Random Esquire

So, remember my tail-less squirrel friend?  She first showed up here.  That’s when I discovered that she was definitely a SHE.  We had an October reunion when she buried crackers I’d given her in my neighbor’s flower pots.

She returned a few days ago.  And it has become clear that I’ve spoiled her.  Not because she’s big, mind you.  It’s because now, when she’s hungry, she comes right up to the patio door and stares inside, completely unafraid of Little Filthy’s barking.  She hangs out until I give her something – in this case, some cereal.

She used to be coy and accept dinner only at my insistence.  I got used to seeing her cute little face.  Then she played hard to get.  Then she came back and I was pleased and gave her dinner.  And now…she demands my attention whenever she wants it.

Dude.

I think….

…I think I’m married to a squirrel.

I have been contemplating buying this 500 gb external hard drive from Amazon.  Oh look…right under the picture, it says “See 1 customer image.”

I wanted to see how large the thing really was sitting on a desk or something – which is what all the other customer images are (of all the other external hard drives).  I click.

It’s a picture of 6 children standing behind a griddle with a Mickey Mouse pancake.

No, I am not kidding.  See for yourself.

WTF?

Edited to add:  Picture has been yanked!

Edited to add:  Now it is a Homer Simpson head!

Edited to add:  WTF.  Now it’s a bird.

My sister is an interesting mix of prim/proper and back alley craps game.   She balances between flying on the corporate jet and then telling me that she’s going to show her kids the movie Mystic River so that they never run away.    She’s extremely ethical and always tries to do the right thing.  Except for that Black Market Baptism (which happened).  She doesn’t swears or says a harsh word calls people charming names like coo-coo bean and quirky bird.  But she will say that her kid can smell weakness in a nanny like a wolf smells sheep.

She was prim/proper sister when she called me to tell me the following story.  My niece (who is almost 3), was digging around in my sister’s purse.  She pulled something out, held it up and said to my sister, “What is this?”

My sister looked at it and said, “Put that away, my love.” (She calls her kids ‘my love’ a lot.)

Niece: “Can I open it? What is it?”

My sister then relayed to me that it was, and I quote, “a certain feminine product.”  I like that she compared her kid giving up diapers to pulling someone from a line of coke but doesn’t want to say the word ‘tampon’.

She said, “That’s something just for mommies.”

My niece, knowing that my sister wears contact lenses and that daddy does not, said, “Ohh.  Are these contact lenses?”

My sister gave in and said, “Yes.”

My niece said, “Ohh.  Do you want me to open it and put it in your eye?”

My sister said, “No.”

I can’t wait to see this backfire on my sister.

Besos and I had a talk about our future this weekend.  Did you see it?  It was on 30 Rock.  Okay, it wasn’t.  But our relationship is eerily similar to that of Jack and Elisa.  Admittedly, I had tried to delay the conversation until I had time speak with some female friends and write down all of their suggestions for my “do not say this” list.  One QTMama warned me, as she rushed out to her daughter’s birthday party, “Let’s talk tomorrow.  Don’t do anything yet.  You’ll screw it up. xoxo.”   But women really aren’t all that interested in waiting to talk while you gather your notes.  I’m pleased to report that I didn’t screw it up.  I was rather proud of myself until I realized that my ability to not screw things up is directly tied to Besos’s ability to ignore what comes out of my mouth.  For example:

During said discussion, I sat there looking at my hands and thinking for a bit.  I said, “You’re stubborn.”

She said, “Stubborn? Why?”

I said, “I don’t know why you’re stubborn.  Because you’re Mexican?”

There was some silence so I looked up to see her cocking her head to the side with a small smirk on her face. “That’s not what I meant.”

I said, “I know, I’m kidding.  You want to know why I think you are stubborn.”  She nodded.

I said, “I think it’s because you’re Mexican.”

She grinned.  I said, “I’ve decided to blame everything on you being Mexican.”

She said, “Does that make you feel better?”

I said, “No.  It makes me feel funnier.”

Later, I grinned and held my thumb and forefinger together and asked, “Do you think you are ever just a tiny bit passive aggressive?”

She stared at me and said, “No.  I think I’m a woman.”

I said, “I think you’ve answered my question.”

Yes, we’re still dating.