Saturday, September 14, 2013

Val Stands Corrected, and Unrepentant

Sometimes, Val is a not-so-smartypants. Like yesterday.

The Pony is quite adept at completing his schoolwork. He is rarely challenged. He has a grade of over 100% in more than half of his classes now that it's time for mid-term progress reports. He's not one to toot his own horn. The opposite of Genius, who was a regular Satchmo in that area. The Pony's goal is to get his assignments done forthwith, so that the time left is his own. He takes his Kindle, and a stack of books, and his flash drive in case he gets time in the computer lab.

As he was exiting T-Hoe Friday morning, he said, "I'm taking in my LOLcats books. People will like looking at them."

"Huh. And I suppose by "people" you mean girls?"


"You know you do. Girls will love looking at crazy cat pictures. What are you, a Lothario?"

"No. What's that?"

"A guy who attracts a lot of women. I think it's from Shakespeare."

"Ha! Shakespeare! Ha ha ha." I wasn't sure why The Pony scoffed at me. Why he found that so ridiculous. It's not like he had ever heard of Lothario. I made a mental note to tell The Pony that he needed to download some classics on his Kindle. To approach it from the angle of preparing himself for academic team competitions.

Today I looked it up. Lothario is from Don Quixote, not Shakespeare. Huh. Perhaps my 10th Grade language teacher should have spent more time teaching us the classics instead of turning on I Love Lucy reruns and letting us go to morning break for Hostess fruit pies.

I'm not sorry I neglected to tell her when my fellow independent-study Advanced Chemistry cronies snuck that gerbil out of the biology lab and into her desk.


  1. Hey, don't diss Lucy. (She didn't let herself get Desi-ed for very long, either.) "I Love Lucy" was the Seinfeld of its day.

    Apologize. Now.

    As for the Hostess pies, that is an indication of how lacking your language teacher was. Everyone knows that Hostess cupcakes were the bomb.

  2. Am I the only one who peeled the chocolate frosting off those cupcakes, ate the cake and then ate the frosting separately?

  3. I loved Lucy, but that show was no Seinfeld.

    Hostess pies are the bomb. (I think that's good.)

    And yes Chubby, you were.

    I would have guessed Shakespeare as well.

  4. Perhaps he was embarrassed getting outed by his mom. Scoffing is a quick reply when nothing else comes to mind and caught off guard. Especially by your own Mother! Sometimes, it's sort of fun to wait and see. He may be forth coming in a "dark den lair talk". Can't wait to hear.

  5. I wouldn't have remembered who Lothario was, and that's my subject area. I was force-fed Return of the Native in 10th grade and would have traded with you in a nanosecond, Hostess products or not. Luckily that Native never seems to return these days, unlike Lucy reruns. Now THERE is a classic.

  6. Scoffing is allowed. Apologies can be made after scoffing. It's the eye-roll-sigh-followed-by-exit that lowers the opportunity for good dialog. I think knancy is spot on.

    Oh, hey! I see thirty or forty hulking giants on the horizon. I will now do battle with them and slay them.

  7. Sioux,
    I will not cave to your demands, Madam! I refuse to apologize. I never said anything bad about Lucy. That she did not belong in a 10th Grade classroom every weekday, yes. There's a time and place for Lucy, and that was not it, no matter how much I love Lucy.

    Hostess cupcakes leave black crumbs between your teeth. What a lovely sight you must have been in your 10th Grade language classroom. Fruit pies, on the contrary, merely leave one's lips glossy and sweet.

    I, too, was a peeler. In private, of course. For the tooth-crumbs.

    I think Lucy would have spared a square. And with all the scheming to get on stage down at the Tropicana, her dancing had to be better than thumbs and little kicks.

    The Pony has already revealed a trio of possible ladies of interest. I do not hound him with specifics after gaining such trust. His father, on the other hand, without knowing individual identities, harps on proper courting decorum every time he has a captive audience.

    I am happily ignorant of Return of the Native. We dwelt on Greek and Roman mythology, and The Canterbury Tales. And Lucy.

  8. Leenie,
    Hey! Where did you come from? I'm trying to run this blog on schedule, like a Greyhound or Amtrack. I turn away for ONE MOMENT and here you are, pounding on the door after I've locked it at closing time. Sigh. Come on in. But don't touch anything!

    I know The Pony didn't just pick up those LOLcat books out of the blue. Something's up. He has a tone that betrays emotion when that scoffing starts. He's a terrible fibber.

    Good luck slaying those giants. I think I'll just sit here eating windmill cookies, with maybe a Hostess Fruit Pie chaser, and watch.