Last weekend, Carl and I took the 9-year-old to see Captain America: The Winter Soldier because:
- Carl saw it earlier in the week by himself (!!) and fell asleep and missed a lot of the movie (that's what your ass gets when you do shit without me).
- I couldn't stand to watch the trailers on Youtube with the 9-year-old anymore - he made me watch them at least 25 times. At least. And now I think I'm Nick Fury. Or is it Mr. Glass? Or is it Mace Windu?
- the toddler and I needed a break from one another - I think I was getting on her nerves.
- I didn't want to clean the bathrooms
This week I learned the thought of cleaning makes me want to get in the car and drive to a complex where I have to sit next to a lot of germy people who cough and talk throughout the entire movie and:
- hello - my boobs are lopsided
- I'm glad we didn't give up because then I would have fucking hated us
- sometimes, it's just like looking in the mirror
The interwebs is an infinite and mysterious place:
- RIP Gabriel García Márquez - One Hundred Years Of Solitude and Love in the Time of Cholera forever changed my high school brain.
- Wow - how have I gone all this time without knowing how the fuck to take my shirt off?
- THIS is a drawing. Done by a 16-year-old. I can barely put my socks on.
- It's been 20 years since Nas' Illmatic came out and I was rapping phat rhymes while driving down Sunset Blvd. (note: I can't rap. I can barely speak in complete sentences).