Stupid keys

So remember a couple of weeks ago, when I locked my Little and myself out of the car (at Domino's, no less?). Well, today we had the Big Brothers Big Sisters picnic. And I know what you're thinking: Oh dear Lord, she did it again--to which I reply indignantly: I did NOT.

I lost my entire set of keys. Somewhere, in this HUGE park, as we were walking around, my keychain fell out of my purse.

I never did find them, either. I had to call a friend to pick us up, bring me back to my place to get my spare car keys (thank God Brad didn't lock the door when he left today), since obviously I no longer had MY house key). Then my friend brought us BACK to the park (luckily, he lives pretty close to the park and so do I, so he didn't have to drive all over hell).

So I now have a new set of keys with both my house and car keys, which is good. However, I have to go get copies of THOSE made to be my new backup set. And I lost my CVS card!! Dammit! I'll have to replace that this week. (I already swung by the library for a new library keychain card thingie--I'm such a dork, LOL.)

I'm the most bummed about the actual keychains, though. I had the one that Anna got me from--Ireland, I think? And one from my trip to Vegas. Damn damn damn.

I'm buying a new purse. I lose too much shit with this one.

The picnic itself was fun, though. The high point was the Big vs Little water balloon fight. Somehow, there ended up being 40 Littles facing off against 10 Bigs (there were other kids there who weren't in the program YET but were on the waiting list, so that's probably why we were so outnumbered). I muttered to the 20-something guy next to me, "Okay, what's our strategy here?" (I'm a little competitive.) He whispers back, "I don't know, I was just planning that out myself." I told him, "I'll create a diversion. I'll start jumping up and down and waving my arms or something." He answers, "Okay, then I'll loop around the back and get them from behind." We never had a chance to put our plan into action, though: we were all pummeled immediately. I took a pretty direct shot to the head at one point (although I suspect that that one was actually from my co-conspirator, due to the angle of projection--not to mention the shit-eating grin on his face). Oh yeah--I had to flag down the ambulance, too. "What ambulance?" you may be asking. We had a suspected broken bone injury in the bounce house (how one can break something in an inflatable, padded room, I'll never know). (Actually, I'm kind of surprised that it wasn't ME who did it, LOL)

Anyway, a good time was had by all (except for the kid with the broken leg).

Roadside assistance

So today, while out with my Little Sister, I locked us out of my car. It was at the end of our day; we had stopped by Domino's to pick up a pizza for her to take home (she had a coupon from school). While she was waited inside for her pizza, I went out to my car to clean it out and wipe down the interior, something I'd been meaning to do for a few days. I was quite proud of my multi-tasking and time-saving, actually.

Until my hip hit the door, slamming it shut. Not a big deal--until I tried to open it and realized it was locked. (I must have hit the lock button as I was cleaning the door.) I peered in and, sure enough, spotted my keys on the passenger seat. I used a few choice words to express my irritation and went back inside.

"Oooooooooooo, Miss Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen," said Rachel. "You said a bad wooooooooooord."

"Nuh-uh," I bluffed.

"Yeah, you did," she said. "You said the S word THREE TIMES. And then you pulled on the door handle--"she acted it out--"and then you said it AGAIN!"

(At this point, the Domino's guys--pizza maker, drivers, cashier--were cracking up. "Oooh, Miss Jeeeen," one of them said. I glared at him.)

"You could NOT have heard that from in here," I answered, realizing that I was busted.

"I read your lips," she said proudly. "But at least you didn't say the F word. If you did, it would have looked like THIS." And again she demonstrated--which sent the guys into another round of laughter.

Now the bitch of it is, we were only like 4 miles from my house, where I had a spare key. However--OF COURSE--this was a day that I forgot my cell phone--and I don't have my roommate's number memorized. Luckily, Kia offers free roadside assistance for like 3 years (shout out to Kia--holla!), and one of the guys let me use his cell phone. We only had to wait about 30 minutes for the locksmith (ironically, the amount of time for a Domino's pizza delivery). Meanwhile, Rachel set up shop at the counter, with her pizza and a 2-liter of Coke. She was actually happy as a clam.

Ah, well. It's been a while since I locked myself out. I guess I was about due.

How to train your man

Today, Rachel (my 10-year-old Little Sister through BBBS) took me to her favorite neighborhood BBQ joint (and by "took me," I mean that I drove and paid. She played the important role of asking for a table for 2). After eating, I complemented her on her choice (it WAS pretty good), at which point she suggested that maybe I could take my boyfriend there sometime.

"Oh, I don't know," I teased her. "I don't know if he's been good enough for me to take him out."

She was quiet for a moment. "Well," she suggested. "You can do what my teacher does and make him a chart."

I just DIED, because of course I knew what type of chart she was referring to. It's a behavior modification/positive reinforcement chart.

"Really?" I finally asked, once I had stopped laughing. "How would that work?"

"Well, you make a chart," she explained, "and every time he does something good, like clean his room or buy you a present, you give him a sticker. And then when he gets enough stickers, you can take him to Sonny's. But if he ISN'T good," she adds ominously, "NO STICKER AT ALL."

"Ah," I said. "How many stickers are we going for?"

"Like 10."

"Hmmm," I answered, feigning deep thought and consideration. "But what kind of stickers would I use?"

"Butterflies," she immediately replied. "And then you tell him [and here she adopts a very commanding, no-nonsense tone], 'Boyfriend, if you want to go out to eat, you better be good and get 10 stickers. Or no barbeque for you.' "

I, of course, am hysterical again. But I have to say, I think she's onto something. In fact, I dare say that this just may become the new Rules.

Ladies, feel free to adopt and modify in your own relationships, as needed.