* * *
Recently, Fred and the spud went to Wal-Mart so that she could get some driving practice and do some shopping. While Fred was looking around, he remembered that he needed a dingus sling for his upcoming snip-snip. So he bought it and brought it home and showed it proudly to me, and then left it on top of my dresser for several days.
One afternoon when the spud got home from school, we were talking about her day and out of the blue she said “Did Fred model his jock strap for you, too?”
“Yeah,” I said, and grinned, remembering how he’d put the jock strap (and nothing else! Whoo!) on and danced around the room. I tried to convince him to shake his butt, yelling “Twinkle twinkle, baby! Twinkle twinkle!” at him like Vince Vaughn in the Be Cool trailer, but he wouldn’t. Because he’s a party pooper.
::sound of tires squealing::
“Um, ‘TOO’? Are you telling me that he modeled his jock strap for YOU?” I said.
I envisioned Fred in his jock strap and nothing else, dancing around for the spud while she cried silent, horrified tears and wished frantically for her mommy.
The spud nodded and giggled. “Yeah, it was funny!”
“It was?”
I envisioned Fred in his jock strap and nothing else, dancing around for the spud while she hooted gleefully.
“Yeah, he danced around like this,” she explained, demonstrating someone big and goony flitting around the room.
That afternoon when he came home, we went upstairs. I lay down on the bed while he was in the closet changing from his work clothes to his comfy sweats.
“So,” I said, rolling over onto my stomach so I could see his face. “I understand you modeled your jock strap for the spud?”
He paused in the midst of pulling on a pair of sweatpants and gave me a wide-eyed deer-in-the-headlights look.
“ON MY HEAD!” he said frantically. “I PUT IT ON MY HEAD AND SHOWED HER!”
Heh.
* * *
I have created monsters in our kitties. Every single flippin’ time I go into the kitchen, there’s a stampede of kitties right there, hoping to be given some food. Spot is the ringleader and always the first one in the kitchen, sitting and giving me frantic god-in-heaven-woman-I’m-starving-to-death looks. If I don’t immediately give him something to eat he starts meowing.
As I believe I’ve mentioned before, Spot damaged his vocal chords when he was a baby by meowing too long at Fred’s apartment door (Spot was outside, trying to get in – but every time Fred opened the door, Spot ran away. Then he’d come back and meow some more.). So Spot doesn’t meow like a normal cat; his meows sound like a squeaks from an unoiled hinge.
But he’s gotten a new meow. Now, when he’s demanding food from me in the kitchen, he sounds like a small child screaming. And it drives me NUTS. It’s like nails on a chalkboard and it always sends shivers up my spine. I chase him out of the kitchen, but he always comes back and makes that sound again. He’s persistent as hell, and usually I just give in and toss him a piece of whatever I’m chopping up.
I know, not a good response.
And of course, if I toss him something, I have to give Mister Boogers and Spanky each a piece, too. It’s gotten to the point where I try to sneak into the kitchen, chop up whatever I have to chop, start it cooking, and run out before the cats catch wind of the fact that I’m in the kitchen.
No matter where in the house or yard they are, though, they know within 30 seconds that I’m in the kitchen.
Bastards.
* * *
I’m enjoying the hell out of
The O.C in the mornings while I exercise. I’m about to the end of show number 3 of the first season and I get so caught up in the show that the time on the elliptical just flies by.
(Seth is totally my boyfriend, by the way, whether he likes it or not. When he went to Marissa’s house and saw Summer standing there in her bra and Marissa said, loudly, “What’s that, Seth? You need a ride to the Star Wars convention?” (so Summer wouldn’t know they were talking about Ryan) and Seth said “Summer was standing there in her bra! Couldn’t you at least say the X-men convention?” I laughed out loud. I love that kid.)
This morning, for the second time ever, I did 3.01 miles in 35 minutes. That’s fucking awesome for me.
I guess it’s time to up the resistance a bit.
* * *
Dr. Phil had a follow-up show on the show I talked about last week, Mikai and his family. It aired yesterday and I DVR’d it, but haven’t watched it yet. So far I’m only up to Monday’s show (I always get a bit behind with Dr. Phil and Oprah), but when I do watch it I’ll try to remember to mention my impressions in here.
Oh, and speaking of Oprah, she had the cast of
Diary of a Mad Black Woman on last week (which I just watched yesterday). That
Shemar Moore is one fine, fine, FINE man. I loved him back when I watched The Young and The Restless, and he’s only gotten better looking in the past several years.
* * *
Talk about your blank look.]]>