Someone Loves His Job

I started laughing aloud in the deoderant aisle at Target yesterday. I was looking at the selection of gels and solids for men because, as posted earlier, my fourth-grader has determined he has surpassed the sweat tolerance threshold and needs it.

I was looking at Old Spice deoderant and saw that available scents include:

Swagger
After Hours
Showtime

I'd love to know how sales are going on those items. Honestly, if you saw Old Spice Swagger in a friend's bathroom, would you ever quit teasing him? Never. You can almost hear the low-budget porn music in the background as you lift the cap. chick a bow bow

If sales dwindle, perhaps they can come out with a woman's line. Might I suggest naming the scent Strut...or maybe Baby's Mama?

Curious

I wonder if those same houses that police raided right before the RNC...the ones with the buckets of urine...STILL have buckets of urine? (Start with Mitch if you don't know about this.)

After all, those raids were the epitome of freedom-trampling, police state maneuvers, no? Defenders of the urine-hoarders claim that all the items police recovered were things normally found in any home. So an unannounced visit to the grounds should find five gallon pails of pee sporadically stored in various rooms, right? Don't all the best hosts have a white, plastic chamber pot in the guest room?

And I think the guys at Nihilist need to work up a list: Top 11 Reasons Why EVERYONE Should Save Their Urine. Here...I'll start them out:

11. You can kill the rest of the grass that the dog missed and have a uniformly brown lawn.

Oh here

I found something to post. I can't remember who sent it to me, but I like it.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Well, I'm just itching to write something. The boys are all gone. The house is quiet. The dog smells less horrid than yesterday. (He got his tail handed to him by a skunk.) And I can't think of a thing to say.

Live-blogging my life right now would put an entire classroom of ADHD kids to sleep.

Took a sip of rootbeer.
Stared at keyboard.
Stared at monitor.
*
*
*
Repeated steps one through three.

Who was it that emailed me to ask why I haven't been blogging lately? Wes? Naomi? Sorry now, eh?

I Just Can't Quit You

They Came At Me In Hordes

The gray hairs.

Tuesday evening The Senator, who just enetered fourth grade, told me, "Mom, I need deoderant."

You do, huh?

"Yep. I get all sweaty at school and I'm going to smell bad."

Did someone tell you that you smelled bad?

"No, but I will. Michael wears it, I think."

Ah. Of course. Peer Pressure Puberty. I told him he could ask his father to show him some manly deoderant and how to apply it.

Wednesday morning: I sent him to the bathroom to brush his teeth. I followed a minute later to put away some clean towels and saw him putting the cap back on the Right Guard. I fled. And then I cried.

And then I remembered that he's now just that much closer to moving out into his own apartment and I will never have to look at his toothpaste spit in the sink again and I felt much better.