Well, it's officially a sinus infection. I'm at that sweet spot in the illness when the antibiotics have kicked in, so my nose is no longer emiting green boogers, but I have that husky, Demi Moore voice thing going on. Maybe I should do a Podcast or one of those bloggingheads things tonight.
Do I dare say it? Yes. OK, vlogs are damn boring. I can't stand those long pauses; it's like I'm listening to some trans-Atlantic phone call from the 70s. Everything is way too polite. I'll take some more cat fights, please. The primary problem is that these vlogs are featuring bloggers who are word people. It involves a whole different skill set to do video. They need perkier hair or something. Whenever I watch those things, I keep thinking of that scene in Singing In the Rain, where Lena Lamont is being instructed on how to talk, as she tries to make the jump from silent movies to talkies. However, I do enjoy listening to the vlogs of my blogger-friends, which I have to say is a reflection of my good taste.
We're in the midst of a typhoon in New Jersey. In one corner of our basement, we've got a smallish puddle. It's barely the size of my foot, but that foot-shaped puddle is interfering with my master plan of refinishing the basement and tossing the kids and their toys down there. Steve has never been on board with this refinished basement idea. He notes that there is a side door and a fridge and soon his story involves teenage boys and bongs and drinking games. I assure him that our kids are only 7 and 4 and we're a long way away from all that, but he's not convinced.
We spent some time today looking at the rain beat down on our neighbor's backyards. We were trying to decide whose basement had the most water. We watched as the water gushed off of one's guy's stone patio forming a small ocean in another guy's backyard. Jonah came back from a playdate to announce there had been several puddles in that basement. Puts the whole foot-sized puddle in perspective.
This is suburban fun, baby.
It has been a tough week for Jersey. Before the basement puddles, our governor got pummeled in a car accident on the way to a meeting with Imus and the Rutgers girls basketball team. The idiot wasn't wearing his seatbelt and smashed up half the bones in his body. The car was forced off the road by a mysterious red pick up truck, which is now the focus of a state-wide man hunt. I had to spent the first twenty minutes of all my classes on Friday talking about Imus, because the students were ranting about it. Did you read Rich's column on Imus today?
Well, I'm rambling without the benefit of my husky, Demi Moore voice to distract you. Time to sign off.