The photographer came to shoot the house today, and the pictures look amazing. Like, "that totally isn't my house, your camera is possessed by demons" amazing. Did I have an anxiety attack? Actually, I managed to keep my shit mostly together. Possibly I muttered under my breath and wrung my hands when Anderson was out of the room. But for the most part I kept myself in check.
|Wait...do crabs have teeth?!?|
And then, at long last, I can shut up about selling my house. You're welcome.
Next up: Precocious Daughter thinks she's hilarious.
|Hilarious and adorable. Yep, pretty much.|
We were driving home from the store, and the lane we were in suddenly ground to a near-halt. Which was strange, since traffic overall wasn't heavy, and there didn't seem to be an accident or police activity up ahead.
Turns out some random dude in a pickup truck was pulling a speedboat, and he decided it was imperative that he drive 20 mph with his flashers on.
|Joaquin Phoenix speaks for me.|
I expressed my annoyance out loud, and PDaughter said, "Well, it is a big boat."
And I said - because I have no filters - "You know what they say about guys with big boats."
And PDaughter shot back, "Big boats, big docks."
My jaw dropped as she cracked up. And lest I think she had just made a silly innocent quip, she added, "Man, that joke has layers."
Did my sweet little girl just make a dick and/or vagina joke? I think she did.
And of course I had to laugh on the inside, because I'm the mom.
Next: I'm listening to one of my very favorite albums, Gerry Rafferty's City to City.
Yes, it's the album that has "Baker Street" on it. And "Baker Street" is one of my top five favoritest songs ever. But every single track on this album makes me deeply happy. And there aren't many albums that can do that.
What albums do that for you? I want to know.
Finally: Happy Birthday, Mr. President.
|I'll spare you the re-creation.|
This has been random things.
OK, I have to get up early tomorrow. Good night, Drunkards.
Namaste and whatnot.