My kids are pretty well-behaved. Pretty good. They are pretty patient and quiet when they accompany me while I run my errands. Sometimes too patient. Sometimes too quiet. And that can't be good...
During a recent marathon session at Kinko's (I still refuse to call it "FedEx Office"), these rascals made a paperclip chain that stretched all the way across the store. From the black-and-white copiers all the way over to the color copiers and approaching the cash register...
Munich has Oktoberfest. Pamplona has the running of the bulls. Filene's has a running of the brides (oy vay...). Manhattan Beach has the Six-Man Volleyball Tournament. Anyway, I kind of love it when a cliché comes together. And this is so SoCal.
The David Hasselhoffs just pwned the Chippendale dancers. Boo-yeh.
Dude on left: "Okay, this is the game point, championship shot. I'm setting for the spike. Dude, you ready?"
Dude on right: "Huh?" (He's a little distracted...)
I'm entering every invoice, every receipt, every expense for the past one-and-a-half years again. To attempt to retrieve the information from my fried hard disk would have been a grand. So, well, um, a thousand dollars? Um, no. I'll just sit down and do this. I will. I will. I'm quite the Bob Cratchit.