You know it’s gonna be a long day in this house when mommy forgoes coffee for Diet Coke at 7:15 a.m. If I was tall enough to look into the kitchen sink, I’m sure there would be a pile of dirty wine glasses from yesterday (yes, DAY) and last night. So much for The Sober Weekdays Experiment. Whatever, let’s cut her some slack, she did okay. I mean, three days is a long time to go without drinking as far as I know. Two days is equally a long time. Her excuse for breaking down was, simply, weakness, until daddy called her at the exact moment the wine was being purchased to announce a new account at work, and then the excuse became CELEBRATION! Impeccable timing. But, the day was fun. Mommy’s friend Hot Hallie went with us to the children’s museum and it was a jolly good time. Me and Hallie bonded. She is a tall, leggy brunette and she wears a lot of hats like mommy. Let’s be honest, she’s no Michelle Kwan (you all know I came out of the womb with a penchant for the “-ese” ladies), but it still works for me. So, me and Hot Hallie played play dough together, and while it wasn’t quite the sexy clay-making scene in Ghost, it was pretty hot. Except I kept calling her Tiffany/Layla all day; I hate it when that happens. I spend the whole day pimping proper, and simple things like a name escape me. Anyway, the day turned into night, we all went to dinner, margaritas and more wine ensued, and at some point, they all forgot that I was even present and I fell asleep on the couch watching Wizard of Oz. At least I woke up in a diaper and pajamas.
Thus, the early a.m. Diet Coke. Mommy is actually quite clever about using soda to get me to eat scrambled eggs. For every three bites, I get a sip of soda, and since it’s a rarity that there’s not vodka mixed with it, I will eat the shit out of those eggs for some cola-flavored aspartame and caffeine. I’m sure the Pediatric Association supports this tactic. Also, I was allowed straight fruit punch with breakfast instead of the shitty watered down stuff mom usually gives me, and I didn’t stop drinking ’till it was gone. Now I have an awesome Joker face, so when I fly around the house on my Twist Roller scooter, I look pretty bad-ass. All because mommy is hung over. Not a bad deal.
This new in household news: I have decided to entertain the idea of an alliance with Rat Baby. I’m seeing new signs daily that she really isn’t that bad of a shit. She doesn’t listen to mommy when mommy says no, and this quality is vital if you want to be on Team Gusman. Also, when she throws her food on the floor, and mommy says no no, Leona! she gets this fantastic glint in her eye that to me, reads, what’re you gonna do about it, bitch? Challenging the no with a smart-ass look is way cooler than just challenging. And then Rat Baby will take her zucchini and slowly move to dangle it over the side of her high chair, but she’ll make sure mommy is watching before she flashes a winning smile and releases it to the floor to join the others. And I will praise her with laughter, and mommy will say it’s not funny, Gus! and Leona will start clapping her hands and giggling, and on the inside, I’m thinking, actually, mom, it’s hilarious, and this is the start of something beautiful between me and Rat Baby.
Speaking of Leona clapping reminds me that while I am entertaining the idea of an alliance with her, she still fucking pisses me off sometimes. She is a perfect clapper. Both of her hands meet together in a synchronized fashion in front of her chest, and she elicits a perfect clapping sound. She didn’t even have to practice–just started doing it with perfect ease one day. She’s an annoying, Rat Baby cheerleader. I’d like to shove a pompom up her ass. And now, mommy gloats about how well she claps while reminding anyone and everyone that when I started clapping, I just couldn’t get it right, and I would slap one palm on top of the other hand, like a half-clap. She laughs and says I looked like I rode the short bus. I don’t exactly know what that is, but I feel like I should respond with a fuck you, just because I don’t like the look on her face when she says it or her tone of voice. I just don’t get why Rat Baby is hailed for the dumbest crap. Leona opens and closes her mouth three times in a row–what a good baby girl! You are so cute! Leona takes miniature animal figurines out of a box and puts them on the floor one by one–yayyyy, Leona! Good girl! Leona eats a wood chip that I tracked in from the back yard–Mensa baby! It’s out of control. I don’t get it and I think it’s stupid. I have to step up my game for any attention in this shit-hole, and I can already do things like beat-box, belch on cue, and make really good dinosaur noises. My hat is about out of rabbits, dude.
Anyway, time to hit the park. Don’t any of you pricks mention the alliance to Leona. She needs to worship me like an idol always. I am her leader, her commander-in-chief, for all the days of her life. Forever. Period. She will never know if she is on my team or not because I don’t plan on telling her. So shut your mouths.