Weekend Update--
And I don't mean the kind hosted by Dennis Miller, Norm MacDonald or Tina Fey.This one's almost as funny, though.
I promise.
Weekend: so far so good.
Yesterday we went to play laser tag for the step son's birthday.
He's 11 now, and is the same height as I am.
That's 5' 4" for those of you playing along.
Due to his mother's status as an Amazon woman, he will continue growing at the speed of a bamboo shoot for the next 5-8 years and will not stop until he can reach 7 feet with a moderately sized mohawk.
Anywho.
It was great fun.
The little guys and I had never played before,
and it took us a few minutes (or nearly the entire first 30 minute game) to get our bearings.
There was another group of about 15 boy scouts in there with us, and that actually made it less fun.
After their half-hour was up we had the place to ourselves and that was WAY better.
But...
Somewhere in the first 5 minutes of the first game, in the dark, oh-so-very dark and mazey room...
I changed direction quickly and walked into a wall.
Yes, go ahead and laugh.
Step son even witnessed it, rounding the corner just as I rebounded.
"Did you just run into that wall???"
Yes, yes I did.
Shut up.
We chuckled, I winced, game went on.
"Game" I should say.
I spent most of the time trying to find the recharging stations or helping Max find his dad...because the twinners and Dad were on a team with some boyscouts and step son and I were on a team wtih the others.
So I couldn't just play WITH the lost child I found, and it was so dark and there were so many people we didn't know that I knew he wouldn't be happy if I left him to find his father on his own.
Oh well.
Like I said, the second half was awesome.
And today my face hurts.
It looks much worse in person, but this will give you an idea:
I think it's pretty damn funny.
So go ahead and laugh, cuz I'm laughing, too.
And then I was trying to start a new blog the other day.
An anonymous sort of thing, just so I can privately spew about some of the emotional turmoil that I've been dealing with.
It's not so much to keep it from anyone, but just to be sure that anyone who knows me in real life wouldn't know it was me.
I know I talk about doing this kind of thing from time to time and it never usually takes, but this time it might.
I really feel the need for a journal.
I doubt it'll be interesting, so I think I'll just keep it to myself.
In fact, I probably wouldn't have even mentioned it yet except for the most humorous thing that happened as I tried to set it up.
I took like ten shots of the screen to attempt to capture the moment for you, but I couldn't get one to come out clear (I adjusted everything I could think of, but I guess that's just the risk of camera phones.)
This is the best of them:
In case you can't read that, I was trying to use the URL "anonymoushousewife" and it alerted me that the name was already taken, then offered a suggestion for a different url, "lisa_anderson".
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!
Yes!!
although...I should go register that one because it would be groovy to have it.
How funny is that?
I mean, I know it's just an autogenerator thingy, but it feels like Someone said, "Sorry, we don't have "Anonymous Housewife" available, how about "Lisa Anderson of West Jordan, Utah"?
Seriously funny stuff.
I'm not sure if I even remember the URL I ended up with, so good luck finding it.
Heh.
Yawning hurts my nose.
I think I might have cracked it or something.
My forehead also go smashed in the retardation experiment, but there's no blood.
It hurts like hell, though.
Speaking of retardation...
My husband works with this guy who has a hard time thinking outside the box, and frankly kind of reminds me of Morgan Freeman in the end of Shawshank Redemption when he's released from prison and can't function on his own.
So, whenever hubby has to go clean up one of this guy's messes (the last one cost the client $2 million) (and yes, this is why my husband's company loves him--he completes his own job flawlessly, persistently, and can fix anything that anyone else fucks up) he comes home just shaking his head and muttering, "He's so fucking stupid. I can't even believe it. He's just so STUPID!"
Well.
Last night's project went ok, but this morning he said, "I figured it out. He's not stupid."
I, being an optimist, thought, "Oh, cool, he's found something Good about the guy!"
But, no.
"He's actually retarded."
I laughed and laughed.
Then he said, "But that's kind of better. Because if you're stupid you could at least TRY; if you're retarded it's not your fault."
I laughed some more.
And then tried to explain the whole IQ scale and how being stupid isn't really all that different from being retarded, it's merely a matter of IQ points.
The whole point of this story is that I decided that being not-quite-retarded is the best insult ever.
Because truly being retarded isn't something to make fun of; it's a handicap and I would never be cruel to those little darlings.
But someone who's an idiot?
Well.
Nevermind...I sound like a giant, hemoroidal asshole.
Sorry...
I think I'm going to do something fun today while Mr. Sleeps.
If T. is still going to the Living Traditions Festival with her daughter who's the same age as my boys I will join them.
If not, or if her time table doesn't suit me, I will take the boys to a mountain with water.
Yes, I know that sounds vague, but I'm just not sure where.
I have a couple of ideas, but I will probably call J. and get her advice and/or bring her with us.
In other news, I had a dream last night wherein I spoke some words that I cannot speak in real life.
Maybe I should.
But I can't.
And it felt like floating on the wind.
It felt true and light and refreshing.
Buh.
Bye.
***
Weekend Update update--
Apparently there is a Jazz game today.
The first in this particular series.
And Mr. SleepyHead invited his 2 divorced friends to come watch it with their combined 4 children and another single roommate.
It's not exactly what I was craving for the day, but it'll be fun and I like the two divorced guys so it should be good.
I love it when hubby takes initiative to be social, so I can't complain!
I shall now go shower and run to the store for munchies.
...nah, maybe I'll just drive. |
posted by Bored Housewife at
10:30 AM
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