Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Unfortunate conversation with OBH - things I don't need to know

Our bathroom window opens up to our front/back porch. (Can never decide what to call it) I am sitting on said porch and the bathroom window is open. Out of nowhere I hear, "Wow, that was fifteen seconds!" Oilybeauhunk is evidently in the bathroom.

"What was fifteen seconds?" I ask.

After a pause, this is the response I get,

"Bubba said he had a seven second fart, I just beat that."

"You were counting?"

"Yeah, one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand....."

"Oh, Okay.........Ummmmm.....Nice one.(?)"

You tell me - Where do you go with that?


One of my dogs is as skittish as they come. Girlfriend is afraid of her own shadow. Evidently she is afraid of her own poop as well. When she has to take a shit, she assumes half of the position and then turns around to look at her butt, turning as the offending turds come out. This results in her own version of crop circles - or - "plop circles" - or - miniature poop stonehenges as seen in the most recent display. Did I mention, she prefers to display her art on the driveway instead of in the yard. It makes for better pictures. I pulled into the driveway the other day to find this. Unfortunately, I ran over the rest of the poophenge with my front tire, which left this last soldier standing....I will be more careful next time!

Bitch ain't right I tell ya! Here's another version... I took creative license with this one.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Example of my non-filtered brain

So I went to Walgreens last weekend to purchase two specific things. I ended up grabbing some gummy bears as well because, duh, they were 2-for-1 and they were my favorite. There was a lovely old man in the store flirting up a cashier. I got my two items and was walking past the spritely old gent with my bag when he said with a big smile:

"Hey do you want to switch bags?"

to which I replied without hesitation,

"Only if you want some high blood pressure medication, some gummy bears and some lube!"

Let's just say we didn't switch bags

Monday, June 2, 2008

Why Shooting a bird?

Welcome to my little world. "Shooting a bird" does not in any way reference actually shooting a bird. Let me explain where this comes from. My son, the cartoon freak, started kindergarten last fall. We live less than a mile away from the school, so our conversations on the ride home are usually short. I picked him up one day and casually asked him how his day was. He looked at me and gave me the finger with a big old smile on his face.

"This is bad, right?"

"Umm yeah, honey" (chuckle chuckle snort snort) "That is bad."

"I know", he said, "It's called shooting a bird."

And there you have it. I have never forgotten that day, and probably never will. He and the oilybeauhunk and our insane animals give me much comic fodder for my life. There will be many posts about my son, but this is in no way a mommy blog, as I tend to swear alot and my brain does not possess that filter thing that prevents stuff from coming out of my mouth before I evaluate what I am about to say. Also, there is an awful lot of farting and burping around here, not to mention I tend to be pretty accident prone - with excellent results. Hopefully it will make for some good reading! I don't mind sharing if you don't mind the insanity and vulgar language.