May 202015

Some things were did recently. Did you did things too? Maybe someday we can did things together.

  • It pains me to do this but I havetostart off by saying something….ni—-*gag*—-ce…about Henry. One day last week, I posted a blue corn waffle recipe to his Facebook timeline and in that sweet,adorableCAPSLOCK way of mine told him that this is what I would be having for breakfast on Sunday. The finishing touch of the waffle was a dollop of lavender cream and fresh blueberries. I am a raging slut for lavender-infused foodstuffs so this waffle was The One. Anyway, Henry didn’t even have any jerky comebacks about my request (like addressing the fact that I never actually said he had to make it, just that “I will be having this”)! So yes, Henry diligently went through the motions of looking at and comprehending a recipe and then stirring things, etc. Just typing that out made me feel so bored. Thank god eating the fuck out of that waffle was NOT boring. There were TWO differences in Henry’s version: he allegedly “couldn’t find” blue corn meal so he used regular-colored corn meal, and he did not garnish my plate with a beautiful flower like the picture called for in the cooking website I sent him. Boo hiss, Henry.
    • Oh! And what tied this whole splendid breakfast adventure together was a drizzle of pure maple syrup that my old boss gave Amber and me after she heard we won the waffle makers! Her friends live on a maple farm or something and make real maple syrup. When she brought it over to us, Glenn kept asking her all of these questions like, “But WHAT KIND of maple tree?” and Todd and I were like, “STFU Glenn, SRSLY.” Turns out, Glenn is really into “trees.” He didn’t even try to deny it. “Remember when Cheryl gave me those clown paintings and you got really excited about the FRAMES?!” I scream-laughed at him. He got this creepy far away look in his eyes, remembering those frames, and said, “Yeah…”


  • Chooch got a rash over the weekend, which he originally thought was poison ivy. It was on the back of his shoulder so he asked me to take a picture so he could see it. He started flipping out because it was all red and kind of glistening, since Henry had just rubbed SALVE on it. I was like, “Look at it, all shiny and glistening like a Christmas ham” and he was like “THAT’S DISGUSTING STOP” so then when he asked me what was going to happen to him, I naturally told him that he was going to have to go to the hospital so that they could remove it from his body with a surgical tool similar to a cheese slicer, and by this point he was CRYING which was when I tried to take the above picture but he swiped at itandall of these words was just to tell you, “This is why this picture is blurry.”
    • It was not poison ivy. Neighbor Kid Marky threw a handful of grass at Chooch and Chooch is remarkably allergic to cut grass.
    • This is seriously up there in my Top 5 Favorite Perks of Parenting: fucking with my kid.
  • It is a rare treat to find Henry’s phone attended, like a mermaid idling upon the couch cushion. This happened not once but TWICE in less than a week. The first time, ChoochwentontoHenry’sInstagram and made him follow theentireKardashian clanandthen I was like, “Oooh!Oooh! And Miley Cyrus!” andthen we were going to post a picture ofabutt on his behalf, but we couldn’t figure out to save photos on Henry’s lame non-iPhone and by that time, he figured out was going on and snatched it right off us. “DON’T BE ASSHOLES!” he growled and we just laughed. But then Monday night, it happened again! This time, I figured out how to save the butt picture and we hurriedly openedupInstagram and posted it with the caption “I love butts” but then dumbass Chooch couldn’t control himself andstartedlaugh-puking, which tipped off Henry and he stormed out of the kitchen and tried to grab it just I hit “post,” so then he grabbed MY phone and we hadaflat out wrestling match over each others’ phones while Chooch was gagging on his vomit by then. “YOU WAIT!” Henry tried to say in a threatening mob boss tone, which only made us laugh harder. Then he got his phone back and deleted the butt sprinkles. :(
    • BUT NOT BEFORE I SCREENSHOT IT! Bam, motherfucker. Nothing dies on the Internet!


  • There was a knock at the door Sunday afternoon. I figured it was just Marky because he comes over in 10 minute intervals the entire weekend, but when I turned around, I could see the silhouette of a tall person through the frosted glass of the front door. “IT’S AN ADULT!” I screamed, scrambling up the steps. I don’t know you guys, but I blame the Squalor Years, where utility workers were constantly banging on our door to shut off our service. Even though those days are way in the past, I still get all jumpy when I hear knocking! I made it to the bedroom, sliding across the floor on my hip like a Bad News Bear, when Henry called up, “It’s not adult. It’s just Blake.” So then it went from SUNDAY DISRUPTION to SUNDAY SURPRISE. A visit from Blake is always welcome! He was going to the Story So Far show later that night and wanted to borrow a shirt from Henry because his was dirty. (The life of a 22-year-old, sigh.) But then I was like, “Who would ever want to borrow a shirt from HENRY?” I mean, unless you’re going as Plain for Halloween. In the end, he chose a black Faygo shirt even though he was slightly worried about getting bullied. (He was joking but that would have been a legit concern for myself.)


  • Then Marky came over for real and everyone donned animal masks because it was Sunday and why not.
  • I went to see “Heaven Adores You” at the Hollywood Theater Monday after work. It’s a documentary about Elliott Smith, who has been one of my favorite singers since I was a teenager. When he died in 2003, I cried actual tears; it was like losing a friend. So,Iwaspreparedto be sitting & crying alone in a darkened theater that night, and as expected, I started crying as soon as it started. If you are/were a fan of his, I recommend this film. It was a gift to see these old interviews and clips of performances by him, as well as hearing friends and band mates tell their version of who Elliott Smith was. It brought back memories of being 18 and living in my first apartment, watching the Oscars with Psycho Mike on my tiny TV that sat on a wooden crate, just because I wanted to see Elliott perform “Miss Misery.” My friend/sort of roommate Heather bought me two of his albums that year for my birthday, and it’s one of those seemingly random things I’ll always associate with him even though Heather and I haven’t hung out since…1999 I think? Acknowledging the music I like is a sure way to my heart.
    • I live only a few blocks away from the theater, but it was storming so hard  that Henry dropped me off. It was actually perfect weather for that film.
    • I had to wait until the very last credit rolled up the screen before finally attempting to leave the theater because I couldn’t get my body to stop shuddering from all the crying I did. I am a fucking mess anymore.
    • It had stopped raining by the time I left the theater so I was able to walk home, probably looking like I had just had some awful domestic dispute.
    • I so badly wish he was still alive. </3
      • If you don’t know who he is, spoiler alert: he died on 10/21/03 of two stab wounds to the heart. The coroner never officially ruled it a suicide, and a lot of people think someone did it to him, but I guess no one will ever know. This film wasn’t about his death though, but his life. And I appreciated that his death wasn’t sensationalized.
    • Now I really want to watch Good Will Hunting forthe734097023748b2453th time.


  • Oh man, Henry had a Professional Truck Driving Boner yesterday when we came across this car-transporting truck that fatally* attempted to make a right turn when TRUCKS WERE NOT ALLOWED TO DO SO, and he ended up fucking up his truck and blocking an intersection. “OH HE CAN’T DO THAT. ANY DECENT TRUCK DRIVER KNOWS YOU CAN’T MAKE A TURN LIKE THAT. OH, HE FUCKED HIS TRUCK UP BAD!!!” And he had this smug look on his face like this is something that they teach on the first day of Truckers Academy, right after How to Wear a Trucker Cap Without Looking Like Kevin Federline 101.

  • I write bulletpoint posts because it fills the void that was left when texting replaced actual telephone conversations. Imagine, while you read this, that WE ARE ON THE PHONE TOGETHER, painting our toenails with our hair wrapped in a towel, gotta go the milk man’s here!


  • Speaking of painting nails, Chooch has been into painting his nails again, which he usedto be into when he was three. Here is a picture of him holding a grilled cheese at Eat n Park with chipped fingernail-polished hands. Nothing even remotely exciting happened here other than Chooch slamming his head off the door when we walked in and the manager frantically asking us if we were missing an order of pancakes, which we were not. A waitress was cleaning the table behind us and informed us that there were mystery pancakes in the kitchen and no one could figure out where they belonged. Then we got our check and Henry noticed that there was an order of blueberry pancakes on there, so the waitress must have accidentally hit the wrong button and WOW is this *a boring story! DON’T WORRY WE WEREN’T CHARGED FOR IT.
    • See? Chooch at the fair in 2009, with delicate, ebon nails:


  • Therapy:

Wow, this might be in the running for most boring bullet point post ever.

  5 Responses to “bullet(s) for my valenblog.”

  1. Baby Chooch is something I cannot handle. He was fucking ADORABLE. Those cheeks!

    My 4yo nephew really likes to paint his nails, too. They came over yesterday and he picked out polish from me – white, neon green, and blue. Correy was standing in the kitchen and he ran up to him with his hands out, “LOOK I PAINTED MY NAILS AND THEY ARE PURPLE!” So cute.

    • I love it when little boys have painted nails!

      I miss baby Chooch. Today, Henry let him walk to the library after school with two of his friends and I was like WTF ARE YOU NUTS?! ISN’T HE STILL JUST THREE YEARS OLD!?

  2. “Turns out, Glenn is really into “trees.”

    Well if he WAS, he would know that maple syrup comes from sugar maple trees. Jeez, Glenn.

    “IT’S AN ADULT!” I screamed, scrambling up the steps”

    My reaction exactly. The horror!!!!!!!

    “And he had this smug look on his face like this is something that they teach on the first day of Truckers Academy,”

    Yet he is not above trying to kill passengers by going in the trucks only lane at a rest stop in a PASSENGER VEHICLE.

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