Friday, October 13, 2006

How I Know Chup Is Ready For An Infant

Ever since I left my job, Mr. Chup has been a working devil. He's worked on movies, commercials, print ads, and loads of photography. It's good because . . .well . . .ca$h. Which is a nice supplemental income to the bundles of the leafy green stuff that I am making per clicks on this blog. Thanks to Azucar, I bought a tootsie roll yesterday--a flavored tootsie roll--at my local Chevron. I would've purchased gas, but who has the funds for fuel these days? And personally, I don't care how much CLOUT Orrin Hatch has, he ain't done nothing for the Pay at the Pump phenomenon that has been mopping (word choice, sweeping= inadequate) the country for a couple years now.
What's worse is that Chup and I both drive SUVS! There isn't anything more ridiculous than that statement. We BOTH drive SUVS and nary a car seat in sight. Just us, solo, and our gas guzzling mini-tanks driving to the Chev for a flavored tootise roll. (Thanks Azucar.)
No but, yeah but, no but, yeah but . . .this post started out all positive and NOW LOOK WHERE I'VE GONE! It must be Friday the 13th and Jason has taken over my blogging and we're past the point of now return (Phantom)!

Somepingbody call the priest!
Which brings me full circle, see, because Chup is a priest in this new horror movie that is being made here on the Wasatch Front. I haven't seen him in awhile because he's been shooting. Did I mention that already?
So the other day, when he had a moment to spare, he took me to lunch at the new Indian place on Center. I had two plates full of vegetable masala and naan (not my mother's dog, Nan) while CK had some chicken masala and battered potatoes made especially for him (that is CLOUT Mr. Senator). Our waiter had a horrible mumbling problem but he was very nice for a mumbler with a water pitcher. Also there was a guy that kept staring at me. Chup noticed it too. Now before you think you know where I am going with this (because I usually go there) I want you to know that it was a very disapproving stare.
And what, pray tell, is there to disapprove?
After lunch we got in our SUV and Chup asked, like he always asks, "Where now?"
"Pumpkins!" I exclaimed.
So we went to pick out three lovely pumpkins.
And as we were hauling them from our SUV to the front porch, my husband (the one who I never see anymore . . .) stopped and looked at our orange globes neatly arranged on my red bench.
"Isn't that cute?" He says, head cocked to the side.
"What?" I ask puzzled (it's like I don't even know him anymore . . .)
"Daddy pumpkin, Mommy pumpkin, baby pumpkin!"

Dear Working Force,
Who is this man in my house, and pray tell, what have you done with my real husband?
c jane