Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Herpes Simplex and The Electrelephant

My daughter showed me her birthday outfit this morning.

It doesn't include any underpants. She was trying it on when I wandered into her bedroom this morning. It's a nice purple dress that she likes to to wear. Then to prove it wasn't just carelessness on her part she pointed out that the outfit does not need underpants. She then asked me what outfit I would be wearing. I didn't feel compelled to ask whether I was to skip the underpants figuring that I'd risk having some on and that she won't have TSA agents stationed at the living room door ready to grope me (aside: make note of this as a potential storyline for a smutty book that people buy at airport bookstores).

Moving on - you may recall her birthday is shared by the dog. Which is why we are planning to actually have a bone-shaped birthday cake. A pedant might ask which bone in particular my wife is going to go for - but I suspect she's going for the generic cartoon-bone shape. I didn't get a chance to ask the dog what his birthday outfit was going to be before he sauntered into the kitchen wearing it. He looks absolutely ridiculous. Everyone else knows that the color theme of the day is purple. Idiot.

At this very moment both kids are doing quite nicely playing together. After weeks of bitter, angry rivalry they had some weird convergence and "camped out" in my daughter's room most of the afternoon. Apparently a communal effort to transport all of the trains upstairs, make a pretend bed to nap in and then have my daughter read Dr. Seuss books to her brother was enough to have them overlook their recent animosity. Actually my daughter burst that bubble a little earlier on by insisting I put music on while her brother was napping so she could practice dancing to it. I asked her what she wanted but she just kept telling me to put "something" on. So I pulled up Winamp and hit random and this beauty came on. Which she oddly thought was fine. Especially as periodically throughout the song there are strange noises. Then at 1:20 someone starts blasting atonal trombone noises over the chugging guitar riffs. My son - who had slowly awoken by now - squealed like a slowly-released balloon and went to hide in the kitchen cabinet with his sister. The trombone-trumping continued and she came running back yelling that an "electrelephant" was hiding in the kitchen and wants to "zap my bumcheeks with his trunk."Which he found hysterical. They demanded I play that song about five times after that and hung out as best friends all day long then. So I let them wander off upstairs to play and followed them up later.

Right now they're following a big battery-operated Thomas the Tank Engine around as it repeats the same irritating story about needing to fill up with water before going to Farmer McColls. The sound they use for filling up the water sounds like a practical joke mind you. I'd bet good money to say it's really a man urinating into a toilet. I'll have to record it at some point. My son though is quickly forgetting his new-found niceness though anytime his sister puts a toy dinosaur in Thomas' way. Then his rage kicks in and he wants to kill us all.Which provokes her and makes me want to reassert my authority as The Man Who Will Accept No Growling.

I am letting it go today though (picking one of them up and walking off basically...) because a) it's my daughter's birthday and b) in a few weeks she goes back to school and then it's just me and the boy at home alone all day long. Completely different dynamic there. I'll be like one of those laughably misinformed parents that think having one child is hard. Snort. And then I can shape and mold my boy to channel his fury and be my right-hand man for when I take over the world (could happen). Because once I take control children won't be allowed to have tantrums. Oh no - you'll all see. When I appear on TV in military fatigues at one of the show trials I will personally preside over then the tone will be set for my New Era. A tantrum, a whine or an incident of talking-back will be met with an iron fist. Mwahaha (sniff) mwahahaha. All you pillocks who are ridiculously blathering on about how Obama's America is effectively a concentration camp - you have no idea. You'll be wearing diapers in my new society. It'll be a punishment for being as blindly stupid as thinking the US resembles 1930s Germany somehow.

Anyhoo - I've tyrannically removed Thomas and all the dinosaurs and so my son was sulking. I cheered him up though by showing him the photos I made yesterday on a mugshot website hosted by BBC America. Basicallyit morphs a photo of you with a mugshot of a criminal from 1864. My son's picture is quite cheeky. He has the wrong name under him though. That's my generic online name I use to help shake off lazy people looking for forums/sites I use. I take great joy in knowing that people are painfully searching through Google returns with the name Herpes Simplex and something I've written about. For example, "Herpes Simplex and dog in underpants." Although now thinking about it people actually looking for an STD-riddled dog wearing knickers are actually going to end up here. I haven't thought that through properly....

Mine though is sex on a stick. I implore you all to download it as a screen saver. Have it blown up and framed. Make it into flyers and spread it all over your neighborhood. I'll certainly be using it as the cover photo for the book I make this blog into.

Oh - and remember to wipe your computer screen. Whatever part of your body you just pressed against my morphed beautiful face has likely left a smudge.

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