|
|
||
|
the latest
waddle: good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03 elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01 building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19 ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09 my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04
|
TODAY I AM KEEPING IT SIMPLE (STUPID) A whole bunch of nothing lately. A lot of blowing my nose and watching DVDs. I Netflixed this "thriller" called Identity, which I can never remember the name of, even five seconds after I look it up and remind myself, and thus several times I have described it as "that movie where John Cusack is all wet and people at the motel keep getting murdered and everyone's like AHHHHH! And then they find out they all have the same birthday and then everyone's like DOUBLE AHHHHH!� There is a so-so "trick" ending too. Overall the movie was merely okay, but it does have some of the most graphic car-hitting-pedestrian scenes I have ever witnessed, and that is a serious hot-button phobia for me so I had my face in the sofa cushions for those parts. Multiple homicides in a movie? No problem. One person hit by a car? Nightmare City. I will tell you what else is Nightmare City: your kid waking up crying and covered in blood. Although frankly, given that Nora has had three nighttime nosebleeds in one week, I am getting pretty blas� about my kid waking up crying and covered in blood. I'm all like, "What's the matter, Nora? Covered in blood again? Let's change those sheets and try to get the dried crusty bits out of your hair." Another load of sheets this morning, plus Purple Dog, zipped cozily into a lingerie bag, had to take a spin in the machine as well---he had a huge splotch of blood right on the back of his neck like a Mob hit.* Poor Purple. Nora has lost faith in the power of moist air. This morning she kept repeating, "But I had my humidifier! But there was a noseblood [sic] anyway! But I had my humidifier! Why did my nose get blooded? I had my humidifier!" What else to try? Saline spray? Vaseline? Damp rags tied over her nose while she sleeps? (Child Protective Services might not like that last one.) So. Sick, courtesy of my adorable pint-sized vector of disease. Freaked out by mediocre horror movies. Worried and exasperated by the output of gore from my child's nostrils, the accelerating entropy that is our house, the sad fact that I seem to have very little time to talk to and have fun with my husband, and the dimensions of the stupid freelance project that I stupidly agreed to handle. No one mentioned that the freelance thing was going to be an actual printed (on paper!) product as well as an online thing, so now I have to subtract almost two weeks from my mental schedule to allow for that, as well as address the issue of references vs. hyperlinks and all the other crap that goes along with dual-format documents. *Speaking of, while we cooked together the other day Nora was telling me about her conflict with a certain kid in her preschool class. Nora: Matthew was a big problem for me today. He kept trying to take my work. Ominous! Sopranos-esque! I have not heard that Matthew "entered the witness protection program" or anything, so I will assume she "handled" it legally. ---mimi smartypants jumped over the lazy dog. |
