Jan
19
January 19, 2007
Oh my god oh my god there has been a terrorist attack on Seattle someone has filled birds with explosive devices and they are killing hundreds of people maybe thousands oh please god save us —
Uh…wait. Oh, sorry. God, I’m sorry about that. It turns out there’s just…yeah, there’s just kind of a shitload of eagles hanging out on the Skagit River. Wow, I got that one wrong. Man, it’s almost like the local TV news consistently relies on hilariously worded title graphics for their stories, or something.
(See also: “ARCTIC BLAST REAMS SEATTLE’S CITY-HOLE”.)
So hi! How are you? Apparently I need to inform you that JB’s underwear is not, in fact, a pair of manties, but rather is a beefy, studly, macho pair of boxer-briefs. Why, these boxer-briefs are so goddamn manly, they come with a pack of Malboros and the inability to ask for directions. These boxer-briefs refuse to discuss their feelings, they won’t hold a woman’s purse even for a blow job, and when they’re pissing in a public urinal, they lean over to the guy next to them and say, “Water sure is cold today.”
There. I believe I’ve done my duty.
It’s hard to believe the week is basically over already. The snow has mostly transformed to dirty slush and melted away, at least in my neighborhood, and dashed my hopeful plans of a bucolic sledding activity this weekend. Instead, I imagine JB and I will putter around the house with the boy, take turns letting the other person go do something unfettered and childless (JB’s likely choice: scuba diving; mine: oh, I don’t know, basically anything that doesn’t involve submerging myself in water in the middle of fucking winter and breathing air through a TUBE, jesus), and probably hit the drive-through Starbucks at least twice, because that’s how we roll.
Your turn! For I do so love to live vicariously through you. What do your weekend plans include?
Jan
18
January 18, 2007
I will admit I am occasionally prone to exaggeration. For instance, in order to illustrate a particularly challenging couple of hours yesterday, I’d like to say I wanted to cram my darling son into a wood chipper and blow his still-tantruming bits and pieces all over my backyard and plant daffodils instead because holy shit flora is easier than fauna. But of course that wouldn’t be quite true, because the logistics involved with renting a chipper from Home Depot would have been such a pain in the ass, so it would be more accurate to say I felt like wedging my son in my blender and turning it to “frappe”.
However, I want you to know that when I tell you my husband is in a class of his own sometimes, I speak only the truth. Behold:
That would be JB’s side of the bed, as captured by your intrepid documentarian this morning. With a Playboy on the nightstand. Which, okay, I like Playboy, nothing wrong with Playboy, but for reasons I cannot fathom, there was also a pair of tighty-whities hung carefully over the knob on the drawer, and the combination made such an oh so CHARMING tableau I just had to share.
By the way, JB’s explanation for the underwear is that he wanted some easily-accessible skivvies in case he needs to get up in the middle of the night and deal with “something outside”. I can see the headline now:
Rabid bear attacks Bellevue home!
Area man successfully combats animal, credits fast thinking and a nearby pair of briefs. “You could say I went commando,” he said, chuckling suggestively and repeatedly elbowing this reporter in the ribs. Follow-up reports indicated the man had managed to subdue the bear with a rolled-up adult publication featuring a woman’s exposed “sweet ass”. The ass was later revealed to belong to Battlestar Galactica’s Tricia Helfer.
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