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December 30, 2006
Things of Note This Christmas
Despite a spate of depressing moments leading up to Christmas (cue the scene where I burst into tears THREE separate times while driving home from a holiday party), the last few days have actually been quite pleasant.
In some sort of Christmas miracle, Janie has abandoned her I-know-it-all-so-please-go-away-Aunt-Jen attitude and been a delight since last Saturday. She's been swept away with the joy of receiving a Barbie doll and dog. [Note: it's really the dog that gives her the giggles, since it eats food and the poops it out—who knew such a thing existed, let alone would entertain a 5-year old for hours upon hours?)] And we've all taken a solemn pinky promise to be on our best behavior—"even Grandad". If I knew it just took the wiggle of my smallest digit to wreak this transformation, I would have been wringing her pinky years ago.
The much maligned trip to Williamsburg has not been so terrible—although the drive itself was quite an adventure. First off, the directions estimated that the trip would take us, oh, approximately 2 hours and 57 minutes. Apparently, Google doesn't take into account post-Christmas traffic because we actually clocked the drive at 7 hours and 24 minutes. That's a LOT of family time to be stuck in a minivan packed to the gills, dear reader.
Then, it turns out that my mom accidentally googled the wrong directions and so instead of ending up on the military weapons base (where we had rented a nice little 3-bedroom cottage—insert your own ironic comment), we ended up in a McMansion subdivision with no idea where we'd gone wrong. A quick stop at the liquor store set us right, and even added to our wine stash—a strategic move that would pay dividends later.
So here I am sitting in the living room in the cabin (which is certainly as nice as our military base house in Japan) and trying to catch up with some Big Idea stuff. But rather than do that, dear reader, let's engage in some "live blogging".
[Live Blogging]
Jessica's boyfriend has decided he would like to be referred to as Eagle Six. He is refusing to append the traditional "Mr." prefix, claiming to "make his own rules". This, dear reader, will not stand. Instead, he shall now be called Mr. Gator.
Mr. Gator would now an explanation to be put into this entry about the origins of his name. But since I don't know the origin, and he's too busy complaining about the Jewel song currently being played on Jessica's new iPod, no explanation will be provided. Perhaps he will grace the blog with a comment—even though I am tempted to block his IP address because of his very negative attitude towards others readers of this blog. (I promise, you don't want to know what he thinks of you…the term "very lonely" was used…)
Jessica is now asking for any reference to Mr. Gator as her boyfriend to be removed post haste. I am sympathetic to her cause, but it's too late to go back now.
Mr. Gator is now rocking out (with full head-bob) to Angel of the Morning, which is playing loud enough on Jessica's iPod for me to clearly hear it across the room. His performance is so breath-taking that I shall now refer to him as Mr. Eagle Six a.k.a. Mr. Gator a.k.a. Mr. Angel of the Morning. Since it takes too long to type that out each time, we will simply refer to him from now on as Mr. Angel of the Morning (or possibly, as The Gator), but never just Eagle Six. Oh no.
[/Live Blogging]
OK, that was quite enough. I grow weary of Mr. Angel of the Morning, and besides that he's now on to an awkward rendition of Me and Bobby McGee. Let's now list a couple other pertinent "boy" facts that have occurred, just so you can stay up to date:
Once again, Mr. Pilot and I are on the fritz. After cancelling on me last Friday because of a "cold" I haven't heard from him. A text message and a phone call have gone unreturned, and I'm beginning to tire of the game. It's either on or it's off, and at this point I will be sad (but not heartbroken) if we don't end up married with three kids.
Mr. Bethesda and I are actually forming a friendship, which is perhaps the strangest and most unexpected thing to happen this December. He even stopped by on Christmas Eve to see me for a bit, and said hi to the whole family (which is more than my dates have done since Mr. Music back in the fall).
I've decided to stop the whole online dating thing. As Ms. Wish to See so insightfully points out, juggling multiple guys at once takes a lot of time—time that I should be devoting to figuring my life out (or at least billing for the Big Idea). So as of January 4th, dear reader, I'm on my own.
Update: Note to self, no more "blogging while drunk". No indeed. But in the interest of my reading public--I just KNOW there are more than 3 of you, dear readers, no matter what Mr. Angel of the Morning says--I will post the original entry in its shameful, verbose entirety.
Oh, and Mr. Pilot and I are back on. Maybe. He is the epitome of mixed signals. Just thought you should know.
Posted by madchen at 09:45 PM | Comments (2)December 22, 2006
Call Me Mook
I'm having one of those days where every minute is about 15 seconds away from a panic attack. Not because life is disastrous, but because I feel caught between the possibilities. Either could turn out to be great, but there's no reasonable way to choose between them.
The Pilot
I really like this guy--even though he just backed out of joining me at a holiday party tonight. (He's sick, so I'll give him a break.) On the one hand, I feel like I should just quit playing around and admit that he's the one I want, stop dating other people, and just see where it goes. On the other hand, I feel like I should smother these feelings (which may or may not be returned) and pursue my other opportunities--like Mr. Doctor, who took me on a completely delightful, non-weird date on Wednesday. Either way, I feel like I'm losing something important.
The Big Idea
I just signed over a big chunk of change to a Big Idea project--one that is completely new to me. It's full of promise, and I think it could help generate some amazing revenue, but it's scary to be in a 6-month pilot phase. On the one hand, I want to throw myself into the Big Idea with everything I have--even if it means recommitting myself to 80-hour work weeks (I've slacked off in December). On the other hand, looking ahead to what will be a very rough year, I sort of want to put it all on hold, cash in one of my mutual funds, and go travel the world. The especially scary thing is that I could EASILY do that, and having it be such an available option is more stress than it's worth.
The Living Situation
Living with my family has been a godsend, and has allowed me the flexibility to try out the Big Idea in a way that would have been impossible without that extra layer of financial security. But now, and especially since my parents are moving to a new place in the summer, it's time to make a choice. On the one hand, I certainly have enough money in the bank to rent a place, but not quite enough to put down a deposit. And it might give me the motivation I need to really throw myself into the Big Idea. On the other hand, living with my family for another year would give me the opportunity to put more money into the Big Idea--thus growing the product and service offerings--and would likely allow me to save enough money to buy a place more comfortably next year.
See? None of these options are particularly terrible, and yet I find myself unable to just make a decision. As a result, I'm much like poor Mook, who managed to escape her enclosure this morning, but couldn't find the courage to run. Instead, she ended up curling up for a nap under a bench--neither caged nor free. I'm scared that I'll make the wrong choice, and thus make only half-choices. And let me tell you, dear reader, half-choices suck.
Posted by madchen at 12:05 PM | Comments (2)December 21, 2006
The Upside of Alone
Alone does not mean lonely--and these days I'm actually enjoying my solo time.
Take today for example: I'm sitting in the sunroom in my polar fleece robe (it's 2 p.m.) watching reruns of Law and Order. I'm simultaneously working on the Big Idea (stupid memo) and occasionally petting the small cat perched on my legs. The only words I've spoken out loud are the expletives uttered when I stubbed my toe, and explanations to the wrong number that called. Twice. Other than that, I've been delightfully solitary.
All of this will come to a swift conclusion in an hour though, when I will meet a Big Idea colleague, get a pedicure, and then have dinner with Ms. Secret Blog. These diversions will not be unwelcome, but I have a sneaking suspicion that tonight I will crawl into my bed happy as a clam at the together-alone balance.
Posted by madchen at 02:17 PM | Comments (2)December 19, 2006
New Comment Policy
Dear reader, I do adore your comments-- I really do. I check periodically throughout the day to see who has left a thoughtful or sarcastic note, and I smile gently to myself to know that there are readers who actually follow the story arcs.
But that's all got to change.
No not, really, I'm just stepping up the security on the comment section of Write Again Soon. I'm to the point now where I get at least 200-300 junk comments each day that I have to sift through. So I'll be playing with the comment section, experimenting with security levels. We'll see what happens, but I strongly suspect that it will mean that I have to "approve" your comments before they go live.
We'll see which of you makes the cut!
Posted by madchen at 10:37 AM | Comments (1)December 18, 2006
Recovery
Let me catch you up, dear reader. Last week I was feeling grouchy. Now I'm not. To recap:
December 14: Maybe it's the fact that Mr. Pilot hasn't called me.
He called, he called, hallelujah, he called. Turns out he was just having a last hurrah with his far-away friends and wasn't blowing me off at all. We got together today, and made plans to get together later in the week. [Ms. Wish to See, is it okay if I bring him to the holiday party on Friday?]
December 14: Maybe it's the fact that I'm just not feeling the holiday spirit.
After my date with Mr. Pilot, I stopped by the mall and indulged in the hectic bustle of the oh-my-god-there-are-only-seven-days-left-until-Christmas scene. Although I actually ended up walking out with only one present (and several gifts for myself), I am now feeling a little more holiday-ish. And I wore a red sweater, which helped.
December 14: Maybe it's the fact that I'm hormonal.
Well, not much has changed on this front. I'm not on the verge of bursting into tears (or rage) at any given moment, but that's probably attributable to other factors.
December 14: Maybe it's the fact that I'm feeling a little bit burned out with the Big Idea.
One of the experimental Big Idea projects for 2007 has gotten excellent results after only a week of tentative beta-testing. I'm feeling really excited about it, which makes the humdrum day-to-day a little more tolerable. Plus, tomorrow I have set aside the entire day to work on the not-fun stuff, and once I can get into a groove things tend to go faster.
December 14: Maybe it's the fact that I haven't been to the gym in a month.
After my date, the mall, and a very nice slice of cheesecake I dragged my sorry self to the gym. When I walked through the door I felt like a scene from a movie, where I was instantly transferred to a sunny meadow, and the ellipitcal machines and I ran into each other's arms in slow motion, while butterflies flitted about in the background. It was magical, let me assure you.
Other things that have dispelled the grump:
-- A delightful trip down to Blacksburg, home of my alma mater and current residence of my friend Ms. Used to Blog. The drive down there gave me some time to think about life, the lazy hours in town gave me time to enjoy the simple pleasures of a small town, and the drive back gave me time to get excited about the coming weeks.
-- Pretty clothes. After the very unfortunate moth-eats-four-sweaters incident of October, I've been a little lacking in the nice winter clothes department. But after having an adorable cashmere jacket made in Shanghai, a shopping spree in Ann Taylor, and a supplemental trip to Eileen Fisher, all is once again right with Ms. Write Again Soon's fashion world.
-- High definition television. I've recently come to the conclusion that I actually enjoy watching sports. In fact, right now I am cheering on my secret NBA husband Dirk Nowitzki as he leads Dallas to a win over Sacramento. With the courtside tickets running a bit steep ($895 per ticket), the big screen in the sunroom is the next best thing.
December 14, 2006
Despondant
I'm feeling grouchy.
Maybe it's the fact that Mr. Pilot hasn't called me, and since I used up my precious "follow-up phone call" on Monday I have just to concede that the ball is in his court and, probably, he's just not that into me. Maybe he's got the flu (my mom's suggestion), maybe he's just really busy (Ms. ADA's suggestion), or maybe he dropped his cell phone in the toilet (Ms. Pleasant Morning's suggestion)--but probably, however sad it may be, he's just not that into me. Excuse me while I resign myself to dying alone.
Maybe it's the fact that I'm just not feeling the holiday spirit. I did most of my gift shopping early in the year, and just can't seem to muster the enthusiasm to fight the mall crowd for those last few very, very important gifts. I haven't sent Christmas cards, which makes me feel guilty when I receive delightful notes from Ms. Wish to See, Ms. Maryment, and others. My biggest holiday experiment has been to download the Sufjan Stevens Christmas album. It's quite catchy, but doesn't entirely counter the balmy weather outside my window.
Maybe it's the fact that I'm hormonal, having recently started a new regime of birth control pills (let's all pause to give the male readers a chance to roll their eyes) and it's wreaking havoc on my mood. And since I keep forgetting to take them at night, I end up imbibing a dose of estrogen (or whatever) first thing in the morning--thus simulating morning sickness. It's not quite my cuppa tea, if you know what I mean.
Maybe it's the fact that I'm feeling a little bit burned out with the Big Idea. "Burned out" probably isn't the right term, since I'm super excited about things that are coming up, but at the same time I grow weary of the one project that is providing the vast majority of the income this quarter. It's a relationship that I can't afford to go sour, and so I'm dutifully putting in the time and effort, but it's just not satisfying.
Maybe it's the fact that I haven't been to the gym in a month. A full 30-day cycle without the joys of watching that guy (he knows who he is) on the treadmill in front of me, a full four weeks without those happy endorphins that come only after 45 minutes on the elliptical machine, a full invoice cycle without exercise to balance out the chocolate. No good can come of this.
Maybe it's just end-of-the-year blues. But I want it to go away. Now.
Posted by madchen at 10:11 PM | Comments (2)December 12, 2006
Drrty Grrl
As Mr. Paramilitary High School points out, it has been nearly a week since my last briefing on The Boy Situation (TBS). So while I sit here and listen to an excruciatingly long conference call for the Big Idea, let me recap:
Mr. Pilot
Mr. Pilot met my friends at a happy hour on Thursday. While they all fled for their suburban homes within 30 minutes of him arriving (with the exception of Mr. Bad Apologies, who engaged us in an entertaining sex toys conversation for a good twenty minutes), I think they didn't hate him (or vice versa). All in all, he was pretty quiet and--to my disappointment--did not engage Ms. Maryment in a game of brinksmanship over celebrity gossip knowledge. Next time perhaps.
Anyway, we left together and said goodbye at the subway--him traveling back to NoVa and me driving back to MoCo. He was leaving early the next morning for an overnight golf trip with his guy friends, and was then leaving on Sunday for another trip.
So long story short, I haven't heard from him since Thursday, and I can't tell if he's blowing me off or has just been busy. Last week he called me on Monday night, and so I was half-expecting a call last night--but no luck. I'm not really letting myself think about it too much (not true, WHY DOESN'T HE LOVE ME??), and am keeping busy with other young men.
Mr. Friends With Benefits
First off, let me say that Mr. FWB should really be called Mr. FB, since we have long since given up the farce of being friends and have neatly segued into something more practical (and I'll let you figure out the acronym yourself, dear reader). But I'm not complaining, since he has actively pursued a very *interesting* arrangement that makes a threesome look like the missionary position. Unfortunately, the adventure scheduled for Saturday was cancelled at the last minute due to a work conflict. If Mr. Pilot and I don't elope to Vegas, we're planning to reschedule for sometime in January--at which time I will decide how detailed to get in my recollections.
Mr. Doctor
I just can't figure him out. After playing phone tag for the last week, we finally talked last night. It was a great conversation, and we made plans to meet next week after our respective trips have concluded. I was thinking, "hmm, maybe" when he concluded with...
And I guess I owe you a big, wet kiss.
WTF? I have no response to that, other than to immediately want to go brush my teeth--and not in a good, anticipatory sort of way.
Mr. Bethesda
In preparation for my adventure with Mr. FWB, I called in a favor from Mr. Bethesda this weekend, who very generously (and gently) introduced me to a new thing. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that it basically met my expectations. Namely, it is tolerable, but NOT HOT AT ALL, despite what porn movies would have you believe.
The most noteworthy part of the whole evening was when I got up to leave. As I was pulling on my clothes, he reached over and said, "why don't you sleep here for a bit?" When I replied that sleeping over was the *one* thing that consistently made me an overly emotional, relationship-wanting girl, he said, "so what's wrong with that?"
That ship has sailed, dear readers, and I told him so.
Posted by madchen at 07:17 PM | Comments (1)December 10, 2006
Ode to My Sister
The family was sitting around on this lazy Sunday afternoon, reading the newspaper, playing on the Internet, and generally avoiding anything too productive. There was talk of going for a walk, or perhaps even doing some Christmas shopping, but in the end the thought of taking a shower was just too overwhelming.
I casually asked Jessica what I should write about, and she responded that any of the following were appropriate topics for Write Again Soon:
-- Why my sister is my hero.
-- Why I'd like to be more like my sister.
-- Why my sister inspires me.
But what I'd really like to talk about is the conversation that followed, when Jessica shifted around on the couch and said:
"Sometimes I feel like a walrus beached on the sand."
Yeah.
"Especially when I have to flop around to even sit up."
Yes, dear reader, this is a woman who inspires me on a daily basis.
Posted by madchen at 08:19 PM | Comments (2)December 08, 2006
Things About Nature I Didn't Need to Know
I am working on the Big Idea from home this afternoon. Since I'm doing some rather routine research, I have the television on in the background. It's a National Geographic show called Whales: The Dark Side and purports to be:
As decisively as wolves stalk the land, killer whales roam the seas. Highly intelligent animals with strong family ties, ingenious hunting methods, and sophisticated communication skills, killer whales are one of the oceans' top predators. Whales: The Dark Side visits the ocean realm of the magnificent killer whale--among the most feared, and until recently, one of the least understood marine mammals.
It really should be called Whale Porn: The Dark Side. I was innocently typing away when I looked up to see an entire pod of young male killer whales--all highly aroused--rolling all over each other in some unexplainable social play. I almost screamed aloud when a particularly aroused killer whale rolled over and showed the camera his, ahem, bulging manhood. It was APPALLING. Poor girl killer whales was all I could think.
It also made me rethink a King of the Hill episode where Hank is molested by an amorous dolphin. While the show was amusing, if dolphin erections are anything like a killer whales', then I can't understand why poor Hank isn't emotionally (and physically) scarred in subseuent episodes (and subsequent seasons, for that matter).
Posted by madchen at 04:13 PM | Comments (0)December 06, 2006
What to Do?
The "boy cycle" is in full swing.
1. After a delightful break-up with Mr. Bethesda immediately after Thanksgiving, we've still managed to retain a lovely friendship and will be getting together this weekend for as-yet-undetermined amusements. (Not necessarily of the "inappropriate" variety, but it's nice to know it's a possibility.)
2. Shortly after that I had a bizarre date with Mr. Doctor, in which he somehow concluded that I salivate at the mere thought of a foot massage and therefore suggests it at every opportunity. (In one sense I'm totally repulsed, but still a little curious.)
3. I also had a great date with Mr. Pilot (and he FINALLY made a move) and then we had a 2-hour phone conversation last night that leads me to believe things might get serious. (I feel giddy at the thought of this guy, which is so bizarre and wonderful and terrifying and fantastic I might have to go throw up...)
4. Yesterday I went on a date with Mr. Music, which reinforced that he isn't the guy for me even though I still suspect he thinks he is. We had a nice time, but there weren't any sparks. (Thank goodness, since I can barely keep up as it is.)
5. As if all that weren't enough to keep me occupied, I received a call tonight from Mr. FWB, who would like to set up a ménage à trois arrangement (or two) for the next week. (Not that I'm (seriously) considering it, but still, it's nice to know it's a possibility.)
What have I done to deserve such a streak of good luck? Clearly I'm giving off some signal. Perhaps a blinking neon "loose woman here" sign above my head.
Posted by madchen at 12:10 AM | Comments (2)December 04, 2006
Books I Read in November
New Total: 106
The Glass Castle
by Jeannette Walls
Publishers Weekly: Freelance writer Walls doesn't pull her punches. She opens her memoir by describing looking out the window of her taxi, wondering if she's "overdressed for the evening" and spotting her mother on the sidewalk, "rooting through a Dumpster." Walls's parents—just two of the unforgettable characters in this excellent, unusual book—were a matched pair of eccentrics, and raising four children didn't conventionalize either of them. Her father was a self-taught man, a would-be inventor who could stay longer at a poker table than at most jobs and had "a little bit of a drinking situation," as her mother put it. With a fantastic storytelling knack, Walls describes her artist mom's great gift for rationalizing. Apartment walls so thin they heard all their neighbors? What a bonus—they'd "pick up a little Spanish without even studying." Why feed their pets? They'd be helping them "by not allowing them to become dependent." While Walls's father's version of Christmas presents—walking each child into the Arizona desert at night and letting each one claim a star—was delightful, he wasn't so dear when he stole the kids' hard-earned savings to go on a bender. The Walls children learned to support themselves, eating out of trashcans at school or painting their skin so the holes in their pants didn't show. Buck-toothed Jeannette even tried making her own braces when she heard what orthodontia cost. One by one, each child escaped to New York City. Still, it wasn't long before their parents appeared on their doorsteps. "Why not?" Mom said. "Being homeless is an adventure."
My Review: I loved this book, which was our Novemb.er book club selection. It was heartbreaking and funny, and above-all thought-provoking. I'm still wondering at the question, "were their parents abusive"? A quick read that wasn't "easy".
----------
My Horizontal Life
by Chelsea Handler
Publishers Weekly: Opening with a cute story from when she was seven and photographed her parents having sex, stand-up comedian Handler goes on to discuss the virtues of the one-night stand, which amount to having sex early enough so you're not months into a relationship before you discover he's into "anal beads and duct tape." She discusses her quest for sex with a "black man," which doesn't work out because the date she finds on ChocolateSingles.com has a penis so large, she "would have had to be the size of the Lincoln Tunnel to accommodate that thing." After him, there's a "little midget," but she sobers up before sleeping with him. Next come a number of would-be partners with penises too small to consider. Finally, there's a guy Handler does sleep with, only an embarrassing incident involving a "giant skid mark" prevents her from seeing him again. By the end, Handler considers settling down with one man, which might actually net her more sex than these mostly unconsummated one-night stands. Anyone who laughs at the mere mention of vaginas and penises may find Handler's book almost as much fun as getting drunk and waking up in some stranger's bed.
My Review: This was a fun break after reading about Jews hiding from the Nazis in Berlin during WWII (see below). I was surprised to get through the book and discover that she doesn't *actually* have sex with half of the guys in the book, making me think that *I* could write a similar book with equal success. Certainly there's room in publishing for a detailed account of my Shanghai breast massage?
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The Nazi Officer's Wife
by by Edith H. Beer
Publishers Weekly: Born to a middle-class, nonobservant Jewish family, Beer was a popular teenager and successful law student when the Nazis moved into Austria. In a well-written narrative that reads like a novel, she relates the escalating fear and humiliating indignities she and others endured, as well as the anti-Semitism of friends and neighbors. Using all their resources, her family bribed officials for exit visas for her two sisters, but Edith and her mother remained, due to lack of money and Edith's desire to be near her half-Jewish boyfriend, Pepi. Eventually, Edith was deported to work in a labor camp in Germany. Anxious about her mother, she obtained permission to return to Vienna, only to learn that her mother was gone. In despair, Edith tore off her yellow star and went underground. Pepi, himself a fugitive, distanced himself from her. A Christian friend gave Edith her own identity papers, and Edith fled to Munich, where she met and--despite her confession to him that she was Jewish--married Werner Vetter, a Nazi party member. Submerging her Jewish identity at home and at work, Edith lived in constant fear, even refusing anesthetic in labor to avoid inadvertently revealing the truth about her past. She successfully maintained the facade of a loyal German hausfrau until the war ended. Her story is important both as a personal testament and as an inspiring example of perseverance in the face of terrible adversity.
My Review: This was an important book from a historical perspective, but it lacked the narrative tension that would have made it exciting to listen to on audiobook. Even though the Nazis were breathing down her neck, there is little hold-your-breath suspense. Also of note: the audiobook was read by the same woman who does my much-beloved Amelia Peabody mysteries, which was a bit jarring when occasionally I would think that we were supposed to be in 1910s Egypt on a dig.
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The Art of the Novel
by Milan Kundera
Book Description: Kundera brilliantly examines the work of such important and diverse figures as Rabelais, Cervantes, Sterne, Diderot, Flaubert, Tolstoy, and Musil. He is especially penetrating on Hermann Broch, and his exploration of the world of Kafka's novels vividly reveals the comic terror of Kafka's bureaucratized universe. Kundera's discussion of his own work includes his views on the role of historical events in fiction, the meaning of action, and the creation of character in the post-psychological novel.
My Review: Blah...made me realize that--despite reading 100+books in the last two years--that I'm really not well read at all. Clearly I need to go back and spend some serious time with the classics.
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The Denial of Death
by Ernest Becker
Book Description: Winner of the Pulitzer prize in 1974 and the culmination of a life's work, The Denial of Death is Ernest Becker's brilliant and impassioned answer to the "why" of human existence. In bold contrast to the predominant Freudian school of thought, Becker tackles the problem of the vital lie -- man's refusal to acknowledge his own mortality. In doing so, he sheds new light on the nature of humanity and issues a call to life and its living that still resonates more than twenty years after its writing.
My Review: So grand, so sweeping, my head hurts. (And to be completely honest, I'm only half-way through, since I can only take it a couple of pages at a time...)
Posted by madchen at 02:05 PM | Comments (0)December 03, 2006
Upon Losing Her First Tooth
Janie, are you going to put your tooth under your pillow tonight?
"Yes I am, and the Tooth Fairy is going to bring me money."
Wow! How much money do you think? Maybe a quarter?
"Or a dollar."
Hmm, are you going to buy me something with your new money?
"Yes, I will. What do you want?"
Maybe some gum?
"Ok then, I'll buy you and my mom presents when I get the money."
I'm not sure that a dollar is going to buy a present for me and a present for your mom.
"Well, I'll buy you some gum and my mom can have...some rocks."
**********
Bonus "Conversation with Janie" - as told to me by her mom.
[Setting: driving in the car]
Janie: I am SO hungry.
[Silence]
Janie: My stomach is GROWLING.
[farts]
Janie: Oh man--now my butt is growling!
Posted by madchen at 07:04 PM | Comments (2)
