It's iocaine powder, I'd bet my life on it

*comments now closed - giveaway winner to be announced soon - thanks for playing!*


Many thanks to Tiffany for inspiring this silly idea of mine…

(Google)

Goshdurnit you guys… I am just blown away by how many of y’all recognized the ROUS (Rodents Of Unusual Size) from The Princess Bride on my last post.

Or maybe y’all have just figured out that most of my goofy references are from that favorite… so every time I say “Fifty OnceUponAMiracle points”, y’all are like Pavlov’s dogs and instinctively yell “The Princess Bride!”

Okay, I did not just insult y’all by calling you Pavlov’s dogs.  Sorry.  I mean, you don’t drool every time a bell rings… right?

Anyhoo… seeing as the last giveaway was so much fun, let’s do another!

Might I dangle some of my native caffeinated goodness before your nostrils to tempt you to join in the fun?
Okay, that just sounded totally weird, but I really just meant to say that a $15 Starbucks card would be yumminess, right?

Cuz right now is a great time to get a frappucino!

And yes, we are true Pacific Northwest folks… our kiddo could say “FRAPPUCHEEEEENO Pleeeeease”, before he figured out how to feed himself.  Parent fail.

Sooo… let’s make this fun!

Drop me a comment if you are a follower – that will be one entry.

And then every line you can quote from The Princess Bride is another entry! 

Please make sure you check the comments above yours to make sure that line isn’t already taken (just to keep it fair and keep spammers from copying).

Let’s wrap this up Saturday night by my bedtime (which most assuredly is not 8pm :)

(And an extra entry to the first person who tells me who the quote from this post title is from!)

So… go forth and quote… and get caffeinated!

True Story Tuesday - Papa Blair

Are y’all ready for this week’s True Story Tuesday?  Got a story that’s just begging to be told?  Does it qualify as amazing, hilarious, miraculous, outrageous and (mostly) true?!!  Here’s where you link up and send some bloggy pals for some good reading :)

Just grab the TST code from below the button on the right sidebar, paste it in your post, then come back and link your permalink to our list for some comment love!

This week comes from one of those family legends told ‘round the dinner table… just like I’m always coaxing you to share.  And this one is a doozy… so hop in, place the bar securely over your lap, and keep your hands in the ride at all times…

~

PAPA BLAIR

 

Let’s just say that my dad has always had a flair for scaring people.  And even once memorably frightened someone into a change of underwear.  But I had no idea how far back it went.  So here we go… into my dad’s high school years…

The Exorcist had just come out.  And  my dad had convinced his buddy Mark to watch it with him.  Mark was a good Catholic boy and probably had a fair amount of anxiety about watching the movie.  But he bucked up and sat through the thriller without any idea of the terror in store for him.

Oh friends, the movie wasn’t the terrifying part.  The real fright began on their drive afterward.

It was a dark night and they were on a pitch-black country road.  No illumination except the truck headlights.  And as my dad drove on, a creature suddenly ran into their path.  The following thumps made it clear that it had met its match with a set of tires.

Curious, my dad backed the truck up and looked at it in the headlights.

And this is what he saw…

 

(umm, yeah… 50 OnceUponAMiracle points if you can tell me what that’s called and what movie it’s from :)

 

Okay… so maybe it wasn’t one of those, but more like a durn big one of these:

 

Which to two high school boys from California, looks exactly like a really freaky huge rat.

 

So they’re looking at this freaky huge rat thing and trying to figure out what it is… all while on a dark country road while surrounded by trees – and after just having seen The Exorcist… and suddenly this dead thing…

well this dead thing lifts its head and opens an awful teeth-filled snarl at them, then goes back to playing dead.

~

Which would be enough to freak anyone out, right?  Except that my dad has quietly back himself up to the truck and silently climbed in.  He throws the truck in gear and hightails it out of there.

Yup.  Leaving poor Mark alone in the pitch-black with that freaky huge VERY ALIVE rat thing.

 

~

You can guess that Mark had a few choice words for my dad when he pulled the truck back around.  But my dad was too busy laughing himself  to tears over it.

Mark got in and they headed home.

 

~

You’d think that would be the end of my dad’s cruel tricks, right?

(Umm, this is a True Story Tuesday, right?  So, no.)

They get to my dad’s place where Mark is staying over – and my dad says goodnight as Mark walks to brush his teeth.

My dad shuts his door, then stealthily sneaks back to Mark’s room.  He slides into the space between the wall and the bed and snakes his arm behind the headboard.

Poor Mark, already traumatized by the movie and the possum, settles into bed.

My dad waits for a bit, then suddenly reaches from behind the headboard to grab Mark and to scare the ever living daylights out of him.

I’m guessing if you ever wanted to hear a man scream, that would have been an opportune moment…

 

~

The end?

Oh ho… you don’t know my dad.

~

As if Mark hasn’t already shaved 20 years off his life in one evening, and developed a paranoia about my dad’s antics… my dad has yet one more thing up his sleeve.

Another “goodnight”, and my dad heads to his room.

He re-dresses himself and heads for Mark’s room yet again.

Any guesses?

 

Oh yes he did.  He stood at Mark’s open door and suddenly flicked on the light.

All poor Mark saw  was my dad’s head turning from the wrong angle of his backwards clothes.

 

Anyone else wonder if Mark ever got his revenge??? 

 

~

Any fun stories to tell about good ol’ dad?  Any legendary antics?  This is the place!  Can’t wait to read your links!

~

I'm Not Even Kidding - Stupid Injury #14117

Oh seriously?

I was sitting here feeling so bad for Julie Fourson’s  (who broke her hand whilst walking?!?!)  I’m still waiting for the whole story, but I’m guessing it takes longer to type with your hand fractured in multiple places…

Anyhow – was feeling awful for her and wondering if she’d need surgery and all that… then we had to head out to a day full of errands.

And at the same store that Itty Bit yelled, “I WANT MY PERCY!” (oh trust me, that’s not what it sounded like); this was the scene:

Go ahead and guess for a minute here – what may have possibly happened to qualify as Stupid Injury #14117?

 

And somehow I doubt anyone will come up with the actual version.

See, Itty Bit will be starting soccer.  YAY!  Except now I’m terrified that Bubba is gonna tackle him all the time and render the sport just as dangerous as football (which is a no-no for a kid with one kidney).

So we are looking for a teeny tiny pair of shin guards for the little guy when he spots a teeny tiny soccer ball and decides to start a little game right there in the aisle.

I’m quite embarrassed to admit that right next to those basketballs in the picture were a display of *ahem* protective devices for boys.  And I spotted one that said “YOUTH” and I was actually confused over whether Itty Bit needed one for soccer.  (Hey, don’t laugh… I have NO CLUE about these things!)

So as I turned to ask Mr. Daddy, “Does Itty Bit need an Itty Bitty Bits protector"?”, I was suddenly in a blinding amount of pain.

 

Friends, see my glasses in my left hand?  And my right hand pressed against my eye?

Oh yes… Mr. Daddy had gotten involved in the little soccer game on Aisle Four.

And with his athletic prowess, had kicked that teeny tiny (hard, very hard) soccer ball over the cart and directly into my face.

 

I think I laughed and cried at the same time.  And seven hours later, my nose is still bruised with a perfect imprint of my glasses.

The man’s explanation?

“Well, I was trying to kick it over Itty Bit’s head and just figured it would hit you a little lower”.

“A little lower?  Like in my stomach?”

“Well…”

"And you were kicking it OVER Itty Bit’s head?  While he stood in front of you?”

“Ummm…”

There you have it my friends, Stupid Injury #14117.

And the best part?

See behind me?

 

WITNESSES!

Letters of Intent - Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid

Fridays are especially wunderbar with my friend Julie from Foursons and her Letters of Intent. 

 

Dear Julie,

Sorry about the YUCK factor to yesterday’s snake post.

I know you really enjoyed that picture of the headless rattlesnake in the frying pan.  And to assure you that you certainly do.not.want.to.mess.with.my.aunt… here are the remaining rattler family  photos:

Daddy

Evil Brother

and Baby Brother (who she noted “at least got to keep his head”)

Now, will you please help me kick Mr. Daddy’s cute tushie for his mockery of my caterwauling at the sight of the THREE garter snakes that my sister had just happened to bring to our Father’s Day celebration?

 

Thanks,

Caterwauling Girl Hiding Behind Her Aunt

 

p.s.  Yes, garter snakes have venom, but not much of it.  Posh -  tomato, tomatoh, it’s a SNAKE.

 

~

 

Dear Itty Bit and Cutie Left:

 

I know you guys were having a grand time playing soccer:

and Cindy Lou Hoo was your darling cheerleader:

But I’m telling you guys… do not underestimate Bubba:

He might be the littlest one there… and he might be a whole 20 months younger than Cutie Left…

 

When the kid says he wants to play:

 

And he’s got his game face on:

It’s not gonna matter if you two scheme some kind of 2-on-1 play:

 

 

Trust me kiddos… you’re a whole lot safer in here!

Cuz this kid will take.you.out.

You didn’t think he got that bloody lip THREE TIMES that day for nuthin, did ya?

Signed,

The Mom/Grandma/Aunt Who Could Barely Watch the Carnage

 

~

 

Dear Itty Bit,

 

See, I thought you might prefer soccer because you’re pretty good with kicking.

I was rather worried at your first at-bat, since you don’t seem to practice your throwing/catching skills much (and about that throwing thing… I’m kinda GLAD you don’t work on it much :)

See, I was only worried because you come from a long line of baseball champs.  And, you know… it’s pretty easy for the family to see you three boys and think we’ve got 1/3 of our next state team right in our yard.

Just wanted to say a grand THANK YOU JESUS when I saw you knock that first puppy outta the park :)

 

Love,

Your Picked-Last-For-Kickball Momma (Who Just Breathed a Big Sigh of Relief)

 

~

Thanks y’all for sticking through this picture overload post… we’ve had fun welcoming summer!  How about you?

Thank You Very Much - Ewwww

It’s time for our weekly free therapy!  Join Kmama for some Thank You Very Much moments :)

 

Little Jo?  Smile here.

What’s in your hand?

What?

Girl, you keep that thing away from me… Thank You Very Much!

 

You know those things creep me out like nothing else…

And don’t you dare give it to…

GAH!

 

 

 

Those things have VENOM… Thank You Very Much!

Get that out of my kiddo’s hand and over to the hungry chickens, Thank You Very Much!

Oh, I see now… you’re just gonna pretend that I’m being a big baby about this, eh?

Well, you didn’t grow up in rattler country, Thank You Very Much.

 

Signed,

The Chick Who Doesn’t Care If You Call Her A Big Baby… (I’m perfectly comfortable from this tree branch)

 

p.s.

(and a quick peek at what my aunt did with a rattler just this week… you’ve been warned)

THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

True Story Tuesday: Sign Language Follies Part I

*sorry - comments closed because anonymous spammers are attacking this one non-stop... please leave a comment on another post and we'll happily get in touch!*


Does Tuesday always sneak up on you too?  Are you ready for some midweek entertainment?  It’s time for….. True Story Tuesday!  Where we link up with amazing, hilarious, miraculous, outrageous and (mostly) true stories that have happened to you!
 
You’ve probably already written a post that qualifies – dig back or share a recent one.  Anyone have a crazy Father’s Day adventure?  A silly family legend that got retold about good ol’ Dad?  Grab the code beneath the TST button on the sidebar, copy it into your post, come back and add your permalink at the bottom for some comment love!
Thanks for playing!
~
This week is brought to you by the deaf chick – who proves that you can get yourself in plenty of trouble when you can’t hear :)

SIGN LANGUAGE FOLLIES:  Part I

So… my mom knows sign language.  My sister too.  And my Dad pretends he doesn’t know it, but when my little sister and I got too rowdy, he suddenly seemed to be able to get his point across with some darn good signing.

They learned sign language after I lost my hearing.  There’s a whole post waiting to be written (and some of you have been sweet to ask) about how I communicate and all the lip-reading/speaking/sign language business.  But for this story, understand that I lip-read decently and sometimes rely on an interpreter to “fill in the blanks” in public situations.

Scene:  At church.  Pastor Steve-O is closing the evening service with announcements and my mother is interpreting for several deaf people sitting in the front row.

So… the service is winding down, but Pastor Steve-O is one of those speed-talkers that crams everything in at the last minute.  The church is gearing up to do a new small groups program:

We have volunteered to host a group at our home and have invited other deaf friends.  Keep in mind that my sister is also sitting with the group and she.knows.sign.language.
My mother is keeping pace with the blazing narrative coming from the stage  and we are all paying close attention to catch information about the group meetings and where to get the materials:

“So make sure you don’t forget to pick up your DVD in the back after service.”

Pastor Steve-O launches into the next bulletin item, but is quickly interrupted by a sudden commotion.
Every deaf person sitting in the front row has begun signing rapidly between fits of hysterical laughter.
He looks at the front row quizzically but not a one of them is signing anything he can understand.  He looks to my mother for enlightenment, to discover that her face has turned crimson and she is uncharacteristically reluctant to share what the deaf people are animatedly discussing.
Pastor Steve-O looks confused and attempts to continue with the next subject, but cannot help but be drawn to the continuing bouts of uncontrollable laughter and now tears that are wreaking havoc on the entire deaf section.
He asks again, “Was it something I said?  What?  What did I say?”
And again, my mother sits red-faced and stoic… save a slight twitch of her lips.
The congregation is now murmuring and I am aware of a sea of heads turning our direction… but I cannot help the giggles that are escaping as very un-churchlike snorts.

Friends, in an effort to keep up with the Pastor’s spiel, my mother missed one very important step.

When signing where to pick up the instructional video portion of the study, my poor mother had signed:

“So make sure you don’t forget to pick up your VD in the back after service.”

Did you catch it too?
And that’s all I have to say about that!
In the words of Larry the Cable Guy:  Lord I apologize…

~

Mr. Daddy's Lucky Little Guy

I love my father as the stars - he's a bright shining example and a happy twinkling in my heart.  ~Terri Guillemets

 

A truly rich man is one whose children run into his arms when his hands are empty. ~Author Unknown

 

The words that a father speaks to his children in the privacy of home are not heard by the world, but, as in whispering-galleries, they are clearly heard at the end and by posterity.  ~Jean Paul Richter

 

Why are men reluctant to become fathers?  They aren't through being children.  ~Cindy Garner

 

My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard.  Mother would come out and say, "You're tearing up the grass."  "We're not raising grass," Dad would reply.  "We're raising boys." ~Harmon Killebrew

     

Happiest Father’s Day Mr. Daddy.  I do believe fatherhood looks good on you.

Your little guy adores you.

If he grows up to be anything like you, there is one lucky girl somewhere in the world.

Letters of Intent - Flying High

Friday could not come fast enough this week.  It’s been a rough one, so I’m sticking to fun stuff.  Well, at least I hope you find it fun too… join in for this week’s Letters of Intent from Julie Foursons!  (Yes Julie, that is now your official name… unless you want me to keep referring to you as King Julien…)

 

 

Dear Lee Jeans,

I appreciate all you do to make clothes fit us non-supermodel types.

Cool that you build in tummy panels that almost don’t suffocate me.  Though I think the name of the game is “displacement”… I see that muffin top – you ain’t fooling me.

But really, I when I finally get the nerve to try your new super-duper make me skinny pants; I gotta be honest:

printing this ELEVEN times around the inside of the waistband???

 

Just makes me think:

 

 

Ouch.  Don’t rub it in.

Sincerely,

Muffin Top

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dear Fellow Garage Salers,

Sorry.

You snooze.

You lose.

 

Isn’t it fabulous?!?!

Love,

Hangin’ My Backyard

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dear Hammock Makers,

 

Don’t hammock stands come in standard sizes?

Then why would you make a replacement hammock that is TOO LONG for a regular stand?

Don’t tell me it’s just more stretchy.

And surely don’t tell me any other possibility for why MY BUTT WAS ON THE GROUND.

 

Jenny Craig.  Jenny Craig.  Jenny Craig

 

Signed,

Miffed Muffin Top

 

p.s.  You’re welcome for omitting the picture of that.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dear Itty Bit,

 

I asked if you wanted to go the air show this weekend.

Air show???  What’s an air show Mommy?

An air show?  Oh honey….

(cue Youtube)

 

Signed,

The Mom of the Kid Who Doesn’t Remember He Went To Last Year’s Air Show

 

~

 

Dear Blue Angels,

 

You have a new addict.

Itty Bit is WILD for you!

 

I kinda heart you too.  In a heart-in-my-throat kind of way.

Love,

The Woman Who Is Bugging Mr. Daddy to Take the Family to the Air Show :)

 

 

And just because these may be the most amazing stunts I’ve ever seen… for your viewing pleasure:

Thank You Very Much - Professional Shot Destroyer

Apparently it’s genetic… Mr. Daddy has created a Mini-Me who seeks out Mommy’s intended camera subject and somehow messes up the shot.

Remember this?

My attempt at a coffee cup shot:

Interrupted by Mr. Daddy:

And the final product:

Yeeeeeahhhh.  Thank You Very Much Mr. Daddy.  This is not genetic at all, eh?

Fast forward to this last week -  wandering by the barn and messing with getting the portrait lens to focus:

 

When silly boy decides to become part of the shoot, Thank You Very Much.

 

Waitaminute – what is that?

Oh you didn’t…

 

Oh yes, you did.

Quit looking all innocent and stuff.

 

GAH.  I’m a sucker for your antics.

 

And you totally, totally know it…

   

Okay, in all honesty… Thank You Very Much for messing up the shot.  You made my day :)

 

~

Go chill with Kmama for more Thank You Very Much notes to celebrate Thursday!