Looks like a picture card, don't it
Originally uploaded by Annie Kaint Work No Mo.
Sur is prettie mos ever nite at this plase, jes makes u wanna stay 4-ever.
Yo Mama duz luv them sunsets
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Sunsets a-plenty to share down here
Looks like a picture card, don't it
Originally uploaded by Annie Kaint Work No Mo.
Mitely pritty to my ayes
Christmas Lighthouse
Originally uploaded by Annie Kaint Work No Mo.
A site to see, lotsa lites at this croquet camp. Sur is pretty ever nite. Guess tomorrey them folks b takin em all away.
Yo Mama likes these pretty lites.
Christmas Presents is serius bizness
Sure woodnot put my hand n-e wher neer
Originally uploaded by Annie Kaint Work No Mo.
Miss Lucy don't want no-body a-messin with her private presents. She gits em and runs with em til they runs out. What fun she did have with all that stuff. Had lotsa treats bagged up and she ate and ate til them was all gone.
She luvs to eat lots like Yo Mama duz.
Jes did you ever ..............??
Lucy the Queen
Originally uploaded by Annie Kaint Work No Mo.
Ain't this jes the mos dignifiet annie-mal you ever did c? She jes luves b-n
so b-u-tea-ful and all these folks here at the croquet palace sez they just never did c n-e-thing quite like it. Do U think they mite be stretchin
the truth a bit.
Yo Mama and her Papa luv her no matter what she mite be a-wearin.
Christmas Traylor a-floating
Annie J Christmas 2005
Originally uploaded by Annie Kaint Work No Mo.
A peaceful Christmas, wish you had all been right here with us. Yo Mama duz miss them chillens.
Friday, December 23, 2005
I Reckin' I Should Be Nice...
...now that the cookies are baked and decorated, the gifts are wrapped, and the dinner is fully planned (and shall, after all is said and done, be easy to get on the table). So here are some pretty pictures that I took as part of Bumpus's Christmas present. I had them framed for his office at the gas station.
Since I'm sighing in relief and being nice, I guess I shouldn't tell the story about how a friend of Rufus's brought over some chocolate chip cookies this afternoon and when Rufus ate one, he exclaimed, "WOW! These cookies are so good that I want Ashton's Mom to be my #1 Mom! And from now on, Mama, you can be my step mom!" Yes, since I'm being nice, I'll save that story for later...
Since I'm sighing in relief and being nice, I guess I shouldn't tell the story about how a friend of Rufus's brought over some chocolate chip cookies this afternoon and when Rufus ate one, he exclaimed, "WOW! These cookies are so good that I want Ashton's Mom to be my #1 Mom! And from now on, Mama, you can be my step mom!" Yes, since I'm being nice, I'll save that story for later...
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
And on This Yuletide Season, It Occurs to Me...
...that I SUCK at wrapping presents of any sort. Even those expensive gift bags cannot save me from the gift looking like a hippo sat on it and then a three-legged bulldog with advanced cataracts applied the tape.
...that, in fact, I really don't much like baking cookies.
...that my obsessive need to scream "Merry F-ING Christmas, You Stupid Domps!" gets worse with each year of my advancing age. Next year, I may actually lose control and do this in public.
...that the blissful time of our holy advent (B'hai, may the joy of Festivus ring in all nations of the world) actually has the same effect as smoking crack on the brains of young boys who live in East Texus. Rufus especially has been in a manic stage of holiday overdrive ever since we cut out his Joseph beard early last week.
...that achieving some sort of nirvana-like balance between (1) perpetuating the bird-flu-like Xmas Fever and (2) turning into a stark-raving- autocratic-finger-wagging-lecture-giving--coal-in-your-stocking-threatening-bossy-ass-MOTHER-FROM-HELL is actually impossible. Soon I must either give into the wild side or get out my jackboots.
...that, in fact, I really don't much like baking cookies.
...that my obsessive need to scream "Merry F-ING Christmas, You Stupid Domps!" gets worse with each year of my advancing age. Next year, I may actually lose control and do this in public.
...that the blissful time of our holy advent (B'hai, may the joy of Festivus ring in all nations of the world) actually has the same effect as smoking crack on the brains of young boys who live in East Texus. Rufus especially has been in a manic stage of holiday overdrive ever since we cut out his Joseph beard early last week.
...that achieving some sort of nirvana-like balance between (1) perpetuating the bird-flu-like Xmas Fever and (2) turning into a stark-raving- autocratic-finger-wagging-lecture-giving--coal-in-your-stocking-threatening-bossy-ass-MOTHER-FROM-HELL is actually impossible. Soon I must either give into the wild side or get out my jackboots.
Monday, December 12, 2005
But What Does It Taste Like?
Overheard at El Casa del Fatty y Bumpus
...Let's skip the details and just say
1. It was family movie night.
2. Someone had eaten something that didn't agree with him.
3. It was silent but deadly.
Now the scene is set.
Boudreaux: EEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW What is that SMELL?
Rufus: Alright, who did it?
Boudreax: It kind of smells like burnt popcorn.
Rufus: After you get used to it, it's actually not so bad! In fact, I kind of like it.
1. It was family movie night.
2. Someone had eaten something that didn't agree with him.
3. It was silent but deadly.
Now the scene is set.
Boudreaux: EEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW What is that SMELL?
Rufus: Alright, who did it?
Boudreax: It kind of smells like burnt popcorn.
Rufus: After you get used to it, it's actually not so bad! In fact, I kind of like it.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Who Needs a Star on Top When You've Got ME!!!
I'm Just Looking for Santa
Yes, it does appear that there is another psychotic feline in our household. Alley's new favorite pastime is to climb up the Christmas tree and perch on the very top. She also likes to chew off the branches and lights (I'm so glad I chose this year to purchase a new tree). I'm a checkin flights to Fla. to send her back to her REAL parents so watch out Lucy, you never know what you might be getting for Christmas!!!
Monday, December 05, 2005
How Old Is Old Enough ?????????
So ........... I went with the Kaptain to the Veterans Admn. which is located some 1 1/2 hours from my not-boarded-up home, to visit the United States Government Medical gurus re: annual eye checkup. We arrived in the rain, parked in the U. S. Government parking lot, walked the golden path, rode the elevator, checked in, sat in the waiting room until The Name was called. At that point we went down the hall and had an interview with a nice young lady technician and the Kaptain proceeded to tell her the story of his life and how he was recently commodore of That Club and how his boat is at another club where he used to be on The Board, and how we are returning to said club tomorrow. The Best News was that he didn't tell her all about his ex-wives and how many there were and how many are alive and how many are dead and how he doesn't know what happened to some of them. Then we went back to a waiting room and waited with the same gentlemen who had been in waiting room #1. After a while The Name was again called and we went to a doctor's office where they dialated his eyes and inspected him well and he proceeded to share all the previously mentioned information (known in FL family circles as: TMI aka too much information). He then expounded on all his medical history, arm, shoulder, hip twice, what the last eye exam 3 weeks ago in FLL showed, etc. etc. etc. FINALLY it was time to go but he couldn't see since his eyes were dialated so I was happy to get behind the wheel of the Forbidden Car Because I Might Wreck It. I started the motor, put it in gear, pulled out of the parking space and reached for the windshield wiper nob and was told YOU CAN'T DRIVE AND OPERATE THE WINDSHIELD WIPER AT THE SAME TIME SO I WILL DO IT.
NOW; I am almost 68 years old. I have been operating windshield wipers since I got my drivers license at the age of 14. That makes it almost 54 years I've been driving and operating a windshield wiper at the same time. MIND YOU - not a cell phone, no changing my shoes and socks while driving, not writing notes on paper, not setting radio stations ..... JUST PLAIN OLD DRIVING AND RUNNING THE WINDSHIELD WIPER.
Yo Mama is demanding family vote describing my ability to do the above. I will be sitting by the computer waiting.
NOW; I am almost 68 years old. I have been operating windshield wipers since I got my drivers license at the age of 14. That makes it almost 54 years I've been driving and operating a windshield wiper at the same time. MIND YOU - not a cell phone, no changing my shoes and socks while driving, not writing notes on paper, not setting radio stations ..... JUST PLAIN OLD DRIVING AND RUNNING THE WINDSHIELD WIPER.
Yo Mama is demanding family vote describing my ability to do the above. I will be sitting by the computer waiting.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Big Brown Curly Noodles
Here's some Noodles for the Kapitan
You tell the Kapitan that he had better cool his jets or you might just be servin him up a big bowl of these noodles!!! If you want the recipe, just go to the website listed on this lovely photo!!
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Something New at the Basketball Game
As a little background to this story, we had stopped at the Arches from Hell on the way to a basketball game at the special school. The AfH are in one of their modes where they ask if the little snot-nosed fatty who will be receiving the meal is a boy or girl. Well, we took stock of the situation, and I replied that, although they bear more resemblance to Laborador puppies, we did in fact have two human boy childrens in the vehicle.
Of course, we got one boy toy and one girl toy (some sort of mermaid doll...since all I know in my house is testosterone and neutered hounds from hell, I don't study these things). The elder dealt with the news of his mis-gender-identified toy well, and I told him that on the way home, if the AfH wasn't too busy, I would go back through the drive-around and trade it in. Case closed.
Now jump forward an hour to the basketball game.
The special school has a history of prefering big stinky boys in overalls to lead the yelling and has never actually had little stinky girls in obscenely short skirts shaking their coochies for entertainment during sporting events. But a few years ago a group of intrepid envelope pushers decided they would start a dance team to perform at the basketball games. They are cute girls and, I am sure, pure as the driven snow and they work hard at being like the Dallas Cowboy Cheerheffers for not much reward. About 6 out of the 2,000 in attendance clapped four times then the routine was over. In general, I feel sorry for them and try to be supportive, even though their shirts need to be about six inches longer.
Well, Boudreaux and Rufus, having only been to football and baseball games at the special school before, had never seen this hoo-rahing parade of jigglybits. This was a new experience for them.
Half way through the first performance, Rufus looks over at Boudreaux and yells (loud enough to be heard over the music):
"YOU NEED TO COME TO SCHOOL HERE AND GET YOU ONE OF THEM COLLEGE GIRLS SO YOU CAN GIVE HER THAT TOY OUT OF YOUR HAPPY MEAL."
Well, that idea wasn't popular since the junior hormones in my house are hyped up about gameboys and warped cartoons, not about girls. Boudreaux basically ignored him.
During the second high energy hip-shaking performance, Rufus was busily shoving fistfulls of peanut M&M's in his mouth when he suddenly paused and, looking sort of woosy, turned my direction.
"What's wrong?" I asked innocently.
At this point, he started laughing hysterically, mouth hanging wide open and looking like it was full of GARBAGE because of all those little candy pieces of various colors being mixed, half eaten, together in his gaping orafice.
"I'm embarrassed" was his reply.
"Why?" I asked, "Because you decided that the dancing girls are pretty?"
"Naw," he answered, "because I thought I was going to barf just watching them."
Of course, we got one boy toy and one girl toy (some sort of mermaid doll...since all I know in my house is testosterone and neutered hounds from hell, I don't study these things). The elder dealt with the news of his mis-gender-identified toy well, and I told him that on the way home, if the AfH wasn't too busy, I would go back through the drive-around and trade it in. Case closed.
Now jump forward an hour to the basketball game.
The special school has a history of prefering big stinky boys in overalls to lead the yelling and has never actually had little stinky girls in obscenely short skirts shaking their coochies for entertainment during sporting events. But a few years ago a group of intrepid envelope pushers decided they would start a dance team to perform at the basketball games. They are cute girls and, I am sure, pure as the driven snow and they work hard at being like the Dallas Cowboy Cheerheffers for not much reward. About 6 out of the 2,000 in attendance clapped four times then the routine was over. In general, I feel sorry for them and try to be supportive, even though their shirts need to be about six inches longer.
Well, Boudreaux and Rufus, having only been to football and baseball games at the special school before, had never seen this hoo-rahing parade of jigglybits. This was a new experience for them.
Half way through the first performance, Rufus looks over at Boudreaux and yells (loud enough to be heard over the music):
"YOU NEED TO COME TO SCHOOL HERE AND GET YOU ONE OF THEM COLLEGE GIRLS SO YOU CAN GIVE HER THAT TOY OUT OF YOUR HAPPY MEAL."
Well, that idea wasn't popular since the junior hormones in my house are hyped up about gameboys and warped cartoons, not about girls. Boudreaux basically ignored him.
During the second high energy hip-shaking performance, Rufus was busily shoving fistfulls of peanut M&M's in his mouth when he suddenly paused and, looking sort of woosy, turned my direction.
"What's wrong?" I asked innocently.
At this point, he started laughing hysterically, mouth hanging wide open and looking like it was full of GARBAGE because of all those little candy pieces of various colors being mixed, half eaten, together in his gaping orafice.
"I'm embarrassed" was his reply.
"Why?" I asked, "Because you decided that the dancing girls are pretty?"
"Naw," he answered, "because I thought I was going to barf just watching them."
N O O D L E S spells noodles, don't it?
Yo Mama thinks she B losing her mind
Originally uploaded by Annie Kaint Work No Mo.
Las time Yo Mama checked it out, a word spelt n-o-o-d-l-e-s pertaint to sum stuff that mos folks eat in soup, often chicken. Now .... the kaptain said he wood eat sum noodle soup with chicky in it so I couldn't/woodn't git 2 enjoy it ALL BY MYSELF. So, I fixt the d--- stuff, even put sum chicky n it. So then he announced he NEVER eats soup with a sandwich. He wood have the soup first and then his hot grilled cheese sandwich. So we sits down to n-joy this epicurian delite and he seys, "what is this". Yo Mama tole him it b noodles soup with chicky n it. He seys theys NOT noodles. I thot I was a-hearin things. NOT NOODLES? I runned to the galley and did a quik read of the package and it sure did sey NOODLES. He seys they is WRONG, WRONG, WRONG. Why O why, I had the stupidity to ask. And he seys, "B-kause noodles is STRAIGHT and these things are CURLY. So they are NOT what you sed, NOODLES. We ate in silence and then I went bak down them stares and cooket that sandwich. Then I took sum advil and checket on my bar supply 4 the evening. Whew! Kan curly things b noodles? Taters kan b strate or curlie. Why kaint noodles? He seys he likes Lipton dried noodle soup cause them noodles are strate. Yo Mama is thinkin bout jes takin 2 my bed til the cuming hollerday is over.
Don't U think I shud? Then I kan git my foot fixed an have lotsa drugs to keep me happy 4 a while.
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