vituperation

March 25, 2005

I popped the DVD into the player and fired up all our new equipment, ready to enjoy my favorite part of a great movie. Having just read the book, I had a hankering to see Hollywood’s version.

I skipped through the movie, looking for what I wanted. The phone rang, and I cursed under my breath, assuming it was for me.

“I got it,” Robyn called from the other room.

Excellent. It was for her.

I continued my search until I found what I was looking for, and hit the “Play” button.

Bliss.

“DO YOU MIND?” Robyn bellowed, storming into the room. “I’M ON THE PHONE!”

Oh. I guess that volume was up a little. I turned it down a bit.

“I was doing this first, before the phone rang,” I said in a wee and quite petty voice.

“BUT I’M ON THE PHONE.”

I rolled my eyes, and she stomped back into the computer room.

“No,” I heard her say. “Fred’s watching his favorite part of Deliverance.”

There was a pause.

“No, not that part,” she said. “The part with the banjo.”

Heh.

The power of Boogers compels you!
The power of Boogers compels you!

The thing around his neck is the zapping collar o’ doom.

Warning: the following section contains a tacky, crass, and potentially offensive comment. If you read it and find yourself offended, I’ll be taking no shit for it, because I warned you.

As I walked by the bed this morning, I reached out and gave Robyn’s leg a gentle shake to wake her.

She didn’t move.

I put my socks on, leaning against the closet door for balance, then shook her leg again. She rolled over and blinked sleepily a few times.

I walked into the closet to find a pair of shorts to wear with my fluorescent green t-shirt that announced “Life’s tough. It’s tougher when you’re stupid.” I get no small pleasure out of wearing that t-shirt, especially when it’s 25 degrees out and I’m in it and a flimsy pair of cotton shorts. As far as I’m concerned, irony is one of the best sources of humor.

Today, however, is not cold, but gorgeous. Perfect weather for shorts and a t-shirt. I picked out a pair of shorts, trying to decide whether or not they’d clash with my t-shirt. I’m all about the fashion, you know, and things like whether or not my clothes match are important to me.

I looked back at Robyn, who was taking her earplugs out. I waited until she had them both cupped in one hand.

“Bessie, will olive green shorts go with a lime-green t-shirt?” I asked.

She stared contemplatively at me for a moment, pondering my question. I waited for her to answer.

She did not.

Instead, she shifted onto her back and looked at the ceiling, still deep in thought over my question, her brow furrowed.

Damn, I thought. I didn’t know it was such a tough decision.

I watched and waited. Robyn blinked. Gradually, her forehead smoothed. I realized she wasn’t going to answer.

And then the tackiest thought ever popped into my head, and I cackled like a goon.

“What?” Robyn asked, sounding annoyed because she (correctly) assumed I was laughing at her.

“You went all Terri Schiavo on me, Bessie,” I said, when I could talk.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you were alert and responsive, but you were really just in a vegetative state.”

Thank you, I’ll be here all week. Try the veal.

My wife sent me to work today wearing a lime green t-shirt and olive pants.

I feel like I look funny, but no one’s said anything yet.