Me Simon and Uncle Matt went out and ate at our favoritest Chinese restaurant today. My goodness was it an experience.
I wedged him and his car seat into the booth. Within five minutes of sitting down the first little old lady showed up. She went a little bonkers and crazy and just could not stop repeating how beautiful he was. She stayed for a few minutes before going back to her own table. In the background we kept hearing someone speak with one of the robot voice box things, it was weird.
A few minutes later the next little old lady came by. This lady was awesome, she told us all about what it was like having twins way back in the 50's and how its so different to be a woman and a woman with kids these days. And she told stories about her paternal twins and her daughter that she had later. The whole time shes talking ive got Danger Boy on my lap drinking and burping. She was 72 I think, she stayed and talked to us for a good 20 minutes or so, while her husband was in the lobby reading a magazine.
As we were walking out this little woman in her forties who couldn't have been more than 4 feet tall ran up to us and begged us to show Simon to her mother. I said sure why the heck not. We go over to the table and it turns out that her mom is the one who is using the robot voice box thing. I had never before actually been spoken to by someone with a robot voice box thing. Oh my god it was fucking insane. She was so excited about seeing Simon that she was talking really fast and hearing the weird robot voice box saying “oh my god hes the most perfect baby in the whole world” really really fast in its weird robot voice was fucking wild. And then she was doing the normal “whos a good boy”, “your so beautiful”, “I bet your so proud” thing and the whole time its in this weird ass robot voice, it was definitely one of the stranger and cooler things that ive seen.
F punctuation
Saturday, August 1, 2009
a little birdie made me do it
So today the danger bean and I went to the fabulously horrible never to be eaten again in this lifetime chinese buffet that is a mere 5 minute walk from our house. As I was pushing his stroller through the restaurant to escape the disaster that had been lunch this little Indian woman reaches out to the stroller as we near her table. I dutifully pull the stroller over because I am all about making peoples lives a little bit brighter by letting them ogle the bean. She reaches out and I am all like woah shes actually going to touch him, do I stop her, should I smack her hand and then run leaving her to cry over her soggy rice noodles? Turns out she is only covering his pretty pink little feet that are peeking out from under his blankie. She then says (looking at him) and I quote "he is so pretty, he is so pretty, I love you, he is my friend" I felt like I should probably give her a hug or something but I settled for patting her on the shoulder and telling her to have a wonderful day. Needless to say this made the whole dreadful bit of dank sewage that was our lunch totally worth it and I smiled the whole way home.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Chapter the first
Dear Diary
Todays story is chock full of fun and scary and wonderful things.
It's about a boy falling in love with another boy.
It's about first steps taken that end up radically shifting the direction that your life is heading.
Its about the joy of discovering real music for the first time and being transported out of your head into places where it doesn't matter who you are because every song was written just for you.
It's about your first real road trip; from deliberating for hours over the road music mix, all the way to driving home in the middle of the night with everyone exhausted and blissed out from the ferocity of being alive and invincible and doing whatever the fuck you want.
It's about discovering people who are just like you and falling in love with your first real friends and then losing them all because you went and fucked it all up.
And drugs, lots and lots of candy colored world warping binge eating inducing drugs.
Our story begins in the little town diner called Chili Time that was known for its wonderful crinkle cut french fries smothered in real shredded cheddar cheese, not that fake melted velveeta shit. If you were cool you ordered your cheese fries with ranch dressing instead of ketchup, if you were the bees fucking knees you ordered them extra crispy too. Some of the weirder folks would order them upside down so they could eat the fries first and then have nothing but almost fried, but totally melted cheese soaked in the tastiest grease, you could cut that shit with a fork and your mouth would realize that the game had just changed forever.
Our hero was 17 and just like Pee Wee fucking Herman he was a loner Dottie. A rebel. He lived on the wrong side of the tracks and in his case there were a very literal set of tracks to be lived on the wrong side of.
He was just coming off his last identity crisis in which he envisioned himself the next Sid Vicious. He still had the nasty razor bumps from the wonderful disaster that had been a Mohawk his last truly bad influence friend had said would be sooo cool. Turns out it really wasn't that cool at all, it made his head break out in all sorts of really not hot ways and boy fucking howdy the kids at school laughed their asses off. Fuck it though right, punk rock was all about scorning what others thought, anarchy rules baby.
There is a very good chance that he was wearing a pleather jacket with safety pins inserted all over it, there were probably lots of studs sewn in as well. Studs were the bomb, you could get them in all different shapes and sizes, little blunt ones all the way up to poke your fucking eyes out pointy. He wouldn't have been able to afford Doc Martens yet so he was probably wearing a pair of converse.
He loved his converse, he went through so many pairs of them, just wore them until they died. He loved all the different colors, he didn't have a favorite, he would wear em all. There was even a period when he wore mismatched colors. He of course did not realize until much later that a little girl by the name of Punky fucking Brewster had already explored this fashion no mans land. Oddly and quite luckily no one ever seemed to draw the connection between our little wanna be punk rocker and the other mammarily gifted juvenile punk rocker from the 80's.
He may have been wearing his favorite t-shirt, a ratty Megadeth shirt with an illustrated skeleton doing something horrible to someone probably undeserving. The shirt had started out it's life as his older much fucking cooler sisters. As happened more than a few times he borrowed (stole) the shirt and just kept it until she stopped asking for it back, it probably smelled weird by then. He had to have been wearing pants but he didn't really pay much attention to pants, although in retrospect we can really fucking hope he wasn't wearing anything stone washed, sigh, he probably fucking was though.
On this fateful day when he stood at the crossroads he didn't even realize that he was making a decision whose consequence would still be felt for many years to come.
Todays story is chock full of fun and scary and wonderful things.
It's about a boy falling in love with another boy.
It's about first steps taken that end up radically shifting the direction that your life is heading.
Its about the joy of discovering real music for the first time and being transported out of your head into places where it doesn't matter who you are because every song was written just for you.
It's about your first real road trip; from deliberating for hours over the road music mix, all the way to driving home in the middle of the night with everyone exhausted and blissed out from the ferocity of being alive and invincible and doing whatever the fuck you want.
It's about discovering people who are just like you and falling in love with your first real friends and then losing them all because you went and fucked it all up.
And drugs, lots and lots of candy colored world warping binge eating inducing drugs.
Our story begins in the little town diner called Chili Time that was known for its wonderful crinkle cut french fries smothered in real shredded cheddar cheese, not that fake melted velveeta shit. If you were cool you ordered your cheese fries with ranch dressing instead of ketchup, if you were the bees fucking knees you ordered them extra crispy too. Some of the weirder folks would order them upside down so they could eat the fries first and then have nothing but almost fried, but totally melted cheese soaked in the tastiest grease, you could cut that shit with a fork and your mouth would realize that the game had just changed forever.
Our hero was 17 and just like Pee Wee fucking Herman he was a loner Dottie. A rebel. He lived on the wrong side of the tracks and in his case there were a very literal set of tracks to be lived on the wrong side of.
He was just coming off his last identity crisis in which he envisioned himself the next Sid Vicious. He still had the nasty razor bumps from the wonderful disaster that had been a Mohawk his last truly bad influence friend had said would be sooo cool. Turns out it really wasn't that cool at all, it made his head break out in all sorts of really not hot ways and boy fucking howdy the kids at school laughed their asses off. Fuck it though right, punk rock was all about scorning what others thought, anarchy rules baby.
There is a very good chance that he was wearing a pleather jacket with safety pins inserted all over it, there were probably lots of studs sewn in as well. Studs were the bomb, you could get them in all different shapes and sizes, little blunt ones all the way up to poke your fucking eyes out pointy. He wouldn't have been able to afford Doc Martens yet so he was probably wearing a pair of converse.
He loved his converse, he went through so many pairs of them, just wore them until they died. He loved all the different colors, he didn't have a favorite, he would wear em all. There was even a period when he wore mismatched colors. He of course did not realize until much later that a little girl by the name of Punky fucking Brewster had already explored this fashion no mans land. Oddly and quite luckily no one ever seemed to draw the connection between our little wanna be punk rocker and the other mammarily gifted juvenile punk rocker from the 80's.
He may have been wearing his favorite t-shirt, a ratty Megadeth shirt with an illustrated skeleton doing something horrible to someone probably undeserving. The shirt had started out it's life as his older much fucking cooler sisters. As happened more than a few times he borrowed (stole) the shirt and just kept it until she stopped asking for it back, it probably smelled weird by then. He had to have been wearing pants but he didn't really pay much attention to pants, although in retrospect we can really fucking hope he wasn't wearing anything stone washed, sigh, he probably fucking was though.
On this fateful day when he stood at the crossroads he didn't even realize that he was making a decision whose consequence would still be felt for many years to come.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Dear Funny Diary
Writing prompt- A clean sock mistakenly placed in the hamper
God dammit they did it again! Here I am stuck in this god forsaken hamper with all the cool clothes who get to go out in the world and see things! But not me, nope I just get tossed onto the pile without ever getting to do anything at all.
Its gonna be another plunge through the allergen free my ass washer and then a prolonged stay in the skin melting, moisture sucking dryer which always makes me feel small when its done.
Are they so stupid that they cant even tell the difference between a clean sock and a dirty one? I watch him, he picks up all of the other socks and smells them. I see the look of disgust on his face when he finds one that is still dirty. He smells and grimaces and then shrugs his potato like shoulders and puts it on anyway!. And then he spies me and tosses me away like yesterdays curry.
I am still clean! I wail and gnash my little sock teeth at you!
God dammit they did it again! Here I am stuck in this god forsaken hamper with all the cool clothes who get to go out in the world and see things! But not me, nope I just get tossed onto the pile without ever getting to do anything at all.
Its gonna be another plunge through the allergen free my ass washer and then a prolonged stay in the skin melting, moisture sucking dryer which always makes me feel small when its done.
Are they so stupid that they cant even tell the difference between a clean sock and a dirty one? I watch him, he picks up all of the other socks and smells them. I see the look of disgust on his face when he finds one that is still dirty. He smells and grimaces and then shrugs his potato like shoulders and puts it on anyway!. And then he spies me and tosses me away like yesterdays curry.
I am still clean! I wail and gnash my little sock teeth at you!
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Dear Delightful Diary
Todays topic is reinventing yourself or in this case myself.
I got to thinking today or yesterday that it would be cool to reinvent myself. That probably sounds weird or new agey. why not be cool with who I am right? But what if I could be better than who I am now? what if with a few changes I could change how I see myself and how other folks see me, for the better of course, although I have thought about what it would be like to be a total fucking asshole. it would be very strange to be one of those people, you know the motherfuckers that just suck but seem to excel and get everything they want, and no one can figure it out. thats weird, ok that was digressing, I dont wanna be an asshat.
What if I could take the shit that I already like about myself and add some stuff here and there and take the stuff that I dont think fits with me and wingo bingo bongo presto there is a shiny new me. that would be cool right? it almost feels like your selling myself out though which is weird because I believe that almost everything about us is learned from our envioronment.
How much of who and what I am is actually something that I conciously said hey this sounds good lets add it to the big red fucking toolbox that is me? I would be willing to wager that the majority of who I be is just shit that was taught to me over the years. stuff I picked up from the family, school, friends, TV, books and movies. I think overall I am a pretty kick ass person but really what if I stopped and looked at me and said hey I dont need that anymore lets put this in instead.
This all sounds weird im sure and probably self centered and assy. but what if we flip it around a bit and look at it from the perspective of the danger bean who just puked all over my chest. when hes looking up at me with his most beautiful baby blue eyes and saying everything is all good daddy I dont care who you are I love you anyway. dont I owe it to the little bastard to be the very bestest me I can find? even if that means changing some things that might seem to be inherently me?
I guess we could look at it from a relationship point of view as well. say you are totally in love with someone and you are all oh i love you sooo much i would do anything for you. and the other person is all I love you so much too but could you just change a wee bit so I can love you more.
well thats a big fucking quandry isnt it. they love YOU but they need you to change who you are so they can continue loving you. I think there is a good chance that if you love said person enough you are willing to make the change they want, even if it hurts and feels a bit like you are destroying what makes you you.
Ok I think I at least convinced myself that making changes is a good thing. but what the fuck do you change? Do I make a big long list of things I like and want to keep and then make the opposite list of things I dont like about me and want to get rid of? Then I have to make another list of things that I wish I had. haha I wish I could fly plus I want xray vision so I can see everyones boobies. I would have to make that third list realistic I suppose but where do I find things I want to add? I could read ghandis biography and pull shit from who he is and add it to me. or I could read hitlers bio and just do the opposite of everything.
ok that is enough for now, I will try those lists and see what I find, it should be fun and enlightening.
I got to thinking today or yesterday that it would be cool to reinvent myself. That probably sounds weird or new agey. why not be cool with who I am right? But what if I could be better than who I am now? what if with a few changes I could change how I see myself and how other folks see me, for the better of course, although I have thought about what it would be like to be a total fucking asshole. it would be very strange to be one of those people, you know the motherfuckers that just suck but seem to excel and get everything they want, and no one can figure it out. thats weird, ok that was digressing, I dont wanna be an asshat.
What if I could take the shit that I already like about myself and add some stuff here and there and take the stuff that I dont think fits with me and wingo bingo bongo presto there is a shiny new me. that would be cool right? it almost feels like your selling myself out though which is weird because I believe that almost everything about us is learned from our envioronment.
How much of who and what I am is actually something that I conciously said hey this sounds good lets add it to the big red fucking toolbox that is me? I would be willing to wager that the majority of who I be is just shit that was taught to me over the years. stuff I picked up from the family, school, friends, TV, books and movies. I think overall I am a pretty kick ass person but really what if I stopped and looked at me and said hey I dont need that anymore lets put this in instead.
This all sounds weird im sure and probably self centered and assy. but what if we flip it around a bit and look at it from the perspective of the danger bean who just puked all over my chest. when hes looking up at me with his most beautiful baby blue eyes and saying everything is all good daddy I dont care who you are I love you anyway. dont I owe it to the little bastard to be the very bestest me I can find? even if that means changing some things that might seem to be inherently me?
I guess we could look at it from a relationship point of view as well. say you are totally in love with someone and you are all oh i love you sooo much i would do anything for you. and the other person is all I love you so much too but could you just change a wee bit so I can love you more.
well thats a big fucking quandry isnt it. they love YOU but they need you to change who you are so they can continue loving you. I think there is a good chance that if you love said person enough you are willing to make the change they want, even if it hurts and feels a bit like you are destroying what makes you you.
Ok I think I at least convinced myself that making changes is a good thing. but what the fuck do you change? Do I make a big long list of things I like and want to keep and then make the opposite list of things I dont like about me and want to get rid of? Then I have to make another list of things that I wish I had. haha I wish I could fly plus I want xray vision so I can see everyones boobies. I would have to make that third list realistic I suppose but where do I find things I want to add? I could read ghandis biography and pull shit from who he is and add it to me. or I could read hitlers bio and just do the opposite of everything.
ok that is enough for now, I will try those lists and see what I find, it should be fun and enlightening.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Dear stupid diary
I always think of cool and interesting things to write on this damned thing when I am nowhere near a computer. I think that might be because there is no pressure then. its like getting ready to go to work and swearing that you would spend the day cleaning or exercising if only you didnt have to go to work. and then suddenly you get the day off and the first thing you do is look at porn and go right back to bed. weird stuff that.
I need a theme or something for this to work maybe. it could be all about boobs I guess, I do like a good boob. I cant imagine that would take all that long though. hmmm I will ponder
I need a theme or something for this to work maybe. it could be all about boobs I guess, I do like a good boob. I cant imagine that would take all that long though. hmmm I will ponder
Monday, February 16, 2009
Dear stupid diary
Dear diary,
Today I ate a fish.
I went down to the creek where the fish live and I watched patiently until I saw the tastiest looking fish. When the fish was right where I wanted him I jumped into the water and made a grab for it. I missed on the first try and the fish swam away as quickly as its little fish flippers would take it. Not to be left hungry and wet I gave chase.
As I splashed up the creek after mister tasty fish I lost one of my pink flip flops, I went back later to get it but it did slow me down a lot because I sort of had to hop, leap and jump after the fish now.
I passed two men who were fishing on the bank and they cheered for me saying 'don't you let that fish get away, it looks like a tasty one!' Laughing I yelled back 'yes sir it was the tastiest one I saw' I hop, jumped, and flailed my way past them trying to keep up with my fish.
Breathing heavy and feeling oh so soddenly moist I hoped mister fish was getting as tired as I was, I didnt know how much longer I could keep up the pace. Eventually I had to stop and take a break, boy I was tired.
I could see up ahead that mister tasty fish had also stopped for a little breather too. He looked back at me as I stood there panting and said 'cant you just leave me alone and eat a squirrel instead?' I thought about it, I have eaten fuzzy little acorn hoarding squirrels before but darn it they were hard to catch and they can scratch too. And squirrels are fast at climbing trees, its hard to climb trees in pink flip-flops, my blue ones are better but I didnt have them with me.
'I dont want to eat a squirrel mister tasty fish, I want to eat you, please can you just slow down some so I can catch you? I am awfully tired.' I got excited because I could see the fish was considering what I had said.
'Let me get this straight, you want me to slow down my frantic fleeing from you so that you can catch me and eat me?' Had the fish had hips and hands then his hands would have been on his hips and with a neck he could have cocked it at me. I dont know what sarcasm is but if I did then it probably felt a lot like this.
'Yes!' I exclaimed. 'Thats it exactly, I just want to eat you real quick and then I can go back and get my flip flop'. I couldnt believe it was going to be this easy, not that it was super easy or anything because I had been chasing mister fish for what felt like seven years.
Today I ate a fish.
I went down to the creek where the fish live and I watched patiently until I saw the tastiest looking fish. When the fish was right where I wanted him I jumped into the water and made a grab for it. I missed on the first try and the fish swam away as quickly as its little fish flippers would take it. Not to be left hungry and wet I gave chase.
As I splashed up the creek after mister tasty fish I lost one of my pink flip flops, I went back later to get it but it did slow me down a lot because I sort of had to hop, leap and jump after the fish now.
I passed two men who were fishing on the bank and they cheered for me saying 'don't you let that fish get away, it looks like a tasty one!' Laughing I yelled back 'yes sir it was the tastiest one I saw' I hop, jumped, and flailed my way past them trying to keep up with my fish.
Breathing heavy and feeling oh so soddenly moist I hoped mister fish was getting as tired as I was, I didnt know how much longer I could keep up the pace. Eventually I had to stop and take a break, boy I was tired.
I could see up ahead that mister tasty fish had also stopped for a little breather too. He looked back at me as I stood there panting and said 'cant you just leave me alone and eat a squirrel instead?' I thought about it, I have eaten fuzzy little acorn hoarding squirrels before but darn it they were hard to catch and they can scratch too. And squirrels are fast at climbing trees, its hard to climb trees in pink flip-flops, my blue ones are better but I didnt have them with me.
'I dont want to eat a squirrel mister tasty fish, I want to eat you, please can you just slow down some so I can catch you? I am awfully tired.' I got excited because I could see the fish was considering what I had said.
'Let me get this straight, you want me to slow down my frantic fleeing from you so that you can catch me and eat me?' Had the fish had hips and hands then his hands would have been on his hips and with a neck he could have cocked it at me. I dont know what sarcasm is but if I did then it probably felt a lot like this.
'Yes!' I exclaimed. 'Thats it exactly, I just want to eat you real quick and then I can go back and get my flip flop'. I couldnt believe it was going to be this easy, not that it was super easy or anything because I had been chasing mister fish for what felt like seven years.
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