I’ve been kind of a delinquent blogga, for this I am sorry. There’s been tons of shizz going down in my life, and I haven’t really had the opportunity to reflect on any of it yet, so it seems a bit preemptive to try to write about it!
Nonetheless, I’d like to share a story with my dear blogheads.
Last weekend, I was chilling with Lover’s evil family. There is one person I like in his family, and that would be his 8 year old nephew. I really miss working with children and the levity they inject into my life, and Lover’s nephew is pretty much the only kid I know, so I’m forever kidnapping him from his parents (read: nanny) to encourage diabetes and watch children’s films (since no one else will watch them with me/engage in deep discussions on the awesomeness of gummy things.) So, homeboy and I chill quite a bit.
Anyway, he came up to me during the family gathering/phony fest, and asked me if I wanted to play a game with him. I replied with, ‘Don’t ask me! I hate kids!!’…assuming that an 8 year old would understand the subtleties of my sardonic nature. Lover tells me this is where I went wrong.
I’m still not 100% sure but I think the bugga was trying to punk me, because when dinner time rolled around, the little rugrat decided to yell loudly in front of about 20 people, ‘I’m not sitting next to her! She hates kids! She told me!’
Everyone just stared at me as though I were docta evil, except for Lover of course, who started laughing. This obviously made us look even more normal. I just said, “I was kidding…” awkwardly and sat down.
What I really wanted to say: fuck my life.
Going forward, I shall refrain from trying to amuse myself by saying cracked out shit to eight year olds.