Friday, April 11, 2014

The Tiger Has a Headache


Midway through my second glass of wine last night, I realized that I’m pretty terrible at making outlines.  I was attempting to give Jason talking points over the phone for the conversation he’s going to have with little Bob’s team of teacher’s today during their phone conference.  (There is going to be a phone conference, because I figured a conference is way better than Mommy having a brain aneurism or a stress-induced stroke, either of which was imminent yesterday.)

Also, it’s probably important to mention at this point, that by ‘second glass of wine,’ I really mean that I was measuring wine by the pint, you know, like the cool people measure beer.  That’s really the only way to do it.  Plus, it’s also better than just putting a straw in the bottle.

So somewhere along the line, while working through the talking points, I maybe (or so I’ve been told) began to make things a little personal.  And my outlining began to take a turn for the worse.  It went from ‘First’ to ‘Second’ to ‘And Point C’ and then ‘Fifth’ and then back to ‘And B,’ and I finished up with some ‘and furthermore’ sort of stuff.

All of this was right before I suggested that Jason end the conference by telling them all that I was going to buy the entire family t-shirts that say ‘Fuck Conformity.’  And I suggested that he also inform them that we were all going to wear them to the school together.  On the same day.  So there.  So flippin’ there.  Because we don’t live in a box.  We live outside the box.  And we have sit-ins.  And we believe in freedom and individuality and creativity and…

Well, you get the picture.

In the middle of the rant, I asked Jason, “Are you getting all this?  Are you writing all this down?”

And he said, “Oh yeah.”  But I could hear him wanting to laugh.  He was laughing in his head.

What he really wanted to say was, “I’m calling the crazy-van-loony-bin-people to come pick you up,” but he knew better than to say that.

Because if he said that, I would totally cancel his t-shirt order.  And then he would be the ONLY one without an ultra-cool non-conformist free-to-be-me t-shirt.  And we all know he wouldn’t want that to happen.

Also, I need some ibuprofen.

No comments: