Kinda Funny...

So, a real fun thing for me to do is after I finish typing my blog entries, I just hit "Next Blog" and see what happens. Usually, it is a blog from someone in Japan, Mexico, or someone who thought it would be a great idea to post a bunch of crap about insurance or investments--yeah, dude, I'm gonna get financial advice from blogspot, just because you're cool...

So I stumbled across one (I didn't save the link like a real doofus), about a woman who is blogging her sex life with her husband. So, I creepily read the first entry, which at first seemed sweet, then I was kinda like I wanted to close the page but it was like looking at the sun or something, I just couldn't stop even though I didn't want to. Then I was like, holy shit! This lady's into all kindsa kinky stuff!...So I inadvertantly read "true life" porn--oh, well. It's kinda weird, too, like it wasn't explicitly worded, but was just what she was feeling, so it felt even more personally invasive. Anyway, it creeped me out--bigtime! What a prude. The worst 2 hours of my life--just kidding! Maybe 3 minutes.

But here's the kinda funny part. I took my 5-year old on a little field trip yesterday, and we had a couple of very funny moments.

We sometimes play this game called "what's the magic word?" Of course, it's "please", but just to jack with his head (like I heard one person say one time that they were going to teach their kid the colors all incorrectly just to see what happens), sometimes I make him guess it and make it "abracadabra" or "open sesame" or something else fun.

So, I bought him a hot dog and a bag of skittles which he picked out, and me a burger and a snickers bar. I set the candy in the middle of the table for when we were finished eating. Anyway, Ryan did the old ninja trick of taking one bite of each end of the hot dog and kind of wrinkling up the bun and announcing that he was finished eating--I don't blame him, because I think it's been rolling around on that machine since Clinton left office.

So I told him: "Ryan, you need to take 2 more bites of hot dog"

Ryan: "What's the magic word?"

Me: "Ryan, please take one more bite of hot dog"

R: "Nope, that's not it..."

Me: "Abracadabra"

R: Nope!

Me: Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

R: (laughing) No!

Me: another 10 guesses

R: (no)

Me: (reaching out and picking up both the snickers and skittles) "I guess I get to eat both snickers and skittles today"

R: (pausing thoughtfully): "That's It!", and he takes another bite of hot dog.


So, when we're leaving, we have parked in an area where a million people are crossing the street, and we have to sit and wait for every single one of them to cross. Anyone that doesn't have kids, at a certain age you realize that they are very sensitive to tension and moods and stuff like that, and I could tell that Ryan was impatient to go. He was back-seat driving from his car seat by leaning out into the middle aisle and watching the people come and go across the street in front of me, and of course, I wasn't revving the engine or anything crappy, but I was eager to get out. That reminds me "The Age of Innocence", there's a great line: Americans are always in a hurry to leave the theatre...

So, as we are about to go, here come two very slow walking people right out in front of us just as it was clearing up.

Ryan, in his best New York cabdriver accent: "Well, whaddya know! Two morons!"

I thought that was hilarious, but then I thought "you know, I really ought to be a little more careful about saying negative things in front of my 5-year-old.

So, Fran read some of my writing. I knew she would hate it, because she emotionally HATES that job that I had and the owner of the company and we had a traumatic ending to that whole thing with an assasination attempt and suicide bombing and snipers and government witness protection and the whole thing (okay, maybe not really all that, but it was still bad). So, to her it would be like reading a warm, fuzzy story about Hitler--there's just no way she's going to like it because it was just too emotional and she can't separate herself from the crap that happened.

But here's something useful she did tell me "I hate your parenthesis problem"

Me "What problem? I thought that was kind of funny and a good way to put unrelated comments."

F: "I feel like I'm reading a novel at the airport and some retarded dude comes over my shoulder and yells 'Hey!' every 2 minutes! I can't focus on the main train of thought. It makes me tired while I'm reading it."

Me (sheepishly) "Oh, okay."

I was going to end this by tying it to the original paragraph of this entry, but....I don't think so this time...