Have You Heard??

Oh hey, hi! Yes it's true, it's me - Amanda - the other half of the 'pair' in Pair-Ranting. The one who has been wildly and inexcusably absent as of late and who has made Mike's secret dreams of having the blog all to himself poor Mike carry the weight of the blog all on his own.

I'm sorry!

There are many factors behind my lack of sharing fun stories with you; but the only one you need to know about, really, is that first and foremost I've been hella busy.

When I say 'busy', yes, I mean the usual going to school, working, taking the kids on adventures and all of that other time-consuming bullshit that gets in the way of writing quality material for this blog.

However, one big thing that has been taking a lot of my free time is, uh, PRODUCING MY OWN GODDAM MORTIFIED SHOW!! That's right - I finally convinced the Powers That Be to let me give it a whirl, under the helpful tutelage of my SF/Oakland producer, Scott. "Come onnnn," I nagged and nagged, "Sonoma County is desperate for quality entertainment!" I'm pretty sure they thought it was going to be a cute little experiment and were just humoring me by consenting to let me try one little show in my backwoods small town.

Amazing hand-drawn flyer by Josh Staples
of The New Trust and The Velvet Teen fame. Yep.

Alas! The show is tonight and this mofo has long-since sold out! There's a waiting list! Ticketless would-be attendees are posting on the Facebook event page begging for tickets! I'm getting emails every day asking "Is it really sold out?! Please god can you help us??" People are asking how many hours before the show they should show up (read: camp out) in order to get one of the very limited door tickets! You'd think we were about to release a Pliny or something!

Seriously, I haven't seen this much ticket desperation since my days following the Grateful Dead. If I see people wandering around with one finger in the air, calling "can I get a miracle?!" my whole year will have been made. Plus the Press Democrat wrote an article that just came out this morning so needless to say people are finally taking me seriously and my phone, email and Facebook are, you know, exploding. It's...totally awesome.

So listen: I could go on and on about why I've been mysteriously quiet. But I won't, because as you can see I'm super busy and I've gotta go knock the socks off of Santa Rosa.

Onward!

P.S. Have you watched Mortified Nation - the hit documentary about Mortified - yet? You should, it's on Netflix.

P.P.S. Did you know there's now a Mortified Podcast on Radiotopia? There is! You should subscribe to it!

A Thin Line Between a Hug and a Choke

The boys have been a pretty good team over the years.

But when it comes to expressing their feelings for one another, it's usually something along the lines of this:

Which is why their behavior this week has been a little odd.

I know, awwwwww...right?

I love it and I want to know how to keep it going, but the reality is I don't have much to do with this. I think it's all part of the cycle. This week they'll be in love with one another and next week I'll be catching fists. They've gotten really bad at telegraphing their punches, thank god.

I think it's the rivalry that's actually the cause of their adoration for one another. It's a bit counter intuitive, but the internet says that sibling rivalry develops empathy and helps kids (especially brothers) form a tighter bond. I don't have brothers, but at one time I definitely detested my sisters almost as much as I adore them now.

The internet also says that the best way to ensure sibling rivalry doesn't get out of control is to make sure not to play favorites and to let them try to resolve conflicts on their own. That means locking them in their room after 7pm, right? Awesome. They'll probably just hug.

I Hate Haircuts

I'm usually okay with my boys growing older. I'll occasionally look at posts on this blog from years back and I get that little twinge in my body like some major organ just failed, but then I'll play that three year old recording in my mind's ear of colicky baby Liam screaming in the predawn hours and I feel much better. Having little babies was fine, but having little boys is the best thing ever.

The only time I get the dropkick to the gut panic attack is on haircut day. Here was Baby Finn last week:

And here's Prep School Finn this week:

Fucking bullshit.

Liam had his first professional haircut in years recently and he resisted a little. This was sufficient enough for me to unilaterally decide he should be spared the trauma of future pro-cuts, so I've reappointed myself as Liam's official groomer and have gone back to giving him mini-cuts that take no fewer than six days to complete. It's for his own good.

I know I don't have to worry just yet. It's not as though the boys are aloof and withholding affection. Quite the opposite actually:

It's just the intolerable shock of it all, like a few snips with a pair of scissors trimmed away half a decade. I don't like it. Some people say it's a "healthy splash of cold water" that will help me live in the present. Those people always make me wish I carried a five-gallon "healthy splash of cold water" with me at all times.