Update!!

Well, the good news is that burp tasted like Sprite instead of semi-digested mostly water.
The other good news is that I made it home from my attempted trip to pick up senor step son-o (he's not remotely hispanic, but that reminds me--the drive-thru dude at my new favorite McDonald's looks so much like my first boyfriend, that I actually dreamed about him last night. possibly after watching some muted porn, but we'll get back to that story shortly...)
oh, yes--I tried to pick up the step son for a sleep over, since my little fellers consider him a cross between a hero, a god, and super man.
Hubby's out of town, so we were going to skip this weekend, but I got all maternal and decided to indulge my little guys.
Hubby thinks it's less work for me when 9-year-old Icon is here, but it's not.
It's just different work.
Which is A-OK.
I just like to get credit, I guess...
my mom is angelic and tough and wonderful, but
she was (is) a bit of a doormat for my dad.
She was Miss Betty Crocker at Venice High in 1955.
So, yeah.
She's from a WHOLE other generation.
(or "a whole nother", if you prefer. hee.)
So what the hell is my point??
Oh yeah...
I don't mind working hard, but I don't like to go without praise and gratitude, either.
Jeezum crow, where was I??
If you think I'm scattered when I'm fully fed and healthy,
you'll be getting a headache right about now, I imagine.
Sorry.
I still feel mostly icky, but the point I keep forgetting to make is this:
attempted to cross town to pick up step son-ola,
but realized about halfway there that it just
wouldn't
work.
So, I booked it home.
Ok, I crawled through trafic like everyone else, but I was impatient about it!
And just as I stepped through the door, it hit me.
I thrashed out of my jacket and shoes (even though it wasn't stricktly necessary--wow, nice "k" in "strictly")
grabbed the bowl I had taken with me on our ill-fated (oh, I KILL me!!) car ride,
and came to rest in the bathroom.
I'll leave it at that.
(You're welcome)

The other good thing (or did I already mention it?)
is that these posts have filled my quota for body-fluid talk for at least the next week...probably 2.
except twin #2 hasn't been violently ill just yet, and mentioned that his tummy was hurting before bed.
So that should make for a fun night.
I'm suing my husband's company--
no, I'm suing the newbie in fucking Kansas fucking City who needed his hand held on a job.
dumbass.
give me my husband back.

Ok...here's hoping I'm well enough to do some hardcore blogging tomorrow.
or at least some hardcore--
oh, that's right!
nevermind. I'm not telling my porn story now.
I kinda hope some totally nasty pervs come here for PORN and get puke talk.
heh.
Which is not to say that everyone who views the stuff is nasty (since I just disclosed my night's activities, I could hardly call that kettle black. yes, I'm a pot--what of it??) but there are some total creeps out there, as evidenced by Becky (sorry, Becky, not you...oops, there I go! Linking you anyway! here's a hint: write posts, and I'll link you more. We're still coming over sunday, so get your barf bags ready!) there are plenty of sickos out there.)

Ok.
I sincerely hope I didn't gross anyone out.
Unless you're an uptight judgmental prick or a sicko.
I'm not an equal opportunity blogger, it would seem...

oh, which reminds me: I haven't had time to properly answer comments today,
but the guy who was mean (today) signed his comment "Gayman",
and I would like to clarify: HE'S a dumbass, a jerkoff, whatever, but that in no way reflects my feelings toward the gay community in general.
I'm not going to give a resume here, but trust me when I say my comments were directed at HIM as a mean person, not at gay folk in general.
To sumarize, I'll remind you of my stance on stereotyping of any kind with a fable.
(ok, it's not a fable, it's a true story--but it has a moral!)
My friend and I were flirting with a group of guys once,
a long-fuckin-time ago (8 years almost to the day, in fact...)
and they were a rather racially mixed group--some gorgeous men, I tell ya.
One of them turned to me and said, "Do you date black men?"
and I answered "I date nice men."
Now, I know gay men aren't technically in my dating pool,
but I hope you get the point.
I like nice people.
Nice has a fairly broad definition, too--
I don't mean I only like people who are sicky sweet.
Just people who treat others with respect and stuff.
Ok, now I'm getting all anal about it, trying to make sure I word it properly so that no one will misunderstand.
Fuck it.
I like people.
If you're an ass TO ME, then you lose points.
That about covers it.

peace.
love.
and no stomach flus--