What a strange weekend. I had Friday off, so the girls and I spent the day at the zoo. Matilda had a very important set of specifics that we had to accomplish by the time we left. Monkeys. Lions. Bears. Penguins. Train. Apes. Not necessarily in that order. I’m happy to say we accomplished them all.
We arrived at the zoo shortly after it opened. We would have been the first people through the gates, but they decided to rip up every road leading to the place and not tell anyone that there is only one possible way to get to the zoo. So I tried every route I knew. Naturally, the fourth one was successful. Then the line for parking (it’s free because we’re members) was insane. It would take the attendant five minutes to check in each car. Moron.
Finally we were able to get into the zoo. It was deserted. We immediately went into the Monkey House. Almost every species was in its habitat sleeping. When we came upon the Ring-Tailed Lemurs, they were all huddled together in one sleeping mass. Matilda nearly exploded because of the cuteness. She sat down in front of their habitat and started cooing and stroking the glass. The words “Aw how cute” were used at least 372 times in less than one minute. Within seconds Gertrude was out of her stroller at her sister’s side cooing at the lemurs.
The last time we went to the zoo with Gertrude, she was somewhat uninterested. This time, with an intense interest in all animals, she was going nuts with excitement over everything. As we passed the giraffes, one came up within two feet of us to eat leaves. Again, she nearly passed out with excitement. “Jiaf eating leaves,” she said. “I eat them?” I couldn’t figure out if “them” was referring to leaves or the giraffes. Figuring we’d get in trouble if my two-year-old hopped the fence and was trying to bite a giant-necked mammal that is quite possibly endangered, we decided to move on.
The girls fell in love with the penguins, so much so that I ended up spending $20 on stuffed penguins. They stroked and loved them for the rest of the day, until Gertrude lost hers and tried to steal Matilda’s.
One of our last tasks was to ride the train. Gertrude had seen many trains on her way to Meemee’s house, but had never ridden one. As we waited in line, the two girls stood there holding their penguins, cute as can be. Gertrude kept asking, “Train comin’?” I picked her up and was showing her where the train would come from and she watched intently, patting the back of my head. The mom in front of us gave me that “Oh how cute an incompetent daddy is trying to care for his children and I bet he cried when his wife left him alone with them” look. I resisted the urge to tell her how huge her ass looked in those running pants. It was probably for the best.
Once the train arrived, Gertrude crammed herself between Matilda and me and waited patiently for the train to go. The entire time, with other kids screaming and getting out of their seats, little Gertrude sat quietly with her hands in her lap and a giant grin on her face. As we went through tunnels the grin grew wider. Better yet, she would wave at passing pedestrians.
Only one bad thing happened the entire time. Matilda managed to get her sister hooked on “poptorn”. Now, if you ask Gert what she wants for dinner she’ll say “poptorn” (if she doesn’t ask for her old staples eggs or bacon.)
Saturday was spent tying up loose ends and getting ready to go to a massive family dinner. The dinner was great and I ate so much Italian food that I probably wouldn’t have had to eat for a month. I said probably.
I woke up at three in the morning not feeling well. I wasn’t nauseous. Just feeling strange. I went into the bathroom and violently puked my guts up. When I say violently, I mean with a medieval force heretofore unknown to man. Each retch woke up another neighbor. Each time Captain Vomit reported for duty, we’d get calls from surrounding counties asking if I was okay. This repeated itself every ten minutes for 90 minutes.
I didn’t drink that much, so I knew it wasn’t the beer. I doubt it was food poisoning, unless the seven pounds of prosciutto that I ate was drizzled in e. coli. The next morning my wife noticed I had a rash on my face and chest. Must have been allergic to something I ate.
I feel better now, especially after laying on the couch all day watching every Planet of the Apes movie in order.
Now I will forever associate puking with Cornelius’ life story.
Get your filthy paws off me you damn, dirty prosciutto ham!
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