Memo to me: Know where the heck you’re going before you roll into downtown Oklahoma City like you own the place. Wait until you are officially out of ghetto-ville before you start blasting 80’s tunes, and before you start belting out Peter Cetera’s "The Glory of Love" at the top of your lungs, check to make sure your back windows are all the way up. And when scary Mexican gangsters are pointing and laughing at you, it’s safe to assume that maybe–just maybe–your windows are not as tinted as you originally thought they were–stop making "music videos" in your rearview mirror.
Of Peter Cetera’s "The Glory of Love".
It’s not like it’s even one of the cool 80’s songs.
Some other things I’ve learned this week:
Neurosurgeons? Not a particularly fun bunch.
The smell of formula is foul, but the smell of formula combined with the smell of cigarettes creates a fume more vile and noxious than a family of skunks farting in a sulfur pit.
Caleb has impossibly large thumbs.
Christmas shopping is dangerously fun.
I can’t take 5 seconds to go to the bathroom unless someone is home to keep an eye on Merrick.
If I can’t see Merrick, he is almost guaranteed to be doing one of 5 things:
- Eating vasoline and/or putting vasoline on the dogs.
- Eating lipstick and/or putting lipstick on the dogs.
- Eating laundry detergent and/or putting laundry detergent on the dogs.
- Drinking water out of the dog bowl.
- Drinking water out of the toilet.
This is a goblin cookie:
That is all.