Stay Funny, My Friends

Funny? You want funny? Yesterday I stood in the pouring rain to watch my son run one hundred metres. You know how long it takes to run one hundred metres? Not long -- less than a minute. You know how long I stood there WAITING for him to run one hundred metres? Ninety-seven minutes. He's in grade four. He's a boy. They ran two heats of grade six girls. They ran two heats of grade six boys. They ran two heats of grade five girls. They ran two heats of grade five boys. We got the cameras ready -- we figured, a couple heats of grade four girls and we're golden. They inexplicably sent down a bunch of really SHORT boys, who turned out to be in grade THREE. They ran EVERYBODY ELSE that was there and looked like they might be in the mood to run one hundred metres. THEN they ran the grade four boys. I didn't think this was that funny, but Angus was fairly amused.

Last week-end Angus had a baseball tournament at a diamond that's right beside a water park, so I said I would take Eve over to the water park for part of the game. I grabbed a beach towel out of the linen closet before we left, not paying attention to what was on it.

Elmo was on it.

Eve was not impressed. She is SEVEN now, MUCH too old to be parading around wrapped in ELMO. I tried to convince her that she could wear it ironically -- I think it was a little too soon, we'll try that when she's fourteen. Finally I said "Look, all that really matters is that it gets you dry.". She said "WRONG. All that really matters is that it's popular!" Ah, love it when we really nail those values.

Also, Eve's had a bit of cold for the last few days. She doesn't feel bad, but she's very hoarse. We keep making her do Marge Simpson impersonations for our amusement. Seriously. She sounds just like this.

For something funny that doesn't involve mocking myself or my kids, there's this. It's been out for a while, but as far as I'm concerned, it's timeless. In a twentieth-century sort of way.