Let's Just Say...
If I was truly a dedicated Live-Journaler, there would be a digital picture right here of my new dent that I picked up on account of that no good dumpster that's in my driveway right now. Allow me instead to paint a verbal picture:
I was backing up and turning around about 15 feet farther down the driveway than I usually do (because I had to park around the f$!@$ing dumpster) when the right front corner of my van bitch-slaps the basketball hoop, leaving a much uglier dent than the deep shallow one on my sliding door. To tell you the truth, the one on the door has acquired a regal, stately look to it next to this fatherless-child of a dent. It's white and the paint from the hoop and the car mixed around to make more ugliness: the van's Auto-Body does not even vaguely resemble the one that I was given when first handed the keys to the car, which is sad.
In other news, when you divide the number of days since shannon was born by 365, the remainder is equal to the number of leap years that we've had over that same span, so we had a party today.
Shannon got DDR and a couple of mats, so except for connor and the birthday kid (who had played before) we were all able to make fools of ourselves in an attempt to step on electronic squares in an order dictated to us by a computer, even Mr. and Mrs. Gilroy.
Why be bored (or productive) when you have The Internet at your fingertips?
Damn you Ashley Wagner!
When I grow up, I will either be this man or perish from abject failure
The Soundtrack to my African Paper
edit: Please Call Stella
I miss my hombres, and haven't sung along to an acoustic guitar except for Trezz's birthday for god knows how long, I propose that it be April 10 and after the Walk with my paper handed in right now.
I was backing up and turning around about 15 feet farther down the driveway than I usually do (because I had to park around the f$!@$ing dumpster) when the right front corner of my van bitch-slaps the basketball hoop, leaving a much uglier dent than the deep shallow one on my sliding door. To tell you the truth, the one on the door has acquired a regal, stately look to it next to this fatherless-child of a dent. It's white and the paint from the hoop and the car mixed around to make more ugliness: the van's Auto-Body does not even vaguely resemble the one that I was given when first handed the keys to the car, which is sad.
In other news, when you divide the number of days since shannon was born by 365, the remainder is equal to the number of leap years that we've had over that same span, so we had a party today.
Shannon got DDR and a couple of mats, so except for connor and the birthday kid (who had played before) we were all able to make fools of ourselves in an attempt to step on electronic squares in an order dictated to us by a computer, even Mr. and Mrs. Gilroy.
Why be bored (or productive) when you have The Internet at your fingertips?
Damn you Ashley Wagner!
When I grow up, I will either be this man or perish from abject failure
The Soundtrack to my African Paper
edit: Please Call Stella
I miss my hombres, and haven't sung along to an acoustic guitar except for Trezz's birthday for god knows how long, I propose that it be April 10 and after the Walk with my paper handed in right now.