Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Dickless (Clark, that is) and Vomiting

New Year’s Eve 2012
1 minute 14 seconds on the clock: My 15-year-old daughter squeals in delight, with her noise maker in hand and her boyfriend by her side.

1 minute 10 seconds: 19-year-old daughter enters the room with her boyfriend. She wasn’t quite as bouncy, as she was coming off an evening long sugar high.

50 seconds on the clock: Ryan Seacrest announcing that the ball has begun its descent. 

15 seconds on the clock: “Dad! Get out here!” 15-year-old yells.

13 seconds on the clock: Greyhound vomits in the middle of the room. It’s green and it smells.

12 seconds on the clock: A chorus of “Ewwwww! That’s so gross!”

11 seconds on the clock: I’m on the run for the nearest towel.

4 seconds: I return with a towel, as daughter yells again, “Dad!”

3 seconds: I throw the towel over the throw-up.

2…

1!

I throw my arms in the air, cheering, “Happy New—“ To my left, 19-year-old is making out with her boyfriend. To my right, 15-year-old is making out with her boyfriend. Husband is still missing in action. “Whatever." I slump off. "I’m going to bed.”

So, how did you ring in the new year?

3 comments:

  1. This is too funny, especially knowing the players. Oh by the way Happy New Year!

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  2. I oh so feel you... It's a glamorous life being a Mum. (And I love when it's not the children it's the pets)!

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  3. Glamorous, indeed. Because we are always the ones that get to clean it up. haha!

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