Babysitting

Last night, I was hanging around at Joey-Joe's house, texting Cass (who, by the way, informed me that she won't be coming up here to NY any time soon because she's SO busy with her friends who, like, live there. Pshaw. Stupid locals) and eating their Trader-Joe's-brand food. So Bridget pops in all oh-Ricky, and I knew that there was a problem.

See, guess what? Remember Rammundace? Bridget and Corey's adopted kid? Well, they're going out to some restaurant and then going to a hotel. So here's our conversation.

Bridget: Oh, Ricky, can you do me a big, big favor?
Ricky: Define "big."
Bridget: As in, watch Ramon when me and Treasure leave for the night big.
Ricky: Miley-
Bridget: Miley is on a date with Oatmeal. (NOT REAL NAME, fyi)
Ricky: Jamie-
Bridget: Jamie is watching the rest of your lot.
Ricky: Cassidy-
Bridget: Cassidy LIVES IN MASSACHUSETTS!
Ricky: Kay kay fine geez I'll watch your stinkin' kid omigosh you people HATE me don't you?
Bridget: Thanks Rickalot! Later.

So she dumps me with her kid but she DID say later that I could take him back to our house with Joe and have a "sleepover."

Oh, yeah, a two-year-old and my everything-freak friend are some company.

So Joe went to bed within three seconds, and Ray didn't want to sleep AT ALL. So I was up late with Mr. Where's-My-Mommy yapping at me every second!

This morning was a lot better, though. I got ready for school, shipped Rammundace off to daycare, and now here I am, sitting around, just home from school. I leave for work in twenty minutes. LAME.

I'm eating peanut butter on a bagel (we're out of bread, Jay forgot to go shopping) and listening to the good ole B.o.B off of Kate's iHome. (Don't tell her.) Uh oh. Treasure's home. I'm not supposed to eat in my bedroom. I MUST COVER UP MY TRACKS!

Darn ye!

Might I first add that I have, indeed, not posted in two weeks almost exactly. And I will blame my blasted friend Joey-Joe for this one.

See, I was over Joe's house one day, and he's got a lot of siblings too, and besides, Bridget and Ramon live there too, so it was crowded and really awkward, so I decided I'd just hibernate to his bathroom and yank out my laptop and like, y'know, surf, Facebook, Tweet, MySpace...all those social sites that Cass had to help me set up an account for.

So I guess I fell asleep in there with the curtain around the tub, so nobody saw me. And the next morning, I was still sleeping when Kenna decided to turn the hot water on without looking and start RUNNING A BATH! Blasted thirteen-year-olds...they're all idiots.

As you might have guessed, the water totally fried my laptop. And trust me, I let Kenna know VERY well that she was NOT on my HAPPY PERSON LIST!!!!!

Well, actually, that's not really Joey-Joe's fault. It's Kenna's. And it's also Ruby and Rowan's fault because they were the ones who were annoying the fatoodle out of me and made me go in the bathtub in the first place! And it's also Dell's fault for making not-so-waterproof laptops!

On the bright side, Jamie let me use some of my birthday money to buy THIS laptop, which is blue and not flooded. She almost made me do chores, but I reasoned with her and Treasure, who wanted to make me do chores like the evil soul he is. (REASONED.)

Okay, I have work to attend. Later.

Nothing new goin' on 'round here.

Ugh, I have not been on at ALL lately, have I? Slacker, you, Ricky! Darn! Do better next time!

But, I mean, there's nothing really to blog ABOUT. I mean, well, Treasure's kid Rammundace is tapping my shoe. Hold on.

(Five minutes later)

Here's what just happened:

Ricky: Ray, whadda you want?
Ray: Uncle Ricky, can I ask you a question?
Ricky: Um, I'm kinda busy right now.
Ray: Please!
Ricky: Fine! What is it?
Ray: Where do birds come from?
Ricky: Their birdy mothers.
Ray: Where do the birdy mothers come from?
Ricky: The baby bird's birdy grandmas.

Treasure, you sure got a wackjob.

Okay, so, oh, why Rammundace is here is because Bridged is dropping off Jamie's crock pot and Ray had to come along because day care was cancelled. Ray annoys me.

We've lost her again, danggit.

Cass is off blogger AGAIN. I feel like there's something going on over there, something I should know about. I've called her, but she says it's "all good" and "everything's fine." T-WAC, Loulou, you guys make sure that nothing is wrong over in the world of Cassidy.

I've never really understood Cass. She's her own person, y'know? She's not afraid to make mistakes, and she does, but there's something different with her. She's an actress. She can put on a smile. I never really knew what really makes her happy, what her dream is. Maybe her friends make her happy...maybe it's something else. There's something about her that I've never seen, huh?

Please make sure that if you see her, that she's not acting for you. You guys know her. Make sure her smiles are real, and not just a clue that we're losing her...again.

Perfect Synchronization

My girlfriend Leanna came over the other day. We were eating a snack when Treasure came into the room. He was bouncing a rubber ball, one about as big as a fist. He chucked it at me and then we, apparently, did something we were all unconscious of.

I rebounded, flinging it to Jamie, who instantaneously swerved it to me, and I rallied it back to Treasure. Treasure passed off to Rita, who passed it to Miley (housekeeper) who passed it to Nikki. Nikki passed it back to Treasure who was leaving the room, and he caught it.

Leanna's mouth was wide open.

"What?" I asked her.
"What you just did," She said. "That thing with the ball. How did you do that? That was amazing!"

None of us knew what she was talking about. But then we knew.

The ball never stopped moving for a second. We all, without thinking much, swerved the ball around to send it off. It doesn't take anything. It's effortless. We do it as a game, to see how long we can keep momentum going. But nobody had to look up, you can sense it. Nobody stopped the ball until Treasure caught it.

Now that I think about it, we do that all the time. We do it with everything, balls, spoons, apples, cell phones, hakki sacks...anything that's small, really.We keep it moving, and we usually do it without noticing.

Maybe we're supernatural or something, but I think we've just got the best reflexes in the world. We can move in perfect sync with each other, effortless movements. God created us to do these intense things, even keeping an apple moving through thin air.

If you want to know how we do this, here's how:

When it's tossed at us, reflexes kick in. We don't catch it, we kind of curve it. We push it. We redirect it, give it some more momentum. Someone catches it in the end, and the game is over.

Maybe it won't come easy to you, but it comes easy to me. Just practice. It's a simultaneous juggling show. I think it's pretty cool.

Never mind...

I don't have enough time to post lately!!!! Work is crummy, school is boring, and I have to do four Saturday detentions! I was actually getting into the habbit of posting often...now I'm neglecting it. Ugh, lazy, lazy. I'm not at all happy with myself. Well, I have to go. Walmart awaits. Bye.

I'm sorry, universe

My last post was a bit of an oh-I'm-a-really-moody-teenager-and-the-whole-world-hates-me-so-back-off-I'm-gonna-take-all-my-anger-out-on-you post. Yeah, I probably sounded mean. The truth is, it's okay now that I'm staying home. At least while I'm at home I get to go to work.

Ah, joy.

Yeah, Walmart ain't the crowned jewel, but it's better then trying to get this mop of hair under control. Does it EVER get out of my face? Stupid hair. Once I straighten it to make it less crazy-curly, it falls in my face and blinds me from anything NOT bonfire red. UGH!

My family has the best hair. I think the gorgeous hair fairy skipped me in my family. Jamie's silky, wavy, milk-bottle blond hair, Treasure's looks-great-whatever-you-do-with-it, nearly-blue-it's-so-black hair, even RITA's hair (yes, my own twin sister's hair) is a beautiful strawberry-blond moppet hairdo. Even Phin's brown frazzle-burst of hair is better then whatever the heck this thing is on MY head.

The reason we all look different is because most of us have different mothers. Yeah, family problem, not yours.

You can do anything with Treasure's hair. It's like that one pair of jeans that go with anything. When he was fifteen, it was spiky, choppy, and looked really punk-rock-star. Sixteen, it was smooth and almost Justin Beiber. (Who I find hideous) Last year, fork-in-socket spiked because of his EARRING. Now, it's long, shiny, cool, almost concealing the perfect green eyes.

And then there's me, who sulks for hours because of the stupid hair I got.

My family's all so nice and normal. It's too bad I'm there to ruin it for them.