What Ponzi Meant to Say

I admit right now that I made a fatal mistake.

For some reason, before Ponzi left for her two-week vacation in Italy, I was overly concerned with her personal safety and forgot to discuss one very important element of the trip with her.

Oh, we discussed things, alright. . . I taught her all about how to clutch her purse so that a band of pickpocketing thieves couldn't get their paws on her passport. . . and Veggie gave her lessons on how to deal with the throngs of lecherous men pinching her. . .  and Drip Dry went on boobie patrol, surveying her wardrobe looking for anything too low cut. . .and she had every element of her international phone plan down-pat. . . knowing who she could email. . . who she was allowed to call. . . and who she could BBIM. . . . .

So what was the fatal mistake?

I never gave her currency converting instructions.

Now, with a name like Ponzi, chances are that the child didn't need a tutorial on exchange rates (for rumor has it that she was born with a currency converter in place of her left kidney) but still. . . I neglected to have the very discussion which may have precluded an email (yes, I was on the email-only list) like this:  We're in the leather market right now and I found this amazing school bag for 55 and so I charged it.

The astute reader will notice three interesting things about these 21 words.  And, because I was born with a Ponzi converter in place of my left kidney, I will gladly parse the one-sentence correspondence for you:

1. School - No doubt about it. . . the addition of the word, school, as an adjective in front of the item, bag, translates to. . . You're paying for it, Mom!  Since we all know that Ponzi is going off to college in just four short weeks, and we also know that mothers traditionally pay for all items associated with school. . .  like crayons. . . pencil cases. . . and notebooks. . .  it therefore follows that this new bag is an all-essential-back-to-school item and now falls into the category of school supplies which will be paid for by the mother.
2. 55 - Notice, if you will, the intentional vagueness of the number. The currency of the "55" was not specified.  So did the bag cost 55 u.s. dollars? Or did it cost 55 euros, which equates to 72 u.s. dollars???? You're right, my friends, I don't even have to ask. .  .
3. Charged - Here, the clever detective need only note the past tense. The choice of the past tense means that the great Italian bag has been acquistati on her mother's carta di credito and that, my friends, means it's finito. . .conclusivo. . . decisivo.

So the newly-worked communication - sent through the Ponzi converter - would come out sounding something like this. . .  I'm in the leather market in Florence now while on that awesome vacation that you and Dad scrimped and saved to send me on and I found this wonderful bag that would be great for school and so I splurged and spent an additional $72 of your hard-earned money on it without asking.   And don't even think about suggesting that I return it, 'cause I don't have the slightest idea of how to speak the language here in this foreign country where all of the gross old men are pinching me!!!!

 

Oh. .  .and she would have added a post-script that went something like this:  And when I get home on Thursday, the rest of the back-to-school shopping will commence in earnest.

Be Still, My Heart

I can tell you that right now that A Mom on Spin's heart is racing faster than a Euro flying out of a Roman ATM machine.

You see, Ponzi and my credit card leave for two weeks in Italy tomorrow (and - quite frankly - I don't know which one I worry about more. . . )

Now just let me state for the record that my parental anxiety was not quelled one bit when I discovered today that I only have two Xanax left in that bottle the doctor prescribed for me three years ago.  And if I have been able to hold onto that same bottle for all of that time, doesn't  it make sense that I could pick up the nearest phone and place an S.O.S. for an emergency refill?   But apparently you can't just request a refill for happy pills.  No, it seems that the well-meaning physician  who took the Hippocratic Oath to Do No Harm needs to see for himself that I am once-again a psychotic lunatic needing sedation.

I ask you. . . Doesn't that man read my blog???  Why can't I just tell him that Ponzi and my credit card are leaving tomorrow to spend two weeks in Italy???

Would that not suffice????

And although Ponzi will be traveling with a very generous friend . . .and the only thing that I agreed to pay for on this trip were her passport. . . and her airfare. . .and international Blackberry service. . .and a pre-flight-mani-pedi. . .  and some "farewell" frappa-mocha-chinos at Starbucks . . doesn't he know that there's a little matter of spending money that is still quite ill-defined between us???

And what about knowing his patient?  Doesn't that doctor know that Ponzi is only eighteen. . . and a knockout. . .and splits her days between the gym and the tanning salon??? Doesn't he know that Italian men are known for their aggressiveness towards beautiful women?  Doesn't he further know that the drinking age in Italy is like almost non-existent???

And, although I can tell him that, upon Drip Dry's request,  Veggie shared each one of her  fifty ways to lose a slimeball  techniques acquired during her semester in Florence just three short years ago (a.k.a. my virtual vacation) doesn't that doctor know that all young women think they know how to handle themselves with the opposite sex in a foreign country . .  .when they really don't???

And - as long as I'm on a roll here - do I have to remind the aforementioned physician that all of those gods and goddesses he swore The Oath to were Greek? And Ponzi's not even going to Greece! She's going to Italy where life is a whole lot more "civilized" you might say!  Alright, maybe Apollo straddled the fence, but Asclepius and Hygieia. . and those others. .  . well I believe those gods would be so focused on the young girls traveling in Athens, that they wouldn't even guess that Ponzi's mother had been slipped a Xanax or two on the side.  And what's with this Do No Harm thing anyhow?  I ask you. . . Would it do any harm to quell my racing heart long enough to say a proper goodbye to Ponzi????

 I say . . . Show me a physician with a teenage daughter about to step foot on Italian soil for the first time, and I guarantee you that prescription would be flying off his pad  faster than you could put a fig leaf on the the statue of David!

For then - and only then - will my heart be still . . .

Yeah. . .  that's it. . . 

What Should a Teenage Driver Never Do to her Mother?

 Question #1: What should a teenage drive never do to her fragile, stressed-out, and vertigo-challenged mother?

Answer:  Text her the following message while driving someone else's seven-year-old child. . . These brakes sound terrible!

To which the mother quickly replies. . . What do they sound like and where are you? . . . before running into the liquor store for a bottle of wine and some lottery tickets (which are really the only two remedies that the poor mother can think of when yet-another of the family's vehicles starts messing with her  already-bad car-ma. . .)

Question #2:  What is the next thing a teenage driver should never do?

Answer:  Proceed to call said mother while she's in the liquor store and not leave a voicemail  when the mother doesn't pick up.

Question #3:  And what is the third - and final - thing that same driver should never do????

Answer:  Not answer her phone or her text messages for the next forty-five minutes so that the mother will become frantic - visualizing both the teenager and her babysitting charge unconscious in a ditch somewhere and fretting over the lawsuit that would ensue for allowing the daughter to drive a unsafe vehicle while wondering how she could convince the jury that Roberta really was the prized car in the Spin family stable????


Question #4:  And what - I might ask - is the moral of the story?

Answer:  That  next time A Mom on Spin needs to find a drive-thru liquor store!

My Future's So Bright, Ponzi Has to Wear Shades. . . .

 Be careful what you wish for. . .  one astute reader commented as I  bemoaned my new-found "boring" existence and - ergo - my daughters' lack of bad behavior in my last post.  (Yes, yes, I know. . . two negatives make a positive. . . therefore a "lack" of "bad" behavior must mean "good" behavior. . .  but don't you see???  Good behavior translates to B-O-R-I-N-G in bloggese. .  .)

Where had the good old days gone? I wondered to myself.   The days of bold-faced lying, curfew infractions, and brushes with the law????  You know. . .  the kind of stuff that made me who I am today. .  . A Mom on Spin!

Well, I'm here now to ask you.   Does a black eye count?  

'Cause Ponzi has one.  All signs point to the elbow in the eye she got while doing God-knows-what in the center of the "mosh" pit of the concert she went to on Thursday night.  But, although it looks pretty nasty, the overall "wow" effect of a big old shiner on a beautiful teenager is less than life-altering - for she is proudly sporting it as a badge of courage after all.

No, my friends, this little blip on the radar screen is clearly not enough to get my life back spinning again.

 I promise to get back to you the minute something more exciting happens. . .  .

I Guess the "R" Stands for Royalty. . . .

Overheard this weekend in On Mom on Spin's kitchen. .  .

____________________

Ponzi:   I'm so mad!

Me:  Why?

Ponzi:  I can't paint the "R" on my stomach for the game today.

Me:  Why not?

Ponzi:  'Cause I'm one of the girls nominated for Homecoming Queen and that means I have to drive around in a stupid convertible instead. . .

And you all thought no good would come out of that little unofficial booster club. . . didn't ya????

And I Remember When She Used to Fingerpaint. . .

Conversation overheard just yesterday in A Mom on Spin's kitchen. . .


Me:  Ponzi!  Where are you going dressed like that?

Ponzi:  To the high school football game.  Why?

Me:  Well, my dear, that shirt is more-than-a-little-bit see through.  You better put a jacket on over it.

Ponzi:  It's not like it really matters.   I'm just going to be pulling it up anyway. . .

After all. . . she is the second "R" in Morristown, you know. . .

Do Unto Others. . . As They Have Done Unto You. . .

Wait! That's not how it goes? Well, if you missed Thursday's post about some unauthorized withdrawals from my bank account, you really should go here. It's extremely short. I promise you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So this is where Ponzi has been residing of late . . .




But this was Ponzi's latest place of employment . . .



What a coincidence . . . That's my place of employment too!



This was Ponzi's boss. . . mine too!


This is Ponzi's paycheck. . .


Hey. . . can I see that for a minute????



This is where Ponzi's paycheck will go . . .


My ATM Machine?



And this is what I will outsmart next time. . .

Gotcha!

So get ready folks. . . Monday will be State your Sins Day once again! I was able to cobble together a button for my sidebar (congratulations accepted. . .) and I'll have Mr. Linky up so you can account for your sins back on your own site (cause God knows I don't want to take the blame for them here. . . )

I'm outta here people! Got myself some sinning to do. . .

Ponzi's New Home. . .

This is Ponzi. . .
This is my A.T.M. card. . .

This is Ponzi's new home. . .

Get the picture???

Suggestions for sentencing are welcome. . .

If Baby Bear Only Knew . . .

It doesn't happen often, but every once in a great while I get to beat Ponzi in her own game. And I have to confess that I love it!

Without boring you to death, I need to provide a brief background for today's reenactment of last night's conversation. If you read my blog faithfully, you will know that Ponzi and her friends were in the process of moving Ponzi into Veggie's room. Well, part of said process was to empty Veggie's walk-in closet of the three hundred Prom dresses, two hundred stuffed animals, and one hundred pairs of shoes (that's 200 shoes for those of you who are counting. . .) which Veggie so thoughtfully left behind. And so the movers decided that the most expedient thing to do would be to deposit all of the above in Ponzi's old (and tiny) room (you know. . .the room that has now been designated as my study) and so they quickly became transfer agents - moving all of Veggie's discarded items down to Ponzi's old room and bringing only Ponzi's best and treasured items up to her new room. The result? Ponzi's old room (a.k.a. my study) is now filled to the brim with Veggie and Ponzi's discarded shoes and clothing.

Part Two of the details which I don't want to bore you with has to do with My Sleep Disorder . . . whereby I - like Goldilocks - often go searching at 3:00 a.m. for a fresh bed to cure my insomnia . . . hence, the reason for having a relief bed in my new study. The only problem was (and with me there always has to be one, right????) this bed was stacked high with prom dresses and the like. . . and so - despite my repeated pleas for Ponzi to clean out that room - my Goldilock's butt had landed squarely on the family room couch at 3:00 a.m. the proceding night and - let me tell you - that's just Not right! in my book.

All of this to explain why I made a preemptive strike and went to bed at 9:00 p.m. in Ponzi's new room. . . calling her before I did to give her fair warning. . .

~~~~~~~~~~

Ponzi: You're what? You can't sleep in there!

Me: Oh, I can too! I can - and will - sleep there every night until you get my new room cleaned out.

Ponzi: Fine! Then I'm just gonna jump into bed with you.

Me: Well that's fine with me!

Ponzi: I will, you know. . . I'll do it!

Me: Oh, I don't doubt it. . . but it won't bother me in the least!

Ponzi: It won't bother me either!

Me: Fine?!?!
 
Ponzi: Fine!

Me: But I need to warn you that I snore all night. That's why your father doesn't like to sleep with me, you know. . .

Ponzi (continuing the brave front): Well that won't bother me either! I'll sleep right through it!

Me: Well, obviously, if I'm the one doing the snoring, I'll sleep through it too! So that will make two of us!

Ponzi: Yeah. . . two of us. . .

Me: Two of us. . .sleeping. . . together. . .

Ponzi: That's right!

Me: Fine!

Ponzi: Fine!

~~~~~~~~~~

Needless to say. . . Ponzi climbed into bed with Trigger, while I slept like . . . like. . . well, like everything was Just right!

. . . Hey! Anybody want to be my roommate at BlogHer next summer????

Me (just for fun. . . or added insurance. . . or perhaps, both. . . ): And I have bad breath, you know. . . and I get hot flashes. . . like in the middle of the night . . . and I have to throw my nightgown off at the oddest times to combat them . . and your father also tells me that I fart all night too, but I don't believe him!!! I think it's he who's doing the farting all along and just blaming it on me. . .

No Sicky, No Stoppy. No Streppy, No Poppy!

Some of you may view what comes next as cruel and unusual treatment of a teenage daughter.

Perhaps it is.

But if you had been witness to even a fraction of the cruel and unusual treatment that has been exhibited toward the mother of this teenage daughter, you would understand the extenuating circumstances that have led me to act this way.

And, before you judge me without a trial of my peers, let me say the following in my own defense:

Just last week, foreseeing a long and demand-filled summer, I laid down the law to my daughters about things they were not allowed to call me at work to ask. And along with the most offensive item - cash (or in the absence thereof - my highly-prized Debit card) came a request from me that my offspring refrain from calling me everyday at work to give me a list of items I absolutely need to stop and pick up on my way home. I reminded them that each of them had a driver's license and the God-given talent to navigate through various stores alone. I also reminded them that - on many occasions - I am utterly exhausted at the end of the day, and unless the requested item is a bottle of Pinot Grigio which I will imbibe without their help, I'm thinking that tasting the new and improved flavor of some coconut custard yogurt can probably wait until the next time I've been to the market. . .


This point being understood and universally accepted, you are now allowed to read the rest of this post - which - once again features a conversation with my dear daughter Ponzi . . . who happens to be, without question, the worst of the work-call-request offenders. . .

~~~~~~~~~~

Call received on my cell at 3:30 p.m.

Me: Hello?

Ponzi: Mom! On your way home you need to stop and pick up some ice pops for my sore throat.

I now interrupt this blog post to bring you the following information, which I should have supplied earlier. . .

Ponzi has been complaining of a sore throat for a number of days, but refuses to let it keep her from all of the social engagements and attempted sleepovers that seem to come along with the last few days of school - today having been the absolute last day of her junior year.

We now return to the story. . .

Me: You know, Ponz, I'm particularly tired today and I don't have any other reason to go to the store on my way home, so I'm not going to get those ice pops.

Ponzi: But I need them! My throat is sore and I can barely talk!!!

Me: What I am willing to do for you, Ponzi, is to take you to the doctor to get a strep test. Perhaps you need an antibiotic.

Ponzi: No! I don't have strep throat! I just need ice pops!

Me: Alright! If I leave work and stop to get you ice pops, will you promise me you won't ask to go out tonight? You're sick.

Ponzi: I'm not sick! I'm going out with Timmy tonight, but I need the ice pops first!

Me: If you're not sick, I'm not stopping. It's as simple as that.

Ponzi: But I need them! I can hardly swallow!

Me: If I stop, you don't go out. . .

Ponzi: Mom! You're not making any sense at all!

Me: You want sense? I'll give you "sense". . . "Since" when did you think it's acceptable to call me at work and harass me about a stupid thing like ice pops?????

I'm so grown up sometimes - aren't I????

And- by the way - I'm quite sure that a jury of my peers would never convict me. . .

To Catch a Daughter

So many of my readers write to me and ask: Oh Mom on Spin, how will will I ever be able to handle my child's teenage years? Will I know when they are drinking. . . or smoking. . . or lying to me about where they are going???

The answers to first two will have to be the subject of future blog posts. . . but as to catching a teenager in a lie? My advice, dear readers, is sometimes just as simple as to . . .LISTEN CAREFULLY . . . for in their rush to get to the party, your darling daughter - or her friends - might very well trip themselves up, and their lies will suddenly become as apparent as the nose on Pinocchio's face.

Take - for instance - my recent conversation with Ponzi. . .

~~~~~~~~~~

Ponzi: Is it okay if I sleep at Suzie's house tonight? I'll be back first thing in the morning for Father's Day breakfast.

Me: Suzie's house? Are you really sleeping at Suzie's house? You wouldn't be sleeping at Timmy's or Tommy's house. . . would you?

Ponzi: Mom! Why don't you trust me?
Me Think: (Because I'm your mother, that's why!!!)

But I really answered: Trust? You want me to trust you this time?
Ponzi: Yes Mom. I want you to trust me.

Me: Okay. Suzie's house. You can sleep at Suzie's.

Ponzi: I swear. . . that's where I'll be!

And all was right with the world. . . that was, until Ponzi and Suzie left for their night out. . .

Me: Now, don't forget. . . you have to be home for our Father's Day Breakfast in the morning.

Suzie: Don't worry, Mrs. Mom on Spin. . . . I'll make sure she's home on time. I have to be back home first thing in the morning too . . .

And if this method doesn't work for you, you can always employ another of my tried and true truth-revealing strategies - feign disbelief at one of her sister's stories and all the lies she has told you will come streaming out of her sister's mouth in self defense. . .

Works every time.

The Post-Prom Ponzi Shakedown

7:30 a.m. Saturday morning. . .

Ponzi: Mom, wake up! Where did Dad go so early this morning?

Me: Golfing. Where else?

Ponzi: Oh. . . well how much money do you have?

Me: Why do you need money?

Ponzi: Well, remember how we're going to the shore today. . . just for the day. . . because you wouldn't let me go after Prom and sleep there like everyone else. . . and Susie's dad is driving us down today. . . well. . . um. . . . we just found out we need money to get on the beach.

Me: Don't you have any money left from the other day when you got your hair done for Prom? I gave you a hundred dollars.

Ponzi: Well the hairdo was $85 and I gave her a $15 tip.

Me: A hundred dollars on your hair? How much are you asking for now? Ten dollars?

Ponzi: No. . . not exactly. . . because. . . well . . . just found out about this. . . but because you wouldn't let me stay at the hotel with the seniors. . . well. . . um . . . there's this fee for using the hotel's beach. . . you know. . . because you're a guest. . . of a guest. . . I'm sure it would have been cheaper to have just paid for the hotel room. . . but anyway. . . they give you this bracelet thing. . . and Tammy was there yesterday. . . and she's going back today. . . and she's bringing markers and construction paper. . . so we're probably not going to end up paying the fee at all . . . cause. . . you know. . . we're going to make our own. . . Tammy and Susie say it's easy. . . but I better have the money with me just in case I need it.

Me: How much is it?

Ponzi: $67. For the day pass. It's more if we stay past six o'clock.

Me: $67 just to go to the beach for a day??? It's not worth it. You can keep driving down the parkway to Exit 25. I bought four season passes for $15 each. They're at the house. I'll give you the keys.

Ponzi: But this is with all the senior guys from Prom! Please! Please! Please, Mom!!!! I'll give you the first paycheck of the summer when I get it. . .

Me: But you don't have a summer job.

Ponzi: I know. . . . but when I get one. . . and when I get my first paycheck. . . I'll give it all to you!

A Love Handle Lapachino

The other morning I entered Ponzi's room in search of my ever-elusive box of Q-Tips and guess what I found. . .




This.


Bliss. . . love-handler!



And - thinking it was some sort of slimy and perverted sex product that my seventeen-year-old daughter had no business owning or knowing about- I picked up the bottle and read:

liquid workout for lazy abdominals

with caffeine and lipid-release boosters.

and because my not-too-far-from-fifty-year-old eyes couldn't read the rest of the small print on the lovehandler bottle, I googled it:

Want to whittle your wiggly waist, tone tummy pudge and keep back fat at bay? Wage war on those not-so-hard 'core' areas with this genius gel, formulated for extended 8-hour caffeine release. With cooling mint oil and naturally-derived amino acid ingredients.

Okay.

Now the question you've all been waiting for. . .

What the hell do these girls do with the stuff? Do they sniff it? Apply it? Ingest it? (I'm not kidding here people! You give my daughters any product that boasts of caffeine, and they'll be asking for an extra shot and putting a straw in it. . . )  Do I not hand over enough of my paycheck at Starbucks already that my daughter (a.k.a.. . . me!) now has to spend $36 on caffeine for her non-existent back fat?????? Cause . . . you know . . . it came from me. Even if she never specifically asked for $36 to purchase a Love-Handle Lapachino, I paid for that bottle in some way, shape, or form. . .

Plus, there's the obvious. . .

Now, I don't know about you, but when I think of love handles, my mind wanders to images like this:


not this. . .

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

What will they think of next for my daughters to go out and spend my hard-earned money on? A champagne pedicure? A vodka facial???? Some Sushi tanning oil???

You tell me. . . cause I've given up. . .

The infirmity in our household

We've had a touch of an infirmity in our household this week.

And no, my friends, it is not the swine flu.

It is, instead, the dreaded Prom-a!

Symptoms include tears, screaming, insomnia, intensive negotiations, and plenty of high-stakes drama!

Drama surrounding dresses bought and returned. . . dates made and broken. . . shoes to be borrowed. . . sticky-boobs to be located . . . "pre" and "post" parties. . . permissions reluctantly granted. . . threats of breathalyzers and police drive-by's. . .

And it seems that the only remedy to Prom-a will come in the form of a manicure, pedicure, eyebrow threading, and a $60 (That's without the tip, Mom!) hairdo.

Oh yes . . . and your oldest sister must come home from college for the weekend to do you makeup.

Prom-a! . . . How I hate you!

p.s. Guess what??? Tonight is just the Junior prom. . . Prom-a! surrounding the Senior prom is scheduled to descend upon our household next month. . .

Trust me. . . your mental health is just fine

So with all of this new-found Trust making its way through our household, Ponzi must have thought, I'm gonna get me some! because she came paddling into my room at 6:45 this morning - a teenager with a mission. . .

Ponzi: Mom, Suzie and Julie are going to the beach today. Their moms are letting them take a mental health day. Can I go with them?

Me: No

Ponzi: Why?

Me: Because I said so.

Ponzi: But why not????

Me: I don't have to explain it to you. My answer is no.

Ponzi: Why won't you tell me why not????

Me: You want an answer???? I'll give you why not. . . becauseyoujustfreakin'frackin'gotbackfromtheGDbeachyesterdaywhereyourfatherandIdroveyouagainstourbetterjudmentand youwouldn'teventellmehowtheretreatwentandifanyoneneedsamentalhealthdayit'smeforputtingupwiththelikesof you,sotrustme!yourmentalhealthisjustfine!!!!!!!!!!

At which point, Ponzi turned and stormed out of the room.

I'm sure you're all reassured to know that - when it comes to doling out permission - I haven't completely lost my marbles. . .

Oh, and p.s.??? She's gonna do it one day. . . just to let you know. . .

The reason you have to get up early in the morning if you want to beat Ponzi

Daughter entering room at 7:00 a.m. interrupting my beauty sleep because I make it a point never to leave my bed until the two screaming Mimi's have left the house. . .

Me: What?

Ponzi: Mom, can you write a note saying I had a doctor's appointment that Friday afternoon before Spring Break?

Me: What????

Ponzi: You know . . . that Friday before Spring Break. . . Can you write a note to my Chemistry teacher saying I had to leave school because I had a doctor's appointment?

Me: Wasn't that the afternoon of the infamous fire drill??? The one where you and your friends went running out of school and didn't go back???

Ponzi: Yeah. . .

Me: The one where I warned you that you would get in trouble and you said, The worst they can do is give me detention!!!!????

Ponzi: Yeah, but if you write the note, I won't get in trouble. You just have to say I had a doctor's appointment. . .

Me: I'm not writing that note.

Ponzi: Mom! Why not????

Me: It would be lying and I don't lie! You were the one who decided to cut school. . . you have to pay the consequences.

Ponzi: Mom! Please?????

Me: No!!!

Ponzi: Well, I'm just going to go downstairs and ask Dad then. . .

Me: Go right ahead!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ponzi: Dad, you know that afternoon I cut school and you came home????

Trigger Finger Guy: Yeah?

Ponzi: Well, will you write me a note saying I had a doctor's appointment?

Trigger Finger Guy: Sure. . . bring me some paper. . .

All bow before the altar of the Virtual Voodoo Priestess

I'm quite scared.

I think you already know that I have psychic powers. (And if I told you my dream the night before the Needling! incident, you would have goosebumps, my friends. Goosebumps.)

But I didn't know about my virtual voodoo powers.

Remember how in yesterday's voodoo post (published at 6:49 a.m. - I might add. . . ) I pleaded with Ponzi to do something wrong? Well, before nightfall had ever arrived, she had done it again. . . outwitted one of the brightest and best minds in the business! (Not me, silly, her father!) Listen to the story my Stanford University educated husband recounted about his lunchtime visit to our homestead:

Him: I came home for lunch today and Ponzi was here with a friend.

Me: Really? Why???

Him: Something about a fire alarm at the High School and they left. . .

Me: There was a fire at the school?

Him: No, I think it was a false alarm, but the security guards told them to go home. She said she was only missing gym class.

Me: So does that mean she cut school???

Him: Well, I didn't think about it like that. . . but, yeah, I guess so.

Me: And what time was this?

Him: 12:30

Me: School gets out at 2:30 everyday. There's no way she had a two hour gym class. . .

Him: No, she was cutting.

Me: (Risking what I know might be a charge of Needling!) So can I ask you why you didn't haul her ass right back over to that school??

Him: Well, I didn't really think of it. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so I quickly picked up the phone and dialed Ponzi's number. . .

Me: Tell me. . . what happened today???

Ponzi: ellsomeonepulledthefirealarmanditwashilariousandthesecurityguardstoldusalltorunand. . . .

Me: Wait. Wait. Wait!!! Slow down! I've told you before. . . Talk like a human!

Ponzi: I can't! I'm driving!!!

Me: Where are you going???

Ponzi: I don't know. . . we haven't decided. . .

Me: Sweet Jesus! Call me when you've landed somewhere!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And within five minutes Ponzi and her friend walked in the door. . .

Me: So tell me what really happened

Ponzi: Well, someone pulled the fire alarm and we all had to go outside and the security guard . . . I think his name is . . . .

Friend: Joe. . .

Ponzi. . . Yeah, Joe. . . all the kids love him. . . well anyway, he told us all to run! And so we did . . . and it was hilarious. . . you should have seen it, Mom, like two hundred kids running down the street away from school!!!!

Me: Well I doubt that the principal thought it was hilarious! You'll probably get in trouble now.

Ponzi: Oh come on, Mom! I need to live a little!!! The worst they can do is give us a detention.

Me: What classes did you miss?

Ponzi: Gym and Chem. . .

Me: Why did you tell your father that you were only missing gym.

Ponzi: I said just missing gym. . . not only missing gym. . . because I was missing gym just at the time I talked to him! Why are you being so annoying, Mom??????

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so now, my friends, I can officially add TRUANCY to my long list of outrageous acts perpetrated by my teenage daughters. This one will come in at number 9 . . . . right before the one about lying about detention and immediately after the one where my daughter dated the son of a mafioso.

God help you if you were to ever rest your eyes on the full list. . .

Question: What's the difference between Ponzi and Bernie Madoff . .

Answer: Ponzi is still free to roam the streets.

For did we really want to hear her incessant complaints if she were forced to remain under "house" arrest? I think not. And that cumbersome ankle bracelet would never fit around her Uggs anyway. . .

Now, you all remember about what I like to refer to as My Sorry Lenten Promise? (You know, the one I was sorry I made about two hours after making it???? The one in which I gave up complaining about my teenage daughters for the 40 Days and Nights of the Lenten season. . . )

And so - in keeping with that promise - I would like to take this opportunity to tell you all just how proud I am of Ponzi and her creative and entrepreneurial spirit. For listen to the money she bilked from me in just the last week. . .

Sunday: Her friend informed me. . . Mrs. Mom on Spin, I gave Ponzi money today. . . to which I replied, Oh, I'll pay you back, sweetheart. She's always borrowing from me too. . . to which she replied, No, this was the money I owed you for the concert ticket! I wanted to tell you because I know she wouldn't tell you. (I knew I liked that girl!!!) . . . to which, when I questioned Ponzi as to the whereabouts of the eighty dollars, she answered, Oh I think it's in the car. I'll get it later. . .

Monday: I received a frantic call from Trigger from their shared car. . . I had sixty dollars of my babysitting money in the glove compartment and it's not here anymore. Ponzi took it! . . . which, upon hearing, I proceeded to awaken Ponzi and ask, Did you take Trigger's money??? . . . to which she replied. . . I thought it was mine! Remember, from the concert ticket. . .

which brings us to . . .

Tuesday: A phone call from Ponzi. . . Mom, I'm going to The Mall to buy Suzie's birthday present from all the girls, can I have your card? . . . to which I responded, Why do you have to front all the money for the present? . . . to which she quipped, I'm the only one who knows what she wants, Mom! I was with her at the Mall the other day and she showed me what she wanted. My friends are all going to pay me back Mom! I swear!

Wednesday: Face to face with Ponzi . . . Can I have twenty dollars, I'm meeting Kellie at the Mall for dinner? Oh, and there's no gas in the car I need money for that too . . . to which I replied, Use your own money for dinner! . . . to which she rsponded, But you never gave me my meal money for the week! . . . .to which I inquired, Well, where's the $80 you owe me for the ticket money? And how about the babysitting money? Did your sister ever get that back?? . . . to which she replied, Well, I had to spend $40 on gas and I had to buy lunch, you know. And I bought some coffee for Trigger the other day and she never paid me back! . . . to which I replied, Well if you already put gas in the car, how can you need it again? . . . to which she responded, Trigger must have used it all!

Now by Thursday, I was just plain old hiding from my own daughter.

And by Friday, I left my wallet open on the kitchen table so she could take my last twenty to have pizza with her boyfriend.

And so by Saturday, I was flat broke and she was forced to set her sights on her father. . . I need money to go to the Brittany Spears concert can I have $40? . . . to which he replied, You're sitting in a VIP box with a VIP parking pass. You won't need any money! . . . .to which she replied, I don't know, Dad! Have you ever sat in a VIP box before? How do you know I won't need money???? . . . to which my husband had no reply at all and forked over $40!

Congratulations on a successful week of swindling, Ponzi dear! But could you target someone else next week???

Just wondering. . .

Boyf and Ponzi rent a movie

Call from Blockbuster to our home at approximately 7:45 last evening. . .



Blockbuster Cashier: Hello Mrs. Mom-on-Spin?

Me: Yes?

Cashier: This is Colleen from your local Blockbuster. Your daughter is here with a young man. She doesn't have her blockbuster card but she says you gave her permission to rent some movies.

Me: Yes. . .

Cashier: But there's a note on your account that the last ten movies you rented from us haven't been returned and your credit card has been charged $320?

Me: Yes, we talked about that before she left. . . We're going to be better about that this time.

Cashier: Well, we just want to be sure that it's okay with you that she rents these movies.

Me: (in what I have to admit was an inspired stroke of genius. . . ) What movies does she want to rent???

Cashier: Well one is Secret Window and the other is Zack and Miri Make a Porno.

Me: Who???? What???? Make a what????

Cashier: It's called Zack and Miri Make a Porno. It's a spoof on porn movies.

Me: What's a thing like that rated???

Cashier: It's rated "R" for sexual nudity and profanity.

Me: And the other movie? The one that's not the porno one???

Cashier: That's rated PG-13

Me: Well tell her she can rent non-porno one, but I don't want her bringing any porno stuff home with her.

Cashier: Okay.

Me: And Colleen?

Cashier: Yes?

Me: Thanks for caring. I know that my daughter may be glaring at you right now, but I appreciate your call. I really do.

Five minutes later Ponzi returns home. . .

Ponzi: Why did you tell that girl I couldn't rent that movie? That was so embarrassing! There were like a zillion people in the line and they all were listening to your conversation! I'm seventeen years old, Mom! I can go to an "R" rated movie if I want to! And besides, I've already seen that movie. There's nothing wrong with it! I could have rented it, Mom!

Me: Do you know how lucky you are, young lady, that it was your mother who received that phone call and not your father???? Do you?????

Ponzi: She wasn't calling because she didn't like my movie choice! She was calling because she said that whoever was in there last put a note on the account that your teenage daughters couldn't rent movies anymore. . . you know, because we don't return them! It had nothing to do with the movie! And now I'm completely embarassed!

Me: Well did you bring home a movie or not???

Ponzi: Yes, we got Secret Window.

Me: Well you and your certain young man better go downstairs now and watch that movie before I shove him out my secret window! Do you hear me?????

Ponzi: Well still, I'm just saying that I could have rented it. . .

Me: You better move quickly little miss . . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so, after they departed from my sight, I quickly ran upstairs and did a little research on that Zack and Miri Porno, and according to the parents' guidelines on the movie's website, Many sex acts are talked about in an extremely crass manner and almost non-stop.

The report goes on to cite 11 instances of sex and nudity - my 3 Favs (numbers 5, 6 and 9) are listed here for your reading pleasure. . .


5. A women blows bubbles with her vagina(off-screen). She places the bubble blower into her skirt, and, we see a bubble go into the air.

6. In a montage, the cast for the porno is seen holding light sabers and laser pistols shaped like penises.

9. For the porno, Lester and Stacey begin a sex scene, but are interrupted. Unfortunately Deacon(the cameraman) is filming an undershot and Stacey accidentally defecates on his face.


In addition, some helpful parent has done an actual count of the number of profanities used in the movie (wouldn't you love to have that job!) and it turns out that the word shit is used 70 times and the word fuck is used a whopping 215 times. (Who wrote that screenplay anyway? Vodka Mom???)


Now, my friends, I ask you, Is this the kind of movie you want your seventeen-year-old-daughter watching in your basement with her boyfriend?????

Blowing bubbles out of her vigina?????

Sweet Jesus, will this ride never end????

p.s. In case you're wondering, this is a cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die kind of true story. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried!!!

p.p.s. This is not a complaint. Just the facts, Mam. Just the facts!!!

Watch out world. . . Ponzi's on the loose!

It's Friday the 13th. . . Do you know where your blog is???

I don't!

Oh yes, I can sign in to Blogger. I can view my dashboard. I can "preview" my blog. But when I try to "View" my blog, I'm dead!!!

And people, I'm just trying to warn you all that Ponzi girl is on the loose!

Even though she's been sick with the flu all week, and even though it's Friday the 13th, Ponzi passed her driver's license today, and Trigger agreed to let her use the car tonight, and I just felt that I needed to shout to all within earshot, Watch Out! Ponzi is driving a 2001 Jeep Liberty (you know, the one with the stapled-on license plate, super-glued front bumper, and 4-year-old dent in the rear passenger door. . . the car affectionately known as "Roberta" in our household??? ) and she just may be headed to a town near you!

So - please - if you see her, just get out of her way!

Quickly!!!!!

Roberta will thank you for it.

But my voice has been quieted. My words of warning are falling on deaf ears. My freedom of speech has been cruelly snatched from me!

And if you chance to encounter her, dear readers, please don't blame me. I tried to warn you.

I did!

p.s. And you might want to watch out for Trigger who is driving a 1999 Plymouth Minivan (affectionately known as "White Ice") for she just might be prone to road rage tonight. . .