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.



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?


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

  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)!

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