Its Saturday morning, and this was just yelled through the house down to the basement:
"If you don't turn off TV now you don't get to watch TV later when its time for your animal shows."
On Friday, I went by the UW campus at the 2:00 class break. I get on a college campus at a class break about 3 or 4 times a decade. I love it. I love to watch the students. Youth has its own beauty. Love to observe the clothing and the latest looks. Its also inspiring. The UW students were carrying books. They walked with a sense of purpose. They looked like they just finished paying attention in class.
Miraculously found a parking place. Strolled through the Student Union. Parents in town for the football weekend. Video games. Students huddled over Lap Tops. There's a focused young man who's angry about corporations, et al. I can tell this just by watching him read his text book. He reads it angrily, with an anti-corporation attitude! The truth about this guy is that he's merely shy. He needs the affection of a good woman. The repeated affection of a good woman. She can bring him into a world of people who like to laugh and love and crack jokes, and not take themselves so seriously.
I walk past a girl bent over her lap top, with hip hugger jeans running low, and 1/3 of her buttocks exposed to me. She has intentionally accessorized her buttocks crack with hot pink thong underwear that says "Victoria's Secret" in big advertisement lettering. Just like Audrey Hepburn accessorized her neck with a choker, and Mae West accessorized her cleavage with a necklace, this girl is accessorizing her buttocks with thong underwear. I've got absolutely no problem with looking at 20 year old's buttocks' cheeks. If this is the next big thing, you won't see me protesting it.
I venture into the sunlight, and begin moseying through a quadrangle towards the library. Come face to approaching face with a professor rushing himself and his books through the quadrangle, towards an oh-so-professorly important meeting at the Student Union, or maybe at his office. His personal presentation, there's no other way to say it, is exactly like Lenin. Same beard. Same Russian-Lenin-coat. "Peasant coat," maybe its called. You had to see him to understand the full effect. If Che Guevara came back from the dead and ran for Governor, he'd get this guy's vote. Course, if Che came back from the dead, I'd vote for him too.
The professor and I face off as we approach each other-- like gunslingers in the Old West-- Lenin's cousin, and me: Homer Simpson in Nikes and a Dallas Stars sweatshirt. We each could not possibly have less respect for the other. As we pass shoulder to shoulder, we each have the identical thought: "Sheesh. What an asshole."
Picked up the kids at 4:00, went to the greatest neighborhood playground ever. Felt guilty, b/c I let the 3 year old run around, even though she developed a cough. Ah, well, we were having fun. And I'll be gone on Monday. Can leave the cough for my poor brother and sister-in-law to deal with.
Now its Saturday, and I'm listening to a 3 year old's song about ice cream scoops, and we're all gearing up to go outside and play. Big game today! But only after the big game in the front yard! Gotta go!