Monna, this one's for you

I haven't been feeling particularly witty today.  Or most of this week.  So, I'm going to share some of the things that made me giggle this week.

From hackedirl.com, because Chuck Norris puts the "laughter" in "manslaughter."

And because I'M GOING TO DO THIS ONE OF THESE DAYS (one of these days when I get more than four consecutive hours of sleep):

From myfoodlooksfunny.com.  

And, of course, an Office quote. 

Jim:  Okay, just so I understand it, in your wildest fantasy, you are in hell and you are co-running a bed and breakfast with the devil.

Dwight:  But I haven't told you my salary yet.

Jim:  Go.

Dwight:  Eighty thousand dollars.

Maybe two Office quotes, because it's all on NetFlix and I can't get enough...

Jim:  I miss Dwight.  Congratulations, universe.  You win.

And this isn't funny, but is news worthy:

Ethan's end of the year orchestra concert.  What was funny was that during a piece called "Fiddler's Frolic," Ethan TOTALLY started gettin' jiggy with it.  He was the ONLY one, and it was HYSTERICAL.

Also, because Ethan is AWESOME, I helped chaperon a field trip today.  A walking field trip.  Did I mention that it rained today?  It did, but we still went.  Why, you may ask? Because it was a field trip to a CHOCOLATE FACTORY.  And you don't miss out on a behind-the-scenes look at a chocolate factory unless you're in the hospital.  

While we were crossing a street, Ethan looked both ways and shouted "perception check!" before leaving the sidewalk (which is something you do in Dungeons and Dragons to see what's around you, so--for example--a goblin doesn't jump out of the shadows and kill you).  

I may or may not have been one of the highlights of the field trip, because...

I figured out why grown women don't play tag in the rain. 

It's because, inevitably, they slip on the wet grass while running.  At that point, your average grown woman will take the fall--and the tag--and just go down.

Not me.

I did a James Bond-style roll-and-come-up-running maneuver, thus avoiding the tag.  By a little fourth grader in pig tails.  (I won't lie; I'm kinda impressed with myself, not that I could do it again on command.) Sheesh.  How competitive am I?  I thought Ethan's teacher was going to die laughing.  At least she knows part of where he gets it.  Did I mention that last week during reading he kept saying "barominator" instead of "barometer?"  Yeah.  We don't take the hit at our house.  We keep on going.  Even when the other moms, safely huddled out of the rain, look on in horror.

(I swear, I do clean his face from time to time).  This is Gabe's new dinner entertainment:  he tries with all of his might to get to my rosin, which--for now, until he's more mobile--is stored on the music stand behind his high chair.  See his hand, sneaking to the left?  Yeah.  He wants the rosin BAD.  When I look down to get another spoonful, he gets in a few swipes at it.  His determination is classic.  Man, soooo many things in that picture need to be moved soon...I'm just lucky he hasn't managed to get peas all over the cello somehow.  I really need to enjoy the few remaining weeks of his stationary status. 

The end.  I'm tired.