Proof that a woman can be brought to ecstacy w/o touching her: Wife’s reaction when she found me on my hands and knees, cleaning a toilet.
Laser tag. The 6YO and I are a team, so 11YO boys got spanked by “Princess01” & “Princess02” Sadly, she’s “01” because she’s a better shot.
Just when I thought I couldn’t be a larger dork, after seeing Star Trek last night I groused about neutral quote marks in the end credits.
Final day of trial for my wife, so she was up *super* late last night. Preparing her closing argument? No, perseverating over wardrobe. Doy!
Her: I was a PageMaker fan for a very long time. Me: This is like your thing with adoring the hockey puck mouse. Don’t admit that stuff, OK?
Wife: “I feel nauseous.” Me: “Maybe you’re pregnant?” Finally, we’ve reached a time where I can freak her out with a pregnancy scare.
Wife has a trial this week. I’m helping by explaining in detail the Chewbacca Defense. I’m totally billing her $250/hr. for this.
“Why’d you stop weeding?” “BIG SNAKE OUT THERE.” “Wow.” Reality: I uncovered a huge earthworm, screamed and now I’m obsessing about snakes.
Hm. We have a 19YO Rhetoric student/comic book nerd who’s afraid of driving over here. She’s gonna live in our basement forever, isn’t she?
Anyone want to hire a 19YO Rhetoric student/comic book nerd? @squidwoman needs a summer job. She can type! And wax rhapsodic about Gambit!
Fearing now that the story of my life will end in some bizarrely 1984-esque way; not “He loved Big Brother” but “He loved PowerPoint.”
Her: GUESS WHAT I HAVE? Me: Chlamydia? H: Ew! No, an interview! M: Cool! Doing? H: Sales. M: So, only a bit better than not having chlamydia
Hope is the thing with feathers. —Emily Dickinson Without Feathers —book by Woody Allen I think I have bird flu. —me, just now
Was out in the back 40, doin’ some bush hoggin’. Suburban guy translation follows: Was weeding the flower beds until wife said I could stop.
We really only have three rules at our house: 1. Treat others the way you’d want to be treated. 2. Be honest. 3. NEVER TALK DURING THE MOVIE
Finally got a “real” camera (Nikon D60). Just took the first pic: wife in her bathrobe and a towel turban. And now, I have a broken D60.
Huge swaths of central Idaho smell like poop. It’s like I’m driving through the ancient breeding grounds for Twitter jokes.
Thank you Pacific NW for a wonderful time! We’ve got a couple hippies and a fixie stashed in the trunk as souvenirs.
Everywhere we’ve gone people have given us gifts, @seoulbrother gave us herpes!
There’s a camera crew outside @seoulbrother’s house. Hmm. Wonder what that’s about?
Mistakenly said I didn’t use Coda as a text editor and @nevenmrgan forced me to tote this around Portland all night: http://bit.ly/1By9q
Reason #67 why it was a bad idea to send this kid to college: she pointed out that all the food on my plate was “repressed and alienated.”
Got “Mr. Deal’ed” far too many times @ dinner w/daughter and her friends. “Hey, I’m still cool! Look at this neat-o iPhone game I just got!”
Love crossing into the Pacific Time Zone. “Attention good people of western Oregon! Do not fear me, though I bring tidings from the FUTURE!”
It’s just not a proper phone call with Mom until she’s told me to “be careful” at least three times.
Next week I’ll be near Redmond and might “accidentally” run into a PowerPower developer. “There Will Be Blood 2: The Page Curl Reckoning”
Seattle/Portland people, I’ll be up there next week. Want to mock my beard in person? @ or DM me. Dinner? Drinks? Awkward silences? Whee!
“Can I speak to the dude who buys computer stuff?” “Um, that’s me.” “Rad!” Is it wrong that I kind of want to give him all our business?
If I were going to make a @twitshirt thing, I guess I might use this one: http://twitshirt.com/shirt/config/zuhl/1115929333
Him: “This thing on twitter today? With the boners? I’m sick of it.” Me: “Now you know how it felt to be my girlfriend in eighth grade.”
BUG UPDATE: Termites are goners; I keep hearing tiny screams as they die under my desk. Pretty sure I also heard them swear to get revenge.
Our studio has termites. They sprayed this morning. So I have nasty chemicals and scurrying, retreating bugs crawling all over me. Excellent
“Will you set up an ‘out of office’ message for M.?” “What? No way! She totally knows how to do that!” “Her grammy died, Jon.” “Oh.”
There is nothing quite so delightful as a 10 minute diatribe from my wife about what a giant putz Antonin Scalia is.
You know it’s going to be a fun party when you’re required to sign a liability waiver before entering.
Apparently a 41YO white man must now justify having Prince’s “1999” album on his iPod to a carload of 15YO girls. “Yes, I do like D.M.S.R.!”