Monday, February 12, 2007
Horrible, horrible, horrible
It’s been a good weekend, but it’s ending with a real heavy load of brainwork. I’ve been at the keyboard for hours now, catching up on correspondence and typing up interview notes and doing research and updating key documents and generally not having the kind of Sunday night party for which I should be famous.
Update: today we went to the Zoo where Zach enjoyed the following exotic activities:
* insisting on being carried
* picking up leaves
* putting leaves in garbage cans
* caressing garbage cans
* putting leaves in storm drains
* licking storm drains
* ignoring monkeys
* diligently exploring a short windowless concrete tunnel
* putting his hands in mud
* rolling around on the ground
* insisting on being carried
* putting his muddy hands on my face
* headbutting me
* the classic ding-dong
After about 90 minutes of this we took him the hell home and let him do the same damn stuff in the sanitized safety of his own freaking room. Nature’s majesty my ass.
On a lighter note, last night we visited the wonderful Sha and Helena, who hosted a delicious supper for us and another very sweet family. I ate lots of salad and steak-smeared-with-gorgonzola and super-terrific mushroom risotto (three servings, au jus), and then some fruit tart, and then we listened to ‘60s pop and thrash punk for an hour or so before toddling home. Who had fun? Two hints:
(Thanks Helena for the awesome shots) (and I don’t mean that huge snifter of cognac you handed me shortly before I drove home)
Any-the-hell-way, what I’ve got left is a small handful of some of the worst goddamn puns I’ve ever thought of. Really, they’re horrible. The particularly bad part is that I can’t get them out of my mind. Taking my cue from a classic story by S.L. Clemens, I have chosen to exorcise these avatars of awfulness by sharing them with you. If you read on, you really have only yourself to blame. However, if you want to say it’s Cheney’s fault I won’t stop you.
First, an easy one: I’m sort of a cross between Google and Gogol: I will answer any question you ask me, but in a depressing wordy way.
See, not funny. Not even amusing. However, imagine how much worse it would have been if you’d been repeating it to yourself for a week. My relief is palpable. (Palpations available by request with SASE.)
Now, a really bad one: Kel got Z an animal book at the liberry recently, featuring one Noah and his giant floating whatsis. It’s very well-illustrated and eyecatching though, so the theme has been floating (!) around my head lately. It finally occurred to me that when he got the notion to build a boat so all terrestrial creatures could survive unto the generations, he must have been the first Commissioner of Arks and Procreation.
Okay, that is really much worse, and is only even comprehensible (and certainly even then not funny) if you have a local commissioner of Parks and Recreation for context. But even that is a good’un compared to:
Movie idea: a judge makes a terrible mistake and pays a horrible price in tonight’s feature – TERROR CORAM NOBIS!
See, that only even vaguely makes sense if you’ve got a working knowledge of legal latin. So I’m counting on you to develop that capacity. I can’t be the only one on this damn blog who’s stuck understanding this joke. And with that, I’m going to go back to my stupid boring work. Have a delightful Lincoln Day. I’m going to log off.
oh god there goes another one. sorry. sorry. hee. sorry. really.