When you think of farts, go ahead do it….They are the best thing that our body gives us to work with. This is my father’s medium, he is a true fart-ist. He can make any situation even funnier with a well-placed fart. He is a master at this; there are 2 events that come to mind in the household that will blow your mind and ass.
My father’s holiday is Halloween, he loves to carve pumpkins and not because he loves to make jack-o-lanterns, it’s because for a week after his farts smell like pumpkin guts. I have no idea what the science is behind this happening, but it does indeed happen. He even takes brakes when carving to really get his face in some pumpkin guts to take a deep breath to absorb more of the smell. And let me tell you, it works. I am no doctor, but that can’t be right.
Another ass-tastic story is the time when one of our cats Moesha was doing what cats do; lick their ass right in front of you. She was enjoying her bath sitting near my father. My father emits gas all the time so it really didn’t shock us when he played his Stradivari-ass while lying on the floor with the cat. Moesha on the other hand was appalled at the lack of class my father showed her while she was licking her ass. She gave my dad a death-look and moved a few feet way and continued to lick her ass.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
What the hell!!
Okay, I don’t usually get on a soapbox and tell people how to live their lives. I’m just not that kind of person who goes around judging people thinking I am hot shit. But… What is with the pregnant 13 year olds on Maury? I just can’t get over ‘em. I love watching these train wrecks, because it doesn’t matter what kind of crap I am dealing with in my daily life, I am not that far up shit creek. But then I think about those sad kids, those kids are screwed.
I believe we are all dealt cards when we are born. Some have great cards and some are dealt with the worst cards ever. Now, it is our duty, as capable human beings, to trade your cards up to make yourself better. And as a parent, your job is to try your hardest to have your cards in order before you go and bring in a new human around here. This is all to make sure you don’t bring a brand spanking new serial killer into the world. Which apparently, these 13 year olds on Maury, have never thought about this or about anything at all.
Now, just think, if you found out that you were the product of your mother having unprotected sex with a dude she just met for a cheeseburger. I am not making this up! It was one of these stories on Maury! You would probably question the judgment of your mother wouldn’t you? And of course…. just how good what this cheeseburger?
I believe we are all dealt cards when we are born. Some have great cards and some are dealt with the worst cards ever. Now, it is our duty, as capable human beings, to trade your cards up to make yourself better. And as a parent, your job is to try your hardest to have your cards in order before you go and bring in a new human around here. This is all to make sure you don’t bring a brand spanking new serial killer into the world. Which apparently, these 13 year olds on Maury, have never thought about this or about anything at all.
Now, just think, if you found out that you were the product of your mother having unprotected sex with a dude she just met for a cheeseburger. I am not making this up! It was one of these stories on Maury! You would probably question the judgment of your mother wouldn’t you? And of course…. just how good what this cheeseburger?
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
When Shadow Puppetry ATTACKS!
Usually when you take a family vacation it is so boring you want to see if throwing yourself out the car door would liven things up a bit. Not so with my family, we are the show.
First, the ride, dull and boring until my father finds the only station playing opera and sings a long or better yet, when a certain station that plays different versions of “Louie Louie” all the way up north for hours and hours. It still haunts me to this day, I have a knee jerk reaction to the opening notes, I always kick the back of a seat yelling, “ Stop it! This is child abuse!” Or one trip to Kentucky, my family rented a car to go south in, sounds luxurious, but not so. My gaseous father found that farts are way better if you can lock the windows and force your loved ones to marinate in it. But those antics do not compare to the trip to Niagara Falls. We hit all the tourist traps and had some fun looking at water, but what we always remember is Shadow Puppets.
Yes, Shadow Puppets, you wouldn’t think that making these on your hotel wall at midnight with your feet or hands would almost bring you to tears with side splitting laughter, but it did. My father got the flashlight, propped it up and made with the shadow puppets. My favorite was the guy with a large nose sniffing, made with my father’s huge hand with the thumb forced thru the first two fingers of his fist, an instant classic. It made my sister and I snort with laughter. Then he pulled out all the stops with a toe band called, “the Great Pretenders”, which was his big toe as the lead and the others as back-up singers complete with faces drawn on with a Sharpie. He would sing classics and jingles with “the Great Pretenders”, such as; “weeeeee are the great pppreeetenders”, here’s the back-up part now, “ooooohhhhh oooohhhhh”. We would roar with laughter, while my mother claimed that she “didn’t get it”. Oh we got it all right, our dad was weird and so were we.
First, the ride, dull and boring until my father finds the only station playing opera and sings a long or better yet, when a certain station that plays different versions of “Louie Louie” all the way up north for hours and hours. It still haunts me to this day, I have a knee jerk reaction to the opening notes, I always kick the back of a seat yelling, “ Stop it! This is child abuse!” Or one trip to Kentucky, my family rented a car to go south in, sounds luxurious, but not so. My gaseous father found that farts are way better if you can lock the windows and force your loved ones to marinate in it. But those antics do not compare to the trip to Niagara Falls. We hit all the tourist traps and had some fun looking at water, but what we always remember is Shadow Puppets.
Yes, Shadow Puppets, you wouldn’t think that making these on your hotel wall at midnight with your feet or hands would almost bring you to tears with side splitting laughter, but it did. My father got the flashlight, propped it up and made with the shadow puppets. My favorite was the guy with a large nose sniffing, made with my father’s huge hand with the thumb forced thru the first two fingers of his fist, an instant classic. It made my sister and I snort with laughter. Then he pulled out all the stops with a toe band called, “the Great Pretenders”, which was his big toe as the lead and the others as back-up singers complete with faces drawn on with a Sharpie. He would sing classics and jingles with “the Great Pretenders”, such as; “weeeeee are the great pppreeetenders”, here’s the back-up part now, “ooooohhhhh oooohhhhh”. We would roar with laughter, while my mother claimed that she “didn’t get it”. Oh we got it all right, our dad was weird and so were we.
Monday, June 29, 2009
The Fruit Bat Incident
You have to remember that when you come into contact with my father, Dale, make sure you don’t let your guard down for a second. He will play a trick on you that will haunt you like a sarcastic specter for the ages of time. My mother Lori seems to forget this important lesson that my sister Michelle and I have found out thru the years.
My father, for some reason, had a bunch of time on his hands one day. He also had a broomstick, twine, a banana, plexi-glass bat wings and glue. My father is the MacGeiver of tomfoolery so this would become a perfect Saturday afternoon messing with my mom. Now, my mother isn’t afraid of bats, per say, but she doesn’t like it when things come rocketing at her face. This fact will come in handy for my father and his partner in crime, my sister.
What kills me about this is that he spent time and energy into making these wings to freak out my mother, no doubt giggling like a little school girl to himself while grinding the proportions out perfectly, sanding the rough edges of the wings. He then took great care of using a glue to attach the wins to a banana, which only my father has the know how to pull this off. Attaching it to the broomstick with the twine he was ready. After the masterpiece was complete, he must find a victim. This was easy, my mother seems to fall victim to our pranks. Well, the really good ones.
My father then called my sister to the garage, or as I like to call it, the Honeycomb Hangout, to unleash the plan to my sister. They plotted; they schemed and hissed with subdued laughter. While my father, who is afraid of heights, but not of a really good “owning”, climbed up on the roof and positioned himself near the back door. Where the plan was, my sister would lure my mother out with a claim of a “fruit bat” in Michigan.
My mother, falling for the claim and telling my sister she was crazy came out the backdoor, where my sister yelled, “ There it is!” pointing in horror. My father swooped the “fruit bat” he constructed at my unsuspecting mother. She yelled, and did a sort of karate chop at the direction of the psedo-fruit bat, before running into the house.
Thus, the “fruit bat incident” was born. The fruit bat stayed with us until it became rotted and old. But the story, it still is as fresh as the yellow fruit bat that lives at our back door.
My father, for some reason, had a bunch of time on his hands one day. He also had a broomstick, twine, a banana, plexi-glass bat wings and glue. My father is the MacGeiver of tomfoolery so this would become a perfect Saturday afternoon messing with my mom. Now, my mother isn’t afraid of bats, per say, but she doesn’t like it when things come rocketing at her face. This fact will come in handy for my father and his partner in crime, my sister.
What kills me about this is that he spent time and energy into making these wings to freak out my mother, no doubt giggling like a little school girl to himself while grinding the proportions out perfectly, sanding the rough edges of the wings. He then took great care of using a glue to attach the wins to a banana, which only my father has the know how to pull this off. Attaching it to the broomstick with the twine he was ready. After the masterpiece was complete, he must find a victim. This was easy, my mother seems to fall victim to our pranks. Well, the really good ones.
My father then called my sister to the garage, or as I like to call it, the Honeycomb Hangout, to unleash the plan to my sister. They plotted; they schemed and hissed with subdued laughter. While my father, who is afraid of heights, but not of a really good “owning”, climbed up on the roof and positioned himself near the back door. Where the plan was, my sister would lure my mother out with a claim of a “fruit bat” in Michigan.
My mother, falling for the claim and telling my sister she was crazy came out the backdoor, where my sister yelled, “ There it is!” pointing in horror. My father swooped the “fruit bat” he constructed at my unsuspecting mother. She yelled, and did a sort of karate chop at the direction of the psedo-fruit bat, before running into the house.
Thus, the “fruit bat incident” was born. The fruit bat stayed with us until it became rotted and old. But the story, it still is as fresh as the yellow fruit bat that lives at our back door.
What the Hell is wrong with you?
What the hell is wrong with you? That is a question that I get a lot! Many people know me as the weirdo who makes fun of people falling down on the sidewalk when it is icy, or the one who says the word me-so-theleoma like the hooker in Full Metal Jacket, a bad speller, has a crazy ass father and others know me as a person who freaks out at the site of a hospital. Yep, that is all me. But I am sure that you will find that you can relate. Even if you don’t find people falling down on icy sidewalks funny. Which by the way, you must be dead if you didn’t give a least a little chuckle to that image. Anyway, here is my first attempt at a major blog…..here goes.
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