I Speak With the Tongue of a Thousand White-Hot Lies!

Reading my FL is like watching the Weather Channel, but without Jim Cantore. :)

To add to the giant pile o' weather posts, I currently have wind, blue skies, and temps in the 60s. Before you get too jealous (or not, as I know doggiesushi, at least, is like a malamute and gets all frisky in cold weather), let me add that my day has also included a tired and moody toddler. His weather report would read "Tantrums and meltdowns for the majority of the day, with occasional patches of decent behavior, followed by a severe freakout just before naptime. DO NOT VENTURE INTO THE BEDROOM DURING NAPTIME! This is the eye of the storm and conditions may deteriorate without warning!"

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On the other hand, I just bundled our phone, internet, and TV. I also upgraded our TV so that we'll have a DVR and BBC America! Plus a bunch of new kids' channels, one of which I think is all the preschool Nickelodeon shows without commercials. I hope it is. The Zweeb is pretty fond of Max and Ruby*, but I hate the commercials.

So now we just wait for Scott to authorize it and the Dish dudes to install it, and I can tape stuff again! Yay!


*Speaking of Max and Ruby, I know I am not alone when I wonder where the heck their parents are--seriously, they live in a house and you never see their parents. You see their Grandmother, who lives in another house, and you see other adults, but never Max and Ruby's parents. I thought it was a little weird when they decorated the Christmas tree without parents, but yesterday it got just ridiculous because Ruby was putting Max to bed for the night--with no parents! So now I'm constructing elaborate backstories in my head about how Mom and Dad died--they're rabbits, so maybe it was hunting season--and the kids are keeping it a secret to stay out of foster care. On my more cynical days, when Ruby is being seriously bossy, I imagine she killed them and the whole show is actually a re-make of that Twilight Zone episode where the little boy sends people he doesn't like to the cornfield, only Ruby turns them into her dolls ... I know, I'm going to hell. Or the cornfield!

So during the half hour or so before bedtime, the Zweeble, Scott and I watch TV. We usually watch something more aimed at grown-ups, but relatively kid-proof (no Law and Order SVU, for example). Usually it's the Daily Show. Now, this means we're watching Comedy Central, which has lent itself to hilarity in the past.

Well.

There is a business called Adam and Eve, which sells adult-oriented paraphanalia. It runs ads on Comedy Central. They're actually pretty tame, just the name and various articles of clothing tossed through the air. Some giggles, restrained whoops, and a sexy-voice voiceover. No actual people anywhere in the ad.

Tonight we were watching Scrubs. The Adam and Eve ad appears.

Zweeble: Mommy, why dey takin dere clothes off?

(Daddy giggles. Mommy considers answers.)

Mommy: Well, it's the end of the day, they want to be comfortable.

At this point, the Zweeble starts naming clothes as they cross the screen.

Zweeble: Belt, shoooes, shiiiirt, bra!

(Mommy and Daddy are cracked up.)

Later, on Scrubs, one character says, cheerfully, to another, "Burn in hell!"

Zweeble looks at Mommy, smiling. "Burn in hell, Mommy!"

Scott cracks up. Zweeble looks at Daddy, bounces on the couch, and chirps, "Burn in hell, Daddy, burn in hell!"

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Why there aren't snakes in Ireland, via greygirlbeast's journal.

I do get a bit of a kick out of imagining some guy (who looks like Friar Tuck in my head) with a staff, standing on an Irish cliff, urging the snakes to slither over the edge like legless lemmings. I figure he had his arms upraised, then got tired, then had to lean on the staff ...

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Okay, so the Zweeble's begun ye olde bedtime delaying tradition. Last night, after a few attempts at guilting us into getting him out of bed, he started plaintively saying, "I'm stuck!"

Well, you have to go check that, right? So we go in, and he's standing in the crib with his head on the rail.

"Where are you stuck?" I ask.

"Stuck in the crib," he says.

This is what's running through my head ... I start with "The Bare [bear?] Necessities" and end with "Walk on the Wild Side":

... when you look under the rocks and plants,
Valium would have helped that dash,
she said, hey Joe,
the bare necessities of life will come to you.