Category: Visual representation of complex ideas

Yesterday I saw a Youtube video shot by Rob Sawyer of Neil Gaiman in a blue tech gown holding a panda.  This would not be in any way particular odd, except somebody put The Tubes’ Don’t Touch Me There as the soundtrack, which is screechingly hilarious.  And it reminds me of my first husband, who still doesn’t have internet access, ack, gargle.

Yesterday I ran across this incredible piece of inane bs.  I am posting the link only so I can imagine Debbie screeching, “Who does this guy think he is???? Maternal love only lasts 33 months???” The funny part is that some of it is fairly good, but the writing style makes me think that this dude’s not playing with a full emotional deck. Anyway, maternal love lasts as long as the oxytocin hit you get when you see your kid or hear their voice on the phone or get a letter or email from them lasts.  And that, as we mothers know, is a long time.  And if they crawl into bed with you for a nap or because they’ve had a nightmare, even if they’re 14, it makes for a feeling of emotional sweetness that is hard to beat.  This dude doesn’t get the oxytocin thing.  Too bad for him!!!  Oh, and I know that men can love longer than 42 months.  I’ve seen it.

Yesterday morning I was so angry that I wanted to kick every man I know down a flight of stairs, with the exception of Paul, Keith, John, Jeff, my dad and Jarmo – and maybe the guy who cleans my apartment building who’s an exceptionally nice man. Okay, maybe Parm at Renaissance Coffee.  Shoot… I forgot Glenn and Mike; Tom, Tom U., ack, Brian C, Jim E.  Okay, I was mad at one particular man and things were kind of spilling over…  Then a man walked up to me and said, “Do you need a hug?”  and I went “Aw!” Just think, that huggy guy doesn’t understand how much carnage he averted.  Either that or he broke the glass labelled “What to do in case Allegra’s pulling her crap again.”

Yesterday I phoned my dad and said, “They changed the laws.  It’s time.”  Actually, I told my mother that, she’s more tactful than I am.   pOp was working until his 70th birthday as a crossing guard (note, employment not exactly as shown), and he really misses it.

Yesterday I got Himalayan Peaks takeout and it was completely yummy.

Yesterday evening I got on the phone with the guy I’m so mad at, and we squared things away.  I should just quit getting mad.  It never lasts; it never accomplishes anything.

Soon I’m going to see some live theatre, which reminds me I should get off my keester and see if Kopper got tickets or whether I ought to or not.  And soon, singing on Monday nights.  Happy sigh.

I am still flashing on Ville dancing to Safety Dance on Dance Dance Revolution. He repeated it about 15 times so I’m having a hell of a time shaking it, and the little flash of Morris Dancers in the background keeps coming up as well.

I am looking at my stannomancy and thinking…. There’s a waterbird. And a leg. And a wedding (which I already knew about because Shannon and Jerome are getting married).