Listy McListerson

1. We're going to see Ben Folds tomorrow night. BEN FOLDS. That's really all I need to say.

2. The beauty of having a husband who is smart? He helps write your research papers. The beauty of online classes? That you can have your husband help write your research papers.

3. Can we just agree that petulant, whiny little bitch Kenley needs to go home already? Did you see the "hip-hop" ensemble she whipped up? She even had LL Cool J stuttering.

4. In the span of about two weeks, Boobers has had a black eye, a huge goose-egg on his head, rug burn on his nose and upper lip, and last night I was informed he somehow fell and bit his lower lip. He's our little prizefighter. Not a winning prizefighter, mind you, but still.

5. Perhaps the only good thing about fall is candy corn. And the best thing about candy corn is that I can only eat about five pieces (or two of those pumpkin ones) before I get a little gaggy. It's like they are their own portion control! Also, at my local Target, I found caramel and chocolate candy corn. Huzzah!

5b. "Huzzah" is a real word. I had no idea.

Oh deer

We live in a pretty suburban area, but we're butted up against some woods. The woods are small and on the other side of them is another subdivision.

Yet we still have these visitors often. I think the two that came to hang out in our yard today were the babies I've seen hanging around their mama. These fawns have grown and their white spots are fading. I'm not sure where mama was, but they were feasting on my slightly overgrown yard.

NOM, NOM, NOM

Oh, shit. You're looking at us WAY too hard.

I call this "Deer in Headlights." Yes, I know there are no headlights. WHAT OF IT?

I completely want a pet deer now. Are deer like cats? If you whip out a can of tuna, will they be your best friends? These guys didn't seem to mind me at all. I stood on my front porch for a good ten minutes, snapping pictures. They would occasionally pop a head up with weeds dangling out of their mouths to check me out and then go back to eating. They got a touch nervous when Smella came out though, and they decided to nonchalantly walk back into the woods.

See? I have the best of both worlds. Deer in my yard and a Target within three miles. Woot!

Ready, set, shop!

I loaded the kids up and headed to Target this afternoon. I needed a few last-minute things for AR. And new shoes for Big D. And a new shirt for myself. And they make travel-size packages of Clorox wipes! I can clean a whole hotel room with a Clorox wipe! Oooh, and three new board books for Boobers for the car ride!

So I can't leave a Target for less than $50. I'VE TRIED.

What's really impressive is that I took all three kids with me shopping, something I try never, never to do. But I'm an expert Targeter (I've been training for years) and can manage to rack up $50 in under ten minutes. I could kick ASS at one of those five-minute shopping sprees.

Because my children? Not so much into shopping. Okay, Boobers doesn't mind, but give him a few months, and he'll be just as irritating. Unfortunately, Big D is too long-legged to shove into a cart, so he bounces and runs around like he's JUST smoked crack in the backseat of the car. Smella rides in the basket, continuously whining that's she's thirsty. Or she wants that hat. Or ohmigawd, I know you just didn't put something in this shopping cart where I'm trying to lay back and get my whine on.

Boobers sits quietly in the front of the cart. He occasionally points at something that catches his eye and grunts. I try to interact with him, but between reigning in Big D and loudly whispering to Smella to SHUT IT, I tend to forget about him. He's fine with that, because it gives him ample opportunity to suck on the disease-infested cart handle, his favorite shopping past time. And when he's gotten his fill of Target germs and virus, he likes to dig through my purse, eating stray morsels he finds and dialing Cambodia on my cell phone.

A shopping excursion usually ends with a couple of kids crying, a white-knuckled drive home with lots of deep breathing, and nap time as soon as we hit the front door.

But in theory, taking the kids with me saves money. Do you know what kind of damage I could do by myself in an hour? Whoo. I think I just heard the husband pass out.

We know how to party hard

While standing in line last night at Target with K and C, giggling like mad loons because we were free, free, FREE of children and husbands, the cashier says, "Looks like a girls night out."

K says, "Yep, that's exactly right."

Cashier smiles. "Everyone needs one of those now and then."

C, completely dry and stone-faced, "We do this every day."

We erupted into another fit of giggles while the cashier looked at us like we had been snorting lines of coke in the shoe aisle.

(We hadn't. We had been trying on all the highest heels we could find though and then testing out our "model walks." Dangerous shit, man.)

It only gets worse

K will be closing on her house 54 miles away on May 30. It's official. I'm looking into getting Vonage (woohoo hoo hoo hoo woohoo hoo hoo hoo) and their free unlimited long distance.

But the worst part? The part that I'm not sure I could live with if I were her? There's no Target. The closest Target will be an hour drive away. How does she expect to survive, people? The delicious $1 bins. The cute baby clothes. The hundreds of rows of wonderful Target goodness. Gone. Just a Wal*Mart 30 minutes away and a crappy Piggly Wiggly or something. Gah. I'm not even sure I can visit her knowing I'll be that far away from a Target.

Please keep her in your thoughts.