Wednesday, January 28, 2009

My First Show

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

The Manny Tapes

Whenever I take Short Bus to class I worry I'm hogging all his time; I tend to kinda hover around him, and when we're in the gym I'm constantly throwing a ball at his head "throw it back to me!" So sometimes I try to kinda slip away and force him to interact with the other kids instead of me. Which, of course, never happens - for all the "social interaction" the class (and all these classes, really) promises, it's basically 18 kids walking around in circles completely ignoring each other.

So you can imagine how thrilled I was yesterday when Short Bus slowly, carefully sidled up to another dude who was playing at the pretend-kitchen thing, moving plastic dishes around. He ends up right next to the kid and turns to me (I had backed up about 8 feet away), his face lit up in ecstasy and in an exaggerated stage whisper loudly whispered to me "Rats!! Who's this???!?!!!!!" while pointing to the kid. I was like a giddy 6th-grade school girl, clasping my hands together under my chin and practically cooing out loud "ooooooh, thats Jimmy - he likes glue, Sesame Street and shitting in his sleep!!!! Talk to him, TAAAAAAAAAALK to him!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"HAHAHAHAA!!! Well, I guess I can't invite him over, since you'll probably eat him, you fat fuck!!"

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

The Manny Tapes

The Short Bus has picked up two interesting new "projects." Number one, he insists on every single case or box containing a slew of toys to be opened and dumped out on the floor. Not to play with of course, but to make sure the floor is covered in a way so that I'm guaranteed to 1) sprain an ankle 2) spend 2 hours a day picking up the goddam stuff.

Number two, he is no longer satisfied with simply assaulting me with an insanely steady barrage of shouting; now he ratchets up the irony factor by actually shouting "making noise!" as he's...making noise. Sigh.

All this is a long-winded way of saying I'm about three more non-sequitous screams from blowing my brains out.

(getting the gun)