True Story Tuesday by Rachel

In the words of Larry the Cable Guy, “Lord, I apologize.”

Has it really been a whole week since I’ve posted?  Truly, I’ve tried to keep up with y’all, but I was down for the count after a no.good.awful.morally.draining.kick.butt week at work and I just needed some family time to recover.

And of course those family members don’t disappoint.  And usually create more TST fodder.

What’s TST you say?  Why it’s True Story Tuesday!  Come play along – just link up your old or new post with a story that is amazing, incredible, outrageous, hilarious, miraculous, and (mostly) true.  And Linny… you have got an AWESOME story this week, so you’d better link your cute little tushy up (just sayin’).

~

 

CONVERSATION STARTERS

Y’all remember last year’s Thanksgiving conversation, right?  Where my husband waited for the perfect moment of silence around my extended family’s table… then said with all the mock horror he could muster:

“Rach asked me for my phone so she could take a picture of a stranger’s naked butt.”

Well, this year was much improved… if only because I wasn’t the source of amusement.

So the same guy waits for another opportune announcement moment and says,

“Hey, remember when I got caught on camera peeing at the cell tower site?”

(Total silence as everyone quits chewing)

Me desperately whispering:  “Umm honey?  You said that was your brother?”

“Ha ha ha… Nope, that was me!”

“Honey, no you said it was Brush Ape, not you, right?  Right?”

“Nope, I really had to go and we were a million miles from nowhere.  I just unzipped and took a whizz.  Then Brush Ape noticed the security cameras aimed our direction.  Hey, at least I wasn’t taking a dump!  Ha ha ha!”

I am mortified as the table erupts in riotous laughter.  I have no clue what prompted this lovely new topic, but I am desperate to be done with it.

“No honey, it was your brother, not you.  Shhhh!  It was your brother!”

Finally my calm and logical father steps in…

“No Rach, he’s right.  That’s what the newspaper said too.”

~

Doesn’t every family have these kind of Thanksgiving table conversations?  Come on, share your memorable moments and link ‘em up… Just grab the code from the right sidebar and we’ll be around spreading some holiday comment love :)  Can’t wait to catch up with y’all!

True Story Tuesday by Mr. Daddy

Time for True Story Tuesday y'all!

Happen to remember that you wrote about that amazing story?  Or the one outrageous tale that gets told 'round the Thanksgiving table every year?  How about the one that is now family legend because it was so stinkin' hilarious?

Link up!  We'd love to hear your old or new story that just happens to be outrageous, amazing, miraculous, hilarious, and (mostly) true!  Add your link and we'll send some comment love your way!







~

NIGHT SHIFT

Well my night shift days in the logging camp just seemed to be fraught with perils, and as if there were not enought of those around already, it seemed as if every clown that had ever applied to work at that establishment was placed on my shift....

So if there wasn't some mischievous mischief going down someone was always getting hurt...

On this particular occasion we had a co-worker that was nicknamed The Goat Roper. For no particular reason that I can recall other than his Dad had quite a bit of land and they ran cattle, and he was a dead ringer for the nefarious Alfred E. Newman....

Yep the gap in the teeth, reddish hair and freckles, a cow lick and yes indeed those stick me out ears that just begged to be teased about... (Lord I apologize) and the most incredible ability to get into the most boneheaded predicaments.

Like putting a bottle jack under the pan of a Cummings engine without any blocking and pushing the jack right on up through it, then diving head first into the oily mess on the floor as if that was going to solve anything...

Well it seemed as if we just went from calamity to calamity with the Roper...

On this night he was pounding out some anchor pins on a brake just before lunch, and smacked the back of his hand with a sledge hammer. He was jumping up and down and howling pretty good (kinda like it hurt or something).  We got him all calmed down and everyone headed to the lunch room.

Every one dove into the lunch bags and started wolfing down their food...

Every one but the Roper that is...

He just slunk into the room and took the first available bench and just kinda slumped down. We were all poking fun at him about being a wuss, but the typical fire just wasn't there. He started to get a lot paler and more sick looking; and we all being just a bunch of dumbass kids just poked more fun the paler he got...

The boss walked in about then and the Roper just slumped forward and almost off his seat.  The boss grabbed him and shook him but no response...

He started to yell at him ROPER,,, shake, shake, ROPER....wake up.... no response... Shake alittle harder.....ROPER...no response... He grabs him by the front of the shirt and proceeds to slap the crap outta him....ROPER, wake up...

Now this was some real down-to-earth violence in the workplace, I kid you not.....LOL

It did seem to do the trick though - the Roper start to come around, got a little green and puked all over the lunch room floor...

Did I mention that every one had dove into their nose bags????

Yeah well out of the 15 or so guys in the lunch room, 4 or 5 of them had a VERY week stomach...

Yep it was a concerted upchuck convention... LOL

I grabbed my pail and headed for fresher air... with less hostility....

And after receiving a sore hand, and only minor bruising and swelling about the head and shoulders from the boss man, the Goat Roper survived to be the beneficiary of many more thoughtful and slightly less-than-lethal endeavors from his always kind and caring co-workers.

The last I had heard, he was progressing quite nicely from his nervous breakdown.
And with continued therapy might even achieve some semblance of normality....

That is mostly hearsay as I haven't talked to any of the old crew for several years now.

~

Whaddya waiting for? Got a tale of revenge to share? Some holiday hilarity. A Thanksgiving miracle? Please link up and we'll see you soon!

Not Me Monday!

Yeah, yeah… squeaking in just under the wire.

But it’s been a wild day and the fact that it is STILL Monday counts for something, right?

Check out MckMama’s blog for links to NMM’s … Oh please let someone’s week make mine seem less bizarre?!?

~

The week got off to a great start.  My son has lovely table manners.  Not Me who was about to take a bite of one of Mr. Daddy’s delicious grill creations when Itty Bit decided to lean over and SNEEZE all over it.

Thanks kid, really…

~

And just a few moments ago, it was Not My Child who laughed hysterically while standing at the toilet, explaining, “I peed on my bath toys!”

~

Transitioning speedily away from bodily functions… it was Not My Mother who stood in confusion as the keyfob did not open the car doors.  Might have been because she was using HER fob to try to open MY car?  It was not made a million times more hilarious when I unlocked it and she got into the driver’s seat and promptly attempted to start the car… WITH HER KEY.

I love you Mom.

~

And one of the funniest things I have witnessed in a looooong time:  It was Not My Husband who I caught standing at the doorway with cell phone glued to his ear and a coatrack leaning against his head.

It was not because Itty Bit had hit a BASEBALL at him (yes, in the house) and as it rolled, Mr. Daddy had Not attempted to kick it back to him.

In doing so, he instead did Not kick the leg of the coat tree COMPLETELY OFF and send the entire thing crashing onto his head.

And because he was Not on the phone, he was Not stranded trying to balance the massive collection of coats and hats that was Not precariously UNbalanced on two legs.

~

Mr. Daddy did Not thoroughly terrify his wifey this past week with his hunting gear antics.

Not Me who totally laughed my butt off at him after reading the hilarious comments and witnessing the all-out comment war.  You earned it buddy :)

~

And in all seriousness… my favorite part of today was receiving a message today saying that Mr. Daddy and a coworker were safe after being involved in a collision with someone who just couldn’t bear to wait 1.2 seconds more to enter traffic.  I’m grateful… really grateful.  You know why.

~

Come back in just a bit for Mr. Daddy’s True Story Tuesday!

Of Course...

 

With today being the grand picture day…

 

*Itty Bit chose to run headlong into a random piece of furniture - creating an obscene goose-egg on his forehead that has turned into a lovely shade of indigo.

*Itty Bit desperately needed a haircut.  But the shaggy do was kinda covering the goose-egg… putting momma into a quandary of epic proportions: cut the mess, or show off the “oh my gosh what did he do to his head” injury?

*Cuz you’re dying to know, he got the haircut and momma is resigned to the fact that the pictures will be (ahem) “real life”.

*We are planning some special ways to include Gracie in the photos.  I have been repeatedly bawling my eyes out about this.  Waterproof mascara, waterproof mascara.

*Momma didn’t make it to the tanning salon or squeeze in time to cover up that gray.  Nor did she lose the planned 14 pounds (SHOCKER, I know).  Photoshop is going to be this pasty and chubby woman’s best friend.

*Momma needs to curl her hair (remember how crazy the lake wind gets?) and pray for NO RAIN.

*Momma also brilliantly planned to have us all wearing coordinating colors – completely forgetting that her child has absolutely NOTHING in that color.   Whaaa?

Excuse me… we are heading to the store!

(and keep guessing, I’m really excited to be working with this local photog!)

Letter of Intent

Dear Mr. Daddy ~

 

Relaxing shower for your dear wifey

+

you amusing yourself with your hunting gear

=

you deserve every single ear-splitting shriek and every gallon of water flung at you by your terrified better half.

 

Yours Truly,

Your Loving Wife who is plotting her revenge

 

ps:  in case some of your bloggy supporters are apt to think me harsh, I offer the below evidence to establish the sheer effort that went into terrorizing an innocent sudsy spouse…

 

 

~

Now head on over to Julie at Foursons for more Letters of Intent.  Tell her I sent ya, I get bonus points for it :)

Thank You Very Much

Ahh, free therapy time - courtesy of KMama and The Daily Dribbles! Head on over and get your fill of things we're grateful for this week!

To the lovely flu bug that decided to take up residence in our household for the SECOND time this young winter... Thank You Very Much. I truly enjoyed spending two nights without sleep and without any apparent control over my body temperature. For all the achy joints and nausea, Thank You Very Much.

~

And to the nasty head cold bug that ALSO found its way back here... Thank You Very Much for the snot factory that overtaken my son and prompted him to begin wiping his mess on any and all articles of my clothing. Thanks as well for the chapped lips right before picture day. And for timing your arrival along with my flu bug... Thank You Very Stinkin Much.

~

To the Thomas The Tank Engine millionaires... you guys realize the little train is like 70 years old, right? So stick with your 1400 episodes from the past several decades, instead of adding new characters every week. New characters that my son just begs Mommy to get on the computer and buy for him. While I am tripping over the "old" characters as I put him to bed. Yeah, Thank You Very Much.

~

To the health insurance policies that punish employees for being married, Thank You Very Much.  And the new $250 annual deductible increase was a lovely touch.

~

It’s a heckuva week already – this has been great therapy!

True Story Tuesday by Rachel

Can I just say True Story Tuesdays are another reason I’m glad to have made it through Mondays? :)  Y’all know what time it is… time to link up your crazy, hilarious, outrageous, miraculous, amazing and (mostly) true stories!  It can be old or brand new – just grab the code from the sidebar and enter your post.  We’ll be glad to send some linky love your way!

 

~

I Fought the Law and the… (Oh wait, I am the law) 

I’ve worked in law enforcement for all of my adult life.

Literally.

And I ain’t gonna tell ya how many years that’s been, cuz you’d be rubbing  my age in my face.

 

Let’s just say that I’m pretty much your average law-abiding citizen and that it runs in the family.

 

(For reals… we have something like 11 family members in various agencies.  And I’m kinda the "little-sister-mascot” of our section.  Try having 30 big brothers teasing you for 13 years.  Oh dang, I said I wasn’t gonna give that up.  Grr)

 

So I’m not typically a law-breaker.

 

Until one fateful night…

 

I was young and dumb and had found a new form of entertainment.

With some other juvenile delinquent friends, I’d discovered the joys of laser pointers.

 

No biggie, right?

 

Except that the three of us are hanging out trying to figure out just exactly how far this laser pointer can, ummm… point?

 

By way of explanation, the two accomplices were both guys – both members of the male species who still found bodily functions absolutely hilarious.  Just so you can get an overall taste of the atmosphere.

 

I’m not sure which idiot said, “Hey look!  You can see the laser all the way across the street!”  And I’m not gonna confirm which idiot may or may not have said, “Whoa look!  You can see it on the inside wall of the apartment a block away!”

 

See, you’d never think that someone would totally freak out about a random laser point appearing on their wall, right?  Especially if it was drawing circles around your clock and spelling out stuff like “R-A-C-H” – oh I mean “H-I”.

 

Absolutely clueless why someone would flip and feel the need to call the police.

 

And let’s just say that the police in our joys-of-living-in-the-city area were (ahem) mighty quick to respond.

 

But if that had happened, I mean, hypothetically and all, you can bet that it would have been purely coincidental that all of the lights in our house suddenly were turned off, the blinds were closed, and all occupants simultaneously found themselves behind large furniture.  It was just a well timed “Quiet Game”, right?

 

Until the front room lit up like the Fourth of July – red and blue lights flashing from a happenstance nearby police cruiser.

 

Which kinda sorta happened to be parked directly in front of the house.

 

 

OH.GOOD.LORD.

 

Did we do something illegal?

Shhh!

Quiet!

Hold still.

 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

 

Oh my gosh!

They’re knocking on the door!

What do we do?

Just be quiet!

Stay down!

Shhhh!

 

Flashlight beams poked through the living room, swinging around and outlining the furniture.

 

SHHHH!

 

It seemed like a good eleventy hundred seconds before the pounding subsided.  By then our ears were ringing and we were blue in the face from holding our breath.  We were too scared to move.

 

We crouched behind the furniture for a good 5 minutes longer, then the non-male idiot ventured from behind the rocking chair to peek through the blinds at the cruiser slowly pulling away.

 

Never before and never since have I been party to criminals eluding apprehension…

 

~

 

And it was infinitely funnier when shortly afterward, my mother-in-law forgot the alarm combination (1-2-3-4… yep, she forgot it), and the police responded.

 

To a completely dark and locked house where she crouched cowering behind the furniture.

 

Ironic, no?

 

~

 

So what are your True Story Tuesday tales?  Do share!  We’d love to come by and add some comment love!

 

 

Not Me Monday

Loving the fact that Stellan is healed and at home and MckMama is back to their weekly Not Me’s!

 

I gotta be honest, this week’s Star of the Show is none other than Itty Bit… and his little mouth.

 

(insert gratuitous picture of Itty Bit and his “I’m so stinking cute face)

 

I love that I can actually have conversations with the little man now… but the following dialogue  did not confuse this mama.  Nope, Not Me.

 

Mommy:  Yay!  We’re going to get some ice cream!  Do you want vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry.

Itty Bit:  Black.

Mommy:  Black?

Itty Bit:  Yeah.

Mommy:  What does black ice cream taste like?

Itty Bit:  Ummm.  Ummmm.  Ummm.  Ice cream!

 

Mommy:  Oh really?  Are you being a silly goose?

Itty Bit: No!

Mommy:  Are you being a funny duck?

Itty Bit: No!

Mommy:  Then what are you?

Itty Bit:  I’m THREE!

 

Mommy:  Oh (smacks forehead)

 

Itty Bit (blowing raspberries)

 

~

 

That same kid did not walk up as I was pulling up the “People of Walmart” website to show Mr. Daddy… He absolutely did not take one look and then say, “Biiiig Mommy!”

 

Hey kid, that is NOT ME!

~

 

I did not catch this kid licking the whipped cream off of several cupcakes, then putting them back.

 

Nor did I chide him for punching holes in the tops by digging with the candles.

 

He wouldn’t have turned around and logically said, “ But I’m making windows Mommy!”

 

~

 

I do not have the coolest grandma on the planet.  While celebrating her 79th birthday, I did not catch her in these most groovy pants :)  Grandma, you rock.

 

~

 

It is Not Me who is absolutely terrified to post a comment on Mr. Daddy’s last post.  I am giggling madly about his creativity and about the comments, but what on earth does a deaf person have to bring to that conversation???

 

~

 

And last but certainly not least… back to the star of our show:

 

My boys have not spent the last few weeks making sure that the DEAF person in the household is completely aware of every bodily issuance.

 

Yes my friends, Not My Husband who taught Itty Bitty how insanely funny it is to create scented disturbances – and funnier yet if you take great care to inform everyone.

 

As my boys were sitting on the hearth (bricks apparently amplify the effect?), Itty Bit did not let a manly one rip.

 

As Mr. Daddy did not look at him in profound admiration, Itty Bit most certainly didn’t look up at him, point, and say, “PULL MY FINGER!”

 

So proud of you boys…

 

~

 

What have you NOT been up to?  Join along, and don’t forget to link up tomorrow for True Story Tuesday!

Rights or privileges? by Mr. Daddy

This seems to be a question that just begs to be asked, and answered honestly...

Spandex, in my humble opinion should be a privilege not a right...

The right to swing my fist is a privilege that should stop somewhere just short of your nose....

My right to free speech is a privilege that I should never use abuse to embarrass or humiliate anyone....

And my unalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, should always be considered a privilege of living in this great country that we call America....

Now with that being said, it is with the greatest relief that news article that I am about to share, originated in the United Kingdom. And with all the conflict that we have in our own nation about rights and privileges; I am so glad that this quandary is theirs to ponder, because the good Lord only knows how badly we would muck it up in our courts.......

AND THE HEADLINE SAYS:

The right to have loud s*x

A British court says Caroline Cartwright can't scream during s*x because she scares the neighbors. Is noisy s*x a right, or a privilege?

(Thanks for waiting I had to clean my puter screen, I spewed coffee all over it when I read this headline....)

The article continues to on to say:A British court refused to overturn the conviction of a woman banned from screaming during s*x because she violated a noise ordinance. Caroline Cartwright, 48, said the authorities were denying her and her husband, Steve, their right to privacy. The judge said the noises — which an investigator said sounded like someone being "murdered" — were "very disturbing" to neighbors and people in the street, and the offense was compounded by "the frequency of the episode." Do human beings have an inalienable right to loud s*x?

When I finally could breathe again, and see out of my tear filled eyes, I began to wonder: Is this a real story? Could we have possibly gone this far as a society? Then I remembered this is Great Britain we are talking about. And I heaved a big sigh of relief realizing that it is their problem...

As if we don't have enough problems clogging our court system without this...LOL

The next paragraph must be the prosecution: The Cartwrights should be quiet: "Caroline lost the right to respect for her private life when she broadcasted it for the entire neighborhood to hear," says Jennifer Meyer in S*xification. Making noise in the throes of passion is all well and good, but the screams from Steve and Caroline Cartwright's bedroom drown out the neighbors' TVs and shock passersby walking kids to school. If the Cartwrights can't control themselves, they should "invest in some soundproofing material."
"911, What’s Your O-mergency?"

While the next must be the defense: The noise wasn't ear-splitting: Give Steve and Caroline Cartwright a break, says Craig Brown in Britain's Daily Mail. Investigators recorded noise levels outside the Cartwrights' home of 30 to 40 decibels, with a maximum of 47 decibels. Thirty decibels is a "very quiet library," and 50 is as loud as a living room conversation. "If ever Mrs. Cartwright began to blast off like a power drill, there might be cause for complaint," but l*vemaking that's quiet enough for a library is "extremely subdued" indeed.
"Silence in court! This case is a real scream..."

The last must be a summary but there are so many questions racing around in my little mind now that I cannot contain the laughter.

Yes I know Pam D. my mind is to little to left alone to wander around like this, so I got Rach's attention....(it does no good to holler for a deaf person) So I got up and found her and said, YOU JUST GOTTA READ THIS...

This is the last paragraph: Loud s*x is a basic human right: This case is an Orwellian nightmare of government intrusion, says Brendan O'Neill in Reason. It's bad enough that the U.K. has 5 million closed-circuit TV cameras that "watch our every move," and talking cameras that "warn us to pick up litter or stop loitering." Now "even the decibels of our s*xual moaning can become the subject of a police investigation." Laugh at this case if you must — but the Cartwrights "are scr*wing for liberty."
"Disturbing the peace"

Laugh at this: I did, and I don't know if what they were doing was for Liberty, or it be better classified as the pursuit of happiness, I'm just glad that it is up to the courts of the UK to decide...

I can't even imagine how much this would cost the taxpayers of America...

Two council officials - environmental health managers, no less - popped round to the houses on both sides of the Cartwrights', clipboards at the ready. One official, Marion Dixon, reported to the court: 'I heard a male voice howling loudly, which I felt was very unnerving.'

Her colleague, the happily named Pamela Spark, found Mrs Cartwright even noisier than Mr Cartwright. She reported ' hysterical, almost continuous, screaming,' adding: 'It sounded like she was being murdered.'

But wait it gets better: Apparently, 'specialist equipment' installed by the council in her neighbor's flat recorded noise levels of between 30 to 40 decibels, with a high of 47 decibels.

You would have to reach 70 decibels before you were as loud as a vacuum cleaner, 80 before you were as loud as the dial tone on a telephone, and 90 before you were as loud as a power drill.

~

Ok. I'm back......

My sides were hurting and I couldn't see to type anymore....

Do they print the Enquirer on the internet??? Did I stumble on to some reality site???? Can this happen in real life??? Is Truth, truly stranger than fiction??? Could this actually be, being tried in the UK as I write????

I have not the answers to these questions, and after all this I am still not sure were I stand on the right or privilege issues of this particular situation....and my little mind is doing flip flops of glee with the ups and downs of this case....*snicker*

But as one writer put it: It would have been fascinating to observe the judge and two magistrates as they furrowed their brows, sucked on their pencils and listened to their recording of the cacophonous Cartwrights.

Now would not be the time for the Clerk of the Court to pipe up: 'A penny for your thoughts.' But was ten minutes quite enough? If each s*x session lasted three hours, and there were five in all, then that makes 15 hours: a ten minute 'Greatest Hits' medley would surely not do them justice, however beautifully edited.

Alas, Mrs Cartwright maintains that the stress of the complaints made her turn to drink and then to anti-depressants - less Tyne and Wear than Wine and Tears - but they have done little to lower her volume.

'After I got the noise abatement notice, I tried to control it. I even tried to use a pillow to try to lessen the noise. I wasn't enjoying it so I started to cry and my husband said: "If you want to make a noise, make a noise." '

So it's all go in Tyne and Wear. If I were the postman, I'd try whistling very loudly. But that still leaves the poor neighbors. Might some sort of cladding do the trick.

I am gasping and wheezing as I type, and I am still finding links to other articles on this case that make it more and more funny...

So in stating all this I will leave it in your capable hands to decide: Right Or Privilege????

Letters of Intent

Is it today already?

I’m a wee bit behind.  It was a sick day for yours truly, and it might have something to do with the following letter that desperately needs to be brought to the attention of the appropriate authorities…

~

Dear Workout Video Lady ~

I don’t know your name.  But I imagine it to be Bambi or Becki or some other perky name.

You have been kicking my butt this week and I don’t think it’s very fair.  What did I ever do to you?

I’m gonna overlook the fact that a full 99% of all exercise videos are guaranteed to be inaccessible to deaf users.  But what I can lipread of your bouncing and completely sweat-free face pretty much ensures me that the words are probably just gonna tick me off anyway.

I mean, who wants to hear “Okay, now we’re gonna kick it up a notch and I want you to give 100 percent!  Come on, you can do it!”  Fine and dandy, except my quads/calves/abs/butt are most confidently yelling back, “NO WE CAN’T!”

And why is is that any video I choose… y’all have had some (ahem) work done?  Cuz yeah, your waist is gonna look smaller underneath those things e.v.e.r.y  time.

Next, the moves… Oh.Good.Lord.  Fair warning to those of you who try “10 Minute Power Abs”… I got about halfway through before I couldn’t take any more of moves that were embarrassing ME.  Cuz if that’s what it’s gonna take to get a tiny defined waist, then Mr. Daddy is gonna be reeeally into this workout.

The less obscene moves, I’m gonna admit that I have stopped and stared blankly at you several times as you cheerfully did something that flat-out tied my brain in knots.  I mean, you looked like you were beating up some unseen person while your body was taken over by some disco hip-hop dancer.

I know you’re convenient and all, cuz you come to my house at any hour – but I’m of half a mind to exchange our personal trainer sessions for the public humiliation of grande battement…

Signed,

The Chick Who’s Tired of Kickboxing Kicking Her Butt

(In all fairness, I’ve done four videos in one week in complete denial of my injured back, but Ms. Perky doesn’t have to rub it in my out-of-shape face, no?)

~

Join Julie from Foursons for more Letters of Intent!  If you head over there, be sure to tell her I sent you.  Cuz she keeps some kind of point system for all kinds of bloggy acts (and I’m a bit afraid to get on her bad side ;)

Thank You Very Much

Time for a bit of gratefulness, courtesy of KMama’s weekly Thank You Very Much.  It’s a fun way to get that bit of aggravation out – better than egging someone’s car or knocking their garbage can over.  And probably less jail time too…

 

To the woman behind the Lancome counter – yes I’ve tried what you were trying to sell me.  I let you give me the spiel for 30 seconds, then told you that the ridiculously expensive lipstick lasts all of four minutes before needing to be reapplied.  You actually had the nerve to tell me that it was the long-lasting stuff and I was wrong.

When I again told you that I was constantly reapplying it, you ended your sales pitch with “you must lick your lips a lot”.  Yeeeeeah… Not buying it (literally).  Thank You Very Much.

~

To Gymboree.  Yes your stuff is unbelievably cute. 

You do realize we’re in a recession, right?  Thank You Very Much.

(ps – I heart your little boy clothes.  Feel free to send me a gift card to make up for my public blog drooling :)

~

To the big truck that kicked up the rock that smashed my foglight, Thank You Very Much.

Actually – it was pretty darn funny to see Mr. Daddy duck and then look all over the windshield for the crack he’d heard…  expensive entertainment, no?

~

To the kid who has refused to eat anything without peanutbutter lately and the Daddy who is enabling his habit… Thank You Very Much.

~

To the online shoe store that decided to cancel the 15% off code that was issued three hours earlier – Thank You Very Much.

I appreciate that you did that AFTER I put an order in for shoes that I can’t find anywhere else.

(Though to be fair, I whined about it and they “found” another 15% off code once I said to cancel it if they weren’t going to honor 3-hour old offers :)

~

To the husband who is protesting an upcoming family photo session… Moms trump Dads on this issue, Thank You Very Much.  If they didn’t, the only proof grown children would have of their family time would consist of photos of daddy with a dead deer.

Just wear what I put out for ya, show up, smile, and consider it my Christmas present, k?

(I promise only to post the flattering ones of Mr. Rockin Hottie Magnum Daddy!  And wait till you hear who is taking them! :)

~

Alrighty – that’s enough gratefulness for one day… head on over to KMama’s for some good readin!

True Story Tuesday by Mr. Daddy

Hey y'all - time for True Story Tuesday! The perfect place to link up those amazing, outrageous, miraculous, hilarious and (mostly) true stories of your own! We all love some linkies and new friends, right? So grab the button from the sidebar and add your post - we'll send some comment love your way!

Barnyard Business

If I have never mentioned that I grew up on a farm, let me tell you that I did.... Mostly.

My Grandparents and Great-Grandparents had a bit of acreage that was mostly farm.
In the beginning it was a strawberry farm (great-grandparents); then when Gramps and Granny got married they were deeded 60 acres and it became cows. They had a few milk cows and some beef and pigs and rabbits, chickens and horses. I don't recall any goats or sheep, but that's neither here nor there for this story....

(Rach in: Honey, we just had this whole conversation about that "that's neither here nor there" comment and how it's so popular and doesn't really make any sense. Yeah - figured you'd throw that in a post first chance ya got :)

My uncle was 10 years older than me, and just about my most favorite person on earth... (yeah, I was the annoying little shadow) and I think that I have mentioned in previous posts how my Gramps and Granny collected all sorts of boarders and people with a need for a place to lay their head...

I think it was my uncle's senior year of high school, and there was a guy that needed a place to stay. Now Ole J.D. (names have been change to protect the guilty) was just about as awestruck by my Unc as I was. Which is short for saying Unc could talk him into just about anything...

And my Unc had a pretty good imagination for the possible....

They where both pretty big into 4-H. My Unc raised and showed pigs and beef. Well, back in the day before every thing became PC (Politically Correct), they taught real life things in 4-H...

When it came time for the topic of herd control (that being artificial insemination and castration), of course the boys were all ears. Now me being 10 years their junior, I was not privy to any classroom enlightenment, but the barnyard tactics were an open and shut case baby...

The intent of this story, however; is not really about either of those topics, but rather how a misused TMS (Tool of Mass Sterilization) can be grossly misused with dire consequences...

(Rach in: I have never heard this story and I am wincing already.)

The 4-H teacher bought a pair of burdizzos - a plier-like implement that cuts the cord from the seminal vesicle to the testicle. It will actually cut a hair folded inside an old zippo paper and not cut the paper (zippo paper is an old roll-your-own-cigarette paper, the hair could just be off your head...*snicker*)

The advantage being it is non invasive. So little chance for infection or bleeding to death from a wrong cut or slip of the knife.

(Rach in: I am still wincing. Is this gonna be a painful one? Guys, I am reading this for the first time).

Well my favorite Unc talked the teacher into letting him bring this medical marvel of non-invasive castration home!!!! Yeah I know... What was he thinking????


There was always something that needed attention in the population control arena, and the weekend that Unc brought the TMS home was no exception....

Now there is not a doubt in my mind that there is a God and He loves me dearly, because that just happened to be one of the weekends that I was scheduled to spend at Grampa's and Granny's (to hang with the big boys).

(Rach in: Yes hon, He knew this would be marvelous True Story Tuesday fodder).

If you have done the math already and my Unc was a senior, that would put me around seven or eight. And yes I was a student of enlightenment in animal husbandry...

(Rach in: Help me out there... I thought "husbandry" was figuring out how to make MORE baby animals, not prevent them? Though I'm not sure the story would be helped either way ;)

Saturday dawned bright, with endless opportunities of practicing said animal husbandry, and practice we did....

We never did figure out how to make them work on a chicken or rabbit...(go figure) but the calves, piglets, and young colts in the fields trembled at the sight of the three of us sneaking around holding a chrome plated pair of pliers with a funny end on them...

(Rach in: I'm sorry, you lost me in hysterical laughter at the thought of you trying to castrate the fowl).

We even figured out how to use them on the cats.....

And therein lies the meat of the story... As I have stated, my uncle was really keen on seeing the possibilities... And as there was pretty much not a non-neutered male anything left on the farm, he quickly saw the possibility of having a whole bunch of bob tailed cats on the farm...

Well having already traumatized just about anything that had a pair and moved, with the TMS's and it being fairly late in the afternoon, it was milking time. We let the cows in the barn and started to milk.

This being the typical farm, Gramps had a couple of old hub caps in the barn that he always poured some milk into for the cats. We had let the cows out and were putting the milk into the milk cans, when my Unc had an epoch of clarity, did I mention that he could talk J.D. into just about anything???

(Rach in: You just love that "epoch of clarity" thing, don't ya hon? Somehow that sounds like a really nice way to describe how he came up with what is bound to result in redneck legend).

The cats where all gathered around the dishes lapping up milk (well the ones that could walk and were brave enough to show themselves anyway)

Unc says to J. D., "I bet that those TMS's would do a fine job of bobbing off the tail of a cat, and seeings as how we have pretty much exhausted our supply of objects in need of said tool, it's up to us to implement new uses of said tool....(might even qualify for extra credit)"

Yep you guessed it, J. D. took the bait like a pro athlete after a syringe of steroids.

I can see the stalk in my mind even now, as Unc and I hid in the stalls.. the cats blissfully lapping away as J.D. quietly sneaks up and slides the burdizzos over the tail of the target...

Did I mention that J.D. wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed??? and had a profound stutter????
Yep he had to pick the biggest meanest old tom on the farm...

Those burdizzos performed flawlessly, they cut through the bone and cartilege like it was butter...

(Rach in: Oh.Good.Lord)

But the skin was just a little tougher than zippo paper, I am here to tell you...

You ever hear the song, I think that Buck Owens sang it... "I've got a tiger by the tail???"

If memory serves correctly, the burdizzos lock over quite similar to vise grips...

I had no idea that cats could get diarrhea!!!! Nor did I think that they could throw cow crap with all four feet for about a barn length... But I guess if you think about it and they are anchored fairly well on the south bound end while fighting desperately for traction while heading north, it is quite feasible to think that...

Did I mention the stutter??? And that was in calm moments!! I'm not even sure how to type the verbal issuance of the next few moments. Now the intent is not to make fun of Old J.D. I love him dearly to this day... But to see him hanging on to that gyrating, crap flinging old tom cat, yelling for help...

Bu Ba baa baa baaa baa Bbaaaa Bud!!!!!!! He He HEl He Hellp!!!!

It was just to much for Unc and I to take... we were slapping each other on the back, rolling around on the floor trying to catch our breath... (not a possibility of help from either of us).

So old J.D. one hands the burdizzos and fishes out his pocket knife....only in his excitement he folds out his scaling blade, and is trying to saw off the tail skin like he is scaling a carp or something. As it turns out not a very efficient means of skinning a cat, which only heightened the hilarity of the whole situation. Not that the cat thought it was humorous at all I'm sure...

(Rach in: And I didn't think it could get any worse. I am seriously about to yell at you for something you laughed about 100 years ago).

And I have a sneaking suspicion that ole J.D. covered in cat scat and cow poop was having a hard time appreciating the heightened sense of hilarity that my Unc and I were sharing, and cared not a whit for the extra credit that awaited him the next Monday in 4-H class...

The proper blade was finally located, the skin properly severed. And do you know what?? After that old cat finally reappeared after a several day hiatus, he was the best looking bobtailed cat on the farm.... And after ole J.D. got washed up right proper like he wasn't half bad himself.

And remember folks, in the words of the esteemed Red Green: " if the women don't find you handsome, they should at least find you handy"

~

There ya have it. True Story Tuesday from the farm. Join up your old or new post and share your stories!

Not Me Monday

Please go here to see the latest on Baby Stellan – praying for healing for his little heart and wisdom for his parents and doctors.  Praying for a miraculous outcome.

I’m playing along this week – would be a nice break from not-so-great news, right?

 

After Mr. Daddy did a little victory boogie during and after a certain impressive musical performance, it was Not Me who proclaimed, “It is NOT a dance move to pass gas”.

~

And along those lines (living in a house of boys tends to mean crossing that line often)… it was Not Me who was completely confused over my boys laughing uproariously from different rooms in the house.

Apparently it was a three-part act:  Mr. Daddy’s scented musical performance in the living room, followed by Itty Bit giggling loudly in the family room after hearing it, and concluding with Mr. Daddy doubled over realizing what Itty Bit had found so funny.  BOYS.

~

And the littlest boy seems to have a bit of trouble with LEMON lately.  It was Not Me who tried in vain repeatedly to correct his enthusiastic, “I DRINK DADDY’S LEMONAPE!”

“Oh, you’re drinking Daddy’s lemonADE?”

“Nope, lemonAPE”.

Not Me who totally missed the irony of a deaf person trying to teach pronunciation.

And of course, he wouldn’t stubbornly call those seedless things “waterLEMONS” now, would he?

~

And it wouldn’t be ridiculously poetic timing that my sister just busted up after I committed a rather laughable spoonerism…

How did “tickled pink” come out “pickled tink”???

~

Speaking of Itty Bit and edibles… Not My Child who was outside with a cookie, picked up a leaf, got distracted, then took a bite out of the leaf.

Nope…

~

And it’s Not My Husband who soooo totally gets me.  Bringing me lunch one day, Not Me who opened the bag to realize that he’d gotten me my requested super-healthy-grilled-chicken-salad, with fries on the side.

Yeah baby.

~

I just am out of my element being in a store without a flying toddler.  (Cuz last time it certainly was NOT ME at the department store who had my kid stand on my SHOULDERS to retrieve an errant balloon).  It was Not Me who bumped into someone, then turned to realize I’d just loudly said, “Oh!  Excuse me!” to a mannequin.

~

Like I said… shopping by myself is still eventful.  Not Me who found myself in a terrible quandary when an elderly woman walked past me in the store… with a fully unrolled sanitary napkin stuck to the outside of her purse… swinging with every step.

Not Me who actually took two steps forward, two steps back, two steps forward, then finally decided my embarrassment at telling her would save her from further embarrassment.

I mean, what do you do?!?

~

Alrighty – that was totally too many Not Me’s!  Here’s to a normal week for once!

~

Come back tomorrow for Mr. Daddy’s True Story Tuesday!

Seriously?

Okay… I remember being in high school before it seemed like boys cared anything about looking presentable.

But this kid?  Seriously?

You’re three years old dude… who are you trying to impress with your just-rolled-outta-bed look?

 

Oh yeah, mommy, that’s who.  Yes -  you’re wildly adorable.

Now would you please stop using my moisturizer as hair gel?

 

(And can anyone tell me if his eyes or green or blue?  Cuz I don’t think I can make up my mind… and it sure doesn’t seem like his EYES can make up their mind???)

Letters of Intent

Hey… didn’t I just complain yesterday? ;)

Here’s a chance to say what’s on your mind… in letter form… for a weekly carnival hosted by a teacher… and I’m getting nervous about my grammer grammur  grammar… and the sorely overused leading punctuation… and the abandoned phrases starting with “and”…

Eh, I’m just gonna wing it – head over to Julie at Foursons for more Letters of Intent fun!

~

Dear Makeup Companies ~

I’m starting to have a bit of an issue with the whole “truth in advertising” thing.

You know, where you tell me something will make me look dewy fresh, free of wrinkles and imperfections, perfectly moisturized and protected from UV rays… and I spend another $12 in stubborn hope that maybe, just maybe, this time you might be right?

Lets start with the “imperfections”.  Yeah, this PCOS gives me the double delight of zits and wrinkles at the same time.  Ever tried those skin clearing brands?  When you say they might cause slight irritation, it means that my skin will be clear because fourteen layers have been scrubbed off.  And somehow my nose and forehead are still gonna shine.

And when you say it might lighten dark fabrics… just be aware that every single item of clothing I own now has a weird pinkish tint around the neckline.  And every face towel has weird pink streaks.

So lets get to covering those “imperfections”.

I admit it – I finally bought into the hype and was intrigued enough to try this:

 

Yep, you read that right… “Smart Shade”.  I figured it would let me pretend to have flawless skin for a few hours.

And somehow, your oh-so-smart technology figured that my light/medium skin should look like this:

Only – go ahead and add the zits back in, because it didn’t bother covering ‘em.  Yippee.

And what’s up with making the world’s best mascara in a color like NAVY?

I mean, who wears it? I can tell you who gets confused and throws a tube of it in my bag when I’ve asked for black though.  So… you could avoid the confusion by just making Black and Brown-Black.  You’re welcome.

And lastly… I finally found a new lipstick color I love!  It’s the perfect shimmery shade and I’m gonna buy them all up!  Check out my lovely shiny #89!

Oh wait… is it my lovely shiny #68?

Oh seriously… it’s not like you guys need to make it any tougher on a make-up impaired person like me?!?!

So next I’d like to complain whine strategize about the latest…

 

Oh wait…

Nevermind.

Gotta go.

Really.

Like right now…

Shoot, I only set it down for a minute!

 

 

 

Mr. Daddy doesn’t need to know about this, m-kay???

 

Signed,

A Cosmetically Challenged Mama

Thank You Very Much

Joining KMama at The Daily Dribbles for this week’s THANK YOU VERY MUCH carnival!

Join along – it’s a perfect opportunity to express your gratefulness!

I realize it’s hunting season – where guys get to go days without showering while eating gastronomically questionable food and cheerfully scratching any itch.  But for the lazy dufus who left that disgusting stripped deer carcass along the busy road that I drive twice daily… Thank You Very Much.  You made my day.  Twice.

~

To the three-year-old who just figured out door locks and locked his mother out of her own bedroom.  Thank You Very Much.

~

To the same kid who just HAD to ride in the car with his beloved umbrella fully open (poke, ouch, poke ouch), Thank You Very Much.

~

Can’t wait to read what y'all are grateful for this week!  Thanks KMama – I feel better already :)

Signs of the times...

Coffee is like oxygen out here in the great Pacific Northwest.  Most of us have a habit, and our dealers are on every corner.

And you know your small town has arrived when they have TWO coffee shops.

Even if they do have a bit of friendly competition going on…

True Story Tuesday by Rachel

It’s True Story Tuesday y’all!  Time to share our old or new stories of something amazing, outrageous, hilarious, miraculous and (mostly) true that has happened to you!  We make it easy… just grab the TST code from the sidebar, and link up the web address of your actual post below, … we’ll send some linky love your way!

~

This one goes back to almost exactly a year ago.  To set the scene, you can read Mr. Daddy’s version of it here.  Long story short… some big dudes were changing a tire at a gas station, and one of ‘em had a bit of a (ahem) wardrobe malfunction.

Longtime readers know this story well… since they wouldn’t let me live it down for the longest time.

The lesson learned was that you should always have a camera with ZOOM… and not rely on a puny little cell phone when the image requires stealth and a safe distance.  Otherwise, as in this case… the big dude might catch you trying to take a picture of his bare naked butt.

Without further ado -the rest of the story…

(0riginally posted here.)

Okay, this has gone on far too long…

Mr. Daddy decided to post that lovely little story about his sweet wifey poking her head out the window, then leaning out and angling for a better shot of a total stranger’s mostly naked bum.

Then getting totally busted by the other guy who was with him.

Then their suddenly hurried exit from the gas station lot when they realized just how big those two mad dudes were.

(At the risk of obliterating any respect you might hold for me - if you haven’t read his post, I'll wait right here for ya.)

So let me lay it out for y'all. I know you’ve already heard it from Mr. Daddy, but it bears some explaining. Cuz, man this story has been spreading like wildfire around here!

You know what…?

I got nothin’

It happened just like Mr. Daddy said it did.

No sense in trying to explain it.

Cuz I cannot for the life of me, figure out why I though it was even remotely a good idea to try to capture that sight on a cellphone camera… or any camera for that matter.

I mean, how do you even apologize for that?

To make matters worse… Dear Husband sits down at my family’s table on Thanksgiving and says,
Rach asked me for my phone so she could take a picture of a stranger’s naked butt.

DEAFENING SILENCE

(I crack myself up with these hearing loss puns)

As one, my entire family is speechlessly looking at Mr. Daddy in horrified interest.

I AM SO MORTIFIED

My mouth turns to Play-doh and nothing intelligible comes out.

Then my aunt’s sweet naïve mother says in her 100% Italian voice (you know, with one eyebrow raised), “WHAAAAAAT?”

There is no place to hide, and I’m not giving up my seat for the game of Spoons.

“mumble mumble, there was this guy, mumble, full moon, mumble mumble, camera”

YOU WHAAAAAAAAT?

Everyone has even stopped eating - so shocking is this piece of news. So Mr. Daddy tells the tale in all his mock indignation and leaves the entire extended family with not a single hope for my corrupted soul.

~

I survive the brutal re-enactments and head home. To wake up to Mr. Daddy’s creative genius in print. On our blog. You know, the one I used to put my best foot forward on?

And the comments are UNBELIEVABLE.

Like wet-your-pants-funny.

I read two of them and realize they are another husband-wife team. I chuckle loudly until I reach the last line of the husband’s comment.

(Wife)
Okay, if you open your windows you will hear my muffled laughs as I was reading this delightful story...and I am trying to keep my composure since Dw is taking an afternoon snooze on the couch not 10 feet from me giggling into the palm of my hand...What is up with men like that anyway? Can they not feel a breeze whisking its way down their cheeks?? Come on dudes! Stop grossing out the entire world! Loved it and still smirking...can't wait till he wakes up and I can read it to him...

( Husband)
You "crack" me up! I'm still trying to "wipe" the smile off my face. Linny was just giggling as she read it to me. I am so very thankful your wife didn't have a zoom lens! I’m sure they were hoping not to be the "butt" of your jokes. I'm still trying to figure out how to work this into tomorrow's message... maybe a title like, "Showing your best side butt don't let your guard down."

When I got to that last line, I felt the color drain out of my face. If you know this couple, they are the fabulous ones from A Place Called Simplicity.

The part that scared the bejeebies out of me, is that this man is a

P A S T O R.

And somehow my temporary insanity is going to mean that someday at some pastors’ conference, they’re gonna talk about the 14 different versions of that “girl trying to take a picture of a guy’s backside with her husband’s phone” story.

And ya know what? I’m okay being the “butt” of that joke.

~

Tell me you’ve done something far more outrageous… all for the sake of a blog post, right? :)

So find that amazing link and add it to the list below – we love TST stories!

Not Me Monday

Is it really Monday already?  Where did the weekend go?  And why didn’t someone explain Daylight Savings time to our toddler?  Pfft.

MckMama hosts this weekly carnival… please be in prayer for little Stellan as he spends his birthday week in the PICU.

This week was so gobsmack full of Not Me’s that it was NOT ME who actually wrote a couple down for Itty Bit’s memory book.  Thanks kiddo… you’re gonna love me when your girlfriend reads it.

~

It was not our (early rising) kiddo who woke us up this morning by clambering in-between the two of us.  Definitely not him who nixed the “good morning” and instead chose to greet me with, “Boobies!  One, Two!”

Yes honey, I’m glad you know how to count.  (And I’m really glad you counted right).  But when I’m in flannel pajamas – they just don’t count, honey.

~

And it wasn’t the same kiddo that kept leaning over and giving me kisses at dinner.  I thought it was so sweet, until of course I realized that pieces of chicken from his plate were not showing up on my plate.  Sneaky sneaky!  Who on earth taught you that?

~

This couldn’t be because my kid is not a carb king, right?

~

See Mr. Daddy making a yummy pot roast in the background of that pic?  (Alright girls, enough looking at my man’s butt).  I lifted the lid and said, “Mmm!  Smells delicious!”

Then took a mini-bladder break.  At which point (and every mother knows this) my child did not suddenly develop an urgent need to be in my presence.  He did not screech around the corner, throw the bathroom door open, take a sniff and say, “Mmm!  Smells delicious!”

~

And seriously kid… what was up with the “Hey Mommy, let’s jump on the bed” thing?  I mean, the part where we were all jumping and having fun and you did not look right at me and say, “Mommy, you’re gonna break the bed”.

Yeah – thanks for that.

~

And lest you think I was the only victim?

Ah-Ma learned the hard way to ensure the kiddo isn’t behind you.  Cuz when she tried to figure out what he was doing, he most certainly was not wiping his nose on her butt.

(Sorry, TMI?)

~

Just so you don’t think he got off scot-free this week… after watching him use his little battery-powered toothbrush on every surface in the bathroom, I did not happen upon a stroke of genius and clean my wedding set with it.  Not that I’d know, but I’d guess it works fabulously ;)

~

And you know how God’ll get ya every time?  Yeah… two seconds later I did not start washing my face.  With my glasses on.

*sigh*

~

And please tell me you didn’t miss the last part of the earlier post?  The one where we showed up at a church Trunk or Treat to find all kinds of inappropriate costumes for the youngsters to witness.  Like the hooker that Itty Bit was not caught poking in the butt with his fishing pole over and over again.  And I am still not laughing over my husband’s risque comment afterwards.

~

And last but definitely not least… a terrific way to not confuse your husband… ask him “was that good for you last night honey?”  Especially after he did not fall asleep at 7pm in front of the game, sleepwalk to bed at 8pm and snore to wake the deaf until 8am the next morning.  Yeah, totally not a mean trick at all ;)

Random Catchup

Y’all know how I try not to do these ‘all-in-one posts’, right?

Cuz usually they end up getting waaay too long and ultimately that equals boring…

So if I promise to throw a bunch of pictures in and let them tell the stories, would that be easier?  Let’s just say that the past week has been interesting…

So the rest of the story on that pumpkin patch thing:

The kids had a blast.  They had the prerequisite little animals to feed (for a nominal fee, of course).

And a huge slide (for another nominal fee, of course) – which Itty Bit took turns displaying how many ways he could obey the “feet first” rule:

~

The adults were considerably more expressive about the experience:

(cue Sound Of Music themesong)

~

And for another nominal fee… you could hike a cup full of feed up a pulley to the goat treehouse.

Which is considerably more impressive if you realize how much zoom I’d used:

~

So off we went on the tractor ride to go look at the pumpkin graveyard.  No rotting pumpkins worth buying, but do you think this kid cared?

Even May-May wasn’t overly impressed with the selection.  She’s got a real poker face, eh?

~

Then off to see the poor reindeer.  Look how concerned the kids are:

~

Then we all enjoyed Itty Bit’s epic meltdown as it was time to leave the reindeer.

Oh, it got better:

(Mr. Daddy’s response?  “Which way to Mecca?”) 

~

He cheered up at being chosen strongest-person-to-pull-the-wagon.  May-May looks a little concerned here…

~

And just because I love her and she’s the most beautiful grandma on the planet… here’s my mom.

~

Remember, we walked out of there with nary a pumpkin to carve.  Never mind… we’ll have some fun at the church Trunk or Treat…

See, it started out okay – trying to keep the kiddos happy for a picture.  See my little fisherman?  Yes, apparently he’s a Scottish fisherman – I am oblivious to your mockery.  I even raided Mr. Daddy’s tackle box for the ultimate bait.

Uh-oh… he’s starting to swing that around.  Can’t be good.

 

Did I call it or what?  Yes, Little Jo got whacked with a rubber worm.  You would not believe the hysterics.  Which are totally unfathomable considering her penchant for creepy crawlies…

Don’t you just love Itty Bit’s look of glee, and Cousin A’s dramatic expression?

And here my friends, is the ULTIMATE champion of how to take a terrible group picture: First, we have an injured party covering her face, two random hands from the sides of the photo, one very amusing “Rocky Balboa” impression, one perpetrator refusing to smile for his mugshot, and the final insult is the cutie with her eyes completely shut.

There ya have it…

~

And in case you wondered… YES – it was a terrible idea to include anything that could be conceivably used as a weapon as part of a 3-year old’s costume.

I was completely mortified to find my wayward toddler standing behind a woman dressed as a hooker… repeately poking her in the butt with the fishing pole.  And what was totally wild about it, was that she stood there talking with a guy acting like it was totally normal.

And I’m not gonna tell you what Mr. Daddy said about that…