A Little Thing at a Time

Is it the mustache making him talk so much?

*  Imagine a large woman, stomach distended, sprawled on the couch and burping delicately while she’s looking at a giant empty bowl of Halloween candy, saying, “Well, THAT happened.”

Yeah.  That’s me.  My stomach will never be the same.

*  Voting on propositions in California often feels like a hidden, high-stakes game of Guess That Scam!  Guess wrong, and someone snags your money for no apparent reason.  Guess right, and the same thing happens, but it goes somewhere you don’t hate.

*  We went to visit my grandmother in the hospital today, and, as I mentioned in my Halloween post, Zoomboy has become the boy who won’t stop talking.  I’m starting to enjoy it.  It takes some of the burden off of me.

*  Saw Looper this weekend.  Am in AWE cause it was written so damned well.  Am also feeling very young and hip, mostly because the people behind us (who were about our age) DIDN’T GET ANYTHING ABOUT IT.  Example?  Joseph Gordon Levitt’s character abused a futuristic drug that was dropped into the eyes.  Made sense to me– clean, no mess, easily absorbed into the delicate eye tissues–but the hangover face in the morning was killer.  About a quarter of the way into the movie, right before the character went into withdrawals, one of them said, really loudly, “WHAT’S WITH THAT STUFF THEY PUT IN THE EYES?  MAYBE IT’S DRY IN THE FUTURE.”  I turned around (in teacher mode, I guess) to say, “It’s drugs,” and Mate stopped me, shaking his head.  Maybe he thought I was going to state it rather strongly, as in “It’s drugs, ya morons!” or maybe he was afraid it would be like feeding a cat and they’d ask us stupid obvious questions throughout the entire rest of the movie.  Either way, he stopped me, and we were treated to their delightful commentary for the rest of the evening.  When it was over, and Mate and I were jaw-dropped in admiration at such a seamless thematic endeavor, they said, in total disgust, “Well, I guess it was a good ending,” and Mate and I just shook our heads.  God, I usually feel stupid and clueless about life in general, and I’ve given you all a first hand look at what a complete fuck up I am capable of being, but for the first time ever, I felt a little like Sherlock Holmes (the wonderfully slashy BBC version.)  “What’s it like, not having a brain that functions like mine?  Is it harder to breathe?  Do you have to remind yourself?  Are colors different?”  *shakes head*  Am remembering why it’s better to be smart than popular, any day of the week.

Is Mom seeing red?  No, just her knitting.

*  Of course, to highlight what an idiot I’m capable of being, I should tell you what happened before we went to see the movie.  Mate and I had dinner beforehand (some place without a tablecloth, as Mate has categorized most dinner places in our comfort level) and we finished with about an hour to spare.  As is traditional, we often park the car at the movie theatre and sit and surf our phones or knit, and talk.  Sometimes, if the day has been particularly long (and this one was–started with soccer, moved on to cleaning the house for hours) and the movie is late, we’ll cop a nap before we go in, and we both did this time.  So, nothing makes you feel more impotent and useless than lying in the middle of a half-nap, listening to BAD Christmas music and being incapable of leaning forward to forward to another song.

*  Have once again seen soccer reffing at it’s worst.  Can I just ask when elbowing, clotheslining, and straightarming became de rigeur in the U8 girls teams?  And (referring back a few spaces) I’m so stupid about seeing it.  I’m the idiot parent screaming, “MAKE THAT KID STOP DOING THAT!” at the top of my lungs.  (Yes–if any of you were out in Antelope at ten o’clock Saturday morning, that was me.)  Of course, Mate is more circumspect.  “I’ll bet,” he says in full on analyzation mode, “that kid has older brothers and sisters.  That’s probably the only way she can get the ball, and nobody’s stopped her yet.”  And at that point, the kid straight-armed one of ours again, and I screw the analysis and screech, “STOP HER!” again and he walks to the other side of the field and pretends he doesn’t know me.

*  The good news was, after the soccer game, we had a rousing game of Roll-Down-the-Hill.  Captured in photos–it was great!

Interspecies non-con yarn porn.

*  The outside cat wants inside again.  She just sits there, bitching at us, until we open the door and look at her.  Then she screams the cat equivalent of “HELL TO THE FUCK NO!” and the whole process starts again.  We actually like this cat– but she thinks we suck.  And Steve WORSHIPS her–she’s like queen of the kitty ghetto.  *rolls eyes*  Steve’s such a wannabe.

*  Oh yeah– have had to tell Chicken the sad news that her sweater is no longer virgin wool anymore.  Gordy, that shameless fucker, violated the damned thing IN MY LAP.  I have pictures.

So THAT’S two figgots and a dik!

*  Re: Swag– I’m running out of the bags.  Don’t worry– still have plenty of bookmarks ready and pens as well, and I’m going to start simply making bookmarks with every release so I always have some ready.  But eventually I’m going to get a request for a bag and I’m going to have to say I’m out.  So far everyone’s been nice about “Send me what you’ve got!” and I’ve been thrilled to do just that– I just thought I’d let you all know.

*  Re: Swag again– oh yeah!  It was two figgots and a dik!  (Literally 50 packages!)  I’m impressed with myself–but then, re: the entire rest of this blog post, I’ve set the bar sort of low.