|Am I really going to publish this? What do you think, alcohol?|
So, for instance, you might tell all 12 of your readers that your Precocious Daughter had her karate belt ceremony tonight - she and her friends are green belts now, which means she can kick most of your asses. I don't mean she can kick most of your ass...I mean she can kick the ass of most of you...not that most of you share a single ass...
You might then say that after the ceremony, you and PDaughter's dad waited around for her to take approximately 4,000 selfies with her friends. And after perfunctorily socializing with the other parents, you wandered over to the edge of the school gymnasium because perfunctory socializing makes you sweat and break out in an itchy rash. And you saw a table and sort of leaned your ass against it. And then PDaughter's dad joined you and sat down - you know, full weight, full ass, and everything - on the table, which was not a slab of mahogany but a cheap wood-veneer folding table that probably was older than most of the kids in the gym.
And predictably, three seconds later the table collapsed, and down you both went. And EVERYBODY in the gym saw it happen.
And everybody - friends, strangers, your kid's teachers - came over to make sure you were both OK.
And even though you actually had fallen onto your bad arm, AND you were mortified, you laughed it off. Even though you wanted to yell, for all to hear, "This - THIS - is why this man and I are no longer together. Not this specific thing, but, you know, this type of thing."
But he sort of hurt his shoulder falling to the ground, and you can't help but feel bad for him, because 25 years is a long time to simply stop caring about someone.
Probably you would never consider writing about any of this on the Internetz, where anybody could see it.
Unless you had a blog that needed updating and a couple of shots of vodka in you.
So PDaughter and her friends got their green belts tonight. It was awesome. Yeah.
Thanks for sharing my bliss.