Mecha-Streisand is back and boy howdy. I thought the first one was a doozy but this time it's worse. All the creatures in the house are quivering in fear as I stomp around with unholy glee. I've even managed to drive the insects into hiding which is impressive considering it's breeding time down here in the tropics. I'd rather heal up from my cesarean than go through this every month. At least they gave me vicodins after the surgery. Pamprin, Midol, that shit is so weaksauce I might as well be eating candy. Oh, wait, I already am.
Christopher escaped to Walmart this morning under the guise of purchasing baby necessities. I gave him the short list and the option to go at any time during the day but he said, "I'll go now, while everyone is at church." When he came home, he laid a bag containing Motrin and Dove Chocolate on my altar and said to the baby, "I brought Mommy breakfast." Yes, yes he did. His offering proves that the survival instinct of man is alive and well.
For all of that, today was a lazy Sunday. We managed to lather up with enough sunscreen to brave the overcast weather and headed out with the gremlin in tow. We oohed and aahed at the cows that were wisely separated from us by high tech fencing (see: broken down, dry rotted wood). We went to the neighborhood playground and played on the swings for a bit (see: Chris dodged a swarm of mosquitos and the swing was so low I couldnt kick my feet or else he would have gotten an eyeful of sand). Then, to reward ourselves for braving the bears outside, we headed over to the corner store to have an ice cream (see: spending too much money on crappy sticks of ice cream). But, the gremlin was in high spirits and so was I after devouring that Butterfinger bar.
I couldnt help but make a few observations on our travels and honestly, this might be the Mecha-Streisand talking but here goes. I have always thought those Croc shoes are fugly. I never understood why young, attractive women who werent avid gardeners or nurses wore them, and always out in public places while not tending the sick or growing jungles in their back yard. They. Are. Fugly. I dont give a damn how comfortable they are, you get a + 1 on the Troll scale every time I see you wearing them. And I thought they couldnt get any uglier. I was wrong. I suppose it's like Rule 34 of the Internet, only instead of porn, if it's already ugly, it could get worse. So as we were out on our Sunday stroll I couldnt help but stare aghast as this woman sported Crocs that had a wedge to them! WHAT?! Ok, correct me if I'm wrong but I thought women wore heels to make themselves look taller and more attractive. Putting ugly up higher is still ugly, only now we have a better view.
Then, as we were walking back from the corner store, this gaggle of children rolled up with one caretaker who was busily typing away on her cell phone. I know it's hard to sext and mind your children but I suppose some of us can master the skill. She had not. Now, the general rule about baby swings is if the kid can get his or herself into the baby swing, they are too big for it. So this kid completely ignores the other 4 empty big kid swings and climbs into the baby swing, then gets himself stuck, thus interrupting his mama's sexting and causing a ruckus in general. I kept waiting for the ghost of Darwin to make an appearance and do a Nelson-style "Ha-ha."
Lastly, we have the children's party. It was a big to-do. We noticed the multitude of grills fired up and cooking deliciousness on them as we were walking down to the swings. On the way back, they had set up one of those big moon bounce dealies and the kids were beside themselves with joy. Unfortunately I could not help but notice the strong smell of diesel fumes in the air. They were so strong that they blocked out the grilling food. If the parents werent serving liquor at the children's party, then obviously Carbon Monoxide was next on the list. Amirite?
Christopher escaped to Walmart this morning under the guise of purchasing baby necessities. I gave him the short list and the option to go at any time during the day but he said, "I'll go now, while everyone is at church." When he came home, he laid a bag containing Motrin and Dove Chocolate on my altar and said to the baby, "I brought Mommy breakfast." Yes, yes he did. His offering proves that the survival instinct of man is alive and well.
For all of that, today was a lazy Sunday. We managed to lather up with enough sunscreen to brave the overcast weather and headed out with the gremlin in tow. We oohed and aahed at the cows that were wisely separated from us by high tech fencing (see: broken down, dry rotted wood). We went to the neighborhood playground and played on the swings for a bit (see: Chris dodged a swarm of mosquitos and the swing was so low I couldnt kick my feet or else he would have gotten an eyeful of sand). Then, to reward ourselves for braving the bears outside, we headed over to the corner store to have an ice cream (see: spending too much money on crappy sticks of ice cream). But, the gremlin was in high spirits and so was I after devouring that Butterfinger bar.
I couldnt help but make a few observations on our travels and honestly, this might be the Mecha-Streisand talking but here goes. I have always thought those Croc shoes are fugly. I never understood why young, attractive women who werent avid gardeners or nurses wore them, and always out in public places while not tending the sick or growing jungles in their back yard. They. Are. Fugly. I dont give a damn how comfortable they are, you get a + 1 on the Troll scale every time I see you wearing them. And I thought they couldnt get any uglier. I was wrong. I suppose it's like Rule 34 of the Internet, only instead of porn, if it's already ugly, it could get worse. So as we were out on our Sunday stroll I couldnt help but stare aghast as this woman sported Crocs that had a wedge to them! WHAT?! Ok, correct me if I'm wrong but I thought women wore heels to make themselves look taller and more attractive. Putting ugly up higher is still ugly, only now we have a better view.
Then, as we were walking back from the corner store, this gaggle of children rolled up with one caretaker who was busily typing away on her cell phone. I know it's hard to sext and mind your children but I suppose some of us can master the skill. She had not. Now, the general rule about baby swings is if the kid can get his or herself into the baby swing, they are too big for it. So this kid completely ignores the other 4 empty big kid swings and climbs into the baby swing, then gets himself stuck, thus interrupting his mama's sexting and causing a ruckus in general. I kept waiting for the ghost of Darwin to make an appearance and do a Nelson-style "Ha-ha."
Lastly, we have the children's party. It was a big to-do. We noticed the multitude of grills fired up and cooking deliciousness on them as we were walking down to the swings. On the way back, they had set up one of those big moon bounce dealies and the kids were beside themselves with joy. Unfortunately I could not help but notice the strong smell of diesel fumes in the air. They were so strong that they blocked out the grilling food. If the parents werent serving liquor at the children's party, then obviously Carbon Monoxide was next on the list. Amirite?
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