So Mr. Squab and I are discussing the weekend plans, and I suggest that we ask BFF about watching the Hatchling on Saturday so Mr. Squab and I can go out somewhere to celebrate our anniversary (six years on Sunday!).
“It’s already taken care of,” Mr. Squab says smugly.
“Oh really?” I’m intrigued. “Is there anything I should prepare for?”
“Hmmm …” Mr. Squab thinks for a minute. “Don’t wear any underwear.”
I snort. “Uh-huh.”
“And bring a snake-bite kit.”
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Posted in Funny Stuff, How to Charm Me, random tidbits
God DAMMIT, this cracks my shit up. Whew. (via eWAC)
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Posted in Funny Stuff
Holy Jeebus I’m tired. The Hatchling got up at 4:15 this morning and would not go back to bed. I’m beginning to question whether she’s actually my child. Except I know she really is, because a) stretchmarks, and b) she’s just waking up from a nearly 4 hour nap, in which I could not join because I had stupid adult crap to take care of while she refreshed herself. I hate adult crap.
In completely unrelated news, this is fucking awesome. (via eWAC)
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Posted in Funny Stuff, random tidbits, trials and tribulations
Twisty again. Because I just can’t help it:
I’m gonna start calling myself an evangelical pro-life Republican. I’ll go on talk shows and say, “Well, Rush, the mistake made by the *old* evangelical pro-life Republicans was that they relied for their ideas on a 2000 year old novel written by misogynist barbarians. The *new* evangelical pro-life Republican says that if you want to spend your free time appeasing an invisible racist celestial ghost, go right ahead, fool, but put a sock in it in the public arena. Also, we now assert that scientific method is an excellent way to ascertain facts. Also, we now assert that women and brown people are fully human. In fact, the new evangelical pro-life vision is the overthrow of the patriarchal order.”
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Posted in Funny Stuff, linkage, outrage
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Posted in Funny Stuff, Pop Culture
This is quite possibly the funniest thing I have read all year:
I dare anybody to keep a straight face who darkens the stoop of the Sparkman/Hillcrest Funeral Home, Mausoleum, and Memorial Park. You wouldn’t believe this joint. It was like the set designers from Twin Peaks and Napoleon Dynamite had fused with Elvis Presley’s interior decorator and been reborn as Liberace’s angst-ridden evil twin, who then suffered a psychotic break, and bought up the world’s supply of harvest gold flocked wallpaper, brass upholstery tacks, and fake oak paneling, and ate it all with fava beans and a nice Chianti, and then puked it up all over the living room from Sartre’s No Exit.
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Posted in Funny Stuff, linkage
OK, this has already been posted everywhere, but on the off-chance that you haven’t seen it yet, SEE IT NOW:
(If you haven’t seen the Obama video of which this is a spoof, you can watch that here.)
The Hatchling is now officially word-crazy, having added such words and phrases as “Go, Car, Go!” (a favorite book), “feet” (sounds like ‘phweet!’), shoe, nose, Oma, down, outside, all done and cookie to her ever-burgeoning vocabulary. Two cute things about that: one, she’s developed a pattern of asking what a thing is, and then once you tell her, she waves at it and says “hi.” It goes like this:
Hatchling: ‘Sat? ‘sat? ‘sat? (what’s that?)
Squab: That’s your baby-doll.
Hatchling (face lighting up): Hiiiiiiii, beee! (“Bee” is how she says “baby.”)
Two, she’s lately started calling Mr. Squab “D.” She’s perfectly capable of saying “Daddy” – it’s one of her few two syllable words – but apparently she’s now too hip and cool for that. So when Mr. Squab gets home, she’s all, “Hiiiiiii, D! Hiiiiiii, D! Hiiiiiii, D!” Which is, you know. Pretty cute.
But. Proud as we are of her increasing linguistic abilities, she’s recently manifested a skill that eclipses even speech in her father’s eyes. To wit: yesterday, her cousin, E, was spending the day with her and my mom. E, like Mr. Squab, likey the video games, and usually when he comes over he spends a good chunk of time on the Wii or the PS3. In the afternoon he took a break for lunch or something and after a while he and Oma heard odd noises from the TV in the living room. The TV itself was off, but the Hatchling had gotten hold of the PS3 controller, turned on the game system, and – blind – started “playing” a race-car game that Mr. Squab recently downloaded. “When we turned the TV on, she was on level 4,” reported E. “I haven’t even hit level 4 yet!”
I admit that I’m not quite sure whether to be impressed or slightly horrified by this, but Mr. Squab has no such dilemma. “That’s my girl,” he responded when we came home last evening from ECFE and the Hatchling plopped herself down in her toddler-sized chair, demanded the controller, and turned on the PS3 again.
“That’s my girl.”
OK, readers. I’m about to inaugurate my first blog challenge. This challenge was initiated by this post from Eric with a C, who just happens to be the man who took yours truly to the senior prom. The year was 1989. The fashions were … truly outrageous. Truly, truly, truly outrageous. Are you brave enough to look? ARE YOU BRAVE ENOUGH TO POST YOUR PROM PICS IN RETURN? The gauntlet has been thrown down, y’all.
Here’s me and my lovely escort (my dad was taking the pictures from crazy American Bandstand-style angles):
Note the mullet. Note the tails (those were my request). Note the randomly bridal ensemble I chose to sport. Good times!
Here’s the whole group I went with:
The short one on the left is my youngest brother, who was standing in as my best girlfriend’s “date” since she was going stag. Questions to ponder: Why am I the only one not wearing royal blue? Why did I feel like I was totally fat in high school? (That might be a topic for another post.) Why are both my date and I making bunny teeth? (Click for the bigger version to see.) Why does anyone ever wear a white tux?
So there you have it. Me in all my high-school glory. Please link to your photos in comments. IF YOU DARE.
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Posted in Funny Stuff, good times
