Kid Sensation: Living dangerously

Hey, you guys!  I’m sitting procrastinating because I’m supposed to go bake a pie and I have NEVER baked a pie.  The only reason I’m doing this is because my husband happened to mention that he had never had sweet potato pie.  My initial reaction was, “Of course not.  You’ve always had pecan because you’re melanin deficient. ”  Ignorant, I know.  But since I live where I live, most of the white families I’ve met do pecan, most of the Black families, sweet potato.  Tomato, tomahto.

But then two things happened.  One, I realized that, blonde though my hubby may be, he’s been married to a Black woman with a Black family for almost twelve years.  Two, my son also said he never had tasted said pie.  Conclusion:  I am a failure.

So I wildly overreacted which ended with a declaration that I’m going to make this pie.  I’m sure hilarity will ensue that I will be compelled to tell ya’ll about later.

Anyhoo, I don’t know why I decided to spill those particular beans.  I meant to tell you about how Kid Sensation cheated death.  And, no not at the hands of Wondergirl.  No.  This time he took on the Big Man.

So we’ve all been cooped up here for the last few couple days together.  Kid Sensation has been in front of a screen for the entire time.  Like, only stopping for meals and potty breaks.  Which would be fine if he was in college or building an online empire.  However, he’s just looking up cartoon theme songs and offbeat British animation.  (I don’t know.)

I know, I know–we’re terrible parents.  I’m not gonna front though.  It beats listening to him and Wondergirl fighting non-freaking-stop. I mean, it’s like living with Captain America and, well, Wondergirl.   The other night, I didn’t hear anything for like, ten minutes and I was all, “Finally.”  But then I realized that it was ten p.m. and they had just fallen asleep. Mid-fight.

ddbw
All day, every day.

 

Yesterday, the Big Man figured that ol’ K.S. needed to get some fresh air.  We live in the Pacific Northwest and it’s not raining. AKA:  Get your butt outside.

Kid Sensation ignores the first missive, choosing the dangerous path of ignoring his dad.  But this, you guys, this is not where things went left.

The Big Man repeats himself.  He hates repeating himself even more than I do.  Still, not in quite in Fatality country–just cruising the border.  Not until Kid Sensation says, and I quote:  “Okay, Okay.  Be calm.”

I know you know what I’m talking about here.  When you have repeatedly issued an order to your child and they want to act like you’re crazy and that your craziness isn’t their fault, it’s maddening.  No, maddening isn’t right.  It’s infuriating.

The Big Man turns beet-red.  I know this description is overused, but he really was the exact shade of supermarket beets. All I heard was, “GET IN HERE!  NOW!”  It was so loud that at first I thought the Apocalypse had begun and I was going to be called into account for my bogus pie claims.

I immediately remove myself  from the room.  I am not trying to give eyewitness testimony.  I remove myself from the room, and immediately begin fabricating plausible reasons for Kid Sensation’s disappearance. “Okay, we’re poor, so boarding school is out.  Living with Grandma?  No, she lives half a mile from here.  Think, Vida, think!”

Next thing I know, I’m witnessing the single most tearful shoe putting on ever.  He even managed to have one lonely tear stop mid-cheek on both sides of his face. It was so, so, pitiful, you guys.  But he brought it on himself.

I still don’t know which particular boom was lowered that day.  I’m a coward, so I’m afraid to ask.  I’m just glad Kid Sensation is alive and well. And fighting with Wondergirl as we speak.

Another Random Post.

Time for more random stuff from my brain! Yay! I said YAY.

Has there ever been the alterna-Flinstones? Like has there ever been the hot guy/ fat chick sitcom? Because, on the real Wilma Flintstone, Alice Kramden, Carrie Heffernan could have done waaaaay better.   Confession: I think Kevin James is kinda hot. But it works against the formula because I’m also fat. So we’d be another Mike and Molly.

Why do all the shows when someone gets a house/cash/gifts/cash happen to everyone else? Where is the application for these shows? Why don’t I know about it? Is it a conspiracy to keep me poor? I think it is. But then, I’m pretty sure life is a conspiracy to keep me poor.

Why does Naomi Campbell still look better than me? Aside from the fact that she probably diets, exercises, and great genes. Oh, and a stylists. Not the point. The point is, I thought time was supposed to be the great equalizer. You lied, Time. YOU. LIED.

There’s this fly on the windowsill.  I need to go kill—never mind it’s a wasp.  Carry on, wasp, I clearly interrupted whatever you had going on with the window and I apologize.

I walk at the track to lose weight. (Not to be confused with “walking the track” which means prostitution. In which case I’d like to think that I’d have more money. ) Today a more athletic chick ran past me and told me “Good Job!” I guess I’m at the white belt level of fitness and the track is clearly her dojo, she figured I needed her encouragement so that I wouldn’t give up and pass out on the track. I showed her though. I waited until I got to Gretchen to pass out.

The wasp is still there.

courtesy marvelheroes.com
I wish it had been this Wasp.

I know the entire Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles song. All of them. And I sang them with Kid Sensation in Fred Meyer. Quietly. I’m not a complete jerk.

I have convinced myself to get a fatkini. It’s. About. To Go. DOWN.

We are so football starved in this house, we are watching the Madden Demo Game. It’s Cowboys vs. Seahawks. And we are here commenting on it. I actually said, “Oh, so they just gon’ let Romo walk in the end zone?” Out loud. Pathetic.

I don’t know. I was feeling random today. Kick me some of your randomness. You know, if you’re feeling random, too.

OH WAIT!!! I forgot to tell you guys!  I was buying wine and I got carded.  (I’m pretty sure it’s mandatory.) Here’s how the conversation went:

Cashier Lady: “You have such pretty skin.”

Me:  “Thanks.”

CL:  “Black Women are so lucky.  You’re lucky you’re Black.”

Me:  *mumbles something and rushes out before ending up on the news*

So, you guys, did I handle this right?  Supermom would have totally had some kind of extremely nuanced shade and tossed it out there like a wiffle ball.  But, I’m no Supermom.  Yet.

There she goes again.

I know, I know, another Wondergirl post.  But you have to admit, she’s pretty entertaining.  I’ll even throw in some bonus Kid Sensation and The Destroyer.

Actual conversation on their way to school:

Big Man:  Wondergirl, are you supposed to be chewing gum?

WG: (Smack, Smack) Nope.

Big Man:  Aren’t you going to get in trouble?

WG:   Probably. (Smack). It doesn’t matter, Principal Conners is soft.

Soft?!?!? SOFT?!?  How are you ten and calling someone soft like you’re The Rock?  Like, I’m fully expecting her to continue that statement with, “You wanna cross the Wondergirl? Well, the Wondergirl says this…”

The week she was on steroids and became a ten-year-old rage monster (I told you guys it was going to be great):

Kid Sensation was flying his paper airplane in her vicinity.  Yeah, I know.  I’m not sure how he thought it wasn’t going to end badly, or if he was willing to risk it unaware of just how badly it was going to end.  This is how–and you guys, just, you guys.  Wondergirl, who was curled up in the recliner trying to suck her thumb despite her swollen face, was trying to watch TV.  Besides the steroids, she was also going through thumb withdrawal.  No bueno.  So then Kid Sensation comes through with this airplane. Wondergirl is tracking the plane with her eyes.  It passes in front of her face twice.  Somehow the barometric pressure in the room drops, so I know it’s about to go down.  Third time–and I swear on my Batman T-Shirt–her feet shoot from underneath her and she grabs the airplane out of the air with one hand simultaneously.  She crushes  poor Kid Sensation’s airplane while staring him down, then balls the airplane up and slams it into the garbage.  Then she went back to the chair, curled back up, and continued her attempt to suck her thumb.  It happened so fast, if the Big Man hadn’t asked me if I had just seen what he did, I would have thought I imagined it.

You guys, I'm pretty sure this is what happened.
You guys, I’m pretty sure this is what happened.

She blew  up at The Destroyer so hard you guys he just put his hands up and walked away.  He was trying to tell her that dinner was ready.

Wondergirl was in her room ranting for no reason.  Well, maybe there was a reason, but I was scared so I didn’t go in. Or even knock. There might be a body in there, but all I smell is Bath and Body Works Sweet Pea lotion so I think I’ll leave it alone for now.

Oh, and Kid Sensation tried to get himself killed.  The other day he threw himself face down on the couch, then lifts his head, coughs, and says, “Oh, I think it’s Dad’s bottom.”  He then lowered himself down to floor and immediately put his own head down.  He already knew.

Oh, oh, and I have to take timeout to be that parent who brags about something her kid did like other people really care and aren’t just politely nodding and thinking about how to escape.

So the Destroyer runs track, and he ain’t half bad.  He runs the 400 and the 4 x 100, and he throws discus.  So last week, he’s running the third leg of the 4 x 100 and his teammate steps on his shoe during the handoff.  The Destroyer trips, falls, and his shoe comes off.  He rolls over, pops up, and finishes his leg and handoff. WITH. ONE. SHOE.  I thought that was kinda cool.

Anyway, how have you guys been?

I also hate butterflies.

Hey y’all! I know I haven’t been around but I have a really good reason.

I didn’t feel like it.

Anyhoo, I’ve told you guys over and over that I’m pretty much a horrible person. It all came to a head this week. Here are a few of the horrible things I’ve said and done. I’m telling you guys this because misery loves company.

There was this football game that happened this weekend and everyone keeps asking me about it. I’m over it, so I’ve been telling people I was at a funeral.

I went for a walk yesterday and this little dog kept following and nipping at my heels. I was trying to figure out how to kick it without getting caught, but then it went home.

I ate the last cookie and told each kid that another kid did it, hoping for a kid-on-kid fight to the death. It never happened.

It would have been so awesome.
It would have been so awesome.

I watched Maury Povich.

I stuck my tongue out at a kid that was staring at me.

I told a telemarketer that I was dead.

I stepped on one of Kid Sensation’s toys and threw it away in a fit of rage. Then I tried to pretend that he never had that toy in the first place. He didn’t buy that explanation so now I owe him. Which is worse than owing the mafia.

This lady came and stood next to me when I was picking out apples at the store; I guess she wanted some apples too. She smelled horrible. I blurted out “Oh my God!” Really loud.

In his line of work, The Big Man’s shoes get wet and stink up the joint. I insist on making a production out of Febrezing them.

Wondergirl and I were watching show where a husband pranked his wife by putting salt in her coffee. Wondergirl says, “If that were me, I would have poured that coffee over his head.” That was my cue to tell her that second-degree burns are an inappropriate response to a little prank. Instead, I laughed.

I vow to be nicer this week. Wait, no. Next week. Next week, for sure.

Six is the good life.

After being here for two weeks for winter vacation with my kids and not going insane—well, more insane—I’ve decided that Kid Sensation is on to something: being six is awesome. It must be the best thing ever, because when you’re six you get away with crap that no one else in the house does, which is pretty cool. Also, he’s awfully cute, so that helps.

That being said, Kid Sensation is kind of weird. Again, we forgive him all the weird ish he does because he’s six. (Well, the Big Man doesn’t, but that’s because they’re the same person.) So. As I list the stuff that ol’ K.S. Does, some of it you’ll compare to a normal six-year-old. Don’t. It’ll give you a headache.

He gives himself the thumbs up. All the time, not matter how shoddy his work is. I’ve gone to his room after he’s “cleaned it” and told him his work was garbage and that I was going to write him up for it. He gave himself a thumbs up behind my back, like I didn’t know what I was talking about. I had to restrain myself from physically pushing his thumb down. If I went around giving myself the thumbs up, I’d be committed.

He refuses to pronounce things correctly. I try to teach him, but he doesn’t care. I already told you about “unpossible”. (Typing that made me mad all over again. Unpossible. Hmph.) He freaked out one day about having to change in the truck because people were going to see him “maked.” Not “naked”, “make-ed”. Then when I try to tell him the right way to say it, he tells me, “Never mind that.” He does that all the time, like he can’t be bothered with proper English. I swear, if I mispronounce a word and someone corrects me, I am instantly shamed into saying it correctly for the rest of my life.

He brought the Big Man’s shirt downstairs and stomped on it because he was upset with him. That only means something to a six-year-old. You try doing that with a straight face.

Kid Sensation talks mad crazy to his dad. And anyone who has met this man knows that this is risky, at best. But again, being six means not getting beat into paste for being disrespectful to a 350-lb powerlifter. Although, having to put his head down is apparently just as bad.

When you’re six, it’s okay to cry when someone calls you names. Like, Kid Sensation was crying about something and Wondergirl called him a crybaby (he is). He cried about that. If someone calls me names I’m supposed to do things like “be the bigger person” and “not let it get to me”.

Except much, much less stoic.
Kid Sensation. Except  K.S. is much, much less stoic.

He silently points at his food. I don’t even know.

Kid Sensation would rather watch the special features than the movie. We let him get away with this because it keeps him quiet. I’m grown, and if I did that me and the Big Man would probably get into it. He’d be all, “Can we just watch the bleeping movie?!” and I’d be all “No! I need to hear how Mark Ruffalo felt the day they approached him to play the Hulk! I need this!”

I don’t know. I mean, being a grown up ain’t all bad. You know, coffee addiction and such. But being six seems kind of great too.

Oh, and is your kid as weird as mine? No? Fine.

Random Tuesday, Part II

Hey guys!  Did you miss me?  YES, YOU DID.  Well, I missed you, so now you should feel bad.  Anyhoo, I have been wicked busy doing nothing, which means you were probably doing more important things than I was.

So how about some more random thoughts? Some of these were overheard between Wondergirl and Kid Sensation, so they are extra random.

Wondergirl:

Quit spraying it!  IT’S DEAD!  I have no clue what this was about because I was way too scared to go look.

Why are your pants making noise? Sit down, I can’t hear!  Geez, Wondergirl.  Let us wear corduroy in peace around here. By “us”, I mean me.  By “let” I mean “shut your pie-hole”.

Did I say you could sit by me?  No she didn’t.

She looks like a social worker named Pauline.  This is what I thought when I saw Wondergirl’s hilarious school picture. Okay, this is what I said out loud.

Kid Sensation:

AAAAAHHHH!  He turned on the vacuum by accident and got scared and ran.  So I had to go upstairs and turn it off.

Don’t talk to me!  Don’t see me!  He meant don’t look at me, but he ended up sounding like John Cena instead.

Because I’m American!  I don’t know why he shouted this.  I don’t even know if he was talking to anyone.

Me:

Chocolate Peppermint milkshake?  Darn you, Burgerville!

This is my house, I don’t have to wear a sweatshirt here, I can just turn the heat up.  I just came from my folks’ house, where you definitely have to wear a sweatshirt because my dad is Mr. Freeze.

This guy.  With chips and a beer.
This guy. With chips and a beer.

I can’t believe I just watched that.  I couldn’t sleep, so I watched a movie starring DMX.   I repeat, starring DMX.

So is it MY turn to run up the stairs screaming at the top of my lungs? No, cause if I do it, then people start throwing words around like “breakdown” and “crazy”.

I can’t have anything! Looking at the demolition derby that is my house through the blur of tears of self-pity.

I forgot how funny the old Looney Tunes are!  And racist, don’t forget racist.

This book is terrible.  I read the whole thing, though, and by the time I got to the end, it was still terrible.

I think that’s it.  You guys, 2014 had been pretty great with you.  I will be back in 2015 with a new feature starring Optimus Prime’s brother, Omega Prime.  Mama Prime knows what I’m talking about (ooooh, I’m so cryptic…)

Bye ya’ll!  See you next year!

Why can’t I be Bruce Wayne?

Okay, so I you read my blog on a regular basis (and I know you do, because it’s just that entertaining) then you know that I love me some superheroes. Marvel, DC, Justice League, Avengers, all of it. I’ve already done a post about which super powers I would like to have.  Now I’m going to do this one about which superheroes the people in my life actually are.  I mean, if you think about it, we all have people in our lives that have traits of certain mutants or aliens.  Like, my sister Birdie and I have mutual acquaintance that would be Rogue because she sucks the life out of everyone.  Like that.

Of course, I would be Batman. Wait–The Destroyer has just informed me that I am not Batman.  He is insane.

“Of course I’m Batman.  I’m fabulous all day and then I lurk around all night fighting dirt and crime.  Mostly dirt. Also, I always wear black.” Not sure if Batman wears black because it’s slimming, but whatever.

“Yeah, but Batman carries out his threats.”

“Not the point, look, I’m trying to type here–”

“You’re actually the Punisher.  You just go around busting up everyone’s fun.”

What?  I thought I was fun, not the fun-buster.

“No, it’s just that being the fun-buster is fun for you. That’s why you smile when you do it.”  (Note:  This is not why.  I just have this weird quirk where I smile when I’m angry.  Don’t ask me why, I wish I looked fierce and scary and intimidating.)

“You shut up and let me be Batman before I punch the air out of your lungs.”

He laughed, said “Punisher” and went to eat all the food out of the refrigerator.

I have previously called the Big Man my own personal Hulk.  But now that I think about it, that’s not quite right.  He has no Bruce Banner side to him;  he always just walks around being huge and intense.  He’s the Juggernaut. Like this:

He does that several times a day.

Wondergirl is Captain America.  She doesn’t make the rules, but she sure will enforce them.  With violence.  Sweet, sweet, justified violence.

The Destroyer.  He’s Beast.  No, he’s not blue, and he’s not even really hairy yet.  But he does run around on all fours (not joking)  and can physically do some pretty amazing crap. He’s also pretty smart when he feels like it.

Kid Sensation.  I almost put Kid Sensation down as Iron Man, because of how good he is with technology. But Iron Man talks too much.  So I gave him Cyborg.  I would ask him what he thinks of that, but he won’t say anything, anyway–he’s on the computer trying to buy something behind my back.  Haha, Kid, there’s no money in that account.  There’s no money in any account.  Joke’s on–well, all of us, I guess.

Birdie is Storm.  She’s usually the voice of reason, until she gets mad.  Then it’s lightening bolts and tornadoes for everyone.

Yay!  Family dinner!
Yay! Family dinner!

Ah yes, Supermom.  No, she is not Superman, she is Darkseid.  I’m dead serious.

What about the folks you know?  Who are you?

Just plain weekend.

I have to admit, I sometimes feel that everyone is having a better weekend than I am.  So I documented my weekend and realized that they probably are.  But that’s okay, because mine wasn’t half bad. Here it is:

Go to the farmer’s market with your six-year-old. It is so nice to go with someone who doesn’t have any time constraints or an agenda. Kid Sensation was cool to wander with me, sample food, be the only one dancing to the live band, and tip the violinist. Although, apparently balloon animals are okay, but the prospect of getting paint on his face on purpose is terrifying and definitely not okay.

Throw the football with with your twelve year old. Ask him what him and his friends talk about at school. When you suggest boobs, he will emphatically tell you not boobs. Which probably means boobs. You will also find out that his friend, Optimus Prime is a serial dater but that The Destroyer has incredibly high standards for someone who still loses arguments to his six-year-old brother. And who smells like old hummus by the end of the day.

Go boot shopping with your ten-year-old. She will be picky. You will be impatient if you are the Big Man and feel like you should be at home watching football—but you promised. She will hug her Daddy and you will be caught smiling.

Fight with your six-year-old. He will have stayed up late to sneak-watch Frozen, so he won’t be on one, he’ll be on all of them. The final showdown will come at 1 p.m., right as you’ve arrived to your Sunday meeting, where he will melt down as you try to tuck his shirt in in an effort to avoid someone thinking you just brought some random homeless Ewok with you. (He also needs a haircut.) You decide it’s time to go nuclear and call in the Big Man. Kid Sensation is taken out for a few minutes, comes back tearstained and chastened, and instantly falls asleep.

ewok

Have cramps and be cranky and mean.

Eat chips and dip. Feel better. Have a mimosa. Feel even better.

Have your kids make dinner under your direction. Wonder if The Destroyer’s spaghetti is better than yours. No one says it isn’t. Have hurt feelings.

Watch Peyton Manning break Brett Favre’s record. Realize again how cool it is watching history being made with kids.

Pray and be thankful for everything and everyone you have.

They also smell.

I just read an article about if it’s okay to call kids jerks.

Real talk, you guys, I didn’t know people didn’t call kids jerks.

Because kids.  Are.  Jerks.

Now, I’m not suggesting that people call kids jerks out loud to their faces. (Even though I do.  All three of my kids are old enough to know when they’re being jerks.) What I’m saying is that kids do stuff that jerks do. Stuff that would make adults unfriend or unfollow or whatever it is people do these days.

Like:

1.)  Correct your speech.  I hate this. You know why?  It’s not like they’re correcting your grammar or anything–they’re correcting you about crap that is completely irrelevant. Kid Sensation is good for it.  I was talking to Kid Sensation about a dvd we got from the library.  “Make sure you have that Blue’s Clues dvd in the case.”  He says, “You mean, Blue’s room.”  Listen, pal, I don’t give a flying fish stick what it’s called, just make sure it’s in the case so we don’t have to pay for it!  Or the time I told him that something he wanted to do was impossible.  He says, “You mean unpossible”.  No, I didn’t, because I can’t mean something that isn’t a word.  That is jerk stuff, right there.

2.) Question you.  I don’t mean ask questions.  I mean question me–two totally different things. When I give specific instructions, I don’t need to hear “why do I have to do it that way? It’s just as good if I do it the sloppy way I want to do it that is destined to fail”.  I obviously have reasons for telling you how to do something a certain way, or maybe I don’t.  Point is, you live here rent-free and you are wearing clothes that I didn’t steal off a bum as well as horrendously overpriced shoes.  If I want the towels folded into thirds, so be it.

3.) Ignore you.  This is grade-A jerk stuff because you know for a fact that they can hear you.  Kid Sensation is also really good at this.  The other day, I asked him to clean up all his Thomas crap.  Nothing.  So I repeated my request.  He didn’t even turn his head.  I raised my voice a bit (a lot) to make sure he could hear me.  Bupkis. So then I said, almost whispering, “Guess I’m gonna have to eat this ice cream all by myself.”  Guess what?  I get, “Ice cream? What ice cream?”  Uh huh.   “No ice cream, I already ate it by myself. Now pick up your Thomas crap.”  Take that, jerk.

4.)Try to go over your head.  This right here is so infuriating, I can’t even.  When I say no, going to the Big Man to plead your case isn’t going to work.  Odds are, he’s going to tell you to ask your mother, anyway.  Oh and being extra sweet and sitting on his lap won’t work either, Wondergirl.  I’ve tried that.

5.) Ask you the same thing repeatedly.  This is going nuclear in the jerk-being department in my book.  I will, never, ever, ever in this life change the answer to a question just because you ask me 546,687 times.  If I said no then,  I promise I will say no the 546,688th time. I guaran-freaking-tee it.

And then I do this.
And then I do this.

I don’t know.  Like I said, my parenting skills are iffy, at best.  What about those of you that are good parents?  Are your kids jerks?

Absolute Good.

I was having a discussion with Birdie a while back about things that are an “absolute good”–meaning that there is no down side, or that they are good enough that the down side is negligible. Of course, the first thing that comes to everyone’s mind is bacon.  Here’s a few more:

1) Breakfast.  Because it is the meal most associated with bacon, I have to say that breakfast in and of itself is an absolute good.  You can pretty much have whatever you want for breakfast, and at anytime of day.  I have heard people say they don’t eat breakfast, meaning they don’t eat a meal in the morning, but I have never heard anyone say they don’t eat breakfast food.  That’s because everyone on earth has a breakfast food they enjoy.  Eggs–they can be cooked any way you want them.  Cereal–uhh, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, anyone? Pancakes–all yum, all the time. Croissants? Flaky, buttery horn-shaped heaven.  I dare you to say there’s not at least one breakfast food that you like.  I dare you.

2.) Sleeping.  It’s fun, it’s free and it passes the time.  You even have entertainment while you do it–they’re called dreams.  You can pretty much sleep anywhere that you’re not operating machinery or driving (although that self driving car definitely has some possibilities).  Also, when you’re sleeping and someone wants to bother you, a lot of the time they’ll whisper an apology and back out of the room.  Unless their name is Kid Sensation.

3.) Batman.  I have never heard of anyone who doesn’t like Batman.  I’m not talking Batman movies,  mean the Batman.  He doesn’t have any superpowers, he could just be some rich cornhole who just goes around spending astronomical amounts of his money like some jerk named Richard Branson.  But no, he fights crime and despite all his money continues live in crime-infested Gotham instead of moving to the Gotham suburbs.  If you don’t like Batman, I’m not sure I want to know you because you’re obviously some type of hardened criminal who specializes in swindling old people.

I'm not calling him a jerk.  I'm just saying look at the guy.
I’m not calling him a jerk. I’m just saying look at the guy.

4.)  Denzel Washington.  See also:  Leonardo Dicaprio.

5.)  The Empire Strikes Back.  If you don’t love this movie you parents failed you somewhere.  I’m looking at you, Big Man.

6.)  T-Shirts.  They’re comfy, they come in colors, they stretch (handy if you’re boobs have their own area code, like mine do), you can dress them up, and when the sad, sad day that is the end of a t-shirt’s wearable life comes, it becomes an awesome rag. The Big Man’s T-shirts make great curtains.  Oh, t-shirt, is there anything you can’t do?

7.) Thriller.  Not the video that traumatized me as kid, but the album.  I know the entire Beat It dance.  I know all the words to every song on that album–and so does everyone I know.  Including people under 10 that do not live here.

8.)  Prayer.  Cause sometimes you have to talk to someone without anyone else around.

So give it up!  What’s your absolute good?