Strange

Strange (and completely meaningless) things are happening to me. And I'm going to tell you about them.
Even though I probably shouldn't.

But before I do, I will show you this not-very-great picture of Alex's new haircut, so that Daddy can see it.
And also because once you read about the strange things, you probably will not stick around to see a picture.

Sorry, I should have taken a photo earlier in the day when her hair actually looked decent. It's not the best haircut in the world, but at least we came to an agreement on the length.
When we left the house today, she wanted it to be ear-level.
After the haircut, I found her checking herself out in the mirror, and she said "I don't even look like Alex anymore."

Side note: If you look in the background on Alex's bed (also interchangeable with the word zoo) you will see that no less than two stuffed animals sleep next to her pillow in a white bowl.

Many moons ago, Alex had a stomach virus and was puking like a drunkard.
Hence, the bowl was by her side should she ever figure out before she vomited that she was, indeed, going to vomit.
(That never happened.)
But I had faith that one day she might figure it out, and so in the days after her illness, the bowl kept it's place next to the pillow, just in case.
Then when I decided that it could safely be moved back to the kitchen, so that guests may be served out of it (never eat here), I found it inhabited by some furry creatures that refuse to be evicted.
So there.

Oh, and she's also very aggressive with her chapstick application, if you were wondering about her glossy lips.

And now.

Strange thing number 1:

Randomly, while making normal arm movements this evening, my left armpit...well, um...it...well, it farted.

Sorry, I don't know how else to say it.

I remember the boys in elementary school making their armpits fart on purpose by sticking their hands in their shirts and making a chicken-dance-type move.
I was secretly jealous.
I'd sneak home into my room and try for myself.
I could never make it happen.
And now, out of the blue, while readjusting my position on the couch with my friend the laptop, it just happened.
Without the use of my hand, mind you.

For the next 15 minutes or so, I would occasionally repeat the motion, with the same juicy-sounding results.
Then I tried the right arm.
No luck.

Then I started reading some article on Google news and forgot about my armpit.
Then I remembered.
So I tried again.
And as quickly as it had come to me, my new-found skill had slipped away.

In case you were wondering, I've also never been able to burp on command.

I feel closer to you all tonight.
And so I'm going to share one more thing--

Strange thing number 2:

You know how I enjoy elastic waistbands, right?
Right.
Because I don't like to be held in by anything restrictive.
Like denim.

Well that feeling extends to brazier wear as well.
As soon as I'm fairly confident that I will not be receiving any visitors, or heck, even when it's still a possibility, I toss that bra away as fast as I can.

And that is the position I was in last night.
Now that I have set the stage, here is a public service announcement for you:


When you're all cozy on the couch, slouching down with your elastic waistband pants and wearing no bra, and your laptop is laying across your midsection, and you go to shut your laptop for the night...and you shut it with authority, no less, it would behoove you to make sure that your right nipple is not in the way of your authoritative closing.
Because if it were, you may yelp out loud similar to the time that your nursing son bit you and you scared him so badly that he went on a nursing strike.

Not that anything like that happened to me, of course.
I could just see the potential of the occurrence and I wanted to look out for you guys.
Because I like you.

And you read about armpits and nipples and still come back again.

Right?

Right?


Oh.

Well, goodbye forever then.