Frickin' Freaks

Frickin' bench full of frickin' freaks. Why can't the bus just get here when the schedule says it will. Now I have to sit on this bench, the only normal one around, with these two nutjobs in their jeans and t-shirts. What the hell. Why can't they just blend in? Noooooooo, though...some people just have to stick out and be all "Hey! Look at me! Look how different and original I am!" They need to be locked in a cage at the zoo marked "DO NOT FEED and definitely DO NOT MATE." Seriously.

Why? I'll bet they have hippie-freak names, too. Like Andy. Or Bob. I'm sure they came from those dysfunctional homes, too, where everyone ate dinner together and they had a family room with a frickin' sofa and TV. Damn freaks. Freaks and their Golden Retrievers and peanut butter and jelly with the crusts cut off and family vacations to Disney, all posed with that Mickey Mouse asshole.

Frickin' freaks in their frickin' jeans. Where'd you buy those, freak? The freaky mall? Did you eat PIZZA in the FOOD COURT? Did you get a COOKIE?

I hate you both. You two are exactly what's wrong with society. I oughta jab this cigarette in your eyeballs.

Point, Revisited

My daughter has begun to point. She's 11 months old, and she points at all sorts of things and says, "Dah!" I'm assuming that what she's actually saying is, "Mom, can you please tell me what that may be?" I then proceed to tell her all about it, whether it's a banana or a mirror or a pile of dirty laundry. Sometimes she does this from far away, so I have to guess at what she's finding so interesting, and I think I may have inadvertently misidentified things once or twice. I guess I'll know when she comes home from preschool upset with me after finding out that a turtle and a lamp are not one and the same.

It's kind of fun, though, when I see that little finger start to extend and I have a moment to see what's interesting in a child's eyes. She's definitely found some favorite things. She points at mirrors and animals and photos of people more than anything. We spent half an hour pointing at the family portraits at my grandmother's house, talking about everyone as she would point.

I wish all communication could be so simple. I guess that's where the phrases "What's the point?" and "Get to the point!" come in. With kids, it's pretty straightforward. Question + answer = conversation. No talking in circles or unspoken insinuations like when talking among adults. They don't overanalyze your tone or wonder about hidden meanings. I thing "grown-ups" have a lot to learn from kids.