Some things I've been mulling over this week:
- What is worse: the sound of an electronic siren on one of those cheap plastic fire engine toys, or, the sound the child emits while making believe he is the siren when the batteries have inexplicably disappeared?
- Would it be wrong to eat the entire batch of cookies in one sitting?
- What if you also fill out, like, ten thousand pages of information for the IRS while eating the cookies?
- Is there a medical condition that would make a person look like a corpse? I was in the temple today and if the guy hadn't looked up at me and sighed, I probably would have thrown him on the floor and started CPR. Or maybe just called the coroner, because he looked like he'd been dead a long, long time. As in his skin was a deeper blue than Papa Smurf. Disturbing, to say the least. Although, kudos to him for getting up from his death bed to attend the temple.
- If a child vomits in a vehicle travelling 70 miles an hour, on a journey of 70 miles, why does it take the car 70 thousand hours to reach its destination? If you don't believe it actually took that long, I've got a couple kids I'll loan you for a day and you can recreate the conditions and see for yourself. All you need is some bad Burger King, a day of freezing rain so that rolling down all the windows isn't really an option, and something like 3 hours of sleep the night before.
- Why does Google suddenly think I'm a gluten-intolerant Vietnamese florist? I'm being bombarded by ads, and I swear to you, I didn't even know for sure how to spell Vietnam before I saw the ads. I definitely don't want to retire there. Or send flowers there–even if they are guaranteed to arrive today. And the cookies: chock full of gluten, baby.
- If an individual were to mop up an entire bottle of super-concentrated laundry detergent with two or three bath towels, approximately how many rinse cycles would be required to get the towels, um….clean?
- This isn't a question–it's an answer to riddle I know has been gnawing away your soul for days: How To Hide Something From Your Teen. Put it in a closet. You don't need a fancy closet. Any old closet will do. Even an empty closet. Even if she really, really wants the hidden thing, she won't be able to find it. There's some kind of mental block having to do with teens and anything related to organization. Like, say, a closet. Thank old Saint Nick for that secret–my daughter would probably still be searching for her Christmas stocking today had I not offered her younger brothers five bucks to find it for her. Not that I knew anything about the perishables in it, of course.
- Are the ingredients for all the crap I've eaten this week deductible as a business expense? I ate it while doing an entire year's worth of backed up paperwork.
- Am I morally obligated to participate in all those surveys every company I have ever dealt with wants me to participate in? Is it really not enough that I spent ten thousand dollars buying appliances at your store that now you are going to hound me day and night with automated phone calls asking me to rate my satisfaction with your customer service? It's not enough that I provide childcare, now every remotely child-related agency in the state wants my input in the form of twelve-page surveys and telephone calls at an hour when any sane childcare provider is in bed? Okay, and maybe several of the insane ones, too…
- Is it just me, or is the "laughter of little children" overrated? You hear a lot of sentimental mash about this phenomenon. And believe me, it's mash. It's said by people who never actually spend time with little children. The laughter of babies, infants, okay, that's maybe a little bit magical. But little children? After about the age of about 18 months their laughter doesn't actually warm the cockles of your heart. Because you know that if they are really laughing (as opposed to just snickering which, while contagious, is in reality kind of gross and usually involves flying spittle and/or nasal discharge) generally one of three things are about to happen:
- Blood (followed by a wide variety of other bodily fluids).
- High pitched, eardrum blowing tattling (ie: KIMBER! KIMBER! KIMBER! ANAKA IS GOING TO TELL ON ME!!!) and/or
- Significant property damage.
I'm just stating the facts. Dispute them at the peril of your truth-loving soul.
12. If God really loved us, why didn't he make our teeth spontaneously regenerate every four or five years? I'm kidding. But seriously. Go brush your teeth. You only get the two sets and you can blame your mother for the first set failing, but the second set? Taking care of those ones is pretty much up to you. And you don't want to look like the Smurf dude. I'm tellling you–skin tone was the least of this guy's problems.
13. Going to bed now. Not a question. Statement. Take me seriously on pain of death. Or being beaned by whatever I can reach from my side of the bed. Whichever I deem easier or most effective at that point-murder or maiming.