Marcus has been showing an unusual amount of interest in my blogging lately. Saying things like "if I blogged, I would dominate!!!" and "I want to blog about pickles!" <--well, not that (completely).
So I offered him the opportunity to write for my readers.
When I asked him what the title is all about, he made me notice how the font gets smaller. So it's sort of like an echo or something? I don't know. Ask him.
So, welcome Marcus! This dude loves run on sentences!
Guest Guest Guest Guest Blog Blog Blog Blog
So Emily left me with C-nibbles (that’s today’s nickname for Charlotte (her name starts with “C” and she’s recently taken to nibbling things)) for the 2nd night in a row so I’m taking this opportunity to “Guest Blog”, or so I think. Technically I’m writing this in Microsoft Word© and I have to leave it up to Emily to enter it into her blog. So it’s her choice to take this .docx file and do with it what she pleases. She could just leave it saved here on her computer where it would be a misplaced journal entry. She could read it out loud to C-Nibs (Short for C-nibbles) as a bed time story. She could email it to herself, copy the email on her phone, MMS it and make it an unusually long and grammatically correct text message.
So as a person who has made a choice to refrain from broadcasting my life on the internet, I’m going to that say that I’m not blogging right now, I’m just typing. I don’t have anything against the people who spend a lot of time social networking; it just isn’t for me. I’m borderline ADD as it is-- I’d get nothing done if I had to manage a facebook account and real life at the same time. You may say, “You should try twitter, it’s fun and doesn’t take up much time at all.” But if you said that to me, I would slap you in the face hard. Because I do have something against twitter. Why are hundreds of millions of people around the world using twitter? I liken it to a bunch of middle schoolers who are given an assignment in writing class to compose a Haiku. Twitter takes about the same amount of creativity but it has two fewer rules. Well, maybe 1 fewer rule. Keep it under one hundred twentysomeodd characters and avoid tweeting photos of your crotch. Last week something smelled like poop in Grand Rapids, people started tweeting, someone started a #hashtag, and there was a story on mlive.com that was as focused on the tweets as the poop smell. Ridiculous by every measure.
So speaking of poop smells, back to Charlotte. I took her grocery shopping tonight. Clausen Pickles are $2.50 a jar and buy 5 get $5 off so we did not go to the "ritzy" Meijer store just down the road from my house that never has the sale items on the shelves—we went to the Meijer at 54th st. with the ill-conceived parking lot where the lines are short and the shelves are stocked. Being in that part of town, I thought Charlotte and I could witness a shoplifting event, then I could report said event, show Charlotte the consequences, and teach her a valuable life lesson. Then we could go home and eat pickles! The shoplifting event did not happen but we had fun anyway. It’s evident that Charlotte loves pretty much everything that moves so long as it does not emit a loud, startling noise (That means you—guy in the old blue Caprice Classic who honked at the SUV that was not backing out, but rather was simply centering itself in its parking space. If you were paying attention, you would have understood that the SUV posed no danger and I was carrying a baby 5’ from you. It’s bad enough that an idiot designed that parking lot, that’s no excuse for your idiotic behavior). So yes she loves just about everything that moves.
A glimpse into the inner workings of Charlotte’s mind:
Hey lady in the dirty XXL Disney T-shirt with the mangy looking pony tail? (Back to my mind: people should call them donkey or ass tails when they look that bad). You’re moving near me, here’s a big ass smile for ya!
Howdy, middle aged man wearing a leather vest who has to ask the lady in the technology department where the cheap MP3 players are, and who then proceeds to grab one, bring it back up to tech. dept. lady and ask her if it has radio because you don’t want to miss “the game” (Me: Oh, so you don’t want an MP3 player). I think this whole exchange has been utterly hilarious, let me turn my head side to side and smile at both of you!
But the trip was a success; Charlotte learned that her dad is totally awesome. She might think it’s a little odd that I took the pickles to the technology department for checkout, but she also saw me save a guy $20 by telling him to use a Meijer Summer Buck for $20 off a GPS unit that he was buying anyway. And I also helped a girl out who was asking the tech. dept. lady to see a sample so she could get a visual of how big the 18” x 24” poster print would be if she printed a photo that size. You may think, “Oh, 18x24? That’s about a foot and a half by two feet”, which is exactly what I thought before I pointed the girl towards a display appeared to be 18” x 24”. Tech. Dept. Lady didn’t have a sample, but did have a tape measure, and proved to Charlotte and the girl asking the question that I sure am good picking out dimensions.
So we returned home, and I ate a pickle (C-nibbles, despite today’s nickname, wasn’t really interested). I gave her a bottle and got her to bed on time by my standards. Emily understands that my standards are different than hers. When she says, “give her a bottle by 7:00, then put her in a size 3 diaper, swaddle her up and put her to bed”, and that process starts at 7:12, I think I’m doing pretty well. Though Charlotte did not appreciate the step I added just before the swaddling—bumping her head on the end rail of the changing table. Whoops!
So that’s it, Charlotte is sleeping, typing is finished. Thank you, Microsoft Word©-osphere, for listening.