Saturday, August 6, 2011

What's wrong with you???

I am a Seinfeld fan.  There's an episode where Kramer's phone number is close to the movie theater's phone number and so, he just starts answering as if he were the theater's automated recording.  When someone would key in their zip code, he couldn't tell what it was, so he would just ask them to tell him where they wanted to see the movie, in his best automated recording voice. 

I feel like Kramer quite often now.

Sidebar -
loathe those automated operators.  Use your snobbiest voice and say, IIIIIII'm sorry.  I didn't understand your reply.  Please try again. 
Do that to your significant other about nine times in a row and see how much fun it is for them. 

I usually end up just yelling, Operator! into the phone until it gets me to a person.  The voice tends to sound a little dejected by the end of it, so score a moral victory for me! 
Auto-op realized it was unable to help me and truly feels bad - maybe it will get a bad review at the end of the year for poor customer service. 
Back to the main story. 

Julia (my wife, for those of you that don't know me) stays home with the girls.  All day long they eat bon-bons and work on their sign language.  It's gotten to the point where they know over 40 signs. 

I know four of those. 

My mind is like a steel trap with a lot of things, but it is more like a steel colander when it comes to sign language. 

When I get home from work I typically feed the girls dinner.  They will be eating just fine, until they decide they want something else.  At this point, one of them will start convulsing and the other will either be laughing, or making wild gestures of her own. 

If they want something other than milk, water, bananas, or grapes I simply cannot help them - those are my four signs. 

I yell for Julia (for her and not at her) to tell me if I need to do some sort of medical(ish) treatment on them, or perhaps perform an exorcism.  After she reassures me they are not actually convulsing, and that they merely want blueberries or strawberries, I can relax. I get them the food and they are good - until we run out of said food and they, again, appear possessed. 

There are only two solutions to this communication problem that I see: I learn sign language, or they learn to speak. 

I'm convinced they will use words more in their life than I will use sign language, so I'm going with the second option.  I will continue to yell for Julia when the girls have fits.  I'm sure this won't go the way I want it to, so I'll probably be a master in signing soon.

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