The Life Less Documented
April 03, 2009
Funny thing about using this old laptop: I don't like using it, therefore I turn it off and put it down a lot. I wander away from it -- and the Internet -- in favor of shit like laundry or unloading the dishwasher or those-bananas-are-ripe-I-should-make-some-banana-bread-type whims. And while I doubt anybody is coming here to read about my super-extra-hot-damn-exciting life or anything, believe me when I tell you that WOW, this week has been boring. I've been boring. I've transcended boring. I've actually died of boredom and then risen from the dead to become boring's own personal messiah.
Although last night Jason and I had a date night, and on the way home Jason was challenged to a fistfight on the Metro by a tweaked out meth head who thought it would be a good idea to start calling a fellow white dude the n-word and then scream I'M FIVE FOOT EIGHT, MOTHERFUCKER repeatedly until the next station stop, where Jason told him to get off and wait for him on the platform. "I'll be right there," he said. "And we'll go at it."
The guy did, although his hopped-up excitement quickly turned to confusion as he watched the train pull away and leave him behind. Jason merrily waved at him through the window while I finally got brave enough to pull my head out of my handbag, where I had been "busy" looking for my "phone" during the whole ridiculous encounter.
Ezra would like to report that he discovered his toes, and they are FABULOUS. He is also blowing raspberries, eating us out of house and home (I'm glad I pledged to make his baby food this time because this kid would have a serious 10-pack-a-day Gerber habit), and just being all-around fabulous in general.
Significantly less fabulous: his two (TWO!) bottom teeth making a joint appearance, green beans (whatever, dude, I'm hiding them in your yams and there's nothing you can do about it) and any moment in time where Noah is not in his line of sight because Noah is TOTALLY the coolest.
Noah would like to know why nobody ever told him about Little Einsteins. Mommy would like to know who the fuck thought up the concept of a cartoon rocket powered by preschoolers patting on their thighs and the rocket has a jet for a nemesis and they plant seeds that sprout fucking harpsichords and why is the theme song so damn catchy and seriously, if I ever meet the person responsible on the Metro I actually WILL meet them on the platform and go at it.
("We're going on a trip in our favorite rocket ship." It's DRUGS, people. DRUUUUUGS.)
And here is where I was going to include a cute little video as atonement for the silence-y week around here, but it turns out my camera hates this laptop as much as I do. I've spent 45 minutes trying to at least get the two of them to acknowledge each other to no avail, and look, there's banana bread in the kitchen and you're lucky I've managed to pay attention to this post long enough to finish this last sentenc