(Some musings as I attempted to blog on Sunday while at Starbucks. I felt the urge to get these random thoughts out of my head, lest they become even more distracting. Instead, they became a post. Bonus.)
Is it rude to spank someone else’s child? How about illegal? I can deal with rude, but illegal gives me pause…only slightly. Are we talking fine-illegal or jail time-illegal? Will there be a trial? Because I can play back the video of this little boy who has to be 8 and still sucking his thumb and screaming “I WANT THE TURTLES!!!!!” and I will get off EASY. Possibly with restitution for my ruined afternoon.
Wait. Are they chocolate turtles? Because I might spank him and then knock him down and steal them. I’m not into chocolate, but I make an exception when they include caramel.
I’ve had three people this week who, when they find out ‘ been married for over a year, ask me about kids. Which is fine, we’re in Texas and that’s just small talk, not impolite. But when say, “Not yet,” they reply with “Well, are you trying?”
I mean, I realize that I implied that we want them with the “Not yet,” but did you seriously just ask me that?
Because you do know you just asked me if my husband and I were having sex and how we were doing it.
Maybe you meant that I might be taking birth control and then stopped. But that still means you are inquiring about the state of my vagina, and as progressive, free-wheelin’ and “Whatever’s whatever, baby…” I am, I still find that tacky.
Mind your business.
I have a strong urge to check my Words with Friends app every five minutes. (Lyssachelle. Add me!) I am never going to get anything done if I keep logging on to spell even more four letters words, with the “qi” and “xis” thrown in to get rid of those pesky unusable letters. I’m terrible. And addicted.
THAT KID IS SCREAMING AGAIN. At this point, the mother just needs to take him home. I’ve already leveled my “Glare o’ Doom” her way to no avail. Is it a parent thing to be able to ignore the immense screaming of your offspring when it’s making others’ ears bleed? Amazing.
Jesus. Where’s Supernanny? Hell, he possibly might need that lady from “It’s Me or the Dog.”
I don’t like my barista. She seems like the type to ask you when you’re due when she knows damn well you’re not pregnant. That kind of snark makes me nervous.
I’ve gotten two emails from MySpace saying they miss and want me to come back.
Honey, we broke up. We had some good times. But it’s over.
Although Jethro did ask me out on MySpace. We met while I was dating someone else and his sister, a good friend of mine was like, “You need to date my brother. You make lemon squares and I hate his girlfriend. It needs to happen.”
And then a few weeks later, when we’d disposed of the exes, he sent me a message on MySpace asking me if I wanted to go to dinner or coffee or something.
He says that he didn’t think that “You’re pretty and funny and I want to see your boobies,” would go over well.
He obviously didn’t know me.
Ooo. I just remembered that not only do I have a backlog of Toddlers and Tiara’s recorded, but there’s a Buffy marathon on today. I’ll have to wrestle Jethro for the remote. It’s okay. I ain’t a-scared of him.
Thank God. Bratty McGee has left.
That mom should rent that child out to high schools. 20 minutes with him and they’ll never want to have sex EVER again. INSTANT birth control.
Hell, I’m thinking of gettinga tuvel ligation on the way home.
But I’ll finish my caramel macchiato first…