Jul 022012


Chooch started nosin’ through some of my old stuff in the bedroom while I was focusing on ruining Henry’s nap, when suddenly he laughed behind me and exclaimed, “What IS this?!”

Oh god, please don’t let it be some archaic vibrator or drug paraphernalia, I thought.

But it was just an old Bobby Brown cassette single, probably purchased at my favorite record store, Waves.

“Oh shit, we have to play this!” I screamed, while Henry was trying to convince Chooch we don’t have a tape player because he didnt want to deal with it. (You know, trying to nap and all.)

So then I spent the next 15 minutes struggling to mend an old tape player while Henry begged us both to just go downstairs. Finally, I achieved success! (And also a large quotient of dust in my nostrils.)

Finally, my bedroom was pregnant with the tinny tones of Bobby Brown crooning about humpin’ around while Henry rolled his weary eyes.

“Mommy, what’s this?” Chooch asked innocently, handing me a holographic bullet-like object, which for a moment I actually did mistake for a lady toy.

“Oh, that’s just a lighter that doesnt work anymore,” I said, but as I absent-mindedly struck it, a flame squirted out. “Oh, shit, it does work!” I laughed, tossing it back at Chooch’s chest.

“Yeah, so give it back to him, that’s great,” Henry mumbled, dragging a hand down his dark eye circles, at which point Chooch chucked the lighter at his face and we died laughing. And by “we,” I of course just mean Chooch and me. Henry has to relearn that function after the accident. And by “accident,” I of course mean out relationship.

There was no point to this, but Andrea is coming to Pittsburgh this week (she arrives after midnight!) and I am hyper! And I have at least three posts to write about my beloved Big Butler Fair but can’t find the time so I’m all stressed out but then I remembered, wait—this isn’t my job and no one cares.

Speaking of my job, I’m off all week!

Say it don't spray it.

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