oh, hilarity. how are you so hilarious?
So, Dad and I went out to dinner with Mom, A. Carole, and quatredeathlady's mom. (I constantly refer to her as that because in real life she's like, my first cousin once removed or some ridiculous relation that I don't feel like looking up. So there.) It was kind of hilarious. Seriously, our family is so neurotic, that I sometimes can't even deal with it without laughing hysterically for hours on end (much like I did today.).
Before that, I wrote the penultimate scene of a story I've been writing since February. The working title has been "keepawaywithatlantis" although it turned out to be less John and Atlantis playing keepaway with Rodney and more John and Rodney declaring a mutual prank war. Still, the penultimate scene involves a kiss, evol plotting, and lots of manly not-talking-about-emotions. I think in the "Let's talk about our emotions!" part I wrote all of... one complete sentence. The rest of it is, 'Um... well... you see... what I mean is... um... sometimes I sort of... well, you know."
Oh, boys. You are twelve.
Anyway, I should be working on that, my summer story with quatredeathlady, the many birthday ficlets I owe, or four letters I need to write (okay, one of them is technically a GJ comment), but instead I am writing a little bit of this. It is BASED ON A TRUE STORY. No joke.
***
"So, where's the checkbook?" Alan asked again.
"On the end table," Danny called from the kitchen. "You can put it away when you're done, I shouldn't be trusted with it."
"Mmm," Alan agreed. The checkbook was buried under both of their keyrings and the day's mail. "God knows it took me until my second Master's degree to understand how to use a calculator to do the bills. You're definitely not qualified."
"Haha, very funny," Danny said. "Is capellini okay? We might have some penne somewhere if you'd rather."
"No, that's fine." Alan settled down at the kitchen table with his calculator, a stack of bills, and the checkbook. "Electric's lower than usual this month," he commented idly as Danny leaned over the stovetop on the other side of the room. He flipped open the checkbook and frowned. Flipped back to the ledger portion of it.
Oh hell.
"Do you listen to a single word that comes out of my mouth, you idiot?" he snapped.
Danny looked up, sauce spoon halfway to his mouth. "Excuse me?"
"You wrote a hundred and seventy-five dollar check to L.T.S.?"
"I..." Danny was clearly confused, which really just made Alan angrier. "A girl came by and... there was a trip she's trying to raise money for...."
"It's a scam, you moron!" he exclaimed. "The one I was talking about at dinner the other night! The one that fleeced half Justine's neighborhood! Oh god, I shouldn't be surprised, her idiot husband wrote them a check too."
***
There's more to that. I'm tired now. Perhaps I'll go to bed. I'm volunteering at the cancer center tomorrow, so I should sleep now.
Before that, I wrote the penultimate scene of a story I've been writing since February. The working title has been "keepawaywithatlantis" although it turned out to be less John and Atlantis playing keepaway with Rodney and more John and Rodney declaring a mutual prank war. Still, the penultimate scene involves a kiss, evol plotting, and lots of manly not-talking-about-emotions. I think in the "Let's talk about our emotions!" part I wrote all of... one complete sentence. The rest of it is, 'Um... well... you see... what I mean is... um... sometimes I sort of... well, you know."
Oh, boys. You are twelve.
Anyway, I should be working on that, my summer story with quatredeathlady, the many birthday ficlets I owe, or four letters I need to write (okay, one of them is technically a GJ comment), but instead I am writing a little bit of this. It is BASED ON A TRUE STORY. No joke.
***
"So, where's the checkbook?" Alan asked again.
"On the end table," Danny called from the kitchen. "You can put it away when you're done, I shouldn't be trusted with it."
"Mmm," Alan agreed. The checkbook was buried under both of their keyrings and the day's mail. "God knows it took me until my second Master's degree to understand how to use a calculator to do the bills. You're definitely not qualified."
"Haha, very funny," Danny said. "Is capellini okay? We might have some penne somewhere if you'd rather."
"No, that's fine." Alan settled down at the kitchen table with his calculator, a stack of bills, and the checkbook. "Electric's lower than usual this month," he commented idly as Danny leaned over the stovetop on the other side of the room. He flipped open the checkbook and frowned. Flipped back to the ledger portion of it.
Oh hell.
"Do you listen to a single word that comes out of my mouth, you idiot?" he snapped.
Danny looked up, sauce spoon halfway to his mouth. "Excuse me?"
"You wrote a hundred and seventy-five dollar check to L.T.S.?"
"I..." Danny was clearly confused, which really just made Alan angrier. "A girl came by and... there was a trip she's trying to raise money for...."
"It's a scam, you moron!" he exclaimed. "The one I was talking about at dinner the other night! The one that fleeced half Justine's neighborhood! Oh god, I shouldn't be surprised, her idiot husband wrote them a check too."
***
There's more to that. I'm tired now. Perhaps I'll go to bed. I'm volunteering at the cancer center tomorrow, so I should sleep now.