Girls don't like boys; girls like cars and fractions.

My friends had some stuff they had to take care of over the first half of this week, and since I haven't have a good sadomasochistic torture session in a while love them, I agreed to take their girls for three nights so they could focus on whatever it is they're doing.  

This morning, they woke up (which is on its own way more than I am used to) (My 13 year old son woke up at 12:17:46 pm today) (I know because I heard his eyeroll all the way in my office) (which is the kitchen table during summer vacation) (dear god, let school start) they woke up and were like, "Auntie Mr Lady! What are we! Going! to do! Today!" because what no one told me is that young girls of school age insert! exclamations! everywhere! 

So I started to make breakfast and the three girls (because mirth is contagious, and I skipped that vaccine in my daughter) were like Katy! Perry! Face! Book! Justin! Bieb....and I was like this has gone far enough! Get dressed so we can eat lunch webkinz? 


When I recovered hearing in both ears, I realized that I'd blown the best bargaining chip in my pocket on the first morning of the first day and resigned myself to just being fucked for the rest of the week, so I took them all to lunch. 

That was fun. 

No, really, it was. Only one kid spilled a drink and only one kid didn't like their food and those were the same kid. Only two of them are riddled with teenaged hormones rendering them nigh incapable of human interaction 98% of the time, and absolutely beyond fucking hilarious the other 2%. The other two are blond, in every sense of the word. 

So we come back home and the boys get on the XBox to play Left 4 Dead, which they convinced me involved killing Nazis (because I, being all for the swift and painful removal of all Nazis -fictitious or no -would not deny their little German hearts any change to right the wrongs of their ancestors, and they know that) but does not, in fact, involve killing Nazis but does involve the rather disturbingly violent disembowelment of every living thing you've ever seen, ever, in four-part harmony.

Meanwhile, the girls go upstairs to get their Webkinz set up online and I get to work. And I hear the moans of the dying out of my left ear and out of my right ear, I hear my daughter say, "Girl A! Girl A2! I'm counting to 100!" and I hear Girl A and Girl A2 reply, "I know! Isn't counting so much fun?"

And I really don't know which one was worse.