flightless hag

A chronicle of the adventures of birdwoman: a lonely, talentless freak who wanders the internet in search of entertainment.

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Location: Philly

I'm a 40-something married white female, survivor of weight watchers, avid reader of pulp. Dogs (not cats), extreme right (handed, not politics), ENTJ, alto, wanna-be knitter.

August 29, 2005

Dear, He's Still Our Bruno!

This weekend was a harried (ultimate pun intended…) one for birdwoman.

I started ripping apart my lawn Friday night, went for a run Saturday morning, finished ripping apart the lawn, did 6 loads of laundry, washed the windows, etc all day Saturday.

Normally, I am quite a slovenly beast. This kind of ambition is not normal for me. (my mother is coming to visit next week. Enough said?)

Needless to say, I was done for on Sunday.

So, when we went out as a family to get the Moth’s haircut, I left him and his terrible-twoness with Dad at the Supercuts.



Stinky and I were waiting for Dad and the Moth patiently while looking at all the animals in the Petco. I turn and see this ugly little kid sucking on a sippy cup… hey, that’s just like our sippy cup… the sippy cup we brought to give to the Moth with lunch.

Oh. My. God. That ugly kid is MINE.

Dad decided to give Tim a buzz cut with the shortest clippers.

My timmy now looks like a cancer patient. With a bad attitude.

AND, bonus of all bonuses, we’re set to get Christmas pictures taken on Friday. Guess I’m gonna change the outfits of choice, cause Tim’s gonna be wearing a hat for this picture.

(Oh, and the title is a quote from The Witches that John kept saying yesterday as my eyes welled with tears.)



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