It’s like a useless Good Will Hunting.

Listen. I’ve got this problem. It’s called I like certain bands but they are so dirty that I am embarrassed to admit that I actually listen to them. It’s not like they are hipster because they are way to mainstream to qualify as indie bullsh!t, but they are comprised of dirty people nonetheless.

Exhibit A: Angus and Julia Stone. Just look at that beard (s).

Exhibit B: Band of Horses. I am gagging while I write this. I hate this group and all for which they stand.

Yet I still find my grubby digits moving the cursor towards their little dirty bearded group via youtube.For shame!

Exhbit C:

Luckily I have a healthy rotation of The League and It’s Always Sunny to make me feel a little better about myself.

Thank you, sir. You won’t regret this unless I rise up against you.

When I was pregnant, maybe in my eighth month, my cousin sent me a little book entitled, The Baby is Disappointing. If you haven’t read it, you should. Unless you don’t have a sense of humor and then you should just stop reading this blog entry.

Start at 1:06
The authors wrote it a few weeks after their baby was born and I have to say it’s pretty spot on. I often harken back to it in the midst of some sort of dramatic breakdown whereby Ellis has lost his G-d damn mind. Today was no exception.
The baby is inconvenient. How can we go to parties now? We had failed to consider the matter of parties. How can we dash to Cabo for the weekend? It makes no earthly sense, this baby. The cost, the fuss, the noise the mess.
The raft of tiny socks.
While EK is no longer a baby, he remains an inconvenience in the kindest sense of the term. Past and ongoing catastrophes include: swimming lessons (TERRIBLE), gymnastics class, shopping in general, birthday parties (including his own), play dates, doctors’ appointments (last week an older gentleman said, “Oh my G-d in response to Ellis’ antics), etc. Pretty much every time I am amped up for him to experience some milestone, he shows me what a freak I am to project my own excitement onto him…and gives me a swift kick in the jaw for good measure. 
Once again, I was excited to expose him to the “ways of the world”: voting. No one will disenfranchise my child! Well, I guess technically they will, but at least he could come along while I cast my ballot for President and 12000 different judges (which in itself seems so wrong to me. How can a judge have a constituency?). A two-year old is clearly excited about such an adventure. So thrilled, in fact, that he spilled his juice all over me, ate raisins off the floor (the lady next to me told him he is “nasty”), pulled my voting card out of the machine before I was done so I had to start over again and started pushing buttons on the “nasty” woman’s machine. People have been shot for lesser offenses.
We then walked to a bakery down the street, which happened to be blasting Outkast’s Southernplayalisticcadillacfunkymusic, bought a hippie cookie and he then proceeded to spill my entire coffee all over the table. He then threw his cookie on the ground because he wanted a chocolate cakepop and tried to rip apart the bakery’s eyeball Halloween wreath. Needless to say, he did not get a cakepop.
Now he is upstairs screaming his head off while stomping around determined to skip his nap.
This baby is inconvenient, but too funny to really mind.