Friday, April 07, 2006

Life's Little Tragedies

So I'm driving down Lamar after dropping off the big kids at their grandma's house, listening to some Brian Eno on the radio, and it's pretty good, very experimental, pretty weird, but catchy, so I'm dancing around a bit in the driver's seat. You know how you do.

A guy the next car over meets my eyes and smiles - laughs, even - and I realize something horrifying.

I'm a mid-thirties woman, driving a minivan with a 5-year-old in the backseat, and I'm totally jamming out to a typewriter solo.

Well, no wonder there aren't any boys in my yard. My milkshake has turned to cottage cheese!

5 Comments:

At April 08, 2006 5:52 AM, Blogger Bill D said...

At least my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.

(I could teach you, but I'd have to charge.)

 
At April 08, 2006 12:23 PM, Blogger Beth said...

What are your rates? And do you charge hourly, or by the boy?

 
At April 08, 2006 12:26 PM, Blogger Beth said...

(Edited because I didn't like the beefcake Pope as much as Bloody Mary, last night's guest blogger, did.)

 
At April 08, 2006 3:18 PM, Blogger Bill D said...

"What are your rates? And do you charge hourly, or by the boy?"

My rates are $20 (American, or Soviet Ruble, whichever you have) an hour.

It's worth the cost. Or is it? It is.

Maybe. At least I can bring 'em.

Perhaps there's hope for your cottage cheese.

 
At April 17, 2006 5:28 AM, Blogger Bill D said...

"Well, no wonder there aren't any boys in my yard. My milkshake has turned to cottage cheese!"

I've decided to use that in my snopes sig, with you given credit, of course.

There's nothing you can dooooo!

 

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