mrtl

ummmm.... yeah

While I'm hoping to foster a relationship with my daughters in which they feel comfortable discussing anything with us, it seems to affect me oppositely. The more comfortable Bug is, the more squirmy I am.

Take for instance several weeks ago, when she brought up the topic of boy bits. She remarked that boys' genitals don't look like girls' genitals. I agreed, boys have penises and girls have labia and vaginas. She went on to list all the people in her life who have penises and those who don't ("Daddy has a penis. David has a penis. Mr. Mike has a penis. Alex and Joey have a penis. Jem doesn't have a penis. Mommy, you don't have a penis either...") With my parents in town, I was waiting for the opportune moment when she would surely announce to my mother and father what they have. Fortunately it never occurred. The topic hasn't come up again, actually, until this morning on the way to school. When she said the following, I suddenly understood why our previous conversation had turned so readily to ice cream. (Whodathunk it a segue?)

From the backseat...

Bug: Mommy, Daddy has genitals that look kinda like an ice cream cone.
Momma: [Did I hear that right?]Huh? What did you say?
Bug: [enunciating] Daddy has genitals that look kinda like an ice cream cone.
Momma: You think so?
Bug: Yeah!
Momma: It's not an ice cream cone, though. It's his penis.
Bug: Yeah. [laughing] We don't eat penises.
Momma: [laughing -- finally allowed] No, we sure don't.
Bug: We eat ice cream, though.
Momma: mmmmm... Yeah.
Bug: Mommy, you don't have a penis.
Momma: No, I don't. I don't have any ice cream either. Bummer.
Bug: No. Hey! There's a bus!

For the record, mister mrtl does not hang around the house (har har) naked. Her classroom's bathroom has open stalls, and I'm sure she sees penises regularly there.

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Sidenote about the Oscars, which I'm watching this morning. Ken Watanabe? Totally mistook him for the Long Duc Dong dude from Sixteen Candles (i.e., "No more yanky my wanky! The Donger need food!"). I remember when the movie first came out, I thought, "Hey! Dude looks good these days. Lost the baby fat from his face. And such a serious movie. Good for him." I just looked him up. Gedde Watanabe was Long Duc Dong. eeep

I Love Ann Curry

And with a name like "Curry," why shouldn't I?

This morning, while reporting on anti-gay remarks made by Tim Hardaway (whoever the hell he is), Ann lost it. She could barely follow up the report with the new dollar coin through while choking back her guffaw.

I'll further give a nod to NBC for their choice of pictures to show next to Hardaway's quote. Mister mrtl has always insisted that IQ points are lost when the mouth hangs open, and Hardaway makes a good case for it. Fucking moron.

Let's hope Isaiah Washington calls Hardaway soon to recommend his "therapist."

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Yes, so many other things to blog about that I haven't found time for... I'll be back as soon as I get out of vacation mode and get more efficient with everything else there is to be done. Smooch!

The Thai Thai Mai Mai

Remind me, please, in a more sober moment, to tell you about the extremely strong drink that I had at dinner tonight -- which, by the way, was beyond yummy -- and how I embarrassed mister mrtl so badly that he had to exile -- yes, I got the booty! -- me from the restaurant.

::tangent to include mister mrtl's side, whatever::

::tangent for further clarification::
To gain access in my current state, mister mrtl agreed to the terms of reading my post first (so that I wouldn't "embarrass myself"). Whatever.
::end tangent for further clarification::

mister mrtl insists that he wasn't trying to get rid of me, but that he didn't want me to be all loud and obnoxious on the phone in the restaurant, so I should make my call outside.

::tangent to give a note to mister mrtl::
Quit fucking huffing and puffing next to me as I try to type this. I'm not used to your fucking keyboard, so it's not my fault that it's taking me FOR E VER to type this damned post.
::end tangent to give a note to mister mrtl::

::end tangent to include mister mrtl's side, whatever::

Chances are, however, that I will forget all the sordid details of said event, as drunk as I am.

Sad to say that I did some drunk dialing tonight. I called my mother. Pathetic.

That said, loving our time in Hawaii. Home -- will end this post now because He's reading over my shoulder and correcting everything I say. Yes, I'm an asshole. Love you. LOVE YOU! Oh, yeah, roll over. Booger. pshaw.

Getting Fruity

In two days mister mrtl and I will be leaving for a wondrous week in Hawaii, where he shall golf and I shall spend every waking moment possible in my $119-dollar bathing suit to make it worth the cost, drinking as many rummy, fruity drinks as possible.

The kids will be in cold Alaska with Mom Mom.

Feeling guilty? Not at all. Not yet at least. I'll be fully prepared to slap myself should the need arise.

I am not taking a computer to Hawaii. Aloha!