A Conversation

It’s Sunday evening.  The house is quiet.  The D’s are hidden away in their rooms and Hubby and son have gone off to hockey, leaving me alone with the chocolate cookies and a football game on TV.   Yeah.  Football.  The strangest game on earth.  I don’t understand the joy people seem to get from guys ramming their heads into each other and throwing a ball around.  I guess you have to be a guy to understand it?  Although there are women who enjoy this too.  I can see them in the stands…and the scantily clad ones cheering…hmmm….maybe that’s why guys watch the game.  I’m starting to understand this now.

Why are there no cheerleaders in hockey? They don’t want to get a puck in the nose.  Soccer?  They don’t want to get a stray ball in the side of the head.  Baseball? Waaaaayyy too long a game.  Cricket?  Wait…what? WTF is that?!  A game with a broad stick, a ball and running around...sounds a lot like baseball.  It’s not.  Oh.

Congratulations, you have just witnessed my first schizophrenic conversation!  How do you feel?  A little disturbed?  Slightly uncomfortable?  Awkward and a little unsettled like someone that has been staring at you just a tad too long?? Yeah…I hear ‘ya.

I was checking out some websites of authors.  I’ve decided I don’t like them very much.  They have ‘webmasters’ who design things for them and create their site and decide how everything will look.  It’s like having somebody raise your kids for you.  You don’t actually do anything interactive with them…you just claim their parentage; their blood line.  All the work and enjoyment lays on the hired help.  Congrats!  You are a parent of no one.  A master of nothing.  You post a blog and claim to have worked on it.  Uh, no you didn’t.  You just showed up to the party for the refreshments and the accolades.  Fuck off.

Ugh…I’m complaining about nothing important or relevant.

Awesome post, Rogue! Please continue with your mindless chatter about nothing!

Thanks! Okay.

If I was following my Kingly advice, I should be reading something right now.  But I’m not.  I’m rambling instead.  Filling up space.  Killin’ time.  Foolin’ around.  Such a productive use of time.

What’s new?  How’s life?  Read any good books lately?  Seen any good movies?  No?  Me neither…thought I’d ask….

I’ll get back to trying to figure out the football thing and stare at the last chocolate cookie in the box like it was the last morsel of food on earth, at which time I will stuff it angrily into my mouth and throw away the evidence before anyone discovers it’s gone.  You go back to whatever it was that I so rudely interrupted.  Nice chat.  Let’s do this again soon.

Sadly the cookies are gone.  Bring some next time, will ‘ya?  Thanks.