My Life is a Series of One-Liners

I have a friend who thinks I'm funny. This is one of the main reasons we're friends. Because I like people who think I'm funny. This particular friend is always saying I should do stand up or write a book. While I find this flattering, I have several problems with this idea-namely that I'm never going to do stand-up as I can't face the rejection and that I'm only funny in one-liners. Also, I'm not disciplined enough to write a book. I have a hard time keeping up with this blog and I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who reads it. Also, I have a journal that I'm writing monthly notes to my son in and the latest entry is three weeks late. But, having said all of this here are the some of the queerer things from my life lately...

On the subject of houseguests
Jon: What's the difference between people staying with us and going downstairs in the evenings and them staying in a hotel and going there in the evenings?
Me: When they leave, they're gone.

Recently I went to change my son's diaper but he wasn't done pooping yet. I was halfway through when it suddenly came squirting out and reminded me of nothing so much as when you try to get an ice cream cone from the soft-serve machine but it comes gushing out faster than you expected and you can't get it to shut off so you end up with a lop-sided cone twelve inches tall. You know that panicky feeling while it's happening? Yeah, it was a lot like that. Only more disgusting.

The baby finds the cats hilarious this week. It doesn't matter what we're doing, if a cat wanders by it means all-out gut-wrenching laughter. The cats have responded the way all cats react to laughter directed at them-they get haughty. Which the baby finds funny. Rinse. Repeat.

In case you've ever wondered, leave the neck support thingy in the car seat. It's there for a reason.

My son has a mole on his thigh and I find myself hoping he'll be at least eighteen before some girl or boy sees it.

Thanks to a friend I now know what hobo spiders are and freak out every time I kill one-which is approximately every three to five days since it's fall and they're moving in.

I still want to know if vegans swallow but I don't know any strict vegans to ask.

I was printing a few pictures to take home to my folks next week and I burned through an entire set of color ink cartridges. I blame the baby.

I think my kid is freakishly adorable-just like all of you other snowflakes.

I don't believe anyone when they tell me they think my kid is beautiful/adorable/cute because I lie all the time about babies.

"I am a delicate flower" is not a statement to be delivered in a roar if you want to be taken seriously.

Why must I have time to think "Oh shit" before my worst mistakes? Couldn't I just make the mistake and then have the insight?

I think if you can't say something nice about other people's pets then you should shut the hell up.

You know those people who think life was so much better when they were kids? They've forgotten that you had to ask permission to use the bathroom.

I like my sock drawer organized but my lingerie jumbled.

Flummoxed is just a damn funny word. So is squirrel.

My neighbor has taught a squirrel to hold a fist against his chest like he's flashing a gang sign for peanuts. This is the same neighbor who objected to his wife feeding the raccoons.

I had never seen an opossum up close until I moved out here. They're ugly. And that's coming from someone who thinks naked mole rats are kind of cute.

"Dude, it's not a trumpet." -my response to my son's attempt at a new breatfeeding technique.

I've been single-parenting it for the last three days while my husband was in St. Louis for his 15th high school reunion. I have always had the deepest respect for single parents and now I think it's a miracle that the suicide rate isn't higher. Last night I put my son to bed half an hour early because I was so tired and he can't tell time yet. Today I threw myself upon the mercy of a friend and stayed at her house for five hours. FIVE HOURS ya'll. Now, that's an awesome friend. After only three days on our own, our house looks like a disaster area. Or at least something that should have a quarrantine sign on it. But I did manage to get the baby into clean clothes all three days. And I even showered twice!