I finally ordered a new digital camera (and printer dock) from Circuit City! Delivery date (because I'm cheap and wanted to get the free shipping) should be sometime around April 2nd. So we've only managed to miss 3 whole entire months of capturing precious childhood memories on film....but I have to say I'm thankful there is no camera In the Trenches this week. Keep reading.
The boyz each rent a movie at the library on Friday. This week Eldest picked Home Alone, which he had seen before on TV, but not in its entirety. Sometimes we forget that he's Rainman though, and tends to memorize movie lines and then repeat them ad nauseum. Home Alone is rated PG, apparently. I don't mind that both Middle and Eldest run around the house yelling, "You guys give up yet? Or are you thirsty for more?" But yesterday Eldest busted out with, "Why the hell are you dressed like a chicken?" from the movie. After I (of course) had him repeat it to Hubby (stifling my giggles and smile), Hubby (now trying to mask his smile) informed Eldest that "hell" wasn't a nice word. Eldest said, "I know...but that's what it says in the movie." Whoops.
I had an emergency appointment at the dermatologist yesterday. I have a staph infection ON MY FACE. Not a pretty sight. I feel like a cross between the Elephant Man and Cher's kid on Mask. I knew it was coming, so was I proactive? No. I was in denial. After all, the last time I got one was when I was pregnant with Middle back in 2004! So by Sunday, it was really swollen and HIDEOUS. I spent all day feeling sorry for myself and sulking. Hubby wasn't buying my theatrics though. I noticed that he wrote on the grocery list "pity party napkins and cups". He thinks he's so frigging hilarious.
Anyway, the dermatologist (Get ready for the gory details. Consider yourself warned.) had to numb it (with a needle) and then slice it with a razor to open it up in order to get all the gunk out (pus and blood). Keep in mind that this is, again, ON MY FACE. So when I'm in public, I keep it
hidden covered with a bandaid so as not to attract stares at the goiter. Needless to say, I'm miserable. I mean, c'mon, anywhere but my face! And I know, I know, there are people in the world with all kinds of cleft palates, birthmarks and other facial deformities. I KNOW. But damn it, I'm 34. When is this teenage acne angst gonna end? I'm too old for this crap.