Crikey, Won't He EVER Stop Talking About the Farshtinkener Quarters? (and Other Matters)
You’ll be gobsmacked to hear that I have the brand-new Iowa quarter in my possession – at least, the Denver minting thereof. I think I forgot to mention that Gigi, the effervescently lisping cashier at my building’s ground floor store, saves the quarters for me as new ones show up. Today, as always, she called after me, “Thave it! It’th a hot quarter!” I shouldn’t mock, as she’s terribly sweet. I think she has a whole roster of quarter freaks that she helps out. She identified me as in need of numismatic assistance a couple of years ago when she noticed that every time I made a purchase I’d walk away slowly, squinting at the change. How shameful to be so obvious. It’s worse now that I know I have to distinguish between a little tiny “D” and a little tiny “P.”
In more pressing news, help is on the way, and I don’t mean just Kerry/Edwards. Mama Dog placed an order today for a new computer, which should arrive within a week. With any luck at all, we’ll be back in working order then. On the advice of counsel we’ll be downloading Mozilla and consigning Microflaccid IE to the dustbin of history.
I spent some time today entering into top secret negotiations for the catering for Sunday’s party. I’m not sure why I waited so long before starting – usually I do this sort of thing way in advance. But it looks like it might possibly work out. If not, I could always fall back on La Mediterranee again, even though we were there and did that two years ago.
This weekend, Mama Dog and I saw We Don’t Live Here Anymore. No, not together, we were already using up our babysitting favour for the week by leaving Baby Dog with the Pirates again whilst we learned how to treat her cuts and burns. Mama Dog had been keen to see it ever since reading a rave in The New Yorker, and we finally structured our time to allow that this Saturday – then she got bummed because she couldn’t talk to me about it. I’m kind of fanatical when it comes to not hearing about movies I haven’t seen. It’s a practical impossibility of course, but I try to experience them as close to tabula rasa as modern marketing will allow. I had no immediate plans to see this particular movie, but – who knows? – I might someday. So no, sorry, thanks much, don’t want to know. This put me in the remarkable position of having to ditch my household responsibilities and see a movie to keep the marital operation running smoothly. Am I the only one who feels a faint echo of the Bizarro world in that? It’s not quite “And don’t come back until you’ve fucked a bunch of teenage girls, buster!” but it’s in the same genus, I think. Anyway, I saw the movie on Sunday afternoon, and we had a good old chinwag about it on the way to First Aid class. And that’s the way that the world goes round.
In more pressing news, help is on the way, and I don’t mean just Kerry/Edwards. Mama Dog placed an order today for a new computer, which should arrive within a week. With any luck at all, we’ll be back in working order then. On the advice of counsel we’ll be downloading Mozilla and consigning Microflaccid IE to the dustbin of history.
I spent some time today entering into top secret negotiations for the catering for Sunday’s party. I’m not sure why I waited so long before starting – usually I do this sort of thing way in advance. But it looks like it might possibly work out. If not, I could always fall back on La Mediterranee again, even though we were there and did that two years ago.
This weekend, Mama Dog and I saw We Don’t Live Here Anymore. No, not together, we were already using up our babysitting favour for the week by leaving Baby Dog with the Pirates again whilst we learned how to treat her cuts and burns. Mama Dog had been keen to see it ever since reading a rave in The New Yorker, and we finally structured our time to allow that this Saturday – then she got bummed because she couldn’t talk to me about it. I’m kind of fanatical when it comes to not hearing about movies I haven’t seen. It’s a practical impossibility of course, but I try to experience them as close to tabula rasa as modern marketing will allow. I had no immediate plans to see this particular movie, but – who knows? – I might someday. So no, sorry, thanks much, don’t want to know. This put me in the remarkable position of having to ditch my household responsibilities and see a movie to keep the marital operation running smoothly. Am I the only one who feels a faint echo of the Bizarro world in that? It’s not quite “And don’t come back until you’ve fucked a bunch of teenage girls, buster!” but it’s in the same genus, I think. Anyway, I saw the movie on Sunday afternoon, and we had a good old chinwag about it on the way to First Aid class. And that’s the way that the world goes round.
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 5:50 PM
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