Friday, November 30, 2012

Bad Day 143--They were the footprints of a giant hound!

We're watching the new Sherlock (the BBC version. I haven't seen the CBS one.)

And we're eating Pirate's Booty which is puffy and cheesy and apparently gluten-free. If I actually had celiac disease, it might be a good substitute for Cheetos. I'm watching Sherlock to unwind after a very hectic day of running around trying to find the answers to very obscure questions that people called me to ask about because they thought I might know the answer. I must give off an aura of competency at work because I would never have thought to ask me so many questions. I know Child 2 thinks I know the answer to everything, but I really don't. I just know a lot more than Child 2. Someday, she will know more than me and all her illusions will be shattered.

Child 1 is snuggling with The Dog who refuses to get off my bed or leave my room. I think I mentioned before that she figured out how to open my door while it's still locked so there is no point in even shutting the door anymore. I honestly don't see why I'm so fascinating to her. The children bathe her, feed her, groom her, and walk her most of the time. I walk her once a day and spend the rest of the time ignoring her and telling her to get off the bed, yet it's me she loves. Luuuuvs me. Can't get enough of me. Must. be. near. me. All the time. It's so annoying. She's like that boy who liked me in high school and followed me around all the time and I couldn't stand him but nothing, nothing would convince him that I would never, ever like him. The only way I got rid of him was I moved away to college. Maybe that's what I should do. I should move so that The Dog can't find me. I don't want to get rid of the children, though and I don't think they'd leave The Dog behind. So I guess I'm not moving to Australia in my rail road train pajamas. (Seriously, has no one outside my family ever read that book?)

This man in Indiana is having a worse day than me. You can see why by this photo.

Eric Hartsburg, 30, poses for a photo showing his Romney-Ryan election logo tattoo Friday, Nov. 30, 2012 in Michigan City, Ind. Hartsburg, a professional wrestler, said he hoped the 5-by-2-inch tattoo would make politics more fun and had initially resigned himself to keeping it, but he is now planning to have it removed. (AP Photo/Teresa Crawford)

No, I am not mocking his choice of candidates because this is more important than politics. I am totally making fun of the fact that not only was he dumb enough to tattoo his face, he is wearing a pink scrunchie. In public. Apparently on purpose. So thank you, Mr. Dumb Tattoo, for reminding me to be proud that I haven't worn a scrunchie since 1995. Pink scrunchies are for little girls, and you sir, are no little girl. I can tell by the facial hair.


  1. are you feeling better, because Man this was funny tonight. ;) k.

    1. No, k. Sadly, I still feel quite awful, but I was inspired by that scrunchie. :-)

  2. I *forgot* that there are a total of three Alexander books. Must own them soonish. I'm just waiting for you to also quote from "Drummer Hoff." And it's weird that no one else's mother rattled off obscure nursery rhymes when they were young. I know soooo many more than others do. How often do you quote "It was a misty, moisty morning and cloudy was the weather when I met an old man dressed all in leather?" For some reason that sounds sinster now...but not when we were young.

    Love you! And call me.

    Sister 2

  3. Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, Not Good Very Bad Day! And I totally got the reference the first time, too! Love that book. I have actually thought about it several times in the course of this move. I could write the adult version. . . it could include lima beans, too.

  4. Love you more than Dog, even if I don't follow you around.


    p.s. Every elementary teacher knows about soap in the eyes, marbles down the drain, and rail road train pajamas. Every elementary teacher also knows that horrible, no good days really do end. Eventually...