I watched a two year old pick up a toy that he had never seen and listen to the Spanish word for trumpet: “La trumpeta.” He would listen, look at me, smile, and say, “la tupeta.” He later growled “swoooooooorrrrdddd” and chopped away at my legs for a while. I don’t think I told him how amazed that I was, as I couldn’t remember the Spanish word for “amazing.” Plus, give me a break, the kid had a fuckin’ sword.
Two for Fighting
The GF and I had a little spat about weekend plans on Sunday. They happen very infrequently, but they do occur. We were going to see a dance recital, and she wanted to stay at her sister’s overnight. As her sister has two little ones that are up when children normally are, and I was exhausted from the virus hell of last week, I knew that there would be no chance of recovery if I stayed. I figured that I would follow her and her mom up for the day in my car, see the recital, hang out a bit, and drive back in the evening by myself. That way, I wouldn’t poop on anyone’s overnight plans, and would get in some much needed rest. Everyone wins.
As I don’t know women well, I had no idea that my compromise was not a compromise. Compromising would’ve been me staying at the sisters. I thought that was called a sacrifice, but I’m still not sure. All I know is that I obviously made the wrong decision. As I tried to point out that she was telling me that I sucked and was an a-hole for not staying, she pointed out that those were not her words. This was true. My statement was merely an exaggerated interpretation of the impression given as run through the Jon-Translator. Then, as time slowed, she dropped the bomb:
“I wonder how badly Jenn really treated you.
Ohhhh shiiiiiiiiit. The girlfriend had just sided with the ex-wife from hell. Pigs flew around chasing the monkeys that flew out of my butt back to a hell that had completely and utterly frozen over. The words hung in the air and time stopped. If someone jumped in the air, I know we could’ve done that cool matrix style fighting (I really should’ve thought of that…).
I had pondered this point many times on my own, but when coming from someone else, the possibility stung. I really almost left, although a bit dramatic even for me, but nothing should be taboo in an argument, and I felt the need to stay and finish the fight off.
At that point, I had decided that I wasn’t going at all, and got in my car to leave. Within seconds, I caved when I saw how unhappy the GF had become. Even though I’m not one to back down, I’m not one to hurt people, either. I decided to breathe, and just go back to the original plan where I thought everyone won and pretended the previous hour never happened.
On stage of the dance recital, what does one of the little girls say while waving? Hi, Auntie? Nope.
Worth every penny. Children of the world: Take me as your king.
Three Times Wrong
At a Dunkin’ Donuts on the South Shore before leaving for said recital, I noticed a blonde girl in the car next to me. As her boyfriend came out of the DD, I noticed, as utterly gay as this sounds and shameful as it is to admit, that he had nice eyes (wrong to notice, and double wrong to comment on). Two hours from the DD and four hours later, the same kid and the blonde girl were in line at the dance recital.
Just an odd coincidence.
P.S. Never used the phrase “purdy mouth” in the above section. Still not gay. Thanks. Have a nice day.
To parents: Please don’t put your eight year old boy in dance lessons unless you have been intentionally raising him as a girl since birth. And for god’s sake, don’t make him wear sequined vests or a sailors cap. I saw that kid this weekend, and by the look on his face, once he can legally access a rifle, he will. He barely looked up the entire time, and only smiled when he tapped this funny rhythm that went: -.- .. .-.. .-...