Hepsey Gumbudt

Part of my sort of job involves always being on the lookout for new, tasty places to eat in the cities. I know, rough gig, right? It'd be even worse if it paid enough to make a living at it. But for now, it's better than nothing. I've gone a couple of times to the Frontera Tacos Truck that's usually parked along University Ave. Good tamales and insanely good pork tacos. Because this is the sort of thing Matt also gets a kick out of, I had to bring him back for my second tasting. The three of us sat down and had a sweet little picnic on the side of one of the more... colorful thoroughfares in the city. (And by colorful, I mean dotted with the occassional junkie and/or prostitute.)

Here's my little guy who is happily munching on a chicken tamale and trying to get into the hot sauce. I wouldn't give him any, which upset him greatly. Matt on the other hand had plenty of hot sauce and tacos and tamales. When he got up to throw our garbage away, I noticed a green patch on his rear end. I told him, "You've got a bunch of grass stuck to your butt." The baby then tried to take off for the more interesting sidewalk area and I had to wrangle him. I (wrongly) assumed that Matt dealt with his issues.

From there we went to his mom's house just to say hi, but she wasn't there. We left her a note. I started to (again) pack up the kid, while Matt sat down to do a half finished crossword puzzle. "Matt? Matt.... MATT."

"What?"

"Are we going?"

"I can't resist! Not that she needs any help. I can do the Monday puzzles easily."

"Well, you're doing better than me. All I can handle are the People Magazine ones with clever clues like name THIS Oscar winner, with a picture of Sandra Bullock next to it." I considered that for a minute. "I do love those puzzles... I'm like a GENIUS according to the people at People." I considered the idiocy of this sentence I'd just uttered as we climbed back into our car and finally headed home.

Once there I finally got another look at his heinie when he was getting out of my car. "Matt!"

"What?" "You've got gum and grass all over you butt!"

"What?"

"Oh! And my CAR!" Neon green goo dotted the dark leather seats. Worse, it smelled kind of minty. "Didn't you hear me say you had something stuck to you?"

"Yeah, but I figured it would just fall off." "Now it's all over my car... Oh - your mom's chair."

"Oh, man, that's gross." He scraped at the seat with his fingernail and then wipes it on the leg of his pants. Of course.

Thankfully the seat wasn't too bad, but the more I thought about it, the grosser the entire idea got to me. At this point we noticed Vince walk halfway down the block. His new favorite thing is to walk around our large city block poking at things and generally getting the lay of the land. Matt and I set off after him.

As usual, Matt walked ahead. I've noticed if I walk ahead of him, I usually get sore heels. There it was, this neon green smeary stain and I couldn't help but channel my inner first grader, "Ha ha! You're Matty Gum-Butt! You're Matty Gum-Butt."

"Shut up."

"You know what's even worse? It's just not anybody's old wadded up chewing gum - it's University Avenue gum. It's probably all covered in Hepatitis."

"Gross."

"Hey, don't blame me that I had the good sense to look before I sat down." I started to really get the giggles now. "Oh - who's that walking down the street there? Oh, that's just our neighbor, Ol' Hep C Gum Butt."

"You're pretty funny."

"I know!" He squatted down to pick up Vince and accidentally let loose a little gas.

"Bwa HA!! What are you trying to do - blow bubbles?" And then I laughed myself into some kind of hiccuping, coughing, purely unladylike fit. Poor guy had to live with the nickname Hepsey Gumbudt for the rest of the night. He got me in the end, though. The following day he not only insisted on wearing the unwashed, grody stained pants again, but at one point in the morning, sat down on MY side of the unmade bed to put on his socks. Excuse me now, I've got to do some laundry.