BlabberMouse

Morning Monologues: Three "Cheese" Pizza

I didn't put this up when it it actually happened, because our babysitter--who reads this blog--was coming over that night, and I had nothing to feed her but that pizza. (Sorry, Kelley Anne!)

And, yes, I know. It was technically a simile I was searching for. Not a metaphor. So all you English majors can untwist your knickers, okay? Relax. Breathe. Your going to be fine. (Awww, look at all the English majors! So cute! Cringing in their little chairs because I just said "YOUR going to be fine" instead of "YOU'RE going to be fine". It kills English majors when people do this. Don't ask me how I know.)

So it's Saturday. And I see that my mother is ONLINE.

What is up with Skype and Facebook telling me who is online? It's none of my business. Yet I always feel like I should do something with this information. Like send a little note or something. Just to say hi.

Hi, mom!

We have a very full day today. Laundry (whites AND colors)!, medium-long run (7 miles), birthday party at GLOW GOLF!, fundraiser for Africans I don't know (but who are lovely, I'm sure), and then Larry's playing at the French Quarter tonight. (Not the French Quarter. But the Nashville club The French Quarter, which is practically the same thing, really, if you squint your eyes and tilt your head just so.

Oy.

I've been going back and forth with the nice folks at Typepad trying to figure out why in the H-E-double-hockey-stick I can't upload my new web banners from the Blabbermousery. They've uploaded this one for me, but now (AFTER MUCH DRAMA and LOSS OF CONTROL OVER THE SITUATION) I'm not sure if I even like it. It's sort of ... I don't know, not Inaugural Ballsy enough. And the typeface ...

Whatever.

I am a busy woman. I have two kids and a full-time job, not to mention this stupid goddamn Special-K diet to contend with, so we're all just going to have to live with the blog banner for awhile. Need I remind you of the STARVING CHILDREN IN AFRICA WHO DON'T EVEN HAVE WEB BANNERS?

ANYWAY. Speaking of the needy, Sean finally got a haircut.

 

Doesn't he look handsome?

The drugs are still wearing off. They had to sedate him twice.

The groomer called him "such a weenie" and "Mr. Chicken", which was putting it kindly, considering Sean tried to kill her. 

Next time, they're going to euthanize him first. Just to take the edge off. 

When we got Sean in the car, he was still a little punchy from the drugs. I could tell he wanted to hang his face out the window, but he couldn't figure out how. He kept cocking his head and looking at the window, like, dude, that window and I are like THE SAME DOG. 

Except that car window never had dreadlocks hanging out his anus.

Morning Monologue: Neither A Monologue Nor In the Morning. Discuss.

A lot of you (two? three? I lost count) have been saying you would like to see more video blogs.

My camera was actually at Camera Camp for a couple of weeks (that's what we call the Canon repair shop, so the camera thinks it's having fun when we send it away), and then I got some more fan mail on YouTube, this time from a crazed Lance Armstrong fan who was very offended by my "review" of Eat to Live.

"You are really stupid and obnoxious," he said. "Please stop posting reviews."

And because I'm the kind of spineless people-pleaser who lets her readers design her blog, I was all, "THANK YOU FOR YOUR VALUABLE FEEDBACK! Live strong, my friend!" And then I massaged his feet. 

I try not to take it to heart, but it rattles me when people take the time to tell me what a stupid idiot they think I am. Can you imagine stopping to write a note every time you encountered a jackass? How time consuming that would be? And for what? I don't get it.

On the flip side, I must say, you all are the nicest readers in all of the blogosphere. I don't think there's a bad apple among you. Such sweet comments on our Wild Things video (which I honestly didn't expect anyone but my family to watch) ... I was blown away. You are good peeps.

And because I love you, I will share this exciting and well plotted tale of my family about to go out to dinner and stuff.

  My You Tube friends will LOVE it.

Boys Will Be Boys, And I Will Probably Be Dead in Five Years

Larry spent the morning building the boys a tree fort. Or really it's more of a tree platform I suppose. But still. It’s fun. And the boys are having a blast with it.

They climb the little ladder, they stand on the lookout, it’s not too high from the ground, so they’d (allegedly) be hard pressed to kill themselves falling off of it.

This afternoon, having delivered a brief safety lecture about not pushing or using the jump rope as a noose, I went inside to check my e-mail. As I was sitting at the computer, I was sort of wistfully thinking to myself how nice it is that the boys are at an age when they can entertain each other in the yard, and I don’t have to watch them every single second. Then I heard this strange sound coming from Patrick. Kind of an egh egh egh egh sound. It wasn’t his usual little brother victim cry, but an odd noise that my brain could not make sense of. So I went to the back door and looked out. Patrick was sitting on the lawn several feet from the tree fort, whimpering. I scanned the yard for Gus and then, two feet to Patrick’s right, beside the tree fort, I saw Gus’s foot. And his leg. AND HIS BODY LYING ON THE GROUND TOTALLY STILL. I threw my can of soda down on the deck and ran across the lawn, screaming Gus's name like I was in a Lifetime movie. GUS! GUS! OH MY GOD! PATRICK, WHAT HAPPENED TO GUS? GUS GUS GUSSSS!

His little face was so still. I thought he had fallen off the platform and hit his head. Or fainted? He looked so peaceful and strange, I thought. Is he dead? In a coma? Should I move him? Did he break his neck? And all this time (two, three, ten seconds?) I'm saying his name and touching is face, and he’s lying there, unresponsive because HE THINKS I’M PLAYING ALONG WITH HIS GAME.

“Police Army Force.”

In which Patrick had just shot him! 

Egh egh egh egh egh.

Cause Gus was the bad guy!

See?

HA!

Ha ha!

HahahahhahahhahahahahhahahaOH.MY.GOD.

Boys.

A Short Film by Gus O'Brien