30: Byevember.


Today started out really nice, and then kinda got bent outta shape.  By the time dinner rolled around, I was a basket case.  I’m good now.  Laundry folded, kids long-since asleep, icecream has been nommed.  We watched Pineapple Express and I either wasn’t stoned, or wasn’t 18 enough to enjoy it.  Seriously, what was the point?  It was your standard “Two Hapless Dudes try to Run Away from the Seriously Bad Guys,” movie, but with way more shooting, stomping, and death.  Think Half-Baked meets Lethal Weapon III.

Okay, don’t think that.  It wasn’t as good as either of those movies.

So today started well, and ended well, but In the middle, between breakfast and dinner was some stuff that wasn’t a whole bunch of fun.  Ripley was manic today.  He was having fun, but in that challenging “I don’t know when to quit” kinda way.  The kind that makes me crazy.  Makes me think of me.  Must be hard to deal with me when I don’t know when to shut up.  Sorry, world.

Tate?  Tate was a butt-head today.  Exhausted, I think.  Still getting over that egregious flu we all had a few weeks back, I guess.  I think he’s also going through a growth spurt, so everything just kinda hurts.  Even sleeping, I bet.  He’s also figuring out the power of getting your back up and saying “No,” really sternly.  I mean, it’s not that it works for him, but he’s understanding that sometimes you try to put up a fight even if you think you’re gonna lose.  It’s not the toy-putting-away that’s the point, it’s that you raged against the dying of the light, and didn’t want to go to bed, even if it was 7:30 and you were having crying jags about the xmas stuffy you found in a box that had just come outta storage.  When you’re three, you try anyway.  Something I’ve said to Ripley on hard days comes back to me today: Tomorrow will be another day.  Tate is usually pretty quick to forget such difficulties.

We’re watching Harry Potter and the How Many of Us Are Married Yet, and Alan Rickman DOMINATES.  Everything else is segue.

I’m shaving my moustache off tomorrow, unless I suddenly land a gig in Roadeez! the SpeedMetal Musical.

Last day of Sportball with Tate (let’s hope he keeps his shit together this time, and that I do, too).

Oh, and since Digsby seems to have forgotten what Free means, I’m most-likely going back to Pidgin as my instant messenger of choice, expecially now that it has added the Facebook chat plugin.  With that, I really don’t need Digsby any more.  Too bad, though, ’cause I enjoyed that application while it lasted.  I understand that they need to keep the lights on somehow, but did you need to go SO far off the deep end in your first excursion into adware?

Posted on December 1st 2008 in General, Grumpy Old Man
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