Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

7. Blogging from a Jewel concert.

Listen to this 25 second music file. Now listen to this 25 second music file. What do you think? And can anyone name the sources?

It’s M.S.’s birthday. Go bug her. Someone send her a virtual stripper or something.

After laughing our way through the movie, we decided to get a late-night meal at Magnolia Cafe. We sat down and perused the menu, then hub nudged me with his eyes and said “Problem customer”. I looked over to where he was indicating – a guy in a girl in a booth by the window. They were complaining about the service. Suddenly the girl lashed out with a barrage of “Fuck”s, mostly directed at the manager who was talking to her. The manager told her to get out of the restaurant; she didn’t appreciate being cursed at. (Scene from Clerks: “You’re not allowed to rent here anymore!” “Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyeah!” Man, that cracks me up for some inescapable reason.)

The man at the booth then started spouting about his First Amendment Rights(tm). People just don’t seem to understand that the first amendment doesn’t give you carte blanche to, say, yell “Fire!” in a movie theater (although we should have done so during the movie tonight, as it would probably have been more entertaining than Final Destination 2) or go into a private business establishment and start verbally abusing the staff.

So the manager went to call the cops. In the time it took for them to show up, the couple plus their two friends in the booth next to them went outside and started pacing around.

It is important to note at this point that I had noticed a large and visible bulge in the small of the back of the man in the booth. I do have some experience in noting if someone is ‘printing’ or not, and this guy was printing.

I started to get nervous. So did hub. We looked for the waiter so we could change our order to go, and began to understand why the original couple was complaining about the bad service. I checked out the bathroom area for a back door – no luck. If we left, we were going to have to walk through the four pissed-off pacing people in the front of the restaurant.*

Well this was a dilemna. Just then the cops arrived. I only saw one car, but later discovered that three units responded. For about thirty minutes, the cops talked to the PPP* as we watched and waited for the front to clear. Hub said not to worry – it was APD, and if anyone started to get crazy, the police would just shoot them. Finally, the PPP’s friends drove off. That left the original duo – the guy who looked like he was packing and his foul-mouthed woman friend. Anxiously we waited while they wandered back and forth in front of the plate glass windows, the woman waving her arms around in an agitated manner. Finally they left too, and one of the cop cars did, leaving two behind to pull up and chat with each other. We made it out without incident and are safely home, where hub is now lovingly playing with his guns.

Was the guy carrying legally? I don’t know. I do know that hub was, and that he’s very relieved that he wasn’t involved in a situation where he might have to use his weapon. He also swears that he’ll never go out in public with only one mag again. Magnolia Cafe. Who’da thunk?

*”Pissed-off pacing people” has such a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

Just went to see Final Destination 2. It was a laff riot, with two “F”s. Normally this would be a good thing, except it was supposed to be a horror movie.

That’s what I get for saying the baby doesn’t wake in the night anymore.

I noticed tonight that the three year old’s teeth are really grody. We have to practically tie her up in order to brush them and she whips her head back and forth and so the job never gets done very well. It’s showing now because she’s got more tartar than Red Lobster. I had a sneaking suspicion that having her pacifier (or as she calls it, her “two-tattie”) at night was exascerbating the situation, so I took matters into my own hands and went and cut off the entire end of the damned thing and casually left it in her bed like nothing ever happened.

When she went up to bed she was not impressed, to say the least. Her two-tattie was broken, and she wanted someone’s head for it. I asked if she wanted it and she thrust it away, haughtily as a nouveau riche Frenchman who’s been offered wine from a box. So we read a story and said prayers and kissed goodnight and I went downstairs and waited for the other shoe to drop.

Which it did, with a thud. On the monitor I heard statements like “I want another two-tattie”. “This is no good”, “This one is broken”, and “Please, I can’t go to sleep”, gradually increasing in intensity until I felt her pain in every fiber of my mommy-like being.

I went upstairs to her and told her I was very sorry that her two-tattie was broken and that they were out of them at the store; did she think it would help if I sat on her bed with her and read my book and watched her while she fell asleep? She agreed that she thought it would help, and so I settled in with Bridget Jones’s Diary (excellent book, that) and laid there reading while she occasionally snaked out a hand to pat my arm or touch my hair, reassuring herself that I was still with her, until she fell deeply asleep.

Sometime during the baby’s week-long stomach flu she seems to have weaned herself. She’s been politely turning down offers of nursing with a quiet “No.” for the past week and a half. I guess most people would say congratulations, but honestly I’m pretty sad about it. Not only was it a nice quiet time to bond, but it was a sure fire way to put her to sleep at night, or put her back to sleep in the middle of the night if she woke up. She’s also been sleeping in her bed more often, without waking up and crying to get into bed with us. I think she’s really attached to the quilt that I made for her which is nice; at least I have a hug wrapped around her in proxy while she sleeps. It’s amazing how quickly they grow up.

On the other hand the three year old still refuses to sleep without a pacifier, and now I’m refusing to nap with her when she has it because it’s so fricking noisy. I’ve tried poking holes in them, which didn’t faze her a bit. Anyone have any suggestions on 1) de-pacifiering and 2) potty training a three year old?