I recently read a bumper sticker:
Tolerance is just a lack of conviction.
I thought it might have been more appropriate if it had read something more like this:
All's tolerance is is a lack of... day-amn. What's that big word again the lawyer used last time I spent a year in prison?
There are some big potentials right now for the family, but I'm not ready to announce anything yet. And no, it's not a baby--I'm fixed. Yup, fun and fearless in bed--that's me. Hmm, what's on with the family?... still no goals in soccer, six seasons and counting. On a happy note I do get to take my boyo to have a swim lesson with a Twin. Should be a nice half-hour of no-excuse staring at the wet eye candy. Today they were all, "Hi! How are you??" like found friends when I dropped by the indoor pool to schedule the lesson.
Also, my curly-haired three-year-old-girl, better known as the psycho-Hitler-child-who's-got-us-by-the-short-and-curlies, is now a klepto. Everytime I open her back pack or lunch box there's a block, cards from a game, or some small toy from school. So we had a long talk about stealing and I think she understands now how wrong her actions were.
"Like, if you're gonna take shit," I said, "at least take something good. Your teacher has a a Tiffany bracelet that's pretty cute..." She also singlehandedly stopped an entire BC Surf and Sport Store teenaged staff from having sex or babies, like, ever, with an encore performance of one of her classic, well-loved screaming fits. Sniff. Isn't parenthood grand?
My book is going swimmingly. I used to think it was rather pathetic of me to love my own books so much, but like PHF says, I'm like any reader, I just get to hear the story first. Apparently you all loved the excerpt, that is, none of you had anything bad to say about it, or really nothing much at all... well, at least not to my face. So in conclusion, I like it, butthead. Oh yeah? I know you are, but what am I?
I can't quit listening to the Gorillaz CD right now--everyone rush right out and buy it. All bands should be animated, especially if the guys are ugly. Speaking of ugly bands, the new Franz Ferdinand is better than their first, in my opinion. Improvement on a good thing is always encouraging. Oh, yeah, but the truly ugliest band of late is Jet. Good God, what a bunch of beaters.
Speaking of beaters... Ok, that didn't work, but fuck it. (I'm not even sure what a "beater" is, but I'm guessing it has something to do with masturbation.) BB's wife and I had a fun time playing with my neighbor's bobblehead last night. He's a famous ex-soccer player and he had a "night" this summer at a Rapids game and we all got these bobbleheads. I think they made like 60,000 of the things or something. Why bobbleheads? They're so creepy. I mean, the thing just stares at me all the time--I have to turn it around on my nightstand when I sleep. I keep it with me always. I don't know why.
While I'm not name-dropping, I'm throwing out a plug for James Townsend's book The Assassin's Dream. It's set in futuristic Boulder and is apparently a riveting read. I met him once (he doesn't remember me. Always good to know I make such an impression. Maybe the "big" bra next time). I'm going shopping tonight (no kids-woohoo!) with the husband and I'm making him take me by Borders, even though the author doesn't know me from anybody. Gosh, do you think if I ever run into him again he'll sign my book with something personal like, "To my good friend Sex, who seems to have quite large boobs today"?
Tomorrow we are going four-wheeling at Carnage Canyon. Actually, to be proper, it should be echoed:
Yeah, that's definitely better. I'm gonna write a murder mystery set where the body--naw, make that plural, bodies will be found in Carnage. Some hick mechanic with a good body in a jacked up Tacoma will find the mess and get accused on account of some prior "misunderstandings", his 16 guage in the back rack, and his bumper sticker which says... yeah, you knew I'd bring it back around eventually...
Tolerance is just a lack of conviction.