Return Of Jabber

*Update: Ha ha! I win! My mommy decided that it is worse to be a pill popping addict than to be overweight. And as my mother's word is the final word on any subject (and you would be wise to follow her advice) Sugarbowl had to raise the white flag on this debate.


Mr. Jabber Smith is with us this weekend to celebrate his 8th birthday -- we like to tease him that it is his 5th just to see him get his hackles up. Last night, instead of mining in his nose, it was his butt that had his attention. Or, to be more specific, his crack. I was trying to read and not pay attention to his nonstop chatter, but whenever my little sister asked him if he didn't wipe the last time he had a bowel movement (to put it politely) it would crack me up and take my focus off of my book. I gave up on the book because she was amusing me too much. He was playing Mario baseball on the Wii, which I know is not the real name of it, but I don't care enough about it to use it's formal title. Sugarbowl was chanting, "we want a pitcher, not a butt crack itcher," to my undying amusement. She got tired of watching him dig in his crack so she looked up sources of anal itching to see if she could get to the bottom of it -- he claimed that he did wipe well and that wasn't the problem. She regretted that decision quickly when she stumbled across pin worms and saw a close up picture of them -- YUCK! I couldn't look because the thought alone kicked off my gag reflex, and I have a strong stomach. We don't really think he has pin worms because we've seen the thick mud skid marks in his undies and know the real culprit in this situation, but that didn't stop Sugarbowl's creativity on the subject. Like, "they ain't heavy, their my pin worms!" And so on. If I haven't lost you due to the revolting nature of this story, let me say the worst is over and move on to the next part of all this.

Princess was shaking the chair her mother was sitting in, just messing around to see if she could dump Sugarbowl out of it and Jabber said, "you're not going to be able to move her, she weighs 300 pounds." Sugarbowl nearly had a heart attack right there -- she is not 300 lbs, not even close. She told him that he weighed 10 lbs and he said that he weighed 45 lbs, to which Sugarbowl retorted, "45 lbs of booger weight!" We all yukked it up to that, so much that Jabber was angry and kept trying to insist that he isn't all booger weight, but no one was listening. Then the little sh*t said, after I said that I wasn't very hungry at dinner time, that I wasn't hungry because I "ate so many pills all day." Talk about sputtering and having a heart attack! It made me feel like a pill popping addict that should hide when I take my meds because I am such a pill popping addict. I don't want him going around telling people that I eat pills all day, or to think taking a lot of pills is acceptable (when they are not prescribed for a good reason). I don't get high off my meds and they do serve a purpose besides taking me to my happy place (a beach, surrounded by the Brazilian soccer team, who are scantily clad of course). In fact, they do not take me to my happy place and only allow me to get a handle on my pain.

Now Sugarbowl and I are arguing over which comment was worse: being seen as more than 130 lbs over your actual weight or being a pill hungry addict who needs her own intervention. They both suck and we are both deeply offended. The little turd may not live to see his 5th birthday after all.