I thoroughly enjoy titles like this that confuse and bewilder. Who on earth is “DJ White Coke” and what on earth is “The Penguin Plop”?!
First, you have to understand that I’m still sooooo unbelievably sick that I’ve essentially reached Nonsensical Land, which is a magical place where everything that I do or say is HIL-AR-IOUS!!! Even when it’s not. And so I make the wise decision to blog in such a state of mind. I mean, what could go wrong, right?! In Nonsensical Land, everything I say or do makes PERFECT sense, so clearly that would translate well into the Real World. I mean please, tell me I’m wrong. ‘Cause I’m so obviously not. 😉
So who is “DJ White Coke”? Well, that would be ME. I saw this on Facebook and was intrigued to know what my DJ name would be. I’m not alone here, right?
Well, it just so happened that I was wearing a white t-shirt and I hadn’t had any food in HOURS, so the closest thing to food that I had been consuming was a Jumbo American-sized Coke from Burger King. From this basic equation (had it been more than a basic equation I would’ve been incapable of solving it), I determined that my DJ name would be “DJ White Coke”. Which, come on now, you can admit is COMPLETELY hilarious, right? RIGHT?!
Poor Dave has been in charge of taking care of Jack for more than a week now BY HIMSELF, which I would liken to being a prisoner at Guantanamo. (Too far? Please kid, I’m too sick to even realize what I’m writing!) And, sorry to say, there’s no end in sight. Yes, the antibiotics seem to be kicking in, but at a SNAIL’S PACE, I TELL YOU!!! I imagine that on Day 1 of the Z-pack–when you’re supposed to take 2 pills–those two pills entered my body and were probably screaming “May Day, May Day, this fatty is FULL of infection! This is beyond our capabilities!” Well suck it up, Z-pack and FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT the enemy infection! Because that’s what I’ve had to do–to a degree–for over a week now. Getting Jack dressed for school and packing his backpack with a snack–without forgetting anything–miraculous on my part. I want to collapse from exhaustion after such a simple tasks. Beyond those things, I’ve been pretty much incapacitated. I could sleep all day! Which would be great, because at least while I’m asleep I’m not coughing up stuff that noooobody wants to see. And I’m not pulling muscles from my coughing fits (literally). Since this infection dug its claws in me, I’ve pulled a muscle in my chest (from coughing) and pulled out my back (from coughing) and irritated my left leg joint at the hip (no idea what THAT’S all about). I’m hobbling around like: take your pick–a) Kathy Bates in “Misery”, or b) The Elephant Man, John Merrick. As Liz Lemon would say in 30 Rock: “This is a Liz-aster!” And it is.
So yesterday, Dave was gracious enough to let me sleep the afternoon and early evening away. I woke up when he was going to bed at around 9:30. Because of my clinical obesity, I snore like a bear (which only makes me MORE attractive, right?) so for his sake I immediately moved all of my blankets and pillows onto the living room couch and watched TV until I fell back to sleep. As I was walking said blankets from our bedroom to the living room, I couldn’t help but realize that I was waddling, due to the pain from throwing out my back. And the word “waddle” sure takes me back!
While I was growing up, my mom ran a daycare. On an unrelated note, my mother was AN AMAZING DAYCARE PROVIDER. The thought of sending your child to daycare–to be taken care of by a complete stranger–is terrifying. But sending your child to my mom meant that a HUGE burden was taken off of your shoulders. Because she TRULY cared about the children in her care. But from a selfish teenager’s perspective (we’re talking about me now), it was SO IRRITATING having your house overrun by other people’s children. People that weren’t related to you. People that you didn’t care about. Bottom line–you wanted them, AND their children, out of your house. Because that’s how selfish teenagers think.
My mom subscribed to some sort of daycare resource called “Kapers For Kids”. Every month, she would receive a box from Kapers For Kids that was chock-full of activites for children, crafts for them to make, and TAPES (we’re talkin’ the early 90’s here) full of horrible, unbearably awful music. Despite the fact that my mother’s daycare was in our finished basement, I could hear eeeevery word of eeeevery song from those horrible music tapes on the 2ND floor of our house. So while I was trying to do my Calculus homework or write a thesis for my English teacher, I could hear every.last.song. from those STUPID STUPID STUPID tapes, full of songs that the daycare kids LOVED. One of those songs was called “The Penguin Plop”. I know you don’t want to hear the lyrics, but tough. Here we go: “First you waddle to the left, then you waddle to the right. Now tuuuurn around and squeeze your arms in tight. Then you flap your wings and THEN you STOP! Now sit right down and do the Penguin Plop!” Yep, those were the exact words. Sung by a woman who clearly thought she had an amazing voice. She sounded like every music teacher you’ve ever had . . . and hated. But as I was waddling down the hallway last night, with my blankets in tow, all I could think about was that HORRIBLE song. That UNBEARABLE song that has forever etched itself into my mind. So now you understand the title of this post. Much less interesting than you originally thought, eh?!
I’m going to collapse on the couch right now and get some shut-eye before Dave returns home with Jack. I can only hope beyond hope that a bunch of our friends are going to the beach today, because that will give Dave something to look forward to. In the meantime, I need my Z-pack to MAN-UP. Because I’m not getting better fast enough!
Someday, to your dismay, I will locate a recording of the Kapers for Kids song “The Penguin Plop”, and it’ll probably cause all of you to conspire to kill me. And to that, I say “Bring it on!!!!