Margarita Mondays

As many of you know, I'm home for the week. And what would be better than to start off the week with some margaritas, Mexi's style?? Nothing. So, this whole trip to Mexi's sparked some summer memories... well just one in particular - ma waiter man, "Mitch with an M, not a B", as he called himself. I am totally crushing. The first encounter I had with Mitch was during the summertime with some of the girls from work. He was flirting with our whole table all evening, and somehow it came up that he was part black, inferring that he has a large member. Anyways, towards the end of the night, Mitch asked us if we would like anything else. He looks at me, and I say, "No, but I'm ready for my bill." Mitch replies, so smoothly, "Are you ready for my bed??" Luckily, Erin bursts out laughing, spitting her drink everywhere and takes the attention off of me. Otherwise, my response would have been something like, "uhhhhhhhh" followed by some babbling and then I would turn 20 shades of red. I know he's probably like this with all the ladies in order to make wikid tips, and I'm sure it works. Why? Cus I tipped him real good. Anyways, he was there tonight, and I can't help but have a little crush! He gave me n Trish free deep-fried ice cream. If that's not love, I don't know what is.

So last week with the kids was pretty stressful. As in, I wanted to take their heads and bash them into the wall. They were sooooo bad. I know, I know, kids aren't bad, they just have bad behaviour. Whatever. Basically the week consisted of a consistent wrestling match between J and R, consistent arguing, and them totally not listening to a word I said. With that said, Monday was the worst. R was off the wall. When we were having supper I had to keep telling her to sit down and eat, cus she would continuously get up and just misbehave. So I tell her in my sternest voice, "Sit down and eat. your. supper!!!" R replies, "Ok, but I just have to do something." She leaves the kitchen, and retuns a minute later, shirt pulled up and under, all 80's-like, with a broom between her legs - horse riding style, and galloping in slow motion with her chest sticking out and slapping her butt - allll in slow motion. I am trying not to laugh cus I'm pissed, but it is so damn funny. My eyes tear up and I am sort of laughing through my nose. And J is doing the same. It was quite the sight.

R also sparked and interesting, even intellectual conversation last week - about her beliefs towards... dishwashers. The conversation goes a little something like this:

R: (out of nowhere, as usual) Yeah, when I have my own house, I'm gonna use plastic forks and stuff.
Amy: What do you mean?
R: Instead of the real stuff.
Amy: Why??
R: I don't believe in dishwashers (word for word, I swear)
Amy: Hunh? Why not?
R: I don't trust them.
Amy: Oh?
R: I don't think they really clean dishes. Like I'll use the dishes from OUR dishwasher and from SOME friends, but I don't like to.
Amy: I seee.. so you're just always gonna use plastic stuff and keep throwing it out?
R: yup!
Amy: Good enough!