Tuesday, March 10, 2009
[It's still] Tuesday Random thoughts
I dreamed last night that I was at a party and that every time I sat down, Jason Segel from Freaks and Geeks would sit on my lap to prevent me from standing up. Now I don’t like him.
When my coworker and I walk on our lunch hour, why do fellow workers feel the need to lean out of their cars and call out, “Walking?” Isn’t it obvious? And why doesn’t this compulsion to comment extend to other acts? Why don’t they ask, “Eating?” when I’m sitting in the lunchroom with my sandwich? Or “urinating?” as I’m about to go into the bathroom?
Why does it have to be so much fun to fib to little kids? Chuck gets mad when I suggest we tell Junior we’re Wolf People and that on Sunday nights we howl at the moon. I’m dying to see if Junior would do it. I think Chuck is scared to leave me alone with Junior.
I don’t like how everyone has been saying “I’ll reach out to you tomorrow” instead of “I’ll call you tomorrow.” This isn’t Message in a Bottle; dial your damn phone and stop being such a freak.
Why am I such a bad judge of character? My first impressions of people are always completely wrong. I think it’s related somehow to my backwards sense of direction. Maybe if I walked on my hands, my brain would process things more accurately. Of course, then people would ask, “Hand-walking?”
I wonder if Keely is sick of Tuesdays?
And finally, the sight of this empty plate today felt like the end of a very long journey.
RIP you sons of bitches.
A few weeks ago in Mulletville Lite, I told you how I had begun to question the integrity of our babysitter, Kim. I believed she was ste...
Toddlers mispronounce words. It's just what they do, and it's what makes the toddler years so darn cute. "Lello" for &...
I’m finally back from the David Gray concert in New York City. Yes, that was Saturday night and today is Tuesday, but I fell so in love with...
At least I can admit that I'm emotionally immature, juvenile and unsupportive. Subtitle: Chuck could have done betterTry as I might, I cannot stop fantasizing about Chuck being creamed by a Mack truck (I know, poor Chuck, you must think I am the wife from...