I was trying to remember the capital of Thailand while driving home. It was right on the tip of my tongue. I knew it contained a slang word for genitalia. Dick? No, that wasn’t it. Cock? Maybe, but did it start with that? No… cock, cock, cock… ah ha! Kok – Bangkok.
Tonight’s topic of discussion was “If you plug all the holes in someone’s body, will they explode?” I even Googled it.
Scott doesn’t think so, I think it might happen on a dead body.
I suggested we submit it to MythBusters.
So I had the brilliant idea of putting together a costume trunk for the girls for Christmas this year. I had collected a couple of pieces, and Scott’s mom found this huge, old black trunk that looks like a pirate treasure chest. But I realized last night that I still only had two actual dress-up items. So I called my mom and asked her (and my sister) to dig through the attic for contributions (because raising four kids will inevitably leave you with bits of costumes in your house). Here is the message I awoke to this morning:
Lisa and I have come up with these cool additions to your girls’ costume collection:
- red butterfly wings
- black sparkly tights (with no feet)
- lavender elbow length gloves
- princess tiara
- silky flowered kimono type robe
- gold sequined bow tie
- royal blue sparkly dance costume
- bear costume
- bright pink dance costume (yours)
- pioneer bonnet
- red/dalmatian print dance costume
- colored ribbon hair bow on barrette
- cheerleader pom pom
- sea shell necklace
- ‘diamond’ necklace
Mark will bring these to you tomorrow. Have fun!!
After finding three heads-up pennies in my office today, I thought I might have some luck. I was wrong.
I was already tired tonight after being awake since 5 AM, but I hadn’t started on my Christmas shopping at all, so I decided to go to Target. Which was apparently what everyone else in town thought a good idea, too. It took all my self-control to not lash out and go Wolverine on these people. Frantic grandparents who don’t know what a FurReal pet is. Big-ass Target shopping carts blocking aisles, creating a Tetris of a shopping experience. After spending two hours like this, and after a precarious tampon breach, I decided to make like a tree and get the fuck outta there. So I stood in line. For fifteen minutes. And then realized, upon having my merchandise totaled, that I left my wallet in my car.
Kindly Target cashier took pity on me, though, and let me leave my cart of crap by her register while I ran out to get my money. Came back, stood in line again, and shopping was complete.
Grabbed some Arby’s on the way home, and arrived to be greeted by a vomiting 7-year-old. Scott took control of that situation so I could enjoy my food in peace, because me getting to eat is THAT IMPORTANT. It was a disappointment, though, because I ended up with some really shitty roast beef.
So now, exhausted and coated in the grimy film of retail, I am going to finish a bottle of shiraz and go to bed.
Cheddar, potato, and broccoli soup. I gave Kya a bowl. She was hesitant, because she is extremely particular about the temperature of her food. She tried some, her eyes widened, and she said, “MOMMY. This soup is good in the whole universe.”
Which I think is a compliment.
For the past thirty minutes, I have been subjected to a constant loop of a five-year-old singing “Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel.”
This is the same five-year-old who also said earlier this afternoon that she had one hundred necks, and she keeps them in a jar.