One of my favorite gags in Mystery Men involved the idea of “chicken rentals.” So much so that for a time I included “chicken rentals” on my business cards in the hopes that somebody would ask “Who would want to rent a chicken?“.
Today I learned that chicken rentals are an actual thing. (Apparently a lot of people learned this today and the sites seem to be overloaded, so I’m not including a link here, but you can seriously search for “chicken rentals” yourself and see what I’m talking about.)
“Remember what I said about stepping on brown?” my son asked me the other day.
“Yes,” I replied.
“That’s harder now that the whole floor is brown. Could you maybe make that a Candles & Curses entry?”
How do church towers in Ireland lose weight?
Since I find myself in a surprisingly . . . volatile mood today (I’m not sure why; I just am.), I decided to play it safe and just post a quote about anger. The first thing that came to mind was something I saw on a rerun of Becker a while back. As best I remember it, Becker was struggling to put on a coat and says, “I don’t have anger issues. I have issues with this stupid coat!”
But . . . wanting my quote to be exact (it being a quote and all), I tried to find it on a quote list from the show, but had no luck. The next thing I tried was searching YouTube for the clip, but the search for “becker” and “coat” ended up producing a large selection of knife cleaning videos instead.
That’s when I realized I wasn’t that angry.
Of late my son and I have only rarely gotten along when it comes time to do schoolwork. While this may be normal, we’ve both come to recognize that we have reached decidedly “unnormal” levels, and we need to change this if we’re going to keep working together.
Today while going over letter blends, my son stopped me so he could give me some examples of each. “There’s /sw/ like in ‘swim,’ /dw/ like in ‘dwelling,’ and /tw/ like in ‘Twilight Zone,'” he said with an expectant grin.
“Yes,” I replied to his unspoken question. “I am insanely proud of you right now.”
You know how television and movies like to show how desensitized someone has become by having them eat a sandwich during an autopsy or the like?
Today while I was finishing up breakfast I noticed I needed to clean up after our dog, Isa. Since I was pressed for time, I grabbed something to protect my hand and transported the dog food byproduct to the toilet. It was only as I was flushing that I became fully aware that I had been chewing the last bite of my breakfast the entire time.
I was fine until I remembered I’d been eating a chocolate muffin.
“Today I gave one of my thorough answers in class,” my son announced.
Resisting the urge to shake my head, I simply replied, “I’m sure you did.”
“I covered all the bases . . . from A to Z.”
Now I couldn’t resist. “Seeing as there are usually only four bases, that sounds about right for one of your answers.”
“Who bought the ‘Would-Kill-Me-If-I-Ate-It pie?'” L’s Mother asked me yesterday.
“Lala,” I answered. “She knew I was feeling down and thought it might help.”
L’s Mother considered that for a moment. “And she blamed me for your mood, is that it?” she asked with a smirk.
The other day while eating a dish that included soybeans as an ingredient, L’s Mother took pains to assure me that I didn’t include enough soybeans in my diet to have to worry about Phytoestrogens.
To say the least, I found this an odd choice for dinner conversation, but not wanting to be rude, I assured her that I was far more like to worry about the “Fido estrogen” in our dog, Isa, than I was to worry about something like that.
Much to my son’s delight, I did win the competition I mentioned last week.
Now I just have to get him to understand that I wasn’t actually obligated to win.
Candles & Curses 