I have questions, and I have unrelated answers to questions people haven't asked me but probably want to.
Why do so many people think it's funny when I swear? Or, as I get the sneaking suspicion in some cases, even worse, cute? F*ck was my first word. I bet a swearing seven-month-old was pretty damn cute.
What is it about my car that makes chipmunks who see it decide to try to end it all? I'm sick of the near-misses. I've only killed one animal in 15+ years of driving, and I'm not looking to add to the number.
Why did they cut Eric's hair?! It was perfect! Blond hair on guys only looks good long-ish.
Why do a disturbing number of nine-year-olds think that animals provide sunlight to trees? And what's the point of trees, anyway? They can't see, hear, taste, smell, or talk.
Does Ebay sell any build your own ark plans?
Why are they called Charley horses instead of "Oh my God! What did I just do to my leg?!"
Because Dave is only 22, Dad. That's why.
I'm grumpy when it rains so hard that I miss walks because if this keeps up all week I might fidget enough that it makes someone kill me. Hyper-active kids don't exactly grow up to be calm adults, you know.
Of course I took yesterday's picture. While flying that kite myself no less. It's the best shot out of more than half a dozen attempts.
Okay, you got me. I had 15 minutes to kill last night, and that's when I wrote most of this. I'm hoping to do something more productive this afternoon than play with this silly blog.
"When they finally come what will you do to them? Gonna decimate like you did to me?" - OK Go, Invincible