Caterwauling

That’s what I’m naming my hypothetical kids. I read a study awhile back about how a person’s name can determine everything from their demeanor to their career (i.e., the most-common name of podiatrists is Dr. Foote), and if you think about all the hippies’ kids named Sunshine or Rainbow or Peace Sign or whatever sounded smart under a hookah haze, sure they were probably born addicted to whatever their parents were smoking, but can you imagine someone named Babbling Brook NOT being cool and laid-back and — pardon the pun — a go-with-the-flow type of person?

So my friend was telling me how she was helping her parents clean out one of the family’s rental properties that was completely destroyed by its most-recent occupants. The child of the house somehow managed to break through the glass of the oven door, and the brat took spray paint and decorated the house. There was also a pizza-sized hole in one of the walls, and it would have been cheaper for them to rebuild the house if the tenants had just burned it down, than to undo the mess they created.

The irony? The kid’s name was, I shit you not, “Rowdy.”

*thunk*

Talk about truth in advertising!

So, I decided I want kids who don’t make noise and who sleep all the time so Mommy can keep up with her drinking have a career, so welcome Silence and Slumber to the world whenever they come. Hey, it might be a crazy fantasy, but stranger things have happened. …

You can tell that my hallway is filled with a bunch of single workaholics. The office closed at 3 p.m. for inclement weather (pussies!), and the joke here is that it closes at 3 A.M. for my team. (Don’t laugh — last time we closed early, I left at 4 a.m.) Five of us are still in the building, which means we can turn up the volume on our speakers and enjoy each other’s life soundtracks.

Anyway, we’re all blasting our iTunes, and out of various offices I can hear “Since U Been Gone” (Kelly Clarkson), “Say it Right” (Nelly Furtado) and “Song for the Dumped” (Ben Folds Five). (I’ve got ’em all, and I’m listening to Papa Roach’s “Scars” at the moment.)

Yep, we’re a happy bunch. *blows out brains*

Sometimes, it feels like my life is taken straight from a movie scene. And today, that movie was a porn.

Don’t get too excited — I was just drinking the last of the milk straight out of its little Trader Joe’s jug, and I clearly overestimated my mouth’s capacity because it went streaming out of the sides of my mouth. I thought wow, what a perfect B-movie scene! But then I started laughing and sprayed it everywhere.

I just wish I’d done it AFTER I’d gotten showered/dressed. …