poeticdream:
"you know, I'm grossly undercaffinated
so grossly in fact that it took may hits to find the g
and then, while I was finding the g
I found the s
and thought "oh, I should save that, I'll need it soon"
zzzzz

poeticdream sidles up behind me, kisses me on the neck and in a sultry manner declares: "you are my chef du jour..."
me, confused: "uh, I'm your chef of the day??"
robin: "ohhhh, that's what that means?"

Abby: "I want that toy."
me: "I know."
Abby: "I want that toy!"
me: "I know."
Abby: "'I want that toy!' she said excitedly."
*me & poeticdream guffaw and giggle*

oh, Abby, you know how to make us laugh.

The scene: Just now as abigail_m and I were walking up our driveway to the street level we saw two police cars that had pulled over someone for who-knows-what. The cops had the perp out of the car and were talking to him and rummaging around in his car.

me: "hey! they blocked the driveway!"
abigail_m: "what?"
me: "look, those two police cars parked right in front of our driveway!"
Abby: "yeah! it's like they think it's a parking lot!"

Abby will be three on Monday.

poeticdream, to me: "When you were first learning to drive it was annoying when people would signal one way and then turn the other way. That's so fucking annoying!"

abigail_m, sounding slightly disappointed in her mommy: "Don't say 'fucking'!. I've told you so many times!"

[robin and I just sit there blinking and laughing at each other]

right after I got home tonight and was welcomed by poeticdream and abigail_m on the back deck the following conversation took place:

abby: "i pooped!"
me: "okay, I'll change your diaper then."
abby: "we need to go inside."
me: "okay, we'll go inside, get a diaper, and then we'll come back out and I'll change your diaper."
abby: "no, not right here."
me: "abby, I need to change your diaper."
abby: "noooooooo!"
me *puzzled*: "why not?"
abby: "because, if you change me out here on the deck and poop comes out, it'll be a poop deck!"

on a frozen fruit bar:

NOTICE: This product, when extremely cold, may stick to warm lips or tongue. Allow to warm slightly before eating.

abby's sitting on her potty at her kitchen set. she can multitask!

sayeth abigail_m, pointing out the dining room window: "I want to look out the window because there's a screensaver out there!"

so, apparently a judge in the UK doesn't know what a web site is.

with judges like this, and senators like Alaska's Ted Stevens ("the internet not a big truck, it is a series of tubes"), is it any wonder that technology continues to baffle our government and elected representatives? (if you don't know what i'm talking about, go to my January 19th entry, I'll wait.)

if someone in DC organized an event for officials to come (masked, of course, to avoid embarrasment) to learn basic technology concepts, i predict that the venue would be filled to overflowing. vespa331, want a side job? ;-)

me: "abby, stop dilly-dallying! you know, the longer you just lay on the ground instead of putting on your jacket, the longer it'll be before we can go outside and play in the snow..."

abigail_m: "eat the booger!" *sticks out her finger with a booger she picked*

... "eat it!"

poeticdream: "okay, you've got dinner under control. now i'm gonna go in the living room, get naked, drink beer, scratch my cunt and write my essay about what it means to be a woman."

abby, running around the apartment with her arms stretched forward: "i'm being a bluebird!"

"i'm being a bluebird!" *smiles and looks out the window with her arms forward like superman*

EDIT: now she's being a caterpillar. according to her, caterpillars run around. yeah.

i'm sure you've all seen senator Ted Stevens' roast on the daily show. in case you haven't, check it, really. okay, now...

• the good senator set to a techno song on youtube,
  
• a funny 404-tubes not found page on ytmnd.com (nice background sound),
  
• and finally, another techno dance remix of herr senator's soundbytes on ytmnd.

i want my own personal internet! and fricking flying cars, with laser beams. but first i want my own personal internets. seriously ted.

speedwell is too goddamned fat.

he's lying on his backside twisting back and forth, licking the parts of himself that he's able to reach. sadly for him, he cannot reach very much of his body, say, past his elbows. it is, however, very very comical to those of us that live with him.

abby likes the word "bunghole".

now and then she will giggle and poke her butt and say "i found my bunghole!"

so, i'm in photoshop, working on blue screen of death type illustrations for a business card, installing various windows/dos fixedsys-like fonts, and something sublime and wonderful happens. keep in mind that photoshop, like, never crashes, ever. now that i have seen the raw face of irony, i will crawl back into bed.

Stranger than Fiction is a new movie with a familiar premise: that the protagonist finds himself the subject of a story, and, disagreeing with the narrator, attempts to influence her narration. It might be said to belong to the magic realism genre, in that no attempt is made to explain the inexplicable (a man hearing his life narrated by a voice in his head).

Harold Crick is a bland, by-the-numbers IRS agent who suddenly finds his life the subject of a narrative that only he can hear. On a quest to interact with the narrator, so compelled because she lets slip the phrase "imminent death", he meets with a professor of literature after first, unsuccessfully, seeing a psychologist. This is a bit of their dialogue:

Professor Hilbert: "The last thing to determine conclusively is whether you're in a comedy or a tragedy..."
Professor: "In a tragedy you die, in a comedy you get hitched."
Professor: "Most comic heros fall in love with people who are introduced after the story has begun. Now, these are people who hate the hero initially, although I can't imagine anyone hating you, Harold."
Harold Crick: "Professor, I'm an IRS agent. Everyone hates me."
Professor: "Alright, alright, good. Have you met anyone recently that might loathe the very core of you?"
Crick: "I just started auditing a woman who told me to 'get bent.'"
Professor: "well, that sounds like a comedy. Try to develop that."