I vowed not to look at my phone, to Twitter, blog, talk, pee, or otherwise exist except to work. Nothing, not NO THING, was going to interrupt me. I planned to edit the document before me but good. With no distractions. I nearly made it too, but you know how sometimes you can “sense” the urgency of a phone call? It comes in like any other, but there’s something about it, maybe your sixth sense, that tells you to pick up? Even so, despite my intuition, I didn’t answer it. I had work to do, never mind the phone call came in from The Rock. He knew my agenda.
So then it must be important.
Took me awhile to process that piece of logic, but within 10 minutes I ended up listening to the voice mail he’d left.
“Hope she didn’t leave…”
OK wait. Um….Let’s go back to that part about….
Well let’s just revisit that whole message.
Bye bye document to edit.
“Booger was playing with the remote and ended up downloading a p#orno!”
“I was washing dishes, heard something weird, went to look, and saw Booger semi-watching two people having full-on s@x!”
“This wasn’t soft p#rn either! It was hard-c*re!”
“I hope the babysitter didn’t come to the door. Booger ended up selecting the “play movie on all TVs” option, so the p#rn was on all the TVs in the house! And it was loud. She would have freaked OUT. Hope she didn’t leave. How are we going to explain that one?”
See now, right there above? For clarity’s sake? I would have said “How am I going to explain that one?”
Either way, he was in a pickle. Apparently, four-year-old Booger finished watching a DVR’d episode of Little Bear and tried to select another show from the on-demand list. And I don’t know if she was in the “wildlife” section of the pay per view menu, but instead of another “Little Bear,” she clicked on “Suburban Cougars.” Also, it was a good amount of time before The Rock noticed because he was doing the dishes, which is the only good part of this story.
As he was expecting 15-year-old Karen, our babysitter for the morning, to come by at any time, he fretted that she knocked on the screen door, heard the resultant p$rno sounds blaring from EVERY TV IN THE HOUSE and hightailed it out of there.
Also, and in addition, our new neighbors had moved in the day before, and as it was hot, HOT like a suburban cougar hot, all windows were open at both our situated-close-together homes.
So more p@rno sounds for the listening. From our house to theirs. It ain’t no lasagna, but welcome to the neighborhood!
And I haven’t even gotten to the part where we need to explain to Toots why pizza delivery men are sometimes naked and don’t use their hands to deliver the pizza.