Ifferjenn Independent

I came from from shopping at the commissary on the Air Force base, and handed John a plastic grocery bag.

Me: Today was Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell Day at the commissary.

John: (surprised) Really?

Me: Yes. They didn’t ask me what kind of bags I wanted.

John: And you didn’t tell them?

*cue rimshot*

Dooce is a very bad influence.

Me: Knock knock.

Ethan:Who’s there?

Me: MY BUTT!!!

much needed laughter

I do have limits, though…

Ethan: Knock knock!

Me: Who’s there?

Ethan: The Butt Fairy!!

Me: No. I refuse to live in a world where there is a Butt Fairy.

Ethan and I have dueling finger puppets: he’s got an alien, I have a monster with a trunk.

Me: Aha! I sucked you up!

Ethan: No you can’t! I’m an alien with spikes on my head!

Me: I have a vacuum trunk. YOUR ARGUMENT IS INVALID.

Yes, I am coming back!

Me: I put my apple on my purse today so I wouln’t forget it!
John: You’re not out the door yet…
Me: (sadly) True…

One thing I love about meeting new people or doing a show is that I always find some new word or turn of phrase that works its way into my language. With Taming of the Shrew, my new word is “crupper.”

For the context, here’s part of Grumio’s speech from Act IV, Scene I. I am taking it out of verse form, though really, I wish I could have our Grumio, John Macey, read it for you:

Her horse fell and she under her horse; she was bemoiled; he left her with the horse upon her; he beat me because her horse stumbled; she waded through the dirt to pluck him off me; he swore; she prayed; I cried; the horses ran away; her bridle was burst; I lost my crupper.

Now, whenever I have one of those days, I just want to stamp my feet and whine about my lost crupper. Like this morning: Ethan woke me up at 4:30 because he was creeped out by the sounds outside. He was asleep before I left his room, but it took me a little longer. Alarm went off at 6. I found one of the cats knocked over a full cup of water onto the floor. Another cat left a hairball in the living room. LiveJournal wasn’t working well on my phone. Puffy wanted to cuddle and claw up my lap. I need to wash some more laundry before I have clothes I want to wear again. I had to wrangle up all my stuff for the play, which was all over the house. On my way out I nearly forgot to get Ethan’s breakfast ready in the fridge. I left the house late, and started cramping hardcore halfway to the office.

It was really a crupper morning.

Conversation with a coworker in the bathroom, as Wild Wild West has just come on.

Jenn: I love this song!

Coworker: I’ve never heard this song. Who is it?

Jenn: Escape Club.

Coworker: (blank stare)

Jenn: This song was big in 1987 or so.

Coworker: Oh, 1987. That’s when I was 3.

Jenn: (glares)

This one should really be on a t-shirt. And I will hunt you down for the royalties if I see it…

Make housework into a game…then your kids will do it for you!

In related news, Ethan loves drying dishes! He actually complained when I didn’t give him enough.

So I have yet ANOTHER head cold. This one started in my chest and moved up, though.

Which just leaves me to wonder: If this is what happens to the good French whores, what happens to the bad ones?

I’m really good at making my point in the most foot-in-mouth way possible.

Me: Loathe is a pretty strong word. I can’t think of anyone I loathe.

John: Do you loathe Hitler?

Me: I’m not okay with Hitler…

That’s it. I give in. I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow. Perhaps I’ll even post something witty and insightful about it too. In the meantime, it took me nearly two hours to get home today. And I’m losing my voice.

And to make this a Jenn-ism, I called John from my polling place, the Big Y at the end of my street, literally a mile away. The most insightful thing I could do was whine, “I feel like I’m never going to get home!”