Feed the Monkey, Watch Him ____.

At some point the Ba'hai of a good old "Karma done come around the corner and give you a taste of your own medicine" always kicks in. You may escape it for a good long while, but eventually it creeps up on you just like a pair of K-mart drawers that done shrunk up two sizes in the dryer.

A sum total of many previous discussions collided in a big cosmic bang of karma bitin' today:

Factor #1:
Chili days.
No one in my family ever wants to eat the same thing at the same time, so when I make a big ol crock pot of chili and beans, no one else will eat it but me. So it's 102 degrees outside? Turn down the AC and get me a spoon. So you know what happens when you've been eating chili and beans for three meals a day for three days.

Factor #1A:
Genetics.
My family has a lot of gas, from pull-my-finger-Dad to whew!-then-I-looked-at-that-lady-behind-me-in-the-line-at-Dillard's-like-she-did-it-Mom, we are all literally and metaphorically "full of beans."

Factor #2:
Walter.
If you have read the book that I posted as my first FBC selection, then no further explanation is necessary.

Factor #3:
Aunt Kreenel.
Aunt Kreenel, we love you. You are smart and you never talk down to my two little pink necks. You may not be fully aware of the duration and capacity for detail that the youngest possesses. He is truly the grandson of Lumpy Bananabrain.

Factor #4:
Air temperature.
Did you ever notice that methane (that would be "rectal flatulence" to you, Walter) smells worse when the air is warmer? I have a whole list of questions about toots, just waiting on the right expert to answer. That's a whole other discussion.

Factor #5:
Human growth patterns.
Rufus is now about 42 inches tall, which makes him too short to ride the Texas Titan, but just the right height for his nose to reach the business end of my booty when he gives me one of his big ol Rufus monster-leg-gripping-hug-o-fames from the back.

Factor #6:
Keep track of Mama.
Children under the age of 5 must always, at every moment, know the location of she-who-provides-the-chocolate-Ovaltine. Any attempt to go to the bathroom, talk on the phone, or take something up to the storage room will be immediately sabotaged.

Slam factors #1-6 together an here is what you get:

Today, I had to take something up to the storage room, which is over the garage and always a warm, muggy place in the summer. While up there--presumably by myself, I might add--I might have had to come to terms with the consequences a diet of chili and beans. So I "let it fly" and turned to set down what I was carrying.

Next thing I know, Rufus has run up the stairs, pretending to chase the cat, but really just making sure that I haven't endangered my Ovaltine-stirring hand. He runs three steps past me, stops, and says,

"Who farted?"

"Might have been me," I mumbled.

He turns around, runs up behind me, throws his arms around my legs in a death grip, hugs me tight, and sticks his nose right at ground zero...

"What are you doing?!?" I asked.

"Checking to see if that smell came out of your rectal cavity."

"Well, what do you think?"

"I think you need to put on new underwear."

Note to Jack......

When dealing when a thermometer and various body cavities, it is important to remember that if it has been inserted into the rectal cavity, it is a good idea to WASH it before inserting it into the oral cavity.

Love,

Aunt Choc, D.D.S.

School is Out and Life SUCKS!!!!

The Title Says It All...........

The Wisdom of Rufus #402

You have at least two cavities:
An oral cavity and a rectal cavity.

When the doctor asks which
to put the thermometer in,
You better go for one up top.

Yes, Rufus is really 4, and yes, he really told someone this today.

NOTE to AUNT KREENEL:
I WILL SEND HIS PRE-SCHOOL TEACHER YOUR CONTACT INFORMATION FOR FURTHER DISCUSSION.

Toe Knee Chest Nut

Yesterday was Boudreaux's end-of-the-year-gather-all-the-parents-and-little-screamin'-snot-nosed-siblings-and-sit-in-the-auditorium-while-we-entertain-you-with-Raffi-originals program at school. The first musical number is now stuck in my head and I have been walking around singing it for 28.45 hours, yes, even in my sleep.

Pick your tune and sing along:

Toe knee chest nut nose eye love you.
Toe knee knows.
Toe knee know.

Toe knee chest nut nose I love you.
Only toe knee nose.

Toe knee, toe knee
and his sister, I lean
And I lean loves kneel
and kneel loves pat
but pat still loves bob.

And there's russel and skip
this song is silly, but it's hip
How it ends, just one man knows
And guess what?
It's Toe Knee Chest Nut.

Happy Birthday to ME.

http://www.thecauldronshop.com/product.php?cid=18&p=4

I just bought myself one of these shirts. Unfortunately, they do not come in Rufus and Boudreaux sizes. Looks like it's time get out the iron-on supplies.

Chapter 5: It was a Dark and Steamy Night

camping_fever
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

Last weekend we took the pop-a-top and crossed the cultural boundaries of Interstate 35 in order to do some camping at Perdinales (that's perty-nah-lees for you east Texans) Falls State Park. Last week, the daily high temps were in the mid-80's. Saturday it was 102 degrees at the park. Thank the lord we had ice cold beverages, although we were sternly warned against displaying or consuming them in public. That's why god invented those little teeny brown paper bags anyway, right?

Damn skippy and ba'hai.

Although I didn't take an snazzy pictures of the Devil Dog on this trip (it was at the pound...I mean VET...anyway), I do have the following to offer:

Fatty's Top 6 Lessons Learned on the Perty-Nah-Lees Trip

1. Chocolate sheet cake doesn't stay solid in temperatures over 96 degrees.
   
2. "River shoes" aren't just a summer fashion statement. They are actually a NECESSITY to avoid slick rocks and hot sand.
   
3. Some kind of dragonfly larva lives under water, even in fast-moving rivers with rapids, and likes to bite unsuspecting tourists on the butts.
   
4. Ours is the only renegade pop-up on earth without a built-in air-conditioner.
   
5. Travel bingo is much more fun if you yell a lot while playing it.
   
6. Small boys like one thing even better than throwing rocks: peeing on the campfire to make a large hissing plume of stinky steam.
   

Too Many TV Commercials, Perhaps?

I asked one of the boys what he would like for his birthday, and his reponse was this: "an XYZ set, batteries not included, some parts sold separately, not a good choice for children under 3 years old."

DEAR MAMA: This is Elyse

DEAR MAMA: This is Elyse
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

Mama, I recently sent you an email that started off with "Poor Buford. That Elyse should learn to keep her pants on." You emailed me back, saying "Who are Buford and Elyse?"

This picture is what I was talking about. You sent me this picture.

The Wisdom of Rufus #401

You get what you get,
and you don't throw a fit.

I Dream of the Queen

Dreams-of-the-Queen
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

But for dinner tonight, I had a Shiner Bock, some peanuts, and a granola bar.

Mam-rees, Light the Corners of My Mind...

Come 'ere, Honey
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

In the infinite wisdom I have developed over almost seven lengthy years of motherhood, precious few truths have revealed themselves to me. One of them is that, once little boys turn about three years old, it's pretty smart to not walk around neck-ed in front of them, because they'll start asking all sorts of can-o-worm-opening questions about parts and hair and other things.

Since Rufus, the younger, is now four, I make it a habit to close the bathroom door when I shower. I cannot lock it, however, just in case one of the boys stabs the other one or sets fire to the dog or makes the toilet explode. I want to know the emergency vehicles and the aw-thor-ities are here.

So two days ago, Rufus comes busting into the bathroom while I was in the shower (glass door, thankfully steamed up). I gracefully turned so that all he was seeing was my lovely sideshot and all privates and R-rated areas were hidden, then I swiped a hand to clear the steam off the door at my eye level so I could make sure that he still had both eyes and all 12 fingers and to hear what his request might be. After I answered his question, he started to leave the bathroom but then stopped and turned back around.

He says to me, "Hey Mama..."
"What?"
"Show me yer boobies."
"Do what?!"
"I said 'Show me yer boobies."
"What are you talkin' about?"
"Come on, just one little peek."

I told the little pervert no thank you and to go on and get outta there. Later, I went to Bumpus, seeking sage advice on how set that boy right, how to raise up a freaky boobie-lovin' peekin' Tom Rufus up to be a nice smart gentleman, but Bumpus's response (of course, what else should I have expected?) was "That's my boy."

Forget Oprah: Fatty's Book Club, Selection #1

Filled with tear-jerkin' tension, symbolism of the marginalized maloderous, and plenty of good old fashioned burglin'.


Fatty's Book Club, Selection #1