This is Why Eleven Year Olds Should Not Date

11 year old G invited New Girlfriend to first BBQ of the season.

One o'clock. Blow dried and plaid shorted girl rings doorbell with her Mom.

One problem.  BBQ called for six pm.

G still at BFF's house.

New Girlfriend is mortified.

Looks at her Mom. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Voice cracking.

Don't worry, hon, I'm 42 and nothing like this has ever happened to me either.

Normally when someone invites you over, you expect them to be home.

We apologize profusely for misunderstanding and New accompanies my Husband to pick up G.  Comes home with G and BFF. New delighted.

Relationship runs its fifth grade course. Here we are in sixth grade, New Girlfriend has hit cutting room floor, and we are now back together with Summer Camp Girlfriend.

Summer Camp is invited for Sunday brunch.

Rings the bell Saturday at noon.

G is - obviously - at BFF's house.

BFF's Dad takes G back to our house to reunite with Camp.

Choose a Moral for the story:

1. G needs a bus pass
2. Good thing G's relationships don't last long, at least the idiocy is spread around
3. G's BFF has the patience of a saint
4. Let's hope G's next girlfriend has a blackberry

Where PT Barnum meets Jackass

B forgot his lunch at home.

Didn't have any money with him.

Guess he will be hungry and will remember to bring his lunch next time.

(Spoken like a true amateur.)

Comes home from school looking disappointingly well fed.

What did you have for lunch?

Sushi.

Fancy. You must have nice friends.

No, no, Mom. I paid.

Uh-huh?

Came up with the best way to make money.

I go up to people at school and ask them if they want me to do anything stupid for a loonie or a twonie.

I just run around screaming, or lift up my shirt.

Once, I had to say hi to some girl.

And, Mom, the funny thing is? They think I'm the sucker.

But Mom, they are totally the suckers.

I walk away with the money.

This Story is Fourteen Seconds Old

Coffee shop with B and G.

Bribing them with lemon poppy seed cake they eagerly agreed to join me and do their homework while I work on my book.

(I thought it was done too but apparently the editor can totally ask you to rewrite stuff).

Boys taking their work out of their bags and pretending to study.

Server comes over to wipe up a few crumbs.

Sorry about the mess.

That's OK.  You should have seen the mess I made this morning.

Really?

Boys eyes glazing over.  They are thinking: Mom, is it strictly necessary for you to to speak to every single person in the entire world.

Server still talking.

Spilled milk everywhere.  Probably should have gone home last night instead of playing beer pong (for those of you who didn't go to college).

Beer pong? Boys snap to attention.

She continues.

I'm not so good at Beer Pong so I'm a little - uh - "tired" this morning.  My sister is way better than me. My younger sister.

And by the way can you lower the volume on your computer so it doesn't beep?

Presses hand to temple.

Complaint tie-in:  I don't mind a little small talk from my coffee shop server.  Nice weather we're having.  Boy I miss those Habs.  Even a what do you think of the new mayor would be ok in a pinch.

But bragging about your drinking games? Like, seriously?

Dude. Please.

Good Thing I Didn't Buy Shoes There Too

Felt guilty in the night that haven't been blogging.

Worried that blog becoming too mommyish.

Concerned that maybe have drifted too far from original vision.

Sigh.

Perhaps writing complaint book drained all the retail related mishaps out of me.

May have to face fact that am just running out of material.

If only there was some way to generate funny stories about shopping, flying and drinking bottled water without actually leaving the comfort of my bedroom.

Perfect day to wear brand new red power suit.

Look in mirror.

You know those ungainly beige plastic tags that will spray ink everywhere if not removed in the store?

The ones that are on the hem and absolutely can not be camouflaged with the right sweater?

I guess I will have to wear grey executive suit.

Purchased at the same store on the same day.

And clearly checked out by the same clerk.

Moral of the Story: Be careful what you wish for.