This is my mom's financial advisor, Mary. I know who you think it is. It isn't. This woman's name is Mary.
Mary the financial advisor came to our house the other day. She's an attractive blond lady with long hair and bangs, and Finn was like, Ka-DOING! She was in our dining room with my mom, and Finn was glued to the safety gate next to her like a tiny Stanley Kowalski calling, MARY! MARY!
After she left, a subscription card fell out of an Us Weekly with Reese Witherspoon on it, in all her lemony Golden Global splendor. Finn carries it around now, and murmurs to it wistfully. Mary, he says. Oh, Mary. (He really says "Oh, Mary".) Dave and I follow him around doing Jimmy Stewart impersonations. Ah, Mary! Whydja leave me, Mary?!
Also, he points to her chest and says, BOOB! And I can play that either one of two ways. If I slip and say, yes, she has boobs, if I use the word boob, he comes barreling over to point out that I, too, have boobs. If I just acknowledge it without saying the word, if I say, yes, that's true, then he just stands there happily.
He popped awake in the middle of the night last night and said "Mary."
While Reese Witherspoon is his favorite replacement Mary, any attractive blond lady in a magazine will do. Does my 14-month old son have a type? Today, though, we were at the University Village and a pretty brunette was behind us in line for sandwiches. He craned around to see her and said in the weird deep voice he uses for greetings and partings, "Hi."
Hi-i-i.
Do you like....omelettes?
Call me.
12 comments:
Hilarious! I love your writing, by the way…
Hahahahahahahahaha! Holy hell in a fajita, that is funny! You weren't kidding when you said that Finn is a noisy little playboy.
I need to see him in action- a video clip, please. I need to decide which of my daughters I will beg him to marry. Dowry incentives provided.
Dear Diary,
I never expected that I, the one and only Noisy Little Playboy, would be at the mercy of a broad. Time was The Noisy Little Playboy could have a litter of kittens over at the pad, grabbing random objects, eating what was set before us, sipping cognac, but now it seems the player has been played. Her name is Mary, dear Diary, and the wind cries that name to me (good song lyric that, has it been used?)
Now I must put up appearances, go to the same tired playgrounds, wear the dashing/adorable outfits the dames know me for. But can an airplane ride ever be the same? Will tiny crackers still taste as crunchy if Mary is not there? What is a merry-go-round without her but a charade?
I am cursed to see her everywhere I go now. But in an effort to find the one true Mary, I fear The Noisy Little Playboy has been silenced. I don't understand how telephones work. And computers? Pff. I know myself: I am too quickly enamored of the noise of the keys to ever adequately research the topic. I am left then, to wait and wonder, to hope that she comes back to talk to the lady about the things. Until then, boob, my sweet. Boob.
Well then, where is my smoking jacket and Brylcreem? Those dames are waiting. All those wrong dames.
Yours,
TNLP
Also Diary, it is NOT that I am tired and fussy and need a nap. This is a different fussy. This is fussiness of my soul. Yes, someone is getting a little cranky. And that someone is my heart.
/
Seriously, I could write a novel in the voice of The Fussy Little Playboy.
Maria: Thanks! And I snuck over to your blog as well...looks great! I'm glad you piped up.
Eve: Have you seen the show Big Love? Just sayin'....
John: If you write the novel, I must ask you to write it in my comment section, because of AWESOMENESS.
So cute! One time this woman I know was holding her little nephew and he reached for her chest and said "all gone!" it was sooooo funny!
that is so fucking funny. i can't believe he popped up in the middle of the night and said Mary. that kills me. He's dreaming about her?? it's too much.
"What's eating you, old chum? You've hardly touched your crackers. I've never known you to skimp on snacktime!"
"What? Oh, sorry man. I've got a lot on my mind."
"I've never seen you like this before. You're always Mr. Devil-May-Care. What's the trouble, Noisy Little Playboy?"
"It's complicated. You wouldn't understand."
"C'mon, haven't I always been your buddy? Remember when I let you have some of my Cheerios?"
"Of course I remember. Sigh... those were good times. Back.... back before Mary."
"A dame? This is about a dame? Oh man, that's rich! What's the matter, she likes you so much she can't stop pushing you over?"
"Oh would that were the case. She doesn't even know I exist. When she's in the room, I feel about two feet tall."
"Well, you are about --"
"I know! That isn't the point! She's all I can think about, man. I see her everywhere -- in my house, in magazines, on TV. I wake up crying her name. I don't know which way is up anymore."
"Wow. Sounds like you've got it bad."
"You know it, brother. What is this thing called love? How can something hurt so bad and yet feel so good? I just can't figure it. Although I'm pretty sure that it has something to do with boobs."
"I'll say! Look friend, I remember the days when I could only crawl using my left arm and leg, and I'd just crawl in little circles until I wore myself and I'd get so frustrated I'd cry until somebody picked me up. Next thing you know, I was crawling in a straight line. Then I was pulling myself on the edges of tables. Then I would take a few steps without holding onto anything and fall over. And then -- okay, that phase lasted a little longer than I would've liked."
"I hear you."
"But it got better! And that's all I'm saying. Next thing you know, it'll be walking without falling over and then running and in about two weeks we'll be riding motorcycles!"
"Vrooom!"
"Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-Vrooooooooom!!!"
"VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!"
"Hahahahahahahahaha."
"Hahaha. Man, you always know how to cheer me up. But now I'm right back to thinking about Mary. Sigh.... Mary."
"Oh, brother. Look, my whole point is it's going to get easier. It's got to! This whole love thing is just like holding your head upright or walking or driving a firetruck."
"Firetruck!"
"Stay with me. My point is, it's going to get better. Hasn't everything gotten easier every day you've been alive so far?"
"Yes."
"Alright then. Don't worry then. This love thing -- all it takes is a little patience, and I'm sure you'll figure it all out. It might take a while -- like, a week."
"A week? That's forever!"
"Which is why you need to keep your strength up. Here, have some crackers."
"Thanks man. You're one of the good ones."
You kill me.
Hey Tina, I've got a q for you. Send me an email at diesel -at- mattresspolice.com. Ok? Ok.
This one cracks me up! He said her name in the middle of the night!!
Oh my lord, Flaming banjo, you are hilarious too.
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