The Mock Dock

An alert and astute mockdocker sent this photo to me today, and after spending the entire afternoon around wholesome, adorable children at Mini-Mock’s NICU reunion picnic, I have to admit I was ready to see something inappropriate.  There weren’t even any landbeasts or freakishly-clad people at the picnic.  It was all totally a scene right out of Leave It To Beaver.

My laptop is back in my possession, but since it’s basically been wiped clean, everything is all out of order and out of sorts and just in general not the way I like it, so I’m all pouty and annoyed and irritated.

So, if any of you have a good joke to tell me, now’d be the time.

Last night was date night – and Mr. Mock and I went to see The Goods:  Live Hard, Sell Hard, which wasn’t nearly as funny as The Hangover but did make us laugh quite a bit all the same.  I recommend renting it, or pay-per-viewing it, or netflixing it, or whatever it is that people do now when they want to see new releases at home.

BEFORE date night, however, my laptop crashed again.  My poor IT guy at work spend basically the whole day trying to rid it of whatever new virus it became infected with.  I have no idea why I’m such a magnet for these things.  But you  know what it was doing?  I would be working on a spreadsheet, without even having a browser OPEN, and all of a sudden, a little webcam window would pop up with some chick taking her clothes off with text underneath it saying, “Hey! Looking for a good time?” or something like that.  I can not tell you how much this made me blush – because there I was trying to count how many veterans we have working for us and in what job categories for this stupid required-by-the-government report, and I’d look up and see these giant boobs looking back at me from the middle of my excel workbook.  I told my IT guy about this, and said, “Yeah – I realize that my husband would look at this as less like a virus and more like a gift from God, but I, on the other hand, would appreciate not having boobs interrupt my excel work.”

So my IT guy installed all sorts of anti-virus software and it worked SO WELL that it deleted every part of the system that the virus was attached to.  Which included, among other things, the Actual Internet.

He took it home with him to completely re-image it, again, for like the 5th time in a year.  And I won’t get it back till tomorrow sometime, which means that I’m typing this from my mac, which does not have any of my mock dock pictures on it, which means you’re getting this post picture-free.   Sorry.

Posting could be a little slow this weekend due to that, the fact that I’m headed to Holmes’ fiancee’s bachelorette outing this evening (YAY!), and the fact that we are taking Mini-Mock to his NICU reunion picnic tomorrow afternoon after having a family lunch.

I’ll check in with you guys when I can!

My 2.5 year old was born enormously prematurely, and spent 8 weeks in NICU, growing meat on his bones and figuring out how to do important stuff like breathe and eat and maintain normal body temperature before he could come home.  One of the privileges he gets as an NICU graduate is an invitation to the annual NICU Reunion picnic held each summer.  Today, we went.  And this landbeast is the first thing we saw.  My mom was with me, since Mr. Mock is traveling, and I said, “Mom – hold mini-Mock’s hand a second – I gotta take a picture for the mockdock.”  

This is the extent to which this blog has infiltrated my life.

Anyway, this enormous person was sitting, in the middle of the lawn, watching people sign in, and inexplicably wearing a plastic firehat.  She wasn’t the only attraction at the event – we also saw a grown woman in short shorts with more cellulite than I have ever seen on a person IN MY LIFE cut in line in front of masses of excited and eager children, to ride a pony.  I would have taken photos of the mount and dismount for you, but admittedly was so jarred by what I was seeing that I completely forgot.  I can’t tell you how much pity I had for that pony.  I watched, mesmerized, as one of the volunteers helped this woman dismount the poor creature, and it was literally in stages – like, her legs first, and then all of the cellulite from her legs followed, and then her torso, and then the subgut from her torso, and then her arms, and then the flaps under her arms.  It was that bad.  And what the hell?  The ride was for KIDS.  She was older than I am, for crying out loud. 

Next year, I’ll be sure to be on the lookout for PonyRider McCellulite early, and will capture the horror on film for you all.  Promise.