I may not buy the best marbles, Furious Ball, but I sure can use them!

How much fun can you have with an empty room and a bag of marbles?



No furniture means you can throw them all over the place.









That clear one bounced straight into my camera just after I snapped this picture.







Starting to get bored....







So, the answer is:

A lot! But clean up sucks and you will find marbles all over the house for the next week or so.

I knew it was coming.

But I still wasn't prepared for it.

My son figured out that there is no tooth fairy. I know he's at that age, and I know it's normal, maybe even a good thing, but it's still sad to me. I love that he's getting older and we have great conversations now (and sometimes really odd conversations, such as the other day when he asked me what I would do if I had someone in my life who could make things out of duct tape) but sometimes I wonder where my baby went.

And I know this means that the whole Santa thing will be coming up soon, and I'm so not ready for that. I might have to ask him to fake it for me, just for one more year. I'm not above that. I'll promise extra special presents if he goes along with it and everything.

Maybe even cash if he agrees to wearing feety pajamas.

Damn you, Michael Ian Black!

Damn you for challenging Tucker Max to a fight. Damn you for telling me that Tucker Max's book is the #1 seller in the humor category on Amazon, which led me to believe it's funny. Damn you for making me finish this book even though I really, REALLY don't want to. Ok, that last one is my own issue, but I'm happier blaming Michael Ian Black for my problems.

Seriously, if there are any 19 year old frat boys reading this who want me to send them the book, please let me know. Because you are definitely the target audience for this book. It is page after page of "Dude, my friends and I got really drunk, and then we acted like complete assholes, and then I fucked some random chick. The end." Sure, there's stories about blow jobs in there, and some arrests, and more vomit/shit/piss than anyone could be (or should be) comfortable with. This is one blog-turned-book that never should have happened. And what kind of a name is Tucker? Your parents really wanted to drive home the importance of making your bed, Tucker?

I hate myself for wasting my time on this. But I can't give in. If I stop reading this book before the end then the terrorists win.

Def Leppard: Love Bites is on the radio right now.

I saw a license plate this weekend that stated "I love doves."

Weird, that one.

And one this morning that simply said "oregano."

People around here have odd interests.

Not that I don't dig oregano. I do. I just wouldn't proclaim it on my license plate. And sure, doves make a cute cooing sound, but even that gets old after a while.

Hard core.

I saw a lady at Longs a little while ago that you wouldn't believe. She was about 70 years old and her cart was filled with vodka and adult diapers. I swear. Three big old gallon jugs of cheap vodka and like six packs of adult diapers. I guess there's something to be said for knowing yourself. If I knew I was going to drink myself into oblivion and pee the bed, I might be inclined to make the same purchases, I don't know. I'd at least have a little shame though, and not be holding up the line to have the stock boy check for more vodka in the back. That's just plain greedy, grandma.

You know what?

I had a really good weekend.

What I should have said was nothing.

So this guy calls me yesterday from the Chamber of Commerce. We get our labor law posters/books/pamphlets from them and he was calling to let me know about a new product that they have for the human resources department. I explained that we don't have an HR department, exactly, because we only have four employees here. Ah, yes, no need for this interactive website then, I see. I let him know that we make sure we have the correct posters displayed and that we hand out the correct pamphlets once a year, but beyond that we don't really have any HR issues wth the staff. Then I said "We're over here..." and I trailed off because I realized I was about to tell a representative from the Chamber of Commerce that "We're over here sexually harrassing each other all the time." and I didn't think he would find that funny at all. For once in my life my filter worked. Great success.

You know what I was just thinking?

I was just thinking that I'm kind of stupid. Every year I go see Lyle Lovett in concert. And every year he talks about hanging around Saratoga, going to the restaurants, meeting the people. And never before has it even occurred to me that I should go down there and look for him. Not until today, when I was driving home from work and Creeps Like Me came on my ipod. He's already gone, but maybe next year I'll remember.

Maybe next year.