i wish i could tell you about the great, great time we had at buskerfest this weekend. where my kids got balloon animals and got to milk pretend cows and were more amazed by the Fire Guy’s ability to blow up balloons with his nose than his ability to skateboard through a flaming star.
i wish i could tell you about the woman i encountered in the Tim Horton’s bathroom. who was drinking out of the sink. with her mouth. on the faucet.
i wish i could tell you about this banana song that never. ends. EVER.
(there are, at least, 12 more verses to this)
i wish i could tell you about how i’m now HALFWAY though book 4 of the Twilight series. hold me.
i wish i could tell you that i was hitting balls into.the.freaking.outfield last night at baseball. i know, right?
but i can’t.
because right now i’m sporting a swollen nose and an ever-so-lovely bruise on my face.
and this story pretty much trumps just about anything i could have told you.
alright…well, you see that glass door right there behind my dancing daughter?
well, on Friday night, after the kids had gone to sleep, Tova and Fry came over. We sat outside to enjoy, well, erm, the summer? (yeah, that sounds good). well, i thought i heard a noise and was going to go inside to investigate.
and instead of actually, you know, opening the door, like a normal person would have done…
i walked into it. walked right the fuck into it. with my face.
i want to say that this story totally trumps my sticking my ass through the dining room chair at Jack and Ilana’s AND the ‘sweet the lick’ story or maybe even the shitty blubbery speech i gave at my sister’s wedding or maybe even when i peed in front of my children in a McDonald’s coffee cup.
maybe.
although maybe not.
but we are all still laughing about it. and i’m sure we’ll still be laughing. long after the bruises are gone.
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