another day in paradise

my girl's not feeling well. she's the worst at getting sick. she's like rosie o'donnell playing special person. if she has a stomach ache then she's dying of lupus. what makes it worse is that in her nursing school she's learning all kinds of new diseases. if her back hurts she's getting arabian mono, or whatever.

my girl: baby i don't feel good.

me: what's wrong?

mg: i don't know. i think i'm dying.

me: baby, come on. you're not dying. if you were dying WE'D ALL know about it believe me.

mg: see how you treat me.

me: why don't you lay down.

mg: what if my spinal fluid is in my mengee's?

me: what the hell is a mengee? I know what the menzee's are but not the mengee's.

mg: oh is that right doctor feelgood? and just what are the menzee's?

me: menstruation. everybody knows that. what's a mengee?

mg: (quiet) i'm dying.

me: (thinking about blogging this) how do you spell mengee?

mg: baby i don't know, i'm sick.

me: you know what? you might have eaten your own feces.

mg: look at how you talk to your baby.

me: it's true, ingesting feces is what makes everyone sick.

mg: and just how to you propose that happened?

me: maybe you scratched your ass and bit your nails.

mg: i do not have an itchy ass.

me: maybe the toilet paper broke on a wipe stroke and you ate some chips.

mg: baby that's disgusting. What kind of stupid shit is that?

me: see!?!?! right there! right there!

mg: you're yelling in face.

me: you just swore!

mg: and what do you want, a fucking cookie?

me: that's two. see, i'm not lying.

mg: i don't swear half as much as you say i do on that stupid blog.

me: it's not my fault you curse a lot. I write what i hear. I write what i hear. tell you what. let's put a quarter in a jar every time you swear and at the end of two days we can put a down payment on house...in bel air.

mg: that's some bullshit.

me: twenty-five cents.

i don't spell check