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Monday, May 28, 2012

Ambuigity OR Randomness AGAIN! OR Observations About Whatnot

I realized that among other things I must publish a blog on the morrow and thought, "What the bleep am I going to blog about?"  Nothing came to mind.  We're still moving.  HIM is still a peabrain.  Our daughter's cat is still a moron.  The same daughter hasn't told me a great story about disembodied hands or zombies eating Walmart.  (I still giggle about the hand one.)  But I must blog.

I could blog about politics, but everyone blogs about that.  Republicans suck.  Democrats suck.  The Tea Party sucks.  All political candidates suck.  Their spouses/significant others/nanny's suck.  In fact, the entire continent of North America sucks.  Well, not all of it.  The subject sucks.  There, that's better.

Cressy rediscovering the water for summer.
Yesterday we went to Westmoreland Park in Virginia right on the Potomac River.  There's fossil hunting there.  Apparently everyone else knew about it too.  The ones who didn't know about it were on the road in front of me, especially the more moronic ones.  In fact, no one needed to ask where all the morons went yesterday on that two hour segment of time.  They were all in front of me.  Every one of them.  They got together and decided to do this in honor of me.  I'm pretty sure.  Back to the fossils.  We found a lot of gritty sand, a very pretty park, some pretty shells, a heart shaped rock which I'm pretty sure isn't a rock at all (it's going to vanish mysteriously very soon because it's way too light to be a rock, do you get where I'm going?), and two little rocks that may or may not be fossils.  That beach has been picked clean.  I think if anyone found a shark's tooth, they'd get jumped by all the other fossil hunters.  On the up side, it's a pretty park, we had a nice hike where I didn't have a heart attack, and we did something fun, no matter how snarky I am about it later.
There be fossils on that thar beach.  But ye have to fight off
all the other fossil hunters.  This tree was the only shade around
except for some canny individual who hiked down the hill
with a beach umbrella.  I would have mugged them for the umbrella
but there were too many witnesses with cameras.
Cressy was all into the water and getting the gritty sand in parts of her body left unmentioned by anyone not related to her.  She certainly didn't want to go back up the hill.  We divided up the load.  I got the big bag with the towels, sunblock, snacks, and drinks.  She got the pail with the scoop.  Halfway up the hill, I got the pail with the scoop, too.  When we got to the visitor's center, someone was compelled to buy a small skunk plush and it wasn't me.

On the way back we saw this:

You ain't nothing but a bubba, crying all the time.
Who knew they have bubbas in Virginia, much less at least 19 of them who want vanity plates?  But look, this Bubba drives a Honda truck.  (It's like a pretend truck.  He might as well be driving the Barbie Beetle.)  He should be ashamed of himself, not driving American.  Plus, he forgot to use his turn signal at this light.

Then I got home and I lost my car keys.  This was the straw that broke the fat woman's back.  I pretty much lost my mind.  The keys are in the house but they're missing in action.  I strip searched the entire kitchen.  I went through the garbage.  (the can in the kitchen and the two outside cans.  None of it smelled or felt good.)  I grilled my daughter.  ("Did you touch the keys?"  "No, Mommy, I did not touch the keys."  "Are you sure you didn't touch the keys?"  "Yes, Mommy, I'm sure.  Can I have my skunk plush now?")  I called up HIM and ranted, trying to find a way to blame him.  The missing keys are his fault, of course.  After a good cry and determination that the keys have disappeared into the great black hole into which all socks and earring-backs go, I started checked how much it was going to cost me for a replacement frickin' key for the Ford.  The quotes disturbed me.  I think it actually made me cry harder.  Cressy brought me a box of Kleenex and patted my arm.

So with that, I'm going to search for the keys again.  It turns out that it costs bucks for the replacement key which is so special it has a microchip in it.  Maybe someone could put a GPS chip in it.  Next time.

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