The other day we saw a confounding commercial, the entirety of which consisted of an enthusiastic woman saying, “It goes on your HEAD!” interspersed with pictures of people putting something..on..their…heads. Or thereabouts. This repeats maybe 6 times. Who knows what the product is or what it’s for. But we know that it goes on our heads. And that may be all we need to know.
Also, on CNN? There is a weatherman on called Reynolds Wolf. Best name ever. Well, since Trombone.
Fergie has a solo song. I thought I was hallucinating when I saw her dancing up against a London guard in the video. But no. London Bridge, it’s called. Here is a taste:
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit
When I come to the clubs, step aside
Pop the seeds, don’t be hating me in the line
V.I.P because you know I gotta shine
I’m Fergie Ferg
Give me love you long time
All my girls get down on the floor
Back to back drop it down real low
I’m such a lady but I’m dancing like a ho
Because you know what, I don’t give a f***
So here we go!
How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London want you to go down
Like London London be going down
I have no idea what she is on about, but maybe it’s supposed to go on my head?
Moving on! Thanks to Jurgen, I now know about MC Hammer’s blog. (Celebrities use Blogger! They’re just like us!)
Trombone is 3 weeks old and we haven’t broken him yet. Though sometimes he seems concerned. Then I tell him it goes on his head and he feels better immediately.
It is TOO HOT to be breastfeeding. I thought June would be the perfect time to have a baby because of how hot it wouldn’t be when I was pregnant. Silly me. Actually, December/January might be the best time to have a baby because then you would be in your 2nd trimester (the best ever) in the heat of summer, plus you’d have a little bitty oven to warm yourself on 8-12-16 times a day. Depending on the baby’s appetite. Mine is huge. The nurse came by & weighed him last week. 10 lbs 15 oz. That’s almost 2 lbs he’s gained. His rolls have rolls and those rolls have their own area codes.
Since it got hot, we’ve been staying inside. (Except yesterday when we went to Metrotown for the air conditioning, which just made it more cruel to come home on public transit.) Saint Aardvark has been sponging himself off with a wet facecloth, just like Marlon Brando. And because it’s the weekend and The Weekend CBC hurts me, Trombone and I have been sitting on the couch and listening to CFOX, where, apparently, it is the ’90s all over again. Today I taught Trombone to rock out to Soundgarden. We both smell like a mosh pit anyway; might as well act the part.
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