Today In DC

I Know a Secret!

Have you ever found yourself in possession of a bizarre nugget of information that defies categorization?

What if this oddly intriguing but toe curling bit came to you by the most covert and bizarre means imaginable?
Say for instance that some unknowing soul had the misfortune of sitting on their phone and butt dialing you while information clearly not intended for your ears filtered through the receiver, unbeknownst to the person whose ass had just helped you become privy to some of their darkest secrets.

Do you keep listening?

What do you do with all this naughty juicyness?
Since you are essentially a fly on the wall in this case scenario and by no means meant to hear these words do you act on them?

Pretend they don’t exist?
What if they shift the axis of the earth you know so well?

What if this person was never what they seemed?

This opens up a whole new set of windows into a dimension previously unexplored by you, the voyeur.
Now that you are in on the secret can you quietly smile to yourself when you want to yell out everything you’ve heard in a cathartic release?

To be honest I’ve been the recipient of many drunk dials, and riveting phone conversations during my short life so not much on the other end of the receiver is shocking to me anymore, but wow.

Just Wow.

Talk about a surprise.

It’s like when I found out after  several years of suspicion that my husband was an ass man and NOT a boob guy as  previously thought.

Do you know how devastating it is to spend countless hours employing preventive measures to counter gravity only to find out you should have worked hard on your buttocks instead of your ta ta’s? Not that is was all for naught, as I still get the occasional appreciative perusal of my less than impressive rack, but still.

I get more applause coming than I do going.

Anyway, with each dawning day I learn something new and with that revelation I will be heading into the kitchen to make myself a generous helping of Ben & Jerry’s Vanilla Caramel Fudge ice cream while letting go of the dream of a firm taught behind.

In Today’s News

So.

Remember that whole post below where I ranted and raved like an unhinged lunatic about how worthless sea monkeys were?

Yeah.

Well, I need to print a retraction because……they’re ALIVE.

I didn't do this much work on the sea monkeys

This morning, tiny sea monkeys were swimming all around the tank.

Are they impressive?

No.

Do they have crowns, spears, smiling faces?

No

But they are alive.

Cue gentle music..

Perhaps in the end, the sea monkeys had a lesson to teach me. That lesson, I think, was something about patience.

But I’m not really sure. Whatever.

In other news, my mother’s entire existence as a fear mongering worry wart that spreads dreadful statistics and nightmarish news clippings was validated this weekend when her own grandson fell victim to the “untied shoe lace caught in the escalator” case scenario.

She has been waiting for this since they installed escalators in the Nanuet Mall in the 70′s.

Shoe laces and shredded legs.

She would make us stop, tie our shoe laces make sure we jumped clear of the jaws of metal death at the bottom where you could apparently have your entire leg shredded by this receptacle of doom.

If you were dumb enough to bend down to try to free your leg that was being torn off  by the metal teeth would surely have your long hair ensnared in no time.

Then it would crush your head and eat your brain.

What a shredded hamburger like mess.

When they came to take you away and slopped all your bits and parts that remained onto the stretcher they would commiserate with your mother.

“NEVER get on an escalator with an untied shoe.”

“I TOLD her a THOUSAND TIMES!”

For the record, my son (her grandson) gave a tug and his shoelace came right out.
According to my mother, he barely survived.

I Suspect the Kids Might Actually Be Doing These Things On Purpose

 

Probably the last thing I'll ever see.

Sometimes I get the unnerving feeling that my kids are out to get me.

Not the usual my kids are sucking the marrow from my bones and I have not one iota of energy or sense of self left to keep me alive type of getting me.

This is malice aforethought.

I’ll site you some random examples from the last few days.

1) When a pollster for Adrian Fenty arrived at my door to ask me if he could count on my support during the upcoming election, I felt a gentle shove from behind pushing me over the threshold onto the front porch. Then I heard the distinct dreaded sound of the door locking behind me. No matter how hard I smashed on the windows or how loud I screamed, I wasn’t getting in.

2) They spent the better part of an hour-long road trip  throwing dangerous projectiles inside the car. Several times I thought they had enough velocity to smash out the front windshield. After a dressing down they decided to make the sound of the little boy from The Grudge for the rest of the ride fraying what was left of my two very unstable nerves.

3) My boys were playing whack a mole with bowling pins and various household objects until we refocused them on something less destructive where they sent a small furry stuffed animal back and forth on the floor. Much better right?

Wrong.

They decided this furry mammal was a beaver and kept smashing it with the bowling pins screaming “BEAVER SHOT!” at the top of their lungs. My husband and I were paralyzed with fear unsure if we were being baited or if it really was an innocent mistake.

Free Skate

I’m just now back from an afternoon full of ice skating.

There are a few things I’d like to discuss.

People who have no control over their body movements to start with should not pretend to possess mad skills on the rink by renting hockey skates and barreling out of control at three thousand miles per hour mowing down beginners and children.

Groups of teenagers should not be permitted to hold hands as some sort of social ritual forming a human line that cannot be penetrated by others trying to skate by.

You must skate in the same direction as everyone else.

People who are newly in love should compare skating abilities before hitting the rink. Saw many mismatched levels that caused unwarranted anxiety and bruised egos and asses.

Skating couples that are large on ability shouldn’t be allowed to make out on the ice oblivious to everything around them.

There is nothing more terrifying than the sound of a six-foot four man hitting the ice after a wipeout.

Figure skaters are surly and frightening.

Hockey players  are awesome.

The smell of rental skates never comes off.