For the last few nights I've been fixated on Rody's butthole. Sidenote: do you ever say a sentence and then marvel at the fact that you said it? Like wondered if maybe you are the only person in the history of the spoken word to ever say "hang a left at the statue of Stalin's frozen urine"? Not that I've ever uttered that exactly, though I did just type it. And this right here is why I don't smoke pot.
I love me some Rody. The funny little face and stout body; I want to kiss those flat plastic eyes. I just cannot for the life of me understand why they placed the valve in such a way. Each night I picture the Italian manufacturers of Rody shouting mettiamo qui il buco del culo, haha! I don't know. It makes me laugh, this thought. Again--this is why I don't smoke pot and why I apparently cannot, do not and should not speak Italian. Basta.
And then there's my Diaper Champ. When I am done looking at Rody's bum I stare at the Diaper Champ and think about how it looks exactly like a Stormtrooper. A Stormtrooper with terrible diarrhea, but a brave Imperial Stormtrooper, nonetheless.
Other things I think about as I rock Ozzy to sleep: how we are going to pay for our kids' college tuitions? Should I be unplugging the toaster before I leave the house? Why are there so many dust bunnies under the crib, and have you seen the trailer to my brother's new movie Shadow Lurkers? I mean, I know I posted on it last week, but I am one proud sister so I'm posting it again. Check it out and leave my brother a YouTube message. His name is Andrews and he always says please and thank you to waitresses. Not sure why that sentence just popped out as the one to describe my brother but it's actually pretty indicative of his character. Like I said: I'm proud.