I’m going to have to take some video footage of Evelyn whilst we sing the itsy-bitsy spider song. She loves the song and demands we do it over and over. The funny thing is that after dinner Jessica tried to switch to another song and that got Evelyn all frustrated because it was not the itsy-bitsy spider. She sort of understands and mimics the hand motions, but the smile is unmistakable.
All-in-One
I got a new printer last night. The reason that I might need a printer is that data trapped inside of a computer is often useless unless you can gather a large amount of people around your computer, get them their own computers with the same data, or transfer it to them over the Matrix. Since I can’t afford a connection to the Matrix I took the cheap way out.
My old printer wasn’t old, it was barely over one year old when it stopped working. I don’t believe it was an equal rights thing, it just quit working because the fine employees at HP computers worked their backsides off and still didn’t produce the printer that would have worked its backside off. I have to now find a place that will allow me to recycle the printer so that folks can disassemble it and turn it into lawn clippings or some such nonsense.
The new printer has fax capabilities built in. I feel so 1988.
Lines
When I’m walking on the sidewalk I have to take a consistent number of steps per ‘chunk’ of sidewalk. The average sidewalk rectangle takes about two steps to traverse. I know this because I’m more than likely counting the steps.
I also like to visually follow lines in the sidewalk to their destination. If they were lasers they might cut through that house or tree or fence and then they would keep going.
I blame my parents for these problems 😉 My dad and mom cultivated a healthy imagination in my young mind which has served me well for various things, but it also means that at times my imagination doesn’t shut off or that, worse, when my imagination takes hold of something morbid, something wicked, or something strange, it keeps going. My co-contractor and friend Matt once told me to stop when I was riffing on something with a waiter because everyone else had run the concept through their minds and were done and mine was still going. I think the waiter was glad Matt asked me to stop.
You’ll notice on other blog posts that I like to write about things that escalate or lists that have three things in them. I write like this because its part of my brain’s imaginary trajectory of things. If it has three things its thorough enough for my laziness, if it has more than that it is my brain letting loose. The mouse trap story from a few days ago is a perfect example. I had to take the mouse in the garbage can to a large universal perspective because my brain didn’t let go.
I have problems, but they’re ones that I’ve lived with for so long that I don’t think about them. My imagination tells me that my father-in-law will read this and say, “Ah, it all makes sense now.” My mom will read this and think, “Randy, I’m sorry for somehow making you weird. Its mostly your father’s fault.” My dad will read this and he’ll think about all of the weird things he did as a kid and how he continues to do them, too. I’m most certain that all of this is not related to weird Freudian sexual tension but more than likely related to the fact that I’m probably just an anomally in the Matrix.
The Best Time of Day
The absolutely best time of day for me (or night for that matter) is 12:34:56. Yup, I’m weird like that. When I notice that the clock is showing 12:34 I have to stop and enjoy the moment. Its like this simple pattern that makes my whole day better. I also have other problems, but I’ll probably post them into a different entry.
Call the RIAA!
This is a weird sarcastic poem that probably will scare more people than amuse 🙂
Today the car next to mine
was cranking his music up to nine
I could hear the lyrics just fine
I hadn’t purchased or paid a dime
Call the R-I-A-A
there must be some fine to pay
The lines are clear, there is no grey
Call the stinking R-I-A-A
He took off when the light turned green
I turned after him to stop his scheme
I had been intending to go straight
But I had to stop this violate
I swerved and shouted at this cheater
Until the cop stopped me like a speeder
He didn’t understand the trouble
With the music outside the bubble
As if the sound wasn’t copyrighted
He arrested me and I was cited
“Call the R-I-A-A,” I rioted
Screaming loudly, angry, violent
I had the right to remain silent
Watch It Faster!
Tonight we were starting up the fine cenimatic film Mr. & Mrs Smith. Jessica told her mom, “Watch the movie!”
And because I’m a goofball I said, “Yes, watch it faster!”
After Dinner Death
The sweet and sour dish wasn’t sour enough so here is the resulting exchange:
“See, that’s why I don’t follow recipes.”
“I thought it was because you couldn’t read”
[Insert God striking me with lightning for disrespecting my elders]
Goofy Story Telling
I saw this video on Merlin Mann’s Tumblr blog: Charlie Callas Video[hosted YouTube, contains one potty word at the end]. This appears to be a Jerry Lewis special of some sort. Jessica hated it. My mother-in-law and I cracked up! Is this sort of weird story telling just tickles my funny bone, how about you?
This is for My Mom
This is a post that is not about mice. It is not about dead mice either. And it is most certainly not about mice being killed by snakes in her house while I was in school because my brother had a snake that ate mice.
Nope. This is about other things like me scraping my body all over gravel roads when I was younger and her having to clean up the wounds. She did that so well. She also helped track down several snakes my brother had when they would get out of their terrariums. She was a good mom who was much more patient with us at times when I probably would have lost it with my girls.
Nope, this post isn’t about mice except for the comparison where my mom was strong like Mighty Mouse**.
Saw IV: The Mouseman Cometh
Last night a mouse died… under my table saw. My mother-in-law went into the garage to have a smoke and found the mouse dead there. Yuck. Slightly weird. Death in the garage.
It was actually nice because the mouse had escaped a trap I’d set for it. We saw the snapped trap and a trail of mouse juice leaving AWAY from the trap in another direction that was not towards the saw. But the saw’s powers were just too great, the mouse had to come out and meet its final destiny under the Ryob.
The worst part was that I had to dispose of the mouse. I don’t like dead animals for various reasons, but one of them is germs. I put on work gloves, grabbed a wide open piece of newspaper (for some reason we get a paper even though no one reads it for anything but coupons and comics) and carefully picked up the body. I had to squeeze the paper until I felt the little body inside of it – which was also not an ok mental experience. The mouse went into a whole foods paper bag (for some reason I always get paper when I go to Whole Foods – I think I feel like I fit in better when I do), inside of the garbage can,inside of my house, inside the city of Aurora, inside Arapahoe county, inside Colorado, inside the United State, inside North America, inside of the earth… and the tiny germs on the dead mouse stayed off of me. But just in case I washed my arms up to my shoulders. Yes, even the hand that didn’t touch the dead mouse newspaper through a leather work glove.