Glasses. No, The Other Sort

One of the things about my dad was the way he’d drink his beer. I think I only ever saw him with a stubby or can in has hand twice, and I can’t honestly say I ever saw him drink from one – Dad only ever drank his beer from a glass. He had two glasses that he seemed to prefer, a glass stein for the afternoon beer and occasionally a long glass, both embossed with the Kiwanis symbol.

I’ve always been a straight from the stubby man myself, although Steve wouldn’t approve that I generally plonk it in a (Richmond) stubby holder, but this is beginning to change. Lately I’ve been drinking Pepsi with loads of ice in a tall glass and tonight I poured a beer in to a glass and was surprised at how much better it tasted. Almost a year since he’s gone and I’m becoming more and more like my dad; that’s something to drink to.

This Day Again

I don’t know how I do it but I always seem to be home on the day Americans have their Superbowl thingy. It’s on again this morning so I’ll probably have it playing in the background, no use in having the sound on ’cause the game makes absolutely no sense to me, but it’s always a spectacle. I think I was home last year when it was on and I was definitely home two years ago on the occasion of the infamous ‘wardrobe malfunction’ because that was the day after we moved in to this house (happy anniversary house!). I never would have thought as I watched Janet Jackson flash the USA that two years later I’d be permanently at home looking after my new baby boy.

A Special Guest Blogger

And now, this from a special guest blogger, The Mysterious ‘N’.

When taking your 2 year old child to Buddy’s soft-play area, don’t leave the main play hall intent on finding the football results. What will happen is that you will notice the TV is tuned to the bloody rugby. So you will happen to notice a hi-fi sitting just outside the main play hall door. Thinking this is not being used, you will switch it from CD to Tuner and start fiddling.

Having located the right station, you will then be annoyed to find that you can’t hear it. You will then begin to turn up the volume until you reach maximum.

What will then happen is that among the many small children in the play hall, the lucky ones will die, while the rest will bleed profusely from the ears and the others will be permanently plagued by toxic-shock syndrome.

You will then realise that the hi-fi you’ve been fiddling with is the main PA for the 5000-sq-m play hall.

N

Of All The Stupid Things

I crunched my bare foot in to the end of our bed today and it feels like I’ve broken the little toe on my left foot. Hopefully it’s only badly bruised. Hurts like hell either way.

The Toe

(I know, I have a funny toe, it’s genetic.)