by the Night Writer
There has been some discussion around the Night Chateau about what gift young Ben should give his groomsmen. Literary sort that he is, and with an employee discount at the Seminary bookstore, Ben has been thinking of respectable tomes by Wichtenstein, or perhaps a daily Kierkegaard reader. These are noble and edifying considerations to be sure.
Philosophically, I’m thinking something like this might be more popular:
by the Night Writer
I’m busy with a lot of behind the scenes stuff. Of course, I’m not the only one who’s busy: we’re on the cusp of the countdown to the last 30 days before the Mall Diva’s wedding. That means bridal showers such as the one held for her Sunday afternoon at church.
I need to find out what they were putting in the punch bowl.
by the Night Writer
The Mall Diva and Tiger Lilly still like to hang out on the bed with the Reverend Mother before bedtime, though the RM goes to bed a lot earlier than they do. There was a beautiful breeze the other night and a good time to open a bedroom window in the master suite of the Night. RM breathed in deeply and as the Mall Diva entered the room said, “Why does the night air smell different than in the day?”
To which the Diva immediately replied, “Because the sun is stinky!”
A few minutes later Tiger Lilly made her entrance and was asked the same question.
“Because it’s black.”
For my birthday today Tiger Lilly gave me a writing assignment that she completed from her writer’s exercise book, 3 a.m. Epiphany by Brian Kitely. It read:
This was an exercise in The 3 a.m. Epiphany that I thought would be interesting to do. The exercise was to take a phrase or saying (preferably one with a large variety of words in it) and form 15 sentences out of that saying. The words needed to adhere around a character in a situation that seems related to (but necessarily a response to) the author’s original sentence. I managed to get a slightly silly pointless deep, meaningful story out of it. I used the following quote:
Two roads diverged in a wood and I,
I took the road less traveled by;
And that made all the difference.
— Robert FrostI traveled by two roads.
I traveled in a wood.
Two roads traveled in a wood.
A difference in the wood made the roads diverge.
The two roads diverged.
The roads made all the difference.
I diverged in the wood.
I took the road less traveled by.
I made all the difference.
I traveled less in the wood.
The road and I diverged.
I took the difference and made the road that made the difference.
I made the road diverge in a wood.
The road and I diverged.
And that made all the difference.
Tiger Lilly’s present reminded me of Peter Gabriel singing “The Book of Love.” In turn I’ll modify one of the lines in that song to say:
And you, you can write me anything.
by the Night Writer
Road-tripped with the Reverend Mother and Tiger Lilly this weekend, and among the tunes on the car stereo was Marc Cohn’s “Silver Thunderbird”:
Don’t gimme no Buick
Son you must take my word
If there’s a God in heaven
He’s got a Silver Thunderbird
You can keep your Eldorados
And the foreign car’s absurd
Me I wanna go down
In a Silver Thunderbird
Which raises the question, “If God drives a silver Thunderbird, what does the Devil drive?”
I said, “Pinto.”
Tiger Lilly: “A Prius.”
Enter your suggestions in the comment section.
(Actually, I’ve always heard that God had a Chrysler, because the Bible says He drove Adam from the garden in his Fury.).
I cashed in some of my Best Buy Reward Zone points recently and picked up a couple of classic Xbox games — Halo and Halo 2. Tiger Lilly and I enjoy gaming together and these games have been a lot of fun. I can’t help but notice some differences in our styles of combat, however.
For example, in my other gaming I typically play the WWII “Brothers in Arms” series. These games pride themselves on being realistic, so there are no health packs and “level ups” to be found. As such, I’ve learned to move carefully and to peek around corners to keep myself and my squad alive and it’s a hard habit to break. TL on the other hand goes charging off in the direction of enemies as soon as they pop up on the tactical display, typically wreaking carnage with an occasional, “Whoops, I died.” Her eyes and reflexes are also sharper than mine, so as she’s blowing Covenant and Flood to pieces she’s also scooping up useful debris before I even see it. “Cool — a rocket launcher!” or “Whoa, sentinel beam!” are usually my first clue that valuable items arewere for the picking.
She’s also liable to run out of the range of my HUD so that I lose track of her in a melee. My most common utterance when we’re playing is, “Okay, now where are you?” This usually results in her making her character (and its green overhead triangle) jump up and down until I can draw a bead on her. Either that or I simply follow the trail of body parts she’s left in her wake. Nevertheless, we’re getting pretty good at working in tandem, flanking enemies and alerting the other when we’re throwing a plasma grenade, and she hardly ever runs in front of my sniper rifle any more.
It does feel a little odd serving as wingman for a 15-year-old, and I suppose there are more edifying things I could be doing with her other than burning a few hours a week saving humankind. I figure it doesn’t hurt, though, to let her know I’ve got her back. And that — wingman or not — I am the Master Chief.
The Mall Diva, Tiger Lilly and MD’s friend and singing-partner, Princess Flicker-Feather, are taking a hip-hop dance class once a week. I don’t know what hip-hop dance involves but since Easter is coming up I thought they might be working up some special choreography. Nevertheless, when the Diva said Princess Flicker-Feather was coming over to practice I thought they were going to work on their expanding repertoire of music for the Open Mic Circuit.
I was down in the Man-Cave working on something edifying when thumping bass and stomping feet started pounding above my head. “I don’t remember any of their songs sounding like that,” I thought to myself. I shrugged it off and kept working … until there was a loud crash. What in the name of This Old House is going on? I went upstairs, the beat getting louder each step, and swung into the living room … where the the three femmes were lined up doing unison steps to Beyonce’s “Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It)”. Apparently that’s the song they are dancing to in class. They had the music up so loud the walls were dancing too, though not in perfect sync, which is why someone’s hips had bumped into one of them, resulting in the noise that brought me upstairs.
“Put a Ring On It” is an admirable sentiment, but “Put a Cork In It” was more my concern. Even though modestly attired, the vibrations from that much hip-swing and shimmy were enough to trip the always sensitive tracking system of every teenage boy in a two-mile radius. If even one pheromone got through the thick walls we were going to have a riot on our hands. Great. It was a cold night and I was going to have to spend it on the porch with a rifle and a harpoon.
Create your own short and sweet nothings in candy heart form — either as a trio of hearts or as a single heart — using the Candy Heart Generator. Be sappy, be funny, be cruel but, most of all, be brief!
HT: Through the Illusion.
So we come home from church the Sunday before Christmas and Boy #1 is standing out in the street in the sub-zero cold, waiting for us. Tiger Lilly is pleased; dad is more ambivalent. Nevertheless, we bring the frozen dude-sicle in for lunch and it looks as if he’s going to stay for awhile. The Mall Diva, Ben and I have plans, however, to go out and shoot the new .45; fortunately the Reverend Mother is now home as well to keep an eye on things — and it doesn’t hurt for me to make a big show of packing up the gun as we get ready to leave.
While we’re at the range, Boy #2 shows up as well. Boy #1 and Boy #2 proceed to try and kill each other — on the x-box, however. The delighted Tiger Lilly tries to kill them as well. (That’s my girl!) Eventually it’s time for Boy #1 to go home and the Reverend Mother graciously offers to drive him since it’s still arctic-like outside. Tiger Lilly goes along, of course, while Boy #2 waits for them to return. He’s sitting patiently in the kitchen by himself when the Diva, Ben and I return. Ok, when I left Boy #1 was at the house and now it’s Boy #2; I don’t even bat an eye. I greet him and then let everyone know I’m going downstairs to clean the GUN. An uneventful afternoon follows.
Still, I don’t know if I’m ready to have boys stacked up around the house like airplanes circling O’Hare during the holiday rush. I’ve already been through the drill with just one guy, thanks to the assistance of Haggar slacks. If there’s going to be two or even more boys, however, it may be time to escalate. Fortunately, I was exchanging a sweater for my wife at Macy’s after Christmas and passed through the Men’s Department. Lo and behold, Haggar cords for $14.50 and dress chinos for $17.50. Usually these cost $38 to $60, depending on the store. I considered the situation and bought three pairs.
Bring it on.
Caption contest: What is Tiger Lilly thinking?
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