The Third Lung
Well, we set this damn blog up, so I suppose we now have to feed it on a regular basis. It would seem that my cyber ambitions signed a few cheques that my daily routine can’t cash.
Last week was an amusing week all the same. We now have confirmation that the wee package that CS is carrying around in her belly is, in fact, male. This is the latest in the series of shocks that the whole process has given me. It’s curious that the most normal and predictable things about the various steps of the pregnancy have taken me completely by surprise. The results of CS’s first echography caused me to jump back with amazement and exclaim ‘My God, it’s got a head!’. The first time our obstetrician put the microphone to her belly - ‘Jesus, that’s its heart...and it’s beating!’ And last week found me stating to our ever-patient echographer ‘Holy cow, it’s got genitals!’ I admire CS’s restraint in resisting the urge to slap me upside my dumbass head during these epiphanies. As she wisely and patiently points out to me that if one of the aforementioned were not true, ‘that’ would have been the big surprise. She does have a point and, as always, the last word.
So we now have to get down to the grim task of deciding what we’re going to call the impending little feller. A process of elimination would seem to be one of the easiest ways to go about it. We need a name that will work in both cultures so Eusebio, Gonzalo and Rodrigo are just as out of the question as Finbarr, Liam and Brian. Nothing too biblical, nothing too obscure, nothing too exotic, but at the same time it would be a pity to shackle the tyke with something really bland and common for the rest of his life.
Anyway, I made a promise not to turn this into a baby blog, so on with other geek issues.
Lung the Elder and myself, hooked up this week in our little bodega for a brace of beers and a good bitch about the state of the world. We were joined, as we often are by Manny, another gringo living in Barcelona who shares our sense of beer-soaked outrage. On these occasions I generally take a back seat and let the boys vent their spleens against the Bush administration. They’re better informed than I am for one thing and it’s also their country, so I figure they have more of a claim on being pissed off than I do, no matter how much Chomsky I’ve read.
Conclusions from our evening of rants and belches:
- The Bush Junior is trying to do in the Middle East what his Daddy and Reagan did in Central America during the eighties. This has been confirmed by the amount of staff he has sent out there that are ex-Central American operatives.
- The term ‘Middle Eastern Block’ should be used for all the countries that Bush has invaded and will presently invade in that region. It will be similar to the Eastern Block of the cold war but with a different occupying force and less availability of potent alcohol.
- ‘We’ve got to support the troops’ is one sad-assed excuse for not opposing the war.
- If Bush were here at our table, despite his liquor qualifications, we’d STILL drink his ass under the table.
- The chorizo Iberico in the little bodega kicks ass.
- We’d better get home before our wives/girlfriends kill us.
As you can surmise, the topics upon which we all agreed became decidedly less cerebral as the evening progressed. This is not an uncommon occurrence.
We’ll just have to see what pearls of wisdom this week’s gathering produces.
Last week was an amusing week all the same. We now have confirmation that the wee package that CS is carrying around in her belly is, in fact, male. This is the latest in the series of shocks that the whole process has given me. It’s curious that the most normal and predictable things about the various steps of the pregnancy have taken me completely by surprise. The results of CS’s first echography caused me to jump back with amazement and exclaim ‘My God, it’s got a head!’. The first time our obstetrician put the microphone to her belly - ‘Jesus, that’s its heart...and it’s beating!’ And last week found me stating to our ever-patient echographer ‘Holy cow, it’s got genitals!’ I admire CS’s restraint in resisting the urge to slap me upside my dumbass head during these epiphanies. As she wisely and patiently points out to me that if one of the aforementioned were not true, ‘that’ would have been the big surprise. She does have a point and, as always, the last word.
So we now have to get down to the grim task of deciding what we’re going to call the impending little feller. A process of elimination would seem to be one of the easiest ways to go about it. We need a name that will work in both cultures so Eusebio, Gonzalo and Rodrigo are just as out of the question as Finbarr, Liam and Brian. Nothing too biblical, nothing too obscure, nothing too exotic, but at the same time it would be a pity to shackle the tyke with something really bland and common for the rest of his life.
Anyway, I made a promise not to turn this into a baby blog, so on with other geek issues.
Lung the Elder and myself, hooked up this week in our little bodega for a brace of beers and a good bitch about the state of the world. We were joined, as we often are by Manny, another gringo living in Barcelona who shares our sense of beer-soaked outrage. On these occasions I generally take a back seat and let the boys vent their spleens against the Bush administration. They’re better informed than I am for one thing and it’s also their country, so I figure they have more of a claim on being pissed off than I do, no matter how much Chomsky I’ve read.
Conclusions from our evening of rants and belches:
- The Bush Junior is trying to do in the Middle East what his Daddy and Reagan did in Central America during the eighties. This has been confirmed by the amount of staff he has sent out there that are ex-Central American operatives.
- The term ‘Middle Eastern Block’ should be used for all the countries that Bush has invaded and will presently invade in that region. It will be similar to the Eastern Block of the cold war but with a different occupying force and less availability of potent alcohol.
- ‘We’ve got to support the troops’ is one sad-assed excuse for not opposing the war.
- If Bush were here at our table, despite his liquor qualifications, we’d STILL drink his ass under the table.
- The chorizo Iberico in the little bodega kicks ass.
- We’d better get home before our wives/girlfriends kill us.
As you can surmise, the topics upon which we all agreed became decidedly less cerebral as the evening progressed. This is not an uncommon occurrence.
We’ll just have to see what pearls of wisdom this week’s gathering produces.
posted by Lung the Younger | 3:51 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home