a word to my pals...
i want to take a moment to assure the prodigious writers of my pal's list that i do, indeed, read
your respective blogs regularly. maybe not every day, but at least weekly, and sometimes more.
what i don't do, and it has nothing to do with anything really, is leave regular comments. when i have a comment to make, i make it. i love love love receiving all of your comments. but i just don't leave comments on every post. in the past this has bothered some of my pals.
i also now have about three times as many blogs in my pals list as i ever have ever had before, so it takes me longer to read them, and were i going to post comments on every new post of every blog that i read, damn, all my time would be spent commenting.
but it is just the way i am, and i hope you will forgive this flaw in my character.
in other news, no. 2 is sposed to wear an eyepatch an hour each day. having figured how to get it off himself, he has gone a total of maybe 15 minutes before i find him running around off with the patch removed and have to chase it down, lecture, and then reapply.
after the kids went through a gallon of milk in 24 hours (repeated unregulated forays into the fridge for another drink, and overpouring every time (tests have proved that the calcium content of my carpet and linoleum are more than sufficient)), i began using the fridge locks again. no. 1 knows how to get them open, but not how to turn off the alarm that sounds when he does, and the alarm causes him to leave off trying to raid the fridge, and to come find me to turn it off. i swear, in that sense he is like master from mad max beyond thunderdome. should i ever need to battle him to the death in a steel cage, i hope to christ i have a whistle. and so i have controlled in this manner the juice and milk intake of my children.
of course, no. 1 got me up at five this morning to turn off the alarm by saying, "what is dat noise? can you turn it down?"
the three-dollar leather chair has received a wound that renders it, in my opinion, of no further value in the sardonic household.
i caught no. 1 picking at a tiny imperfection in the worn leather of the arm on friday, and told him sternly to "leave it the hell alone." later, exhaustion overtook me, and i dozed on the couch. upon awaking, i discovered that no. 1, or "knitpicker", had worked a hole into the leather the size of my fist. this occured in about 15 minutes' time.
this was followed by a near-top volume lecture, and a tantrumpallooza thereafter, resulting in the removal of toys, radio, and legos from the offender's bedroom, and the once-proud three-dollar leather chair from the living room to the shed. come trash day, i will place the chair alongside the road, and no doubt some enterprising individual will notice its residual worth, and not care about the hole (or will maybe have the know-how to repair it), and will remove it to the comfort of their own abode.
in pace requiescat. or something like that, i can't really remember offhand, and certainly can't be arsed to look it up. heh heh.
and so, eh, up, lads.
darth sardonic
your respective blogs regularly. maybe not every day, but at least weekly, and sometimes more.
what i don't do, and it has nothing to do with anything really, is leave regular comments. when i have a comment to make, i make it. i love love love receiving all of your comments. but i just don't leave comments on every post. in the past this has bothered some of my pals.
i also now have about three times as many blogs in my pals list as i ever have ever had before, so it takes me longer to read them, and were i going to post comments on every new post of every blog that i read, damn, all my time would be spent commenting.
but it is just the way i am, and i hope you will forgive this flaw in my character.
in other news, no. 2 is sposed to wear an eyepatch an hour each day. having figured how to get it off himself, he has gone a total of maybe 15 minutes before i find him running around off with the patch removed and have to chase it down, lecture, and then reapply.
after the kids went through a gallon of milk in 24 hours (repeated unregulated forays into the fridge for another drink, and overpouring every time (tests have proved that the calcium content of my carpet and linoleum are more than sufficient)), i began using the fridge locks again. no. 1 knows how to get them open, but not how to turn off the alarm that sounds when he does, and the alarm causes him to leave off trying to raid the fridge, and to come find me to turn it off. i swear, in that sense he is like master from mad max beyond thunderdome. should i ever need to battle him to the death in a steel cage, i hope to christ i have a whistle. and so i have controlled in this manner the juice and milk intake of my children.
of course, no. 1 got me up at five this morning to turn off the alarm by saying, "what is dat noise? can you turn it down?"
the three-dollar leather chair has received a wound that renders it, in my opinion, of no further value in the sardonic household.
i caught no. 1 picking at a tiny imperfection in the worn leather of the arm on friday, and told him sternly to "leave it the hell alone." later, exhaustion overtook me, and i dozed on the couch. upon awaking, i discovered that no. 1, or "knitpicker", had worked a hole into the leather the size of my fist. this occured in about 15 minutes' time.
this was followed by a near-top volume lecture, and a tantrumpallooza thereafter, resulting in the removal of toys, radio, and legos from the offender's bedroom, and the once-proud three-dollar leather chair from the living room to the shed. come trash day, i will place the chair alongside the road, and no doubt some enterprising individual will notice its residual worth, and not care about the hole (or will maybe have the know-how to repair it), and will remove it to the comfort of their own abode.
in pace requiescat. or something like that, i can't really remember offhand, and certainly can't be arsed to look it up. heh heh.
and so, eh, up, lads.
darth sardonic
Labels: mad max, my kids can be hellions, my non-existant readers
posted by darth sardonic at 11:07 AM
8 Comments:
no comment, from one of your non exsistant readers.
px
Not offended by lack of comments. Bambi is going to have to wear a patch as well. Her orthoptist has recommended we wait until after the move rather than risk disrupting the therapy. I have a feeling that, like No 2, insistent removal of said patch may well be disruptive - move or no.
No worries, Darth. If fact, I'm down with ya. Do more spot reading than comment leaving. Just keep doin' whatcha do.
Sounds like the little hellions keep you busy enough, Darthman.
I'm am simply honored to be one of your "pals" dear.
Tell the child he looks like a pirate!
The enterprise of these children leads me to think you have a future CEO and Le Mans driver on your hands.
oh pixie, i was going to say that! i'll say it anyway...
No comment
Darth you are fab, brill, wonderful - a great read! So whats a few poxy comments!
Dude, commenting on blogs can easily take over your life, so no worries...it's all good. I've only now started posting regularly, so you haven't been missing much on mine.
Keep on keeping on with the cool Dad stint!
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