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Thursday, December 31, 2009

El Creepo and the Puke.

So. You might want to be forewarned that this is a story about puke, but it's the spit-up variety, not the stinky chunky kind, so you should be good on the queasy-front. But, because I am a kind and caring and politically-correct-to-the-point-of-nausea type person, I figured I'd better tell you up front, rather than be barraged with vicious emails from socially deprived people, telling me what a horrible person I am for not warning you about the puke.


A long time ago, in the dark ages before I had children, I had a friend that I'll call, for lack of a better nickname, Buttface Billy. Because he was a buttface, and he kind of had a buttface, with his face looking all butt-like.

On second thought, maybe Buttface Billy isn't the best nickname. That's what I call Five's stuffed snow leopard, to make her crazy. And she gets all mad and says "No, his name is Spot, Mom! SPOT!" And then she laughs, because Buttface Billy is a ridiculous name. She's a good sport.

You know what, let me just start this story over again. I never was much good at telling stories.

Okay. So there was this guy I knew a long, long time ago. We were friends, nothing more, but he was kind of crazy and stalkerish. He didn't like it that I had boyfriends and when The Hub and I got married, I had to ditch him because he just couldn't understand that it was slightly inappropriate for a married woman to go hang out at the movie theater with a guy who wanted to get in her pants. (I mean, a guy who wanted to get in her pants that also happened to not be married to her. Important distinction there.)

He never gave up hope though. Every month or so, to this very day, he requests me as a friend on Facebook. He sends me crap in email. I bet if he had my phone number, he'd call me just to see if we could hang out.

He's a persistent little fucker.

Anyway, this dude works at the grocery store where I shop. He never used to, but, oh, I don't know, maybe a year or so ago, he started working there. In the meat department. Which kind of freaked me out, because he's so creepy. Creepy guy + butcher's apron = the makings of most horror films.

He never tries to talk to me when I shop, because The Hub is always with me. He does, however, stare and try to make eye contact, which I never return because I am extremely passive aggressive and would rather just pretend he doesn't exist.

Today, I forgot all about him working there.

We had done all of our shopping and were finishing up in the meat department when I realized I had forgotten chip dip. So I sent The Hub to get some while I hung out by the bacon with two carts, two toddlers, two older kids hitting each other with Polish sausages, and Monkey in my arms, nursing.

Monkey started fidgeting around like he needed to burp, so I put him up on my shoulder and burped him. That's when I noticed El Creepo behind the meat counter, staring at us. As soon as I glanced over there, he put his head down and started rearranging bins of bulk ground beef. Gross.

So I'm patting Monkey on the back, and I hear and feel him burp, and right away I realize it's a wet one. I quick pulled the "puke over my shoulder" trick, which every parent of a spitter learns within the first few weeks. It's not ideal, but it's a clothes saver, and the less laundry I have to do, the better.

Monkey had a huge gut full of milk, at least a half gallon, and it all came pouring out, hitting the tiled meat department floor with an audible splash. Just then, The Hub arrived, and we took off for the frozen food section. (Hot wings, you know.)

I cleaned up Monkey's face and hands with a burp cloth, and as I was wiping him off, I happened to look over and see El Creepo cleaning up my baby's puke!

I don't know why, but I found this hysterical. I laughed so hard I peed my pants, which isn't to say I was laughing all that hard, because after five kids, I pretty much pee my pants every time I exhale, but, regardless of all that, I laughed. A lot. Loudly, and with gusto.

That creepy dude looked up and gave me the most disgusted look I have ever seen.

And somehow, I have a feeling I have finally gotten rid of the little pest forever.

1 comment:

Lisa said...

Hey if the baby puke didn't turn him off I'm guessing the pee in your pants did the trick, lol.