CMG Imponderables, Part 1

OK, so I usually do my best thinking in either the shower or on the john. I used to do some great thinking while nursing the kids, but since those days are long gone, I no longer have deep thoughts on the couch at 2AM, with infomercials, and a suckling baby. Nowadays, I catch my deep thinking whenever I can, in the short bursts of privacy during kid naps, peeing, or in between reading the same Little Bear book for the 90^th time.

So, I give you today what I hope to be a long and grand tradition here at CofaCMG.

My Imponderables!
(Just imagine James Earl Jones spoke that line in a booming voice with some echo effects. Yeah!)

Imponderable #1: Why does my low-water volume toilet clog after I empty out my colon? Seriously? Every damned time I go to use the john, no toilet paper, nothing in the toilet but my own poo, the stupid piece of crap (ironic name, huh?) clogs up and there I am, nasty, dirty butt, pants around my ankles, cussing up a storm, trying to unclog the toilet, gagging because bits of poo are clinging to the plunger. Finally, toilet is unclogged. I sit back down to do my business, using only three sheets of toilet paper to wipe, flushing again and realizing the toilet is clogged again. Seriously. It takes me a damned hour just to use the john. Why oh why do we have these toilets that supposedly save water when they really don't because you flush 20 bits of toilet paper 20 times in order to keep the crapper from clogging?

(Well. Heh-em.)

Imponderable #2: Why do my kids ignore me throughout the day, only to come flying in, from all directions, when they sense the telephone is in my hands? I'm not even talking yet, the other party has not even picked up their end of the line, and already Bubba is asking where his Marlin toy is, Miss-Miss is wailing over an imagined ow-ee, and J-man has decided to crawl up my leg and sink his teeth into my thigh. Are you kidding me?!?

Imponderable #3: Why is Sean Connery so damned good-looking? I mean, the man is 77-years-old. He was born a year before my father, for chrissake. I certainly wouldn't go down to the local retirement community and pick up a 77-year-old man who is looking for action with a young-un like me. In fact I would probably beat his ass if he tried anything. But if Sean Connery knocked on my door! Buh-bye Ty-man! It's been lovely, but I've gotta go.

Imponderable #4: Why do we all hate our voices? I'm not talking about what you sound like to yourself. I'm talking about what you sound like on your answering machine, your wedding video, and in my case, on my latest duet song with Fab. Seriously? I just spent an hour laying down vocal tracks (Damn! Don't I sound all recording industry now? "Laying down vocal tracks." I'll never be able to live with myself.) to I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow for Fab's next Big Honking Duet Show and I sound horrible! The second that doctor pulled me out, smacked me on my butt, and heard me cry, he should have ordered larynx-adjustment surgery. Seriously. Blech.

And on that note, I must begin to warn you of said duet show:



Fab has convinced a bunch of us bloggers to sing with him again. OK, maybe convince is the wrong word. Blackmail. Yeah, that's the word I'm looking for. If you're looking for something to do on Sunday, April 6^th, I highly recommend you mosey on over to Pointless Drivel Live, for a most excellent show of 18 bloggers singing it up with the Fab-man himself. It's going to be a rockin' good time! So, mark your calendars and, fear not, I shall remind you again.