It’s 10:54 pm…

<p>…let’s see if I can finish this post before <span title="Roger Rabbit – my SO" class="serendipity_glossaryMarkup">RR</span> gets out of the bathroom…(yeah. right. I only have like, all night.)</p><p>Tired, cranky, PMSing…who, me?</p><p>I met ‘the boy’ tonight. I’m trying to come up with a good nickname for him. Whipping Boy? hmmmm, perhaps…</p><p>Roger and I were at Home Despot looking at new grillage – somehow <span title="My daughter (The Teen)" class="serendipity_glossaryMarkup">Dobby</span> managed to convince her father that letting her out with the same kid four days after she pulled The Big Stupid was a GREAT idea and she tracked me down at my knitting group. Well, she tracked me down across the parking lot from where I’m usually at my knitting group. Good thing she’s got a cell phone. *grumble*</p><p>The kid powered through my ‘tough questions’ pretty well. I pull no punches when it comes to Dobby’s well-being and I’m still pissed about Friday’s shenanigans (I love that word, heh) so it went a little like this:</p><p>Dobby: Mom, this is Whipping Boy</p><p>Me: Hello (shakes his hand – kinda wimpy but I’m a tough sell)</p><p><span title="Whipping Boy – Dobby’s BF" class="serendipity_glossaryMarkup">WB</span>: Nice to meet you.</p><p>Dobby: And this is RR</p><p>*WB shakes RR’s hand*</p><p>Me: So, what the hell were you thinking pulling that crap on Friday?</p><p>WB: *blinks three times and looks a little pale* I wasn’t really thinking…</p><p>Dobby: MOM! </p><p>Me: huh. You’re right, you weren’t. Did Dobby mention that I’m scarier than Mr. Potato Head? (my new name for her father – this is fun!)</p><p>Dobby: No Mom, I just told him you’re psycho.</p><p>Me: Well, I have to keep you guessing or you’d never behave.</p><p>Then to WB: Did you know her grandfather is a funeral director?</p><p>WB: um, no. *glances at Dobby*</p><p>Dobby: MOM! WHAT THE HELL?!? (she’s 16, I let some language go, not all, just some.) *she goes off to look at grills with RR – completely bailing on WB*</p><p>Me: And you realize that she is my only daughter, I am an extreme hard-ass and you lost a boat-load of points pulling that crap on Friday.</p><p>WB: Yes, ma’am. (it was the first time in my life that I actually did not mind being called ‘ma’am’)</p><p>At that point the inquisition commenced.</p><p>He’s had his license for three years, went to a local high school, grew up the next town over from where I grew up AND recognized the place I grew up. Just got a new car and dammit I forgot to ask him where he works, how long he’s worked there, how many girlfriends he’s had and his sexual history. Shit.</p><p>Oh well, that leaves tons to discuss when he comes over for dinner *grin*</p><p><i>P.S. Since three of you asked…I have a scanner in my house because my SO is a fireman and our old roommate (who is here I swear at least six nights a week – and no I’m not exactly happy about that) is a fireman. I have to deal with three scanners at work because my boss is also a fireman and two of the other guys at work are firemen. I am surrounded by freaking scanners. And for the record, I hate them. Passionately. There’s nothing better than being shushed because ‘the scanner is talking’.</i></p><p><i>P.P.S. For the record, it is now 11:14 and he *just* walked out of ‘the office’.</i></p><p><i>P.P.P.S. Knitting content will return on the ‘morrow, I promise!</i></p><p><em><strong>Edited to add:  Austen fans – Check out the </strong><a href="http://jessaluknits.com/exit.php?url_id=1066&amp;entry_id=179" title="http://www.cafepress.com/cp/search/poe/?i=5442477&amp;q=jane+austen&amp;rpp=30&amp;CMP=20060419thewire" onmouseover="window.status=’http://www.cafepress.com/cp/search/poe/?i=5442477&amp;q=jane+austen&amp;rpp=30&amp;CMP=20060419thewire’;return true;" onmouseout="window.status=”;return true;"><strong>Cafe Press store</strong></a><strong> I just found!</strong></em></p><p><i></i></p><p />

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