Well, the title may be a bit misleading. It was more like a brief foray,but anyhoo I shall commence with the telling…
On Friday, Nub’s school let out early. For conferences(which is a whole ‘nother post.Trust me.) and teacher workday’s. Normally he rides the bus. However,I decided to pick him up from school. Dub thought that was cool and he came with. We waited our turn in line,chatted with some mom’s, and sang along to some Veggie Tales. Nub got in the van and we headed home.
His school is really not that far from our house. The road outside our subdivision has recently undergone some construction and reconfiguring. Which truly baffles me because how they did it makes no sense ,and not much safer than it was. But what do I know? I don’t work for the DOT. As we prepare to turn down our new street I notice a turtle bravely making its way across the road. Nub catches sight of it out his window as I carefully flip a u-turn and turn my hazards on. I park the car and get out to pick the turtle up and put it on the other side of the road. This other car has stopped too and the guy tells me I need to “pick it up and put it in the grass”,because” that turtle can’t climb the curb”. Thank you, Einstein. I attempt to pick up said turtle and the dang thing just takes off! That sucker is really booking it. I finally pick it up,after his/her little head and legs go in the shell, and I am holding it out in front of me when it lets loose with a little defensive urine! Dude, here I am trying to save your turtle hide and you are trying TO PEE ON ME? Not cool. I get to the grass,waaaay on the other side of the curb, and put the beast down. In the meantime, two or three cars have all stopped to watch the Great Rescue. I cross the street and get back into my van. My children are properly impressed with their mama. Although they did want to bring that turtle home. But I said no.
You gotta draw the line somewhere. I will rescue them, but I am not bringing them home. Especially not one that tried to hose me down with urine!
My day did not start off so well this morning. I ended up having to drive my husband to work at the ungodly hour of six thirty. Bah. Work was work. Except towards the end. When this beeyotch made me get a frickity-frackin’ TRAVEL SYSTEM off the top shelf in the toy area. Because she wanted to look at it. Never mind that it weighed three million pounds. Or that I had to stand on a LADDER to get it. Oh hells no. Then, and here is the kicker, SHE DECIDES NOT TO GET IT. Wait for it. Because the cup holder on the top of the stroller was dirty.
Pissed does not even begin to cover just how angry I was. Still am. Monkeys will fly out of my ass before I lift one finger to ever help her again. Truly.
But the very best part of my day? Watching my boys “dance” to Louis Armstrong. And the rest of the songs on my dad’s Ken Burns Jazz CD set. They love it. They love all music really. It gives my father a kick to be able to share his love of music with my children.
Just like he did with me and my Bubba all those years ago.
I don’t actually know if that is a real phobia, but we will pretend it is. I’ve tried looking it up to no avail. Does anyone know if it is a phobia? Anyone? Bueller?
It is another one of my “family jokes”. I know. I have a lot of ’em. What can I say. We are a funny family. Don’t be haters. Back to the story…
My father loves to run things in to the ground. And stomp on them. And then maybe jump up and down on ’em for good measure. When that happens and we no longer feel like humoring him we say ” Okay, you’re done. Stick a fork in it”. This has been going on for years. Last night I decided to take it one step further. He was rambling on about something that was so no longer funny. I got up, walked in to the kitchen and grabbed a fork from the siverware drawer. Then I walked back in to the living room and stood by the couch until I had his attention. And handed him the fork. The look on his face was priceless. He later told me that he could not believe his only daughter would be so cruel. To which I replied that he was just jealous that he had never thought of it. Which was true. Which then led to the discussion of phobias( see why I never explain my stories?!).
Since I also love running things in to the ground I decided that I needed to make him a t-shirt with the definition of forkaphobia on it! Wouldn’t that be the funniest thing ever? I need to come up with a better name first. Anyone got any ideas? Lemme know. I’m off tomorrow and plan on heading up to Michael’s.
Because I also plan on making one for my Bubba. Hee hee. But I can’t write what I’m going to put on it because his girlfriend reads my blog. But it is FUNNY! After I make the t-shirts I will try to post a picture of them.
Don’t even ask about the title. It’s a rather embarrassing remark I made whilst watching the Braves game with my Diddy. It’s a long story that will no longer be even remotely funny by the time I get through explaining it to you all.
Unless you are my Bubba. Then it would probably still be funny.
Let’s just say it will go down in our family archives as,quite possibly, one of the dumbest things I have ever said. Not the dumbest. We already had a winner for that title. Years ago. But it is definitely up there. Hoo boy.
And on that note, I am going to bed. It’s been a very long day.
So. The very fabulous Swistle and some of her Peeps have created a Pay it Forward contest. The idea is to send her my URL, which she will then link to on her blog. Then a person can scroll down the list of blogs and enter all these contests. The winner will be chosen by a random number generator through the comments. Sounds like fun, no? Then, and here is the cool part, the winner will be sent a gift from the blogger. Any gift. Any thing at all. I am practically BESIDE myself with excitement!
Here is my contest…
Last Sunday my husband and I were driving past the church that is down the street from our house. Well, former house. Anyhoo, they were setting up for a festival or celebration of something. I thought to myself “how fun is that”. Then, I saw it. One of those giant, blow up slides. Only this slide was INCREDIBLY inappropriate. And I am fairly certain it would be considered so by the vast majority of the free world. So here is MY contest:
I want to see if anyone can guess WHAT the slide was. If no one guesses correctly I will still use the random number generator and award my prize. But I can’t wait to hear some of your guesses!
Without further ado, let the games,er contests, begin! Good Luck!
PS- Because my link-y thing won’t work you will have to access Swistle’s blog from my blogroll.
( edited to add: I forgot to set a deadline for my contest! It will end at midnight July 4th. EST. And the winner will be announced Sunday. The prize will be mailed next week! GOOD LUCK!)
A few updates for mah peeps…
My friend M. is doing well. As well as to be expected. She has received a ton of wonderful things for her new home. She moves in on Tuesday. I am so happy for her. And still at the same time, I just ache for all that was lost. I will keep you all posted.
My hubby surprised me this weekend at work. He wasn’t supposed to be coming home until possibly next weekend(he has been gone for almost a month!). I was so upset. I cried for two days. It was horrible. Then, on Friday while I am at work, I turn around and there he was. I burst into tears and ran towards him. This would be a perfect time for some cheesy music. So, mah weekend has been a little busy. ;)!
The whole cat barp thing? Yeah, that is from my youngest. The cat left a small horked-up present for me in front of my door last week. I was in a rush to get out the door and hurriedly told the boys to “watch out for cat barf” and it has been madness ever since. Every time we enter/leave our domicile he has to tell everyone to “watch out for cat barp, Mama” in his little boy voice. It is so damn cute. Truly.
And that about wraps it up. See you peeps on the flip side.
Yesterday was such an awesome day. Even though my boyfriend did NOT win the Daytona 500. He came in 9th, for those of you who care. I was just excited that Tony Stewart lost in the final lap. Mean, I know. But I despise him with the fire of a thousand suns. We made a ton of snacky-snacks and just pigged out all day.
It was rockin’.
I just got off the phone with my Bubba, he had left a message earlier telling me he had a funny story involving hard boiled eggs. Naturally, I was intrigued. Food stories are always excellent. He tells me that when he got home last night he wanted a little somethin’-somethin’. He settled on egg salad. Simple, quick. It wasn’t until he started it that he realized his propane was off. Landlord issues. Anyhoo. His eggs were also a few days past the sell by date. So he gets the idea to boil them IN.THE.MICROWAVE. FOR TWELVE MINUTES. By this time I am completely hysterical. He is all smug and congratulating himself on his genius when the microwave goes off. He proceeds to remove the eggs from the water and crack on on the yolk side to see if it’s done. He notices it’s a little dark and thinks maybe he didn’t cook the eggs long enough. So he starts to crack it in earnest and the egg explodes. Literally explodes. It was rotten. He has bits of rotten egg and shells everywhere. Including the ceiling. Tears are pouring down my face. I can absolutely picture every single thing he has just described to me. Hysterical.
I bet he won’t be eating egg salad anytime soon!
One more thing. I watched The Food Network last night. Big mistake. It always makes me hungry. It was a recipe contest for chicken. Yum. The winner was a whole roasted chicken with yucca fries. How good does that sound?
My next post will be about Baby Fevah. I got’s it bad.