"The Bitch is Back"
You may all rest easy. Cooler heads have prevailed.
After my thinly veiled threat to discontinue this blog, all three of my readers cornered me and conducted an old fashioned beatdown of an intervention, which involved a 9-iron, some spandex underwear and a yo-yo.
Although my heart may not be in it, I've given my word to keep writing here — and except for the situation involving that kid who claims to be my son in Tijuana, I almost always sometimes try and keep my promises.
I feel like I'm tapped out of stories, though. Who wants to hear about our adventures anyway? Does anyone care to hear that last night Stacey was tickling Connor's face with her hair when he suggested that she tickle his penis? Does anyone really want to read about how Connor will sit in the backseat of the car and say, "cookie now" repeatedly until I either shoot blood out of my ears or cave in and toss a few animal crackers his way? (Which reminds me of the story of my cousins teaching their younger sister that "now" and not "please" was the magic word. What's the magic word? NOW!!!) Why on earth would anyone want to know about Connor announcing to the checkout clerk in Wal-Mart that he was in the middle of a "stinky pooper?" Could anyone possibly care that Connor told an obese ederly woman riding an electric cart in the bread aisle that she was "not mama?" (After he said this, I replied — just loud enough for the woman to hear — "you don't know that for sure.")
You know, I might just have better things to do than spend my evenings toiling away at a blog entry? Do any of you care that I could have a life?
I don't, but I could!
After my thinly veiled threat to discontinue this blog, all three of my readers cornered me and conducted an old fashioned beatdown of an intervention, which involved a 9-iron, some spandex underwear and a yo-yo.Although my heart may not be in it, I've given my word to keep writing here — and except for the situation involving that kid who claims to be my son in Tijuana, I almost always sometimes try and keep my promises.
I feel like I'm tapped out of stories, though. Who wants to hear about our adventures anyway? Does anyone care to hear that last night Stacey was tickling Connor's face with her hair when he suggested that she tickle his penis? Does anyone really want to read about how Connor will sit in the backseat of the car and say, "cookie now" repeatedly until I either shoot blood out of my ears or cave in and toss a few animal crackers his way? (Which reminds me of the story of my cousins teaching their younger sister that "now" and not "please" was the magic word. What's the magic word? NOW!!!) Why on earth would anyone want to know about Connor announcing to the checkout clerk in Wal-Mart that he was in the middle of a "stinky pooper?" Could anyone possibly care that Connor told an obese ederly woman riding an electric cart in the bread aisle that she was "not mama?" (After he said this, I replied — just loud enough for the woman to hear — "you don't know that for sure.")
You know, I might just have better things to do than spend my evenings toiling away at a blog entry? Do any of you care that I could have a life?
I don't, but I could!
posted by Carter at 8:23 PM
4 Comments:
Pleeeeez don't retire the blog. I read it every day and it's a stitch. I will track you down and find out how to use spandex and a yo-yo as a tool of encouragment.
Nooooooooooo! Don't end The Adventures of Connor and his Half Crazed Dad... It makes me feel so.... so normal. Besides it isn't what stories you tell but how you tell them, that have us all addicted to your blog like a bunch of strung out heroin junkies.
Sincerely,
Your Fourth Reader
We care, we care. How does that make your feel? Oops, Stacey is supposed to ask that question.
i want to hear about more "run-ins" with celebs like burt reynolds. that story was hilarious!
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