finslippy

Guilt, guilt, and more guilt.

Oh my, am I ever fired up. Fired up but good! You'll have to go to Wonderland to find out why.

In other news, my son, Henry—perhaps you've heard me mention his name here before—he's at preschool right now. On Friday, school lets out at 12:30. But his school provides this lovely aftercare option, wherein you can leave your child to fingerpaint and cavort and pee in his pants and all those activities that preschoolers enjoy. Aftercare continues until five p.m. It's cheap. It's awesome.

Now, I work. I have projects, and deadlines, and I make (a little) money, and so forth. Ending my work day at 12:15 simply does not cut it, in terms of Getting Things Done. Meanwhile, aftercare, to Henry, is a tiny wedge of heaven—a place where he gets to play with all the Legos a Lego addict like himself could wish for. If I don't leave him in aftercare, he's angry with me. When I pick him up, he begs to say for another few minutes.

I need it. Henry loves it. But—can you see where this is going?—leaving him there fills me with guilt. FILLS. I am guilt-soaked. I am marinating in it. No, I'm macerated by guilt, and covered in a lovely sage-infused guilt reduction. But why? Why, my friends? Am I trained to feel inadequate, no matter which decisions I choose? Because you can bet that if I picked him up at 12:30 and he wanted to stay, I'd feel you-know-what.

Oh, but this is all such a cliché. Hi, I'm a cliché! I'm steps away from this, except without the laughs:

Plugging those who are not me

When you're done checking out my 44 seconds of anonymous co-fame at The Onion News Network, take a look at my blogroll. There are all kinds of new people over there. Like Mama Cooks! And Just Another Ink-Stained Wretch, who is as she describes. I like her. And there's Catherine Newman, who I am proud to list among my new set of BFsF. And last but not least, there's Exurbitude, who has a thing for antlered sharks.

I plugged The Sound of Young America in a previous post, and shortly thereafter TSOYA made its debut on NPR. I know deep in my heart that I made that happen. (Also, the flowers are blooming because I have willed it so.) Now I feel compelled to plug another product of young Jesse Thorn's radio/podcasting empire, that being Jordan, Jesse, Go! Listening to Jordan and Jesse, one might almost forget that one is alone most of the day and doesn’t have any friends around one who makes one laugh like Jordan makes Jesse laugh. Sometimes one might share an anecdote from JJG! and forget that it happened to someone whom one does not know! And then one might feel pathetic indeed. Still, though, it's worth it. I highly recommend listening to this podcast, starting with the first episode, and then you can feel like you got in on the ground floor of something awesomer than anything you can remember.

Also? Tropicana Orange/Strawberry/Banana Juice mixed with seltzer is a drink that's tops in my book. Seriously, it's like drinking a fizzy liquid Starburst, but without all that bothersome high-fructose corn syrup. Do it! I mean, drink it! You know what I mean!

I couldn't be more proud.

Last year I spent a few giddy months writing with a crack team of funny people for The Onion News Network. I left them to pursue my literary ambitions and also because I'm not 25 anymore and couldn't spend all day every day coming up with sketch ideas. Did I rue this decision? A little, yes. There was some drinking. There were some tears.

I have since cleaned myself up and moved on, but look! The Onion News Network is now live, and oh my god, the one bit I wrote for them (okay, co-wrote,sheesh) that will probably ever make it online is actually online today. Oh, I had some others that were brilliant, my friends, BRILLIANT. My favorite was cut because Mad Magazine scooped me. Scooped by Mad! I'm still not over it.

Go see!

What Henry thinks I am thinking, all the time.

I wonder what Henry’s playing with, over there. Why won’t he show me?

Is his Lego construction any different, now that he’s done some magical new thing to it?

And now? Is it different?

And now?

Now?

Now now now now now?

It can’t be different again—or can it?

I wonder if Henry can jump on one leg? Too bad I’ll never find out.

Now I’m wondering about that other leg.

I keep looking away because I forget I have a son. Good thing he understands and reminds me!

What does the food in Henry’s mouth look like, when he’s eating? I wish there was a way for me to see that.

Is Henry doing something fun with his socks? I hope he shows me.

I would look over to see the dog doing something cute, if only Henry would tell me to.

Did the dog’s expression change slightly? I’ll wait for Henry to look first and let me know.

It is important for me to be aware of each and every squirrel in the yard. Good thing Henry’s on the job, with that.

This magazine is so boring, but I feel awkward , looking up to watch Henry’s television program. That’s his thing. I wish I could share in it.

I’ll guess I’ll go back to reading, after he showed me that last thing. I wish I could see more.

And more.

And more and more and more.

Good thing I threw that magazine on the coffee table! Now I get to watch Curious George.

You can't even imagine

how much my head hurts right now. Or maybe you can! In which case you understand that I am hard-pressed to come up with a post for today. Is it enough to say that there's a new Wonderland up today? Oh, I hope so.

I'm taking requests for my next finslippy post, which I will write this weekend unless my brains come shooting out through my eye sockets. So come on, what do you want me to write about? It's like improv, only in writing, and I'll have time to edit. So nothing like improv. Ow. My head. Ow.