Things have been a little busy lately, what with the wedding and all....

But I have lived through it to blog again. I know I have promised a Prom post for Screamapillar, and a wedding post (which I can't do until I have some photos, for once my camera stayed in it's bag).

But today is somebody's birthday, and instead of posting all kinds of embarrassing photos on FB as I had planned, I'm going to post them here where he can't untag himself and disavow any knowledge of ever being a child.

Yeah. We love him. A lot.

Happy Birthday Thing Two.

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Technical difficulties

I'm behind on posting the next installment of MAWR 2011 because my computer has

DIED.

Stone cold, blue screened

DEAD.

I think I'm going to cry.

All I have to share with you today is a story. About my darlingest loveliest vivacious angel boy, Thing Two. He has never bothered to get a drivers license, primarily because he's an exceptional tightwad. He doesn't want to pay for insurance or to repair a car.
You see, he knows how much it actually costs. And he'd rather spend his money elsewhere ***cough - XBOX LIVE***

For many years he has used his feet and legs to get where he wants: he LOVES cycling. When he moved into the bachelor pad across town, he moved significantly further away from his place of employment. Previously, his bike would have him to work in about two minutes, or he could walk it in about seven.

Now it's more like half an hour on the bike, approximately forever on foot. So he's obviously taking the bike. And since he works at the movie theatre, sometimes he's biking home in the extreme darkness that is one a.m....

But I'm his mother and it's my job to worry, so I came up with an ingenious plan to ensure his safety!

One:
He needs a new, brightly colored bike that ignorant sleepy motorists can see in the dark. Found: bright YELLOW Mongoose bike with reflectors.

Two:
He should have lots of lights on his bike, good bright LED ones... Red flashing wheel lights, headlight and tail light. Found them purchase them put them on the bike. It's only slightly obnoxious.

Three:
He needs one of those neon colored reflective vests that crossing guards and meter readers wear.....


and maybe something else to ensure we catch their attention:

It's kept him safe so far....

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Moving out

Major changes happened at our house 'bout ten days ago. Thing Two and El Guapo did a swap. Thing Two moved out into El Guapo's bachelor pad, and El Guapo moved in with us until the wedding. This is a real win-win, as Thing Two wanted out and El Guapo is desperately trying to save money before the wedding.

Here's Thing Two in the new place:

Isn't it nice how he poses all sweet anytime I want to take his pitcher? Well, do notice the necessary items that make this a bachelor pad. Can you find all these items in the photo above?

- disco ball

- pirate flag (partially hung)

- dart board

- mismatched furniture

- bongo drums

- movie posters

- musical group posters

- Wurlitzer organ

I didn't take any photos of the kitchen or bathroom because I was afraid.

It's funny how things change. This young man, who couldn't bear sharing a good size bedroom with his little brother now shares a bitty little room with a stranger.

And suddenly, I'm not such an idiot! He asks me thought provoking questions like "How long do you think a jar of peanut butter should last me?" when a month ago, he wouldn't have trusted me to put my shoes on correctly on my own.

Change is (sometimes) good.
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Digital Photography

I really have made the transition from film to digital grudgingly, kicking and screaming all the way. The whole "molcules vs. pixels" argument is still a hot one for me. I miss film. It was a wonderful, subtle thing. But the ability to "shoot away," eternally flexible ASA and the ease with which things can be edited appears to have won out.

For example, when you have "undesirable" object in your background.

El Guapo was concerned about the riff raff hanging about in the background. I assured him I could make them disappear. I didn't realize how easy that would actually be.

See those big old feet in the white tennis shoes over there?

They belong to him:

Thing Two, Moving Day!

Why, yes! That is my son, Thing Two. He was hanging about at a local park (the furthest one from our house in the city) with a GIRL! A very nice girl, who he has been attempting to hide from us. We like her, as best we can when he has been doing his level best to keep the girl from meeting us... so he ran away as soon as he realized that we were there taking photos (after I kicked him in those big white skis he's got).

What? Are we too weird or something? Are we SO bizarre that he is afraid she will run away if she spends any amount of time with us?

Okay, so we are.

You gotta problem with that?

Prolly not since you haven't clicked "next blog" yet...
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Hearing voices...

Once upon a time there was an exceptionally stupid mother (me). She took the advice of a neighbor, who happened to write video games for a living, about purchasing a game for a teenage boy. She bought the recommended game for Thing Two's birthday, and a monster was born.

Ever heard of Halo?

No? There must not be any adolescent boys in your household. Or adult males who behave like adolescent boys....

Anyway.

Thing Two plays Halo nearly every waking hour. He does bathe and eat occassionally, but mostly he plays Halo. I don't really understand much about the game. Or why someone would play for 16 hours at a stretch. I think it has something to do with shooting at everything in your line of sight. And blowing stuff up.

I tell the boy to stop. "Please, there are better things you can do with your life!" and "This is really not preparing you for life in the real world, by the way." He listens not. He sits there having very animated conversations with people half a world away.

Yesterday I wrote down everything he said to the imaginary people he plays this game with. Using his actual words, let's apply what he's yelling into the headset to a real life situation:


Boss at work: "Have you cleaned Theatre One yet?"
Thing Two: "I think that's as destroyed as it gets. I'm gonna 'nade it, watch out."


Mother: "You need to get your laundry done and clean your room."
Thing Two: "I don't think having the warthog is an advantage anymore."

Bishop: "How are things going for you, son?"
Thing Two: "I think I'm retarded.
Bishop: "Is there anything I can do to help you with your goals?"
Thing Two: "OH NO! NO! OH...awwww. I'm dead."

Person on the street: "Can you give me directions to the mall?"
Thing Two: "There's two jackals you won't have to deal with if you go this way."

Poor girl on a date with gormless son: "What do you think of my best friend?"
Thing Two: "BANSHEE!"

Friend at a party: "Help me out, dude, where did our dates disappear to?"
Thing Two: "Dude, they're on your six. Dude, your six! DUDE!!!! YOUR SIX!!!!"




Yeah.

Well, that's pretty much the dialogue you would hear if you spent any time at our place. I'm hoping that someday he will grow out of this. If not, I will just have to get used to it. It's just a wee bit discouraging to have my first conversation of the day start out:

"Hey, I'll just kill you and you can spawn over there."
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