Potty Training

Last night, our trusty group of neighborhood friends came over and while the girls sat inside drinking wine and watching the Real Housewives of New York, the boys sat out side drinking beer and talking about farts or whatever they talk about. Eddie was happily sleeping for the night.

I had Tiki Torches out, and for whatever reason Jim started to wave the tiki torch at people. Now, I know. I know this isn't smart. We do not play with fire, ya'll. When Keith got up to leave, for whatever reason, he grabbed the tiki torch and began waving it and Jim, giving him a taste of his own medicine....but Keith's waving caused the torch liquid to drip on Jim and the ground, also soaking the outside of the tiki bottle thing. Jim, in retaliation, FLUNG the tiki torch and Keith, causing the torch bottle to come out of the holder thing, thus creating a nice fire bottle rocket thing. In my backyard. On my grass. And as we all began screaming at Keith what to do "Pick it up! Put it out!! The whole thing is going to start on fire!!!" he held it, spinning in circles half grunting half screaming like a girl. A combination of that action and Keith's killer playoff beard in honor of the Blackhawks, he looked like a cave man finding fire for the first time.

And I peed my pants laughing so hard.


Yup. In front of my friends, some of the funniest and some of my favorite people ever, I peed my pants. Now, I think they should all take it as a compliment, that a combination of their antics and some wine and my bladder issues that make me pee a little every time I sneeze (let's just be honest here, mkay?) because I tried my damndest to push a child out of....there....would make me laugh so hard. Instead, I was (obviously) the subject of ridicule for the rest of the night.

But after changing my pants and going back outside, I was more than happy to remind everyone of the time that Doug said that he gave someone stitches, in their head, using human hair as thread. And thankfully the vultures latched on to make fun of that, instead.

Thank God for good friends who make you laugh till you pee, shout "(bleep) Thursday Tacos" at the right moment, bring you puppy chow, agree with you on all things Real Housewives, take pictures of you when you and your broken wine glass and who may or may not pee on the side of your house when they're drunk.



Yes, thank God for good friends.