants seem to agree since everything comes to a stop and 3 pairs of eyes stare at me while tails drop (not the boy!) and silence ensues until i turn my back.

The other day though, things got a wee quiet in the arena... I honestly thought they had just all played themselves out and kept on clicking away at the MAC until i heard my name being said. I looked up and there was my son staring at me from within my wicker foot stool from Pier 101. At first i thought it was some sort of play of "Lion Tamer Gone Wrong" and i asked him what i could do for him- perhaps put together a whip? But no, The Boy had been practicing his "moves" again and had lodged his melon in my stool and couldn't remove it. In fact, he tells me, it's getting a wee heavy and could i maybe do something about this? But of course i say, as I march into the office and grab my camera.. i will be doing something for sure about this situation. I figured documenting the stupidity and holding photos for ransom was my first order of business. I have not a collection but a complete 12 volume work for his wedding day and gosh he is only 11!

After a snapped a few pics off I did *try* ever so carefully to remove my is a lovely piece and I'm thinking this will prolly outlast my son at any rate but his damn ears seemed to be the issue- I only got up to his neck and he was making those Bart Simpson choking noises and crying "Diddly! Diddly" before i sent him to the couch to sit with the stool propped up on the back to take the weight off while i gave it a think. Meanwhile his sister comes home, takes one look at her brother watching TV with the wicker cage around his head and rolls her eyes and heads up to her room calling behind her- "Did you get the pics or should I grab the cam?"

Well certainly time was of the essence since The Man would be home in and hour and the two of them trying to solve the issue would most certainly lead to some sort of tool- perhaps a saw.. a head and most importantly my stool ending up in pieces so i looked around the kitchen for something to grease The Boy up with and that's when the idea of cooking spray hit me. So there we were in the kitchen and me giving him a liberal dose of Pam -actually straight shots into the ear but hey! not the first time The Boy has had weird things in his ears now is it? His entire head was slick and shiny and his ears were bright red from the previous attempts and once again i pulled and tried like the Hulk to pry the wicker wide for him to escape while heaving up all the while attempting to turn the stool -The Girl stood there with her bag of popcorn and watched. Minimal amount of skin was lost and his head did indeed make a satisfying plop as the stool released it's grip. Thanks Mom! the little greasy haired, red ear'd urchin exclaimed as he darted off back to the arena for the next round.