Ronan: Tom, let's go play trains. You and me.
Tom: No, sorry, I need to work now.
Ronan: Well, you could play trains and work at the same time, bring your computer (Tom has a laptop, Ronan knows Tom can move it anywhere).
Tom: Sorry, guy, I can't do both things at the same time. I need to concentrate.
Ronan: Well, you can just work later and play trains now.
Tom: No, I need to work now. Later I need to have dinner, help you with a bath, take shower, and go to bed.
Ronan: You forgot reading books to me!
Tom: Right! And reading books. So I won't have time to work then, I need to do it now.
Ronan: But Tom, you really don't want to work. You don't like working now. So play trains.
Tom: Uh…well, you might be right, but I need to work. If I don't work, I don't get money. I need money to buy food and toys.
Ronan: Well, I have money.
Tom: You do?
Ronan: Sure! It's in my kitty bank. I can buy toys with that money.
Tom: I don't know if that's enough money. I still need to work now.
Ronan: Well, how about I work for you, and you play trains.
Tom: Dude, I think you need to go to school for many years to do my work.
Ronan: But I already know how to do your work.
Tom: I really don't think you do.
Ronan: Sure, I do. I just press buttons.

Banana.

Jun. 21st, 2009 11:52 pm
Tom has always kept his wallet in his front hip pockets. When wearing tight jeans (usually on-stage), he's taken to just using a makeshift moneyclip for a few bucks and his ID.

Anyhow, I bought him a new pair of jeans today. They're low rise, tight to mid-thigh. They look good on him, but there's no place to stow his wallet,keys, inhaler, etc. Well, he didn't like the idea of a fanny pack. I suggested he carry a hipster man-purse and he said he'd risk losing it. So I suggested the other urban bohemian standby--his accordion case. He found that ludicrous, though I can't imagine why. Then I brought up thrifted ratty tweed jackets with inside pockets and a bifold wallet, instead of his weird flippy trifold favorite. He did contemplate that for awhile, but glared at me when I said it would help complete his new manbrarian persona.

He won't use the back pockets because his butt will be uneven. He could carry two wallets, I suppose. That might work. Butt pontoons.

Beets

Apr. 10th, 2009 07:19 pm
rootofnewt: (cooking)
[livejournal.com profile] explodingcat: Are the beets done?
[livejournal.com profile] krasota: I don't know. You put in tons of oil and didn't cover them.
[livejournal.com profile] explodingcat: I thought you said "cover them with oil."
[livejournal.com profile] krasota: Foil. I said cover them with foil.

We both just cracked up over that one.
[livejournal.com profile] explodingcat:
That was, without a doubt, the most hair I have ever pulled from a drain.

It would have made a good toupee.

It just kept on coming.

([livejournal.com profile] krasota interjects: So it was like the clown car of drains?)

It had weight.

It was incredible.

It actually improved my mood.

ETA:
[livejournal.com profile] krasota: So, is it in the trash in there?
[livejournal.com profile] explodingcat: Mmm-hmmm. It would have clogged the toilet if I'd flushed it.

*twitch*

Jan. 26th, 2008 10:15 am
No matter how attentive I am to Ronan's fingernails, he scratches himself at night.

Right now, he's got several gouge marks, plus a bruise.

[livejournal.com profile] explodingcat: He looks like he's been fighting with a cat.
a few moments later
[livejournal.com profile] explodingcat: You can tell he's winning because his butt isn't all scratched up.
[livejournal.com profile] krasota: It seems like a lot of people go to games just because they live in a college town. Do you want to go to football games? Am I depriving you? Do you want to deal with the crush of people, the traffic, the price of tickets . . . all to watch men in tight pants knock each other down over a piece of dried up leather?

[livejournal.com profile] explodingcat: I can just go to a bad ballet to see that.

[livejournal.com profile] krasota: *sputters* *sputters* *sputters*

[livejournal.com profile] explodingcat: I'm awesome.
[livejournal.com profile] explodingcat: I think . . . and this might be hard . . . but I think it would be good to not act horrified at diaper time. I'd hate for the baby to pick up on the disgust.
[livejournal.com profile] krasota: *blank stare*
[livejournal.com profile] explodingcat: I mean, we don't want the urchin to associate our visceral reactions with zirself.
[livejournal.com profile] krasota: I'm generally not horrified by diaper changing. (Yes, there are exceptions.)
[livejournal.com profile] explodingcat: Yes, but I would be.
[livejournal.com profile] krasota: You pick up the dog's poop.
[livejournal.com profile] explodingcat: Yes, but his poop is just really nice.
[livejournal.com profile] krasota: *dies with laughter*
[livejournal.com profile] krasota: *continues laughing as boy goes on about nice, firm Jericho poop.*
[livejournal.com profile] jericho_the_dog: *runs over to boy for pets and reassurance as I continue laughing*
So . . . I've been reading a book on the Bradley method. It appeals to my sensibilities. And I was just trying out some of the exercises mentioned. One of them is a squat. As I'm doing the squat, boy goes into the crane pose and informs me that this is the proper birthing position.

You know, he was pretty obnoxious before, constantly going into this pose just to prove that he can do it. Now he just looks at me, grins, and squats down and pushes himself up and tells me I must practice with him.

I don't think so.
[livejournal.com profile] explodingcat just wandered in here, brushing his teeth.

He start pulling at his pants as he turns out and he speaks around his toothbrush: "I got a hole in my pants . . . down here."

"Wow, honey. You've worn through your pajamas." I wasn't terribly impressed. "I can't get to my sewing machine right now. Sorry."

He turns back around. "I think something crawled up my butt in Colorado."


. . .


Needless to say, I had to work very hard to not pee my pants.
I'm in the kitchen, transferring the mustard from the mini-mixer to a small dish. Boy grabs the mixer bowl, I assume he's going to taste it.

He starts sneezing uncontrollably. I look at him. He's got the mixer bowl shoved up to his nose.

"What the hell are you doing? It's all vinegary!"
"Extreme *achoo* smelling!"
"Don't do that! It's disgusting!"
*deep inhalation* "It's so good."
*uncontrollable sneezing*


I fled. I mean, I shouldn't remain in the kitchen with someone so obviously insane, should I?
Pope Jericho would like you all to watch a small public service announcement presented by Professor [livejournal.com profile] explodingcat.

Quicktime video
right-click save-as
option/alt-click download
"Why is this not headline news? It's not pattern-matching, it's invisible! Think of the military applications . . . We could sneak into girls' bathrooms!"

"Boulders are larger than rocks; but if you paint them rock-colored, they look much smaller."
i nearly ran my cart over a toad. he hopped out of my way and i screeched, "Ooooooooh!"

i parked my cart and crouched down and grabbed the toad.
"look boy! say hi to buford!"

boy was unimpressed, but he said hello. i let the wee toad go and climbed up the stairs.

i like frogs and toads. they're cute.

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