BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

I’d start a Twitter account for this sort of thing, but I just don’t have time. Besides which, I’d just get myself accused of trying to capitalize on the “Dad Says” dude, and his success.

So, anyway, there we were, on vacation. I should probably write a vacation blog and tell all sorts of stories about how E K made us march through the woods and over huge boulders, all in the sweltering 95+ heat, with 12,000,000% humidity, but I’ll have to get to that later… Maybe… I guess it’s a we’ll see sort of thing.

Okay, so back to the real story here. There we were, on vacation, last night of the trip, and we were staying at The Davie School Inn. When we asked about “eats” the owner directed us to The Brick House restaurant, a couple of blocks away. A little eclectic fusion sort of bistro with interesting decor and good food. We even sat at the “Twister Table”… Seriously. It was painted like a Twister mat. Kinda weird, but kinda cool at the same time. After ordering up a couple of Mothership Wits for ourselves, and a Root Beer for the O-spring, we set about perusing the menu. When all was said and done, after salivating over the many wonderful sounding selections, believe it or not we all ordered sort of the same thing – E K had steamed mussels and a house specialty salad. I had steamed mussels and a spinach salad. The O-spring had… Yes… Steamed mussels, but instead of a salad she opted for French Fries. Odd combination, yeah, but hey… She’s a 10 year old. Besides, how many 10 year olds do you know who willingly order steamed mussels and then rave about them for two hours? Yeah, that’s our kid. Go figure…

But, that’s not what this is really about. Well… It is sorta, but not exactly. You see, as we sat there enjoying a wonderful dinner, some tunes were wafting in from above. This prompted E K and I to discuss our Vinyl Collection, because it has yet to be all converted to CD. In particular, we were talking about The Police and Sting. Why? Because a song by Sting was playing, silly.

Anywho, fast forward 10 minutes or so. The kid is blowing bubbles in her root beer, shoving French Fries into one side of her mouth, and discovering the creamy goodness of the steamed mussel broth at the bottom of her bowl. Yet another song by Sting begins pouring in from overhead. Being old, and because of that a bit addled, I looked at The Evil Redhead with a puzzled expression.

“That isn’t the same song we just heard a few minutes ago, is it?” I asked.

E K, being in the middle of masticating a mussel, held up a finger to indicate I should wait a second for her answer. However, before she was able to engage peristalsis and swallow the food, the O-spring spoke up.

“No, it isn’t the same song,” she said, then by way of explanation offered her personal analysis of the brass section content. “The other one was a lot more horny.”

E K choked on the half swallowed mussel. I spewed Mothership Wit all over the wall across from me. The server applied the Heimlich Maneuver to the redhead, propelling the glob of  seafood along a bizarre trajectory that landed it in the pale blue beehive of a 97 year old patron across the room who was trying desperately to enjoy a Bruschetta, even though she had forgotten her teeth. Another server who was attempting to avoid the shellfish projectile slipped, sending a tray full of chilled soup cascading across a party of 18 several feet away, prompting the…

Okay… So it wasn’t that dramatic. But, EKay’s eyes got really big, she half choked on the piece of garlic bread in her mouth, and I almost – not quite, but almost – spewed a mouthful of Mothership Wit across the table.

The O-spring looked at us and said, “What?”

E K leaned over and whispered, “You probably should have said brassy, because horny is a slang word that means someone really wants to have sex a lot.”

The O-spring having been through the “talk” at school, besides being brilliant as well, knew what sex happened to be – in theory.  Also, being 10, while she is familiar with the non-specific theory behind it, the subject is still residing in that “EWWW, GROSS!” area of her psyche. Personally, I’d like for it to stay that way until I’m dead, but hey, I’m a dad, and that’s how dads are.

So, since that’s where the concept resides, that’s what the O-spring said. “EWWW, GROSS!”

This was somewhat heartening, to say the least…

There was a moment of quiet, then she looked across the table and said, “You’re going to write a blog about this, aren’t you, Dad?”

Obviously, she hadn’t lost her faith in me…

(Aww, come on, quit groaning… you knew I would have to make at least one Sting song lyric related pun…)

More to come…

Murv

I’ve noticed something.

Yeah, I know, no biggie since I’m noticing stuff and telling you about it all the time, right? Well, I’m still going to tell you anyway.

So, this thing I’ve noticed is a Twitter phenomenon. Not the phenomenon of Twitter itself, or even the phenomenon of celebs on Twitter having their personal assistants post tweets for them. Rest assured, all of my tweets are 100% me. Thought up by me, typed in by me, and like the President, I even hit the enter button when I am done typing. Hell, I even use Tweetdeck to multitask in the fast paced Twitter-world.

Of course, I suppose none of the above really matters since I’m not a celeb. Oh well… Just thought you should know.

So, anyway, back to this phenomenon I’ve noticed. I’ve named it – as you can see from the title of this blog entry – “The Half Tweet Effect.”

THTE, as I like to call it, is the electronic status update equivalent of walking into the middle of a conversation at a party. Or, on a bus. Or, in a store… It doesn’t really matter where, to be honest. It’s really just the whole “middle of the conversation” thing that’s important.

You see, be it Tweetdeck, your Twitter page, or some other interface you may be using, it is almost impossible to avoid THTE. You log in and there it is, slapping you in the face.

@MuNkEnSpAnK – …so, I left the battery cables, drank the Alka-Seltzer, and then went to buy a hot dog.

or

@flbrtyjibt – …and then turn left.

or

@bud_girl – …and so I bought it! Of course, I had to have shoes too so I went…

I have no idea what joke preceded that punch line, I have no idea from whence I am to turn left, and I don’t know what bud_girl bought – although I can probably imagine a few things. Of course, what I imagine is probably way better than the reality. But, I digress.

The thing is, even though you click, follow, and otherwise search around, you can’t find the first half tweets that came before – or the tweets that begat these responses. They’ve disappeared. They’re gone. You are in the land of Half Tweet Hell. What’s worse, sometimes the half tweet is really a third tweet, or quarter tweet. So, not only are you missing the beginning, but you are missing the ending too. It’s just a lonely, nonsensical comment hanging out there in the ether with no beginning or end, just a middle…

@mrsellars – And, with that I think maybe I’ll just…

More to come…

Murv