This is my blog post to say that I don't have anything to blog. Fascinating, no?
The whole vietnam thing is a giant hot mess. It's up, it's down, it's up, it's down. I hope, I despair and scour sites for fresh news. I've even contacted different agencies to see if they can please take me. I'm clean and reasonably happy. I'd make a great dad. Honest. I have a reference.
Every time I think I've processed it and moved on there will be a little glimmer of hope.
On the bright side if it doesn't work out our financial picture will be lookin up and yes I will buy my way into happiness.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Bugaboo Bangaa
So, I'm in the car the other day getting my groove on to Duffy's Warwick Avenue and singing
"I’m leaving you for the last time baby
You think you’re loving,
But you don’t love me"
and then I hear from the backseat "Daddy, you don't love me." So then I have to go into this detailed explanation about how this is just a song and it doesn't mean anything and that I'll always love him. Problem is you can't make it too big of a deal even though it zinged right through my heart.
Gah! I forgot about the little tape recorder. I can't listen to kid's music all the time. E's developed quite the repetoire, he likes Duffy, the Ting Tings, M.I.A... which is a problem. I've learned not to tell him the name of some songs because then he'll hound me into submission. He adores Duffy's "Mercy" and the Ting Tings' "DJ" song. M.I.A. is great fun but just try sussing out the bad words, it's enough to give you a M.I.A.graine. Also the questions are fun, "Daddy, what's a bamboo bangaa?" "Someone who hits bamboo!"
The next day we're playing in the yard and E's whacking away at a tree saying "I'm a bamboo bangaa!"
"I’m leaving you for the last time baby
You think you’re loving,
But you don’t love me"
and then I hear from the backseat "Daddy, you don't love me." So then I have to go into this detailed explanation about how this is just a song and it doesn't mean anything and that I'll always love him. Problem is you can't make it too big of a deal even though it zinged right through my heart.
Gah! I forgot about the little tape recorder. I can't listen to kid's music all the time. E's developed quite the repetoire, he likes Duffy, the Ting Tings, M.I.A... which is a problem. I've learned not to tell him the name of some songs because then he'll hound me into submission. He adores Duffy's "Mercy" and the Ting Tings' "DJ" song. M.I.A. is great fun but just try sussing out the bad words, it's enough to give you a M.I.A.graine. Also the questions are fun, "Daddy, what's a bamboo bangaa?" "Someone who hits bamboo!"
The next day we're playing in the yard and E's whacking away at a tree saying "I'm a bamboo bangaa!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
