But Popeye ate it.

Five year olds don't like creamed spinach.

Who knew?

Funny thing is the little sprout would rather eat plain boring spinach than creamed spinach. Call me crazy but, I figured if I toss some cream cheese and Parmesan cheese on it he would like it better.

But of course, I forget, he hates cheese. The mention of the "C" word makes him vomit in his mouth. Is it just me or isn't cheese a weird thing for kids to hate? And more so for mine because he is half Italian. Don't those people love cheese so much they sleep with a block of Parmesan, or is that just my ex-mother in law? I mean, they put it on everything else, so why not their pillow?

Or their spinach?

Hew, speaking of Italian, some guy on our plane Sunday threw up pizza. It was amazing how far he projected it, pizza vomit was everywhere. It hit the ceiling, the walls, even other passengers who then began to throw up themselves. You know how dominoes work? The first one knocks over the second, which then gets the third? Yeah, it was like that on a plane, except the dominoes were people, and instead of falling over they were throwing up.

We were delayed an hour while the airport crew cleaned it up. And what's even better is that because of this one guy vomiting and causing everyone else to vomit some big country star missed his connecting flight to some place. I think his name was Jack Green from the Grand Ol' Oprey, but hell if I know who he was.

I bet if pizza vomit guy knew he was going to make Jack Green miss his flight and have to sit in a plane that stunk like pizza vomit he might have reconsidered eating the whole pizza. But not me, I would have had two.

Speaking of celebrities, my co-flight attendant thinks we had one of the guys from Office Space on our plane, though I could never figuere out which guy it was. When it comes to celebrities, I really suck. I mean, as much as I love Vin Diesel, he could bend me over the chair and take me from behind while he recites lines from Chronicles of Riddick and I still wouldn't reconize him.

My sister is gone...

Can everyone say "Goodbye Mindy and Dan"?

How about a good 'ol Canadian "Eyh"?

If I wasn't so busy flying about the continent I might have a moment to miss her; that will just have to wait till I get home I suppose.

But really, my siblings and I have always been very close, geographically I mean. We never lived more than a few minutes apart, and I liked it that way. Even when I lived in the city, it was a short trek up or down the highway for a friendly hello, drink, joint, line of coke, ect... (I'm just kidding)

Mindy had to go and ruin that. She loaded up her shotgun, her snow pants, and plans for world domination. Oh, I almost forgot about her husband and the dog.

She took them as well.

but the worst so far was when they left.

We were all hugging goodbye, which I just happen not to do so well, and of course I teared up a bit. And what did my friends and family do?

Made fun of me, of course.

Don't blame them, blame their fathers for not hugging them enough as a kid. I most certainly do.

Pictionary made me do it...

I spent my evening last night playing a four hour game of Pictionary with twelve of my closest relatives. First, let me start by saying that sitting for four hours and doing any single activity with my relatives is just asking for it. There was so much yelling, and tension, and insanity going on around me I can still hear a ringing in my ears.

Second, my God fearing and wholesome uncle, the one I can't talk about vaginas in front of, was sitting across the table from me when I pulled an "all play" card that read "skeet."

Do you guys know what a skeet is? I didn't, at least not what the word really means. The only meaning of "skeet" that I know is the slang meaning which refers to ejaculation.

Long story short, I thought I was screwed. I mean, I had a serious moral dilemma. I could draw the image of what I knew "skeet" to mean, and risk an execution, or I could toss my turn.

What do you guys think I did?

I drew a stripper on a stripper pole, and a man with a handful watching her (in stick figure art of course).

And my partner got it on the second guess! Yeah, I'm good.

And the best part, my uncle did not freak out and banish me from his house.

Good call Tamy, good call.

Weenit's quote of the day...

As we were all sitting about the table with a few beers and discussing previous drunken mishaps, the topic of my sister's ability to always fall down the stairs when she is drunk came up.

And let me emphasize this special ability she has by saying that, if you are married and tend to often walk around with bruises covering your body, people do not believe you when you say you fell down the stairs.

But in my sister's case, it's the truth.

And somehow in the midst of our discussion my sister's husband said something that lit her fire and she proceeded to drunkenly threaten his physical well being.

His response to her threats of physical abuse was, "What are you going to do? Fall down the stairs at me?"

Single parents date too...

There is something that has been festering inside of me like one of those little alien babies waiting to burst out of my belly.

When we broke up, Mack pulled the kid card on me...
(Seriously dude, fuck you.)

Anyways, I am a firm believer that if you enter a dating scenario with someone who is open and honest with you, with someone who tells you they have a kid before you even agree to the first date, that if you do agree on that first date, you forever loose your right to use that kid card.

So here is the thing. I always tell anyone I intend to get involved with that I have a kid, but I ease it into our inital conversation. First I charm them with my wit and my pearly white teeth, then I drop the bomb on them.

It's a true and tried process that never fails.

Except I think it does fail, because once I get to the part where I tell them, well, I'm not one hundred percent sure what goes on in a guys mind, but I assume they have to that point decided I'm a pretty awesome chick, so me having a kid isn't so bad.

Except it is, and later on in the relationship they pull out the kid card and shove it in my face and say shit like, "If we become more serious down the road then I'll have a lot more responsibilities with your son."

And to that I once again say, fuck you.

And mostly because it's untrue. I need no help with my son, and he still has a father who takes great care of him. The only responsibility any man in my life would ever have towards my son would to be a good role model. But, then again, I know that can be asking too much for a man who likes to spend all his free time at a bar drinking beer and playing pool with his buddy.

But the thing that really gets me steaming about the fact that he illegally pulled the kid card on me is that I don't really think my kid was his problem.

He had other problems, but not enough balls to lay it all out on the table. What a man.

I think from now on when I meet someone the first thing I will say to him is "Hi, my name is Tamy, and I have a kid." Before I charm them with my devilish good looks and whit.

That way I get to see their first reaction, which we all know is the truest reaction. Because really, the next time a boyfriend pulls the kid card on me, I'm likely to punch him right in the face.

P.S. Fake teeth? I mean, really? How could anyone not laugh at that. Pick the fucking wedgie and get over it.