First of all, did you all know that I am a local celebrity?
WELL I AM.
If Lindsay Ferrier says it’s true, then not only is it true, it is probably in the Bible. Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Amanda, local celebrity.
Never mind that I was brazenly mugging for the paparazzi (the paparazzi in this case being myself.) Local fame. It is mine.
Patrick just walked into the kitchen. He has no idea who I am.
So, yesterday? One of my favorite bloggers and commenters on this blog, Gleemonex, submitted a comment that I found so snort inducing;
WELL I AM.
If Lindsay Ferrier says it’s true, then not only is it true, it is probably in the Bible. Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Amanda, local celebrity.
Never mind that I was brazenly mugging for the paparazzi (the paparazzi in this case being myself.) Local fame. It is mine.
Patrick just walked into the kitchen. He has no idea who I am.
So, yesterday? One of my favorite bloggers and commenters on this blog, Gleemonex, submitted a comment that I found so snort inducing;
Now, I know there are concerned citizens who would slap me upside the head for posting such a thing OUT THERE ON THE INTERNET FOR FUTURE EMPLOYERS TO SEE, but there is no need for these citizens to frantically text me warnings with their new texting gloves (Which are totally awesome. Must get.) I said I was KIDDING. And I said I was atWORK. If anything, my current employer should be relieved.
I was actually having lunch. At work. Which makes me even more of an awesome suck-up employee, no? It was just me and my ridiculous Facebook status and my Progresso Lite Chicken and Wild Rice Soup (just 60 calories per serving, yet surprisingly hearty.)
Anyway, Ashley, my editor at Her Nashville, read my status and liked it so much she went to visit the comment that inspired it and noticed I had left out the part about Liza Minelli hurling herself through a plate glass window.
There’s a reason for that, Ashley.
I was having a premonition.
I was having a premonition that at the end of a crazy snow day (which did result in snow, but nearly prompted Larry and Gus to file for divorce), there would be real-life plate glass drama from which to draw creative inspiration.
I was actually having lunch. At work. Which makes me even more of an awesome suck-up employee, no? It was just me and my ridiculous Facebook status and my Progresso Lite Chicken and Wild Rice Soup (just 60 calories per serving, yet surprisingly hearty.)
Anyway, Ashley, my editor at Her Nashville, read my status and liked it so much she went to visit the comment that inspired it and noticed I had left out the part about Liza Minelli hurling herself through a plate glass window.
There’s a reason for that, Ashley.
I was having a premonition.
I was having a premonition that at the end of a crazy snow day (which did result in snow, but nearly prompted Larry and Gus to file for divorce), there would be real-life plate glass drama from which to draw creative inspiration.
Credit: Gus's HEAD.
Thanks, Gus! And on the coldest night of the year, too, you special, special boy.
He’d been sprinting down the hall to see how many leather cushions he could jump over without touching them, and I just knew. I just knew it was not going to end well. And I said, “Gus, do not do that near the front door. You are going to put your--
(CUE: SOUND OF BROKEN GLASS)
He is fine, of course. He sustained a few small cuts to his forehead and that’s about it. But man did he freak out when he saw me freaking out. I was all, “NO WAY. NO WAY. NO WAY. YOU DID NOT JUST PUT YOUR HEAD THROUGH A PLATE GLASS WINDOW. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I SAID, YOU ARE GOING TO PUT YOUR HEAD THROUGH THE … OH MY GOD. ARE YOU OKAY?”
Seeing me flip out made him question whether he was fine, and he got all wide eyed, “Is my head still on? IS MY HEAD STILL ON?”
Yes, Gus. Your head is still on.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay. Just … just calm down. It doesn’t even really hurt. I can still talk. I can still think! MOMMY! MOMMY! I CAN STILL THINK!”
He was so delighted by this discovery! One can dive through a plate glass window and not cease to think! What else can one do and continue to enjoy brain function, I wonder?
Uggggh. BOYS.
Seriously.
On the one hand, I love being the mother of boys. But on the other hand, MY SON PUT HIS HEAD THROUGH A PLATE GLASS WINDOW.
I think Larry would agree it was a perfect ending to our first snow day.
Thanks, Gus! And on the coldest night of the year, too, you special, special boy.
He’d been sprinting down the hall to see how many leather cushions he could jump over without touching them, and I just knew. I just knew it was not going to end well. And I said, “Gus, do not do that near the front door. You are going to put your--
(CUE: SOUND OF BROKEN GLASS)
He is fine, of course. He sustained a few small cuts to his forehead and that’s about it. But man did he freak out when he saw me freaking out. I was all, “NO WAY. NO WAY. NO WAY. YOU DID NOT JUST PUT YOUR HEAD THROUGH A PLATE GLASS WINDOW. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I SAID, YOU ARE GOING TO PUT YOUR HEAD THROUGH THE … OH MY GOD. ARE YOU OKAY?”
Seeing me flip out made him question whether he was fine, and he got all wide eyed, “Is my head still on? IS MY HEAD STILL ON?”
Yes, Gus. Your head is still on.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay. Just … just calm down. It doesn’t even really hurt. I can still talk. I can still think! MOMMY! MOMMY! I CAN STILL THINK!”
He was so delighted by this discovery! One can dive through a plate glass window and not cease to think! What else can one do and continue to enjoy brain function, I wonder?
Uggggh. BOYS.
Seriously.
On the one hand, I love being the mother of boys. But on the other hand, MY SON PUT HIS HEAD THROUGH A PLATE GLASS WINDOW.
I think Larry would agree it was a perfect ending to our first snow day.
Now for day two!
RSS Feed
