Thanks, Sneff

Cyclefreak clarified for me that the post below was not actually written by Jay Leno. I'd actually wondered about that, but I was in a seriously bad mood that day so I posted my reply anyway.

I don't mind if anything I say gets debunked by someone who recognizes it as urban legend. Hell, I want you to tell me if I have it wrong, to prevent me from looking like a jackass. I'll do the same for you, trust me.

But at the end of it all, someone wrote that email. Some big-headed, stupid-ass who wanted to feel important, very likely. They pissed me off, whoever they are. And I know for a fact that there are actually wealthy or privileged people out there who have those exact sentiments, which makes me wanna scratch their eyes out. None of my reply contained falsity or exaggeration, regardless of the authenticity of the instigating article.

On a Lighter Note...

Do you know where peacocks come from? My son asked me where they come from. I told him I thought they came from China. He made an exasperated noise and informed me that, NOOOO, they come from the ocean. I must have looked very puzzled because he quickly assured me that they don't sleep in the ocean. They sleep in the subway. And they eat weeds. Grover said so.

Thank you, Sesame Street. You've done wonders for my child's imagination.

Speaking of influences, my two-year old daughter was sitting on the couch next to me the other day, and a brightly-colored Christmas-themed commercial came on the TV, advertising what wonders of the season you could find at some over-priced retailer. Before I could say a word, my daughter popped her juice cup out of her mouth and shouted, "Holy shit!" just as clear as day. It was hard not to laugh as I told her that was a bad word.

Shocking as that may seem, it was nowhere near as stunning as later that evening when I was running her bathwater. She was demanding bubbles. I told her twice that it was too late for bubbles, we were just taking a quick bath and going to bed. After the third shriek for bubbles, I said, "NO, Gabbi, no bubbles!" So she shouted "FUCK!" and threw her plastic boat across the bathroom.

For that, I thank her father. No way she got THAT from Grover or Big Bird.

See what you have to look forward to, future Cheney parents?