Last night was my little matzoh ball's first Passover seder and he spent it crashed out in the pack n play while we reclined and feasted upon brisket and wine and sweet potatoes and other chosen-friendly delicacies. Which is as it should be. He'll have many years to look for the afikomen and whine through the reading of the haggadah. It was so nice to hang out with family, and to have more of that to look forward to this weekend for the Easter portion (someday HR will be psyched to be part of an interfaith dealie) and the little party we're throwing for the soon-to-be birthday bug. It's an informal affair with spaghetti and a big old sheet cake from Costco and immediate family and a few friends. Not too different from my own first birthday, if Super 8 film is to be believed, though I'm sure that cake was homemade.
And with as little fanfare as I can muster, I have decided I am pumping for two more days, enough to get us through my workweek, then returning the godforsaken thing to the maternity store for all eternity. Milestones are coming fast and furious 'round these parts these days. Look out!
My new song I'm loving is "You Be Killin Em" by Fabolous. Yes, I typed that entire line with a straight face and no secret irony. But it wouldn't be me if I didn't harbor a host of nitpicky reservations. For one, Fabo's a little too impressed with his own cleverness in the "shoe-icide" line, and I still can't quite make sense of "donkey with a Juan Valdez." I'm not so out of touch that I don't know the colloquial usage of "donkey", and I'm unfortunately old enough to get the whole Juan Valdez thing with the coffee and the donkey riding and the glavin, but every time I hear it, I'm composing a letter to Fabolous for the purpose of clarification.
Dear Fabolous, are you trying to say that the subject's ass has a moustache and a poncho? That it's 100 % Colombian? Are you sure it's even a compliment? I'll continue to overlook the grand travesty of spelling that is your professional name if you stop writing lines that make my brain hurt. Sure I let L'il Wayne get away with just about any nonsensical thing he can come up with, but you sir are no Dwayne Carter III. Signed, a Concerned Listener
Ahem. Don't let my overthinking ruin it for you. Already I'm willing to accept that whatever respect you may have had for me went out the window 15 entries ago, but don't miss out on a perfectly fun song because of that.
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