Showing posts with label undies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label undies. Show all posts

Thursday, 1 August 2013

Look what the cat dragged in...we're not BBQing that

Throw Another Bird on the Barbie
on second thought...

 
It was a nice relaxing weekend until my son's let loose this shriek of horror/excitement  (that's the same thing from little boys, isn't it?) from their Dad's backyard. It turned out the cats left a "present" by the backdoor. Little did the kitties know that dead birds were NOT on their wish list.
 
"It's a dead bird!" Reece yells, his big blue eyes looking ready to fall right out.
 
"What did you do with it?" we ask.
 
"I put it on the barbecue," he tells us.
 
We go look and sure enough, it's on the barbecue...not like ON THE GRILL (mmmm, pass me a nugget - we're weird, but not THAT weird), but on the sideboard. But still, gross.
 
"Can we bury it?" he asks.
 
"I think we'll give him a Viking send off," his Dad tells him.
 
"What's that?"
 
"Put him in the fire pit," he explains.
 
THEN we did not have a fire right away (because it was early in the day) and I TOTALLY FORGOT.
 
Much later (after we had supper and I had CHICKEN) Reece comes up to me and asks "So, did Dad 'Burn the Bird'?"

And I actually thought he was talking about SUPPER.
 
Being a smartass, I respond "Around here we call it 'Squeezing the Cheeze' dude." 
 
Their Dad hears me and lets out this snort of laughter.
 
"Okay. Did Dad 'Squeeze the Cheeze'?" he asks seriously.
 
"I have no idea," I tell him (thinking to myself, shouldn't he know? Wouldn't it smell?).
 
"Well, did you guys have a fire in the backyard yet?" he asks.

Then I get it. Shit!
 
Oh my God...I just taught my kid that a funeral for a bird was called a fart. I am so going to Hell.

 

I'll Encourage You...
but keep the licking to a minimum

 
"Mommy, if I was a cat I would just lick myself," Kaelan informs me.
 
I'm not even going to pretend to be pro-good-luck-with-that here.
 
"Ewwww!"
 
"Heh, heh, yah. Then I'd poop in my litter," he tells me.

 

WTF Marketing Gurus?

 
My youngest son looses his boxers like there is some mysterious undies gnome snatching them from the house. Fucking gnomes, I knew those little buggers were evil.
 
It's hard to keep up with the loss of undies - where do they go? We're constantly on the Boxer Replacement Program.
 
The BRP must be pretty fucking popular because Boys Large boxer briefs are in short bloody supply in the stores. It's a gnome-o-demic. Maybe there's a garden spray for this.
 
I go shopping and raid all the frigging stores looking for the rare underpants when I finally find TWO DAMN PACKAGES - not that I'm getting bitter by this point (bitter, no - pissy, yes).
 
I check out the undies and they have the typical picture stuff that little boy undies have. But then I notice something on one of them... What the fuck?
 
 
I get encouraging READING for children, but who writes SCORE on boys undies? They're not even SPORT undies (no soccer balls...just a CROSSWORD). Seriously!
 
Bad news... I bought them. We're low on undies! Fucking gnomes.
 

If you Don't Want to Know - Don't Ask

 
My oldest son loves vans. Love isn't even a big enough word...obsess maybe? Somebody make me up a new word even bigger than that. I hear HUGE diatribes on how he needs one, how I should have one (someone poke my eyes out first because I ALREADY RODE THAT - YUCK). They are THE most fan-ta-bulous vehicles in the universe.
 
After I was just grilled on the reasoning behind square doors and why each door has locks on vans, Kaelan yells:
 
"Do I look crazy to you?"
 
"...Sometimes."
 

Now you're NEVER Getting my Keys

 
"If I had your keys I'd just say you've done enough trouble, Mom," Kaelan informs me.
 
Thanks...thanks a lot.
 
 

Monday, 25 February 2013

They're my Undies and I'll Flash if I Want To

How to NOT get a Discount

 
It was a dark and stormy night...NOT. Okay, honestly it was a sunshiney day filled with potential - until the water wasn't draining out of the tub while I was having my shower. Not a good sign.
 
I was having a good panic (can you call a panic good? I'll have to look that one up...), BUT then the water went down and like any good procrastinator I chose to IGNORE IT. Good call (feel free to read the sarcasm here).
 
When that no longer existed in my mind, I did some laundry (because I'm awesome) and that was when it happened... STUFF started to burble up out of the tub like in a horror movie. I was freaking out! What WAS this stuff? Was it shit? YUCK!
 
So I had to lean in and check it out (gross and BADASS - and you're kind of glad you don't know me in an "I can smell you" kind of way, yes?). Well, relax - not shit. It was LINT. And it was NOT going away.
 
So I plunged and plunged and plunged that motherfucker - and it STILL would NOT drain. CRAP!
 
Then, the unthinkable happened (but only if you're like me and have NO IDEA about plumbing), the toilet filled up.
 
This was the day from Hell.
 
I ran to THAT hole and plunged and plunged that motherfucker, too - but my wussy plunger kept going INSIDE OUT, so I was making NO progress whatsoever. I'd say shit, but thank God, there was none of that.
 
The toilet overflowed, just missing the catbox and I go storming off to the hardware store for a new ("heavy duty") plunger and some Liquid Plumber. I'm cranky and on a mission.
 
I get back to my disaster and pour the chemical on each drain and plunge and plunge away to no avail. My NEW plunger keeps going inside out  ("heavy duty" my ass!) - so I keep having to fix it. The chemical is BURNING my hands. Now I'm saying shit anyway - even if there isn't any.
 
My youngest son is walking around in rubber boots and bright yellow rubber gloves in case the germs are sneaking around the house waiting to get him.
 
So I give up... We call a real plumber.
 
Before they arrive I clean up the bathroom making sure all the laundry is taken care of and nothing embarrassing is lying around. I tidy up the basement so they don't know how messy we really are (because I'm sure the guy dealing with the shit in the pipes REALLY cares).
 
The real plumbers arrive to snake out some giant pipe in our furnace room and they are the friendliest two guys you'd ever meet. They set up their equipment, do their grindy thingy in the pipe (that's the technical term by the way - grindy thingy, write that down) and make a million trips back and forth to the bathroom to make sure it is working.
 
The plumbers are SO SMILEY through this all. Really, I'm amazed at the perkiness involved in a roto-rooter type job...
 
When they are finished, I'm cleaning the bathroom (from the grossness of our overflows) and what do I see hanging in all it's glory?
 
The ONE thing I didn't see to put away... A nice, fancy, hot-pink bra hanging at eye-height.
 
Oh. My. God. No wonder they were so friendly.
 
Too bad it didn't get us a discount... Maybe I need better undies.
 

Modesty at it's Finest

 
"Boy K, you're pretty lucky to have a brother like me," Reece informs his brother after handing him a glass of water at the supper table.
 
It's so nice to know that self-esteem is NOT an issue at our house.
 
The response from the lucky brother?
 
"Hey, Tasha's pretty cool!"
 
This was what AMAZING feats the cool dog was up to:
 
 
I suppose self-esteem might be an issue sooner or later.
 

How a Holiday is Born

 
I make my son's breakfast this morning. It's peanut butter toast, banana slices and a glass of milk. Since it's our week off school I figure why not have a picnic breakfast in our livingroom downstairs with cartoons?
 
I call the boys to the top of the stairs to play waiter and grab their plates.
 
"Oh, yay! Breakfast downstairs K!," Reece calls over his shoulder on the stairwell.
 
I hand Reece his incredibly fancy breakfast, "Oh WOW! Thanks Mom!"
 
"You are SO welcome!" Man, I love kids - so sweet (and not to mention easily impressed).
 
"Woo hoo!," squeals Kaelan, "Happy Breakfast Downstairs Day!"
 
Awww!
 

Show me Your GRRR Face!

 
Kaelan and Reece are playing Rayman Origins on the PS3 and it's getting pretty intense. The pushy-shovey starts, so I call a halt to the festivities.
 
"Okay guys, time for a break from the game."
 
This was not a popular call and as with all sports, everyone hates the referee.
 
"I guess we're grounded," Kaelan mutters grumpily as he gets up and stalks to his room.
 
He shuts his door, opens it - sticks his head out and yells:
 
"Come back with my heart or don't come back at all!"