Monday, June 25, 2007

Rip van Gnu

Where the hell did the month of June go?? Honestly, I had lots of interesting stuff to post the past few weeks. Really. Most of it censored by Ms. Gnu, but hey it's the thought that counts, right?

Well, just like Rip van Winkle, I'm feeling a bit old this month. Not in the usual smart-ass sense of being another month older. I pulled that on my daughter already: told her "You're the oldest now that you have ever been in your entire life." It's funny watching the gears turn as she computes that sentence and only comes up with "TILT" in her head. Then she smacks the hell out of me and continues her merry way. Ahh, to be a kid again.

I feel old because my sweet little angel is going to be -gasp!- a Middle Schooler this Fall!! Gaah! Where did the time go? (Screw that, where did my hair go!?!) I'd better start counting my eye blinks because sooner than I want to think about, she'll be asking for the keys to the car. But that little fucker on the doorstep with the bolt through his nose better damn well be delivering pizza! Hey! You kids! Get off my lawn!!

I also feel old because I have no idea what to do with my free time tonight. She is away at a statewide conference in the Big City Far, Far Away, and Ms. Gnu and I have the house all to ourselves. We have no friggin' clue what to do without a rambunctious little munchkin under foot. Maybe we could borrow a kid from the neighbors...

So, we're sitting here on the couch, bored out of our skulls. Ms. Gnu, sorely missing our Little Gnu, decides it would be a good idea to call the hotel room and check up on her. She puts this to me in a simple question, but as usual, ends up demonstrating how differently men and women think:

The Missus: "Dear, want to try [The Skating Gnu's] room?"

Me: "What? Are you crazy? We can't 'do it' in her bedroom! That's sick!!"

TM: "No you asshole! Call her hotel room and make sure she's okay!!!!" [stomps off]

Me: "Oh. Sorry. Wanna do it in the kitchen?" [ducks flying object]

Looks like I got the couch tonight. Again.

1 comment:

E. S. Collins said...

You're only one more person away from the perfect number of people required to relax. One.

I'm fairly certain that women ask questions in a way that is designed for men to hear "the wrong way" so that they can get angry. It's a class they take, I'm sure of it.