I've Got Blisters on My Fingers
I've been working my ass off. Seriously. The area that used to be my ass is now a concave valley. If you dropped some change on my ass it would look like this:
Hell, at this rate I may be able to quit the day job. Of course I couldn't sit down or everyone in the room would think they were in Vegas. I'm a walking jackpot- and between you and me, I always pay out. Just don't drop a silver dollar. It would get wedged in there like a manhole cover. Fitting.
So, that's just a graphic tangent of an answer to the million dollar question of where I've been. A question so pressing that almost none of you asked it, and by almost I mean exactly.
It's nice to be loved.
Then there's the Lego Star Wars on our Wii. The oldest is addicted. The first thing he asks for in the morning is Lego Star Wars. After school the first words out of his mouth are about Lego Star Wars. He's a junkie and he's pulling me in.
It started innocently enough. I would just play to help him on certain levels, which is to say I didn't know what the hell I was doing but he thought I did. The kid looks up to me, what can I say?
Now he says things like, "I love my family. And the Wii. The Wii and my family are very important." I'm just glad we're in the mix.
He's hardcore. I have to dress him in long-sleeved shirts to cover the tracks, or I would if video games left tracks. As it is I put him in long-sleeved shirts because it's fucking cold outside.
He's also sweet. He just talked himself into a round of Wii long after he should have been in bed. He said he needed to unwind, so I let a 5-year-old stay up until eleven o'clock to fight the Clone Wars. I'm not even pretending to be embarrassed.
Thing Two was... somewhere. The force isn't as strong in him so he has found other pursuits, like playing with actual Legos and walking around the house singing. He knows the lyrics to two songs, American Pie and something by Weezer, which is to say he knows one song with some very interesting chord changes.
Sometimes he watches us play and sometimes he stands in front of me crying over frivolous matters like hunger. The kid eats non-stop every waking moment. Don't feed him for half an hour and Sally Struthers is on my lawn with 26¢ and a bag of flour. It adds up.
You may be asking yourself,
Thanks for your concern, it's noted and appreciated, even if it's completely fabricated. The fact is I'm fine. The family is fine. I'm just freaking busy, and it won't be over until the fat Ewok sings- or does that dance thing where they poke the spear in your face.
Scares the coins right out of you.