an aside

Finn, in bed two nights ago as he's falling asleep:

Oh Mary strawberry Oh Mary strawberry Oh Mary strawberry very very educational. Very educational.

Long pause.

Oh my gracious.

************

I'm cranky and weird and will post something good the minute I kick myself out of this mood.

what it's like around here

help me pretend to help you.

Please, if you will, answer these questions so I can make the blog that makes you happy*. Or, you can know by answering these questions that we can't be happy together.

*an exercise in futility, if you read on. Or, you know, already.

1. How did you get here?


I'm a regular/Tina, it's me, Dave.

I was googling for milk boobs.

I am very bored and have followed my friends' links as far as I can and you are the dead end.




2. Do you like babies?


A baby killed my family.

A baby saved my life.

Your baby is exquisite.




3. Do you like clumsy MS Paint drawings?


I love them.

I am blind.

I think I love them.




4. Do you mind if I swear?


Oh, fudge. I hoped you wouldn't ask that.

Fiddlesticks! Swear away, my good man!

I am a lady, you cocksucker.




5. But do you really mind? If you do, I'm sorry about what I said up there.


No, I don't mind.

Swearing degrades us all.

I secretly mind.




6. Do you wish I would overtly make this a mommy blog?


No!

Yes!

It is already.




7. I was going to ask if you care if I post about other topics, but I don't know that I care.


Good for you.

You are a bitch and I wish I could smack your face.

I am mad at you about something else.




8. Do you find this all unbearably wonderful??!!


This quiz? This blog? This life? Um....no?

I do! I'm spinning around like a CHILD!

Lop off the "y" and stick on an "e" and stop right there.




9. Which will it be?



Long walks by the beach, someone who can wear jeans or a tuxedo, someone both plain and fancy.

I am at the bottom of a giant bag of potato chips, hiding and eating.

I can't answer this, because I am already five web pages away.




10. All in all, I will return to this blog


because I love you/I'm your husband and you make me read everything right after you write it.

blog this to return will I, all in All, NO.

when you stop referencing this blog in your blog.

Thank you for taking this quiz. You are a brick and I owe you one. Please call me when you're moving and I will carry a box.

The thing is, you won't know if you got into the right preschool, or how you did, or what it all means, and neither will I because I built it funny. But submit your answers anyway because it hurts to take a quiz and not hit a button.

See, I built it to score not just with numbers but also with things like ":(" or "!" or ">:[". But it's too late to fix it and too late to care. The thing also didn't let me make your answers take you to a category like:

45-99 points: You're a stone fox!
10-44 points: A little concealer goes a long way.
-99-9 points: You googled for milk boobs.

Oh, fuck it.

Mostly top answers: You're conniving.
Mostly middle answers: You've got a lot on your mind.
Mostly bottom answers: There was a twenty dollar bill in the pocket of your blue cords. But you spent it on candy.

fock in sock

I love this reading of Fox in Socks, or Fock in Socks, as Finn says, which comes out sounding like "fuckin' socks", or "fuckin' sucks", which I'm sure he doesn't mean, otherwise he wouldn't make us read it to him all the time.

The rhythm they have going is so loose and tight at the same time. It's so of its era, so hep. I fock in love it.

the noisy little playboy returns

He's not mellowing with age, the Noisy Little Playboy*. He's not ready to settle down yet. His oats are, if anything, getting wilder.

*Latecomers, refer here and here.

Here he is in The Ladykiller, otherwise known as his Blue Colander Hat. Say goodnight, Gracie. You little ladies are toast if he makes it very far out of our living room.



He likes to look at the Pottery Barn catalog at the fireplace page. "Cozy fireplace!" he enthuses. And then he flips around the catalog and grows pensive. Something is missing. "More ladies," he decides. The Pottery Barn catalog needs more ladies. The Noisy Little Playboy realizes there's no point to a cozy fire without a pretty mademoiselle or three to pitch his wee woo at.

Specifically, he's looking for Pottery Barn to carry ladies' nipples. He was flipping through a veritable chopped-down rainforest of catalogs this afternoon on the hunt for ladies and their nipples. "Ladies' nipples!" he demanded repeatedly, "Get it!"

He covers his tracks. "Milk," he explains. "Milky."

Oh, ladies. Nice fire, huh? Mmm. Yes. My hat. You like? I'm glad you like it. Hmm, mmm. Ahem. My throat. It's a little parched, excuse me. Ahem, hmm. Could go for some, I don't know what we've got lying around here. Some...milk might...might hit the spot. Do either of you...say, that's a nice shirt, Francine. What's...do you mind if I just look under here a minute? Oh, well. Well! Well, say. I think... There might be a little bit of milk in here if I were to just-

AHBLAHBLAHBLAHrrrargh rrargh.



Dream away, my son. That's what catalogs are for.

P.S. Yesterday's new Finn word? "Educational." Ka-doing! It's from one of those Mo Willems Pigeon books. Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late. The pigeon is, naturally, trying to stay up late and he's working an angle about a show that'll be on tv later that night, about birds. "Should be very educational, " he tries. Finn sponged up the word and is now wandering around calling things "educational".

i repledge again to bring it

Friends, readers, blogrymen, lend me your eyes;
I come to bury the old, infrequently updated blog, not to praise it.
The not posting that people do lives after them;
The good posts are often archived with their bones.
So let it be with The Gallivanting Monkey, version one.
Blah blah blah, my statcounter fell off when I updated
To the new Blogger. I stopped posting because I could not see
Who, if anyone, was still visiting. Blah blah blah;
I like to know who's out there, but my statcounter is all weird
How I put it back, and I feel like it dropped off the memory
of THOUSANDS OF VISITS, THOUSANDS I COULD NOT SPARE.
Blah blah blah. I enjoy knowing you're there, but
Are you there, sir? Are you there, Mistress Readerpants?
I do not know; I will proceed as though you are.
I will proceed as though there were millions of you,
Quinjillions.

You all did love The Gallivanting Monkey once,
Not without cause. What cause withholds me then from
Updating frequently and with care? I will post.
Even if I post into the air.