Conversations with my kid - radio time

Listening to a previously unheard Sam Roberts song:

Me: (With a dawning realization) ohhhhh! He's saying "your own worst enemy." It sounds like "Your old world centipede."

R: what? Really?  *rolls eye*

*moments pass*

R: *snickers*

Me: you can hear it, can't you?

R: yup.

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Listening to "Hello Time Bomb"

R: when he says "so bad" he sounds like a goat.  Baaaaad.

Me: it's the Matthew Goat Band

I do dumb things.

While at work today, I answered a phone call and hit myself in the face with the receiver.  The caller on the other end heard me say 'ow' as I attempted, and failed spectacularly, to maintain some air of professionalism.

On my third or fourth day of seventh grade, I was leaning forward in my chair, when it slipped out from under me.  I grabbed the desk for support.

You all know how sturdy school desks are, right?  Not very. Needless to say, I made a great first impression as 'the new kid'.

Sadly, I hadn't learned my lesson from when I was six and I nearly concussed myself after leaning too far back in my chair, becoming well acquainted with a wooden work bench.  This was back when first graders were allowed to use saws and hammers during playtime. Oh, the 80s.

At the age of 14 I smoked.  I laboured under the assumption that my parents didn't know.  They probably did.  One balmy summer's eve, I stood out on my back porch enjoying a cigarette when I spotted my dad coming down the hill to our house on the way home from the Legion.  Like the ninja I am, I tossed the butt and raced straight into the house.

And by 'house' I mean 'the screen door.'

Once at the Y, because I am a living cartoon and I have no sense of time+distance, I nearly set my shirt on fire before catapaulting myself across a room, all because I thought that 6 kilometers an hour on a treadmill seemed a reasonable speed for a beginner.

I fell under a bus once.

Just the other week, I provided my children with an excellent cautionary tale called "Why it's a bad idea to jimmy a glued-shut jar of Mod-Podge open with a paring knife," starring Mom's Mangled Index Finger.

Lastly, a headboard is no place for an antique clock.  That's all I'll say on that topic.

Conversations with my kids: Super powers

R: if you could have any super power you wanted, what would you choose?

Me: MUTANT HEALING FACTOR. ALWAYS.

T: Laser vision.

R: I'd want to have stretch powers, so I could be lazy all the time.

Me: you'd never leave the couch?

R: right. I could just reach for stuff. I could even do my schoolwork from the couch.

T: I want laser vision.  To zap the genitals of my enemies.

Quick Update: I'm Guest-Blogging

I have a guest post up at Feministe on the whole Jian Ghomeshi... thing.

Go read it.