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Conorama

Expounding on Nothing

Impartial Observer

 
Ahhh, currently being serenaded by C-note playing . . . . "I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me . . . ". The Beatles knew all the right chords in the right order at the right time on the right side of the street. Ahhhhh.

 
All this time I thought that I was just running around in circles, but it seems that I'm actually running around in squares. I hate squares. No wonder I'm confused. I think I'll leave Squaresville, and move on over to Spiral Town. The view is better.

 
Mr. B wants to go swimming. It's cold, overcast, and not a happy sky. A single swimming session for Mr. B is usually at least an hour and a half, during which I try to enjoy being bored, cold, and wind-whipped.

 
I am in the process of editing my blog so please do not freak out if the colors change rapidly. (my son wrote that)

 
Sleep is such a luxury. I slept fairly well last night for the first time in ages. I dreamt a long, long dream where I was on the lam after crashing my car and sneaking into a hotel room. The old, fat asian couple on their 50th anniversary couldn't figure out why I was in their room. With my boys too. Then, as I drove (somehow I got my car back) through a mountainous pass, I let my boys and their friends bungee jump off of the top of mountains while attached to my car. They would rebound back to the roof of the car. Still never got caught. Must be a lucky sign.

 
So I was one of the first people on the planet to see "The Matrix Reloaded". It was, ahem, AWESOME. Can't wait to see it again, and again, and again, and again. Go see this movie. Just don't have any bad dreams about Agent Smith(s).

 
It took me forever to figure out why I could not get onto the internet this morning. I finally had to call Verizon and get assistance. It was only slightly embarrassing that the problem turned out to be the fact that Mr. B had unplugged the modem in his middle of the night rampage. So, once I plugged it back in, voila. Very embarrasing. That Verizon rep. will probably go home tonite and tell his wife about the noodlehead that called him this morning only to be told to plug the damned thing in.

 
Mr. B got up at 3:04 today. That's a.m. Spent most of the time between 3:04 and 6:53 rolling around the living room on his desk chair at breakneck speed. Yes, he ran into everything, moved furniture around, spilled a brand new package of q-tips all over the place, and was VERY LOUD. I really should go back to bed. Or maybe take a bath.

 
Best license plate holder of the day: "I LOVE OTTERS". Owned by an older gentleman driving a BMW 530i.

 
Best bumpersticker of the day: "I FEAR NO BEER". How often do you think this bozo gets pulled over by the cops?

 
Well, then. I'm not brain dead after all. The Lakers lose by two. I'm just a damned fool to follow this team.

 
Only a Laker fan would find their team down by 21 points in the 2nd quarter and think, well, there's still the second half. Anything is possible with this team. I must be braindead.

 
Items that Mr. B slept with last night: chewed yellow sponge, blue plastic letter "U", green wood block, bar of soap, yellow plastic square, paintbrush, plastic pink doll comb, five various lego pieces (mostly large), one red backgammon piece, blue plastic bowling ball, yellow top to the lemon-pepper spice jar, one unidentifiable yellow plastic something, which is made to look like a brick wall, and my nice blue candle that now has seventy seven bite marks in it. The sponge was wet when he went to bed, but dried out nicely by this morning.

 
Just when one thinks that life is sorting itself out, some other curve ball archs it's way right into one's noggin. Making one think: is this just stupidity on my part, or does the universe have some secret plan that I'm not privy to. Probably not either of those choices, but something either much simpler, or completely unfathomable. There that makes me feel . . . . . worse.