Sorry, I'm lame. Skip this one. Lame. Super lame. It'll only give you a headache.
They say there are no stupid questions. Whoever "they" are, they have not met my lovely boy Beavis. Now, he can ask some pretty intelligent questions, and I like those. But then he asks the most ridiculous questions. They remind me of a class I took in college, Critical Thinking, where we would get these questions: "If all yeys are heys, are all heys neys?".
He loves hypothetical shit that'll never happen. It drives me bananas. I never used to discourage his questions, cuz of that whole self-esteem thing, and to encourage his curiousity, blah, blah, blah. NOw? (double caps!) If he gets going on the heys and yeys, I point blank tell him, "Stupid question, Beav, shut up". Then Butthead appears in the backround, "There are no stupid questions". To which I say, "I guess he never asks you questions".
Sorry that was lame.
I wanted to write mostly about the love I've been getting in my notes. I wuv my lame banner because I've been getting the attention of some cool diaries, and I am going to be checking them out and adding faves to my list, when I get a moment. I've been keeping the computer off most days, because I've been potty training Mickey (yeah, he's 4, so it's about friggin time, I know) and if he gets on the computer, he'll piss and shit himself and sit in it. The only way I can keep him off is to turn the damn thing off, because aside from all he does know about this computer, he does not know how to turn it on. Imagine that. So when he's eight and he brings down the Internet (he's a future computer genius/hacker), it'll be my fault for turning the thing on. (I say he'll be a hacker because, as much as I love my wittle baby, he's inherently evil. Being a third child and all, and the baby of our Brady Bunch, he was born evil and I've spoiled the shit out of him. Plus he's chock full of Dick's genes which makes him evil by default. Never mix Swedish and Portuguese, okay? It just isn't right).
I kid, I kid. I love the little fucker to death, and his ethnic heritage is fine with me.
I watched about five minutes of the debate last night. My ADD just doesn't jibe with the BS rhetoric. My mind is made up anyway and nothing's changing it. Nothing. Period. Kerry is my guy. So. There.
Well, it's time for another trip to the potty before Mickey pisses all over his new Woody costume. Yeah, Halloween isn't for another 30 days, but I mentioned how he's spoiled right? 'kay.
This was so lame. I apologize.
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