Sunday, April 11, 2010

We Are Going To Call This A Bye Week

Well this week is just a mess from the get go. Did you know it's Thursday? Not Wednesday? This isn't good news for the blog, you would probably be astonished at how much time I actually spend making it awesome.

Apparently the new color wasn't that popular, I got some complaints, it would seem I screwed up the link thing. It's back to black as far as I know. My son said he didn't read the blog last week because the link didn't work. He works at Microsoft, I'm almost positive he could have gotten into it. You can't buy that kind of loyalty I tell you what.

Then I  have two editors, one wants more jokes and the other one wants fewer commas. I don't know, on top of everything else that's not working out this week I'm not furious about anything.

So to fill in the space for now I will tell you the story of the naming of the Blog, and some other stuff.

Once upon a time we were driving for a distance in the car with my then 5 year old granddaughter Roselator (Not her real name, thank God). Because I'm a nice guy and I knew it was going to be a long drive I started singing to keep her occupied. It was "You Are My Sunshine" as I recall. The reason I think so is because I can remember most of the words to it, also Jingle Bells and it was summer. Therefor by process of elimination it was probably 'You Are My Sunshine". So anyway I'm singing along and all of a suddenly from the back seat comes "You sing terrible." 

The thing is of course this is not news to me, I can't sing in fact I sing terrible but I was hoping to get a couple years farther down the road before she put two and two together. I said "Well that was kind of mean, you sort of hurt my feelings". I could tell she felt bad, and that she was backtracking to get us all out of this in one piece, and she said "It's not mean if it's true."

Of course it is mean if it's true, meaner usually. So that's that part. 

Now I will relate two stories about the GD Paula Deen thing. I seriously have had a bunch of people come up to me and say that we look alike. January and I were walking into the Georgetown Liquor Company, which is a really good vegetarian bar restaurant in Seattle and I really recommend it. The non vegetarians like it. Anyway there were two girls sitting outside because of the whole smoking thing, smoking, and one of them said to the other "She looks just like my favorite chef on the Food Network", so I said to January "Yeah I get that Paula Deen thing all the time and she said "How do you know she didn't mean Emeril?"

Then another one, I was talking to my son on the phone and he said something along the lines of "Guess who the grand kid, Roselator saw on TV and said you look like? (Not her real name) Well of course, I said "Paula Deen" and he said "Wrong gender" Well it was Jimmy Johnson from the pre game football show. So there you go. 

I probably need a therapist just from hanging around my own offspring.

It's now Saturday, I refuse to give up on this week. You twenty deserve it.

Both grand kids spent the night last night. We live in a tiny condo, as most of you know. (you twenty followers)  In order to make this all work The Comma Editor sleeps in the bed with the Three Year Old. We have a blow up bed that Roselator loves to sleep on, and I sleep on the couch. However this time we were watching The Prisoner of Azkaban when Roselator decided she was going to finish watching it with her eyes closed, and that was the end of her. She was sound asleep on the couch. I ended up on the blow up bed. I had had one other run in with it, which I guess is like childbirth if you give it long enough you decide it couldn't have been that bad.

To start with it's a twin size and about 3 feet tall so when you move it sways, if you have moved at all in your sleep you wake up clinging to it, so that you have to carefully slide back into the middle as to not fall out onto the floor. You can't actually turn over, you need to change position in place, which is good practice for spinning in your grave I suppose.

I don't understand the physics of it, but the air in the room is the Seattle indoor temperature, of 70 degrees more or less, but the air inside the blow up bed is actually from the North Pole. So the whole experience is as if you spent the night on a three foot high two foot wide slab of Jello.

The night wasn't going that well. But then all that changed. Hah, you wonder is it for the better?

We have a cat, named Gracie. She's a pretty good cat as they go. However she is nocturnal as cats are. One unfortunate habit she has is to hop up on the bed, purring and wanting  to get under the covers. Which is pretty annoying, but whatever. The thing is I am perfectly happy to lift up the blankets so she can go under because once she is in she will go to sleep. However due to the fact that she isn't that smart she tends to stand on top of the blankets. When showed up in the middle of the night on the jello bed, I picked up the blanket so she could get under and she just stood there, which since I wasn't real well rested annoyed me. I picked her up to shove her under the blanket and damn near poked out my own eye with my cat. Somehow her back foot/claw got caught in my eyelid. I am fine though, thanks for asking.

I am kind of irritated about one thing. We went to Veg Fest, which is as hippie as you can get, it's a kind of Costco sample thing but with all vegetarian food. This year they finally had compostable waste containers. I have always been puzzled by the lack of common sense disposal options at this deal. Now this is the thing. Say Seattle is the base of the pyramid, which is Liberal Land, and as you go up to the top of the pyramid passing Goddammit bicyclers and Prius drivers and hikers and raw foodies and patchouli wearing old Deadheads and whatever the hell kind of hippie dippy types there are in the world, when you get to the top, it's just the freaking cream of the bunch of bleeding heart liberals at Veg Fest. (Comma editor here. See what I am up against?) So I have officially given up on the whole preaching about recycling. I am not kidding you, even in that venue people couldn't or wouldn't figure out how to take advantage of the 4 recycling options. I may rent a storage unit to save all my plastic and rent a truck to drive it to the ocean to dump it in myself.

OK, good, I seem to be getting a little cranky!  See you next week.



  1. I love your blogs, you crack me up! Keep 'em coming! Uh-oh, I used too many commas. LOL

  2. No Christy,you did not use to many commas. Not even close.

  3. It believe she did not use *too* many commas... better stick to Comma Editing!