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So it's Tuesday evening as I write this and we're on day...hmm, let me check...I have no idea...of my Tool Man being gone to the nether regions of the Midwest to do the mysterious tool-related tasks he does, and forgive me for saying this because I know some of you out there who do this whole 'life' thing longer and harder (I totally just tried not to laugh there, but yeah, I'm 14, so I laughed)(also? that's what she said!)(p.s. I also used the phrase 'nether regions' up there and now I am chuckling because of that) without the routine assistance of a partner, and seriously, hats off to you. Hats off followed by long, cascading amber waves of porn hair (if I can ever get my ass into the school of beauty to clean up the crime scene that has become my roots, that is), because me? I'm tired. Or "tarred," as I imagine Oprah saying it, and believe me, if I'm imagining how Oprah sounds when she puts on that overkilled Southern accent, I'm damn tarred.
If you're the least bit curious to know why, let me tell you. Remember when my carbon monoxide detector went off in the middle of the night when Tool Man was gone? (longest link ever designed to entice you to read that great post)? Yeah, well, naturally, three smoke detectors decided this was a good week to die. On different nights. Oh, and to keep beeping even after I thought I'd determined which ones were nearing the end of their mortal coil and/or I'd tossed out into the garage in a show I'd have called "Who's The Boss?" if there hadn't already been a show called that. So that was fun around 12:30 a.m. Also at 2 a.m. Oh, and at 4:45 a.m.
Also as fun was my hard day at work today. While you mutter, "We know, we know. You work four hours a day, blah, blah, blah..." let me stage a portion of my experience in the following one-act play:
Customer: "Can you help me find a book. I don't know the title or who wrote it, but it's about a baby bear and his parents and it's nighttime and they're tired, but they can't seem to really settle on anything."
Jessica/Audrey/Rebeca (I loved those names as a kid, so I'm still trying to decide which to use for my present-day alter ego): "Would there perhaps be a little girl in the story? Maybe with, oh, I don't know, golden hair?"
Customer: "Noooooo... The book was about this big (holds hands into a square the size of a Suzy Q)(she caught me as I was heading to break, where I didn't actually have a SusyQ, but for artistic purposes, I'm using it). My Grandma used to have it, and she read it to me all the time, but she doesn't recall what it is now."
JAR, responding in the fashion booksellers do when they want customers to mosey along: "Well....hmmm."
Customer: "All I remember is it's about a baby bear and his family and they're tired and they can't really seem to settle on anything."
JAR, pulling out a few bear-related board books while nodding at the repeated description: "I'm pretty sure none of these are it, because what you're describing sounds like it was written a long time ago (and is a classic fairy tale titled 'Goldilocks and the Three Bears,' but whatever)."
Customer: "Yeah. No. It's none of these. Can you search your computer for it?"
JAR, tapping the her lithe fingers fluidly across the computer keyboard: "Sure! Oh! Look here!"
Customer, hopes up: "Did you find it???"
JAR: "Sadly, no. However, I discovered that if you type in the word 'bear and/or bears' and do a search of all children's books with said animal, you come up with nearly 8,000 titles!!"
JAR: "Is there anything else I can help you find today?"
--- and scene --
Oh, but the day gets better, my friends! I know it hardly seems feasible, but try this on for size. My youngest son, proving he's indeed his father's son, came home from school and, like he does every weekday, raced directly into the bathroom, where he proceeded to carry out his business and call his broker. Today's dash enhanced by him yelling, "I just farted, but don't worry because I'm pretty sure there's no diarrhea!"
Awesome. God? Thank you. You have blessed me beyond words.
Except ha! Psych! I have more words! Read on!
For the past several nights, my youngest son, whose been working on his stand-up act, has been trying out new material on me. It's been quite the laugh riot around the house, but do you want to know what's even more fun than answering "What kind of date do ghouls go out with?"?* It's my oldest kid pulling some sweet magic tricks on me tonight with the lame ass magic kit I thought I'd successfully throw out this week. Instead of watching that disappear in the trash, I was subject to countless attempts to find the hidden nut and "Watch me make a knot in this rope without using my hands!" In the immortal words of the Steve Miller Band, Abra-abra-cadabra, I want to reach out and grab ya's magic trick kit, saw it in three pieces, and make it disappear for good, tiny Criss Angel!
Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, and even tweeted as much, the lovely Velma reminded me that oh, yes, it could, indeed, get worse by tweeting back to say a kid with a Guinness Book of World Records could be the third thing on this trifecta of , and guess who broke out in a damn cold sweat? This girl! Why? My youngest had media at school today and I kid you not, he came home with the freakin' Guinness Book of World Records, and regaled me over dinner with trivia tidbits (OK, seriously, Lee Redmond, we get it. You've had the longest fingernails for years now. You've got a lock on it. Slice them off already!). I don't know about you, but I love talking about millipedes while we're eating spaghetti. Hilarious!
Oh, yeah, Velma also mentioned whistling kids is another oh-so-awesome kid moment, and damn if my kids didn't come running to the table whistling! I'm sure they won't do that tomorrow night, though, when the menu calls for chicken stroganoff, so I've got that to look forward to.
Speaking of looking forward to, I'm now going to cap this post o' nothing off and go dig into that hunk of fantastic you see down there. You want magic? Watch me make that Reece's peanut butter egg disappear. If you made it this far, know that I'd share this with you, but you better bite quick because I could make your fingers disappear, too, if you're not careful.
P.S. Apparently I'm a giant and didn't realize it until I pulled this delicious treat out of it's packaging to indulge. That, or WTH, Hershey?! Please, refrain from making this bite (or two bites if I wish to appear dainty) any smaller, kapeesh?
* Anybody they can dig up.