On the last day of vacation bible school, every child got a paperback Bible, which Rufus brought home and has been reading and studying all day.
Rufus: "I've found my favorite Psalm."
Fatty: "Which one?"
R: "Number 117."
F: "Why is that your favorite?"
R: "Because it's the shortest."
Friday, June 08, 2007
Fatty's Note to Self #608
Sometimes I need little reminders in life, so I don't go around making the same mistakes over and over and over, which I think is the definition of insanity...performing the same action but expecting different results? So, I have a new posting tradition, to go along with Wisdom of Rufus, Boudreaux on the Road, and Fatty Ponders: "Fatty's Notes to Self." These are just little things I should review every once in a while, since my brain has the capacity of a rotten cherry tomato.
In-aw-gerr-all Fatty's Note to Self:
Be aware of what you are wearing when taking kids to Vacation Bible School.
Perhaps "PeetyPeekers.com" t-shirt is not the best choice.
In-aw-gerr-all Fatty's Note to Self:
Be aware of what you are wearing when taking kids to Vacation Bible School.
Perhaps "PeetyPeekers.com" t-shirt is not the best choice.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
WHIRLED PEAS!
The bestest birthday present EVER: my baby likes green peas! She and her Mama are the only ones in this little house that love them some peas. Buy 'em in those new fangled steam-em-in-the-bag-just-pop-em-in-the-microwave sacks, smear on a little Buttery Spread, sprinkle around a little sea salt, and CHOW DOWN.
Don't be laughing at my peas, Buttery Spread, and sea salt. I have to save all my bad eatin' and drinkin' karma for my visits with family...
Nine Years Old. Holy Cow.
This is the same little chubby punkin that used to obsess over Thomas the Tank, dance to Elmo's World, put himself in the corner when he decided he needed a time out, and love love love his Mama something fierce! Of course, way back then, he didn't have to share me with all these other people that the gypsies done left on our door step.
Thank God this first one was easy. Someone knew that I needed lots of training to learn something about being a mother...I still don't feel like I know much.
(After all, I'm only 25, remember?!?)
After the Swim, a Facial
The best follow-up for an immunotherapy session in the blue Wal-Mart East Texus pool? A "Buttery Flavored Spread" facial. No transfats, no cholesterol, excellent eyelash conditioner.
Here KITTY KITTY!
Yo Mama saw the Gooz crawl up to the cat bowl and take a drink. No, I do not encourage this behavior, but like her Mama, this child LOVES the water and she loves her some kitties. These are good things, because she's going to have to take care of me when I am 107 and have 48 cats swirling around my house and spend every afternoon skinny dipping my saggy ass in one of those blue Wal-Mart East Texus pools in the front yard of the nursing home.
So we were putting up our current blue Wal-Mart East Texus pool, and she was being a big helper. When all that work made my girl thirsty, she just bent down and got herself a little sip-a-roo. Bacteria? E-coli? Snake skins? Dog vomit? No worries! Just a little immune system training.
Key difference between first-time Mamas and third-time Mamas: I just let her get in fully clothed, not wanting to bother with swim diapers and swim suits and all that crap.
Here Comes the Chief
This child, precious and sweet and smart boy that he is, will either end up as the President or will end up in the clink...check out the look on his face. I Tappa Keg, here he comes.
Wisdom of Rufus #607
(How Could You Go to the Zoo and Not Get Some Wisdom?)
Today was Boudreaux's NINTH BIRTHDAY! Holy crap?!? How did he get nine years older when I am still a spry and limber 25 years old?!? Move over virgin birth! I've got a new miracle to proclaim: I ain't growin' up!
So on to our story...
For Boudreaux's birthday, we went to the zoo. There we were, in front of the tiger cage, at the very end of our lengthy visit. One male tiger was in front of us and turned around to go to the back of the cage.
Rufus: "What is that on his back?"
Bumpus, immediately sensing danger: "Stripes."
R: "No, I mean at the end of his tale."
B: "He has stripes all the way to the end of his tail."
R, persistent: "No, I mean at the other end of his tail, near the top, right under his tale...sticking out just underneath his tail."
Bumpus gets it over with: "That's his junk."
Fatty, singing to The Black Eyed Peas, along with some sort of little shuffling dance movement: "Hey Tiger, whatcha gonna do? whatcha gonna do with all that junk? all that junk outside yo trunk?"
Rufus, in his own wisdom: "We shouldn't discuss this topic in public any more."
So on to our story...
For Boudreaux's birthday, we went to the zoo. There we were, in front of the tiger cage, at the very end of our lengthy visit. One male tiger was in front of us and turned around to go to the back of the cage.
Rufus: "What is that on his back?"
Bumpus, immediately sensing danger: "Stripes."
R: "No, I mean at the end of his tale."
B: "He has stripes all the way to the end of his tail."
R, persistent: "No, I mean at the other end of his tail, near the top, right under his tale...sticking out just underneath his tail."
Bumpus gets it over with: "That's his junk."
Fatty, singing to The Black Eyed Peas, along with some sort of little shuffling dance movement: "Hey Tiger, whatcha gonna do? whatcha gonna do with all that junk? all that junk outside yo trunk?"
Rufus, in his own wisdom: "We shouldn't discuss this topic in public any more."
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Fatty Ponders: My Crapper Phase Orbit #7,842
Bumpus and I were just lounging about, reviewing the videos recently posted here. I have some sort of mental defect because every time I see the cat at the end of the talking cats video...the one that says "Oh Don Piano," I start laughing hysterically. I showed the videos to the little boys and just like an idiot kept saying "Just wait! Just wait 'til you see the one at the end who says all this funny stuff!" Of course, when we got to that part, I started laughing hysterically again. The boys just looked at me like I had lost my mind. They DID laugh at the cat poop though.
The last time I had this level of hysteria over something no one else found funny was when I was pregnant with Boudreaux. Any time I heard the word fundus I would start giggling uncontrollably. It all started one night when I tried it as a pickup line on Bumpus..."wanna check out my fundus?" And the look of utter confusion on his face made me laugh so hard that I almost wet my pants. That was BEFORE I had delivered 3 kids. Now I have to be much more judicious about peeing in the loo before I have a fit of hysterical dribbles...I mean giggles.
Anyway, I've wandered off topic. So Bumpus and I were watching all these videos, especially the more recent ones about cats pooping and training cats to use the toilet. He silently reviewed these along with the loverly Bart Simpson booty-ho tattoo (which Bumpus found while tinkering around online, by the way). And he turns to me and comments: "Boy, you've certainly hit a low in your blog topics. All you talk about is butts and poop."
I had to consider that for a moment, because he's right. It certainly isn't very attractive, and I DO have enough butts and poop in my life as it is. After some con-tim-play-shun, I done decided that I must be like an artist. You know how an artist will go through phases in his work where he concentrates on certain color or shapes or media?
"Oh, that's from his blue phase!"
"This work is from his cubist phase."
"And here, he was in his toilet rolls and copper wiring phase."
So, I've realized that I must have just been in my crapper phase...which I tend to be in with some regularity (yes, that pun is intended)...so maybe it's more like a crapper orbit...I'll have to continue pondering that...
The last time I had this level of hysteria over something no one else found funny was when I was pregnant with Boudreaux. Any time I heard the word fundus I would start giggling uncontrollably. It all started one night when I tried it as a pickup line on Bumpus..."wanna check out my fundus?" And the look of utter confusion on his face made me laugh so hard that I almost wet my pants. That was BEFORE I had delivered 3 kids. Now I have to be much more judicious about peeing in the loo before I have a fit of hysterical dribbles...I mean giggles.
Anyway, I've wandered off topic. So Bumpus and I were watching all these videos, especially the more recent ones about cats pooping and training cats to use the toilet. He silently reviewed these along with the loverly Bart Simpson booty-ho tattoo (which Bumpus found while tinkering around online, by the way). And he turns to me and comments: "Boy, you've certainly hit a low in your blog topics. All you talk about is butts and poop."
I had to consider that for a moment, because he's right. It certainly isn't very attractive, and I DO have enough butts and poop in my life as it is. After some con-tim-play-shun, I done decided that I must be like an artist. You know how an artist will go through phases in his work where he concentrates on certain color or shapes or media?
"Oh, that's from his blue phase!"
"This work is from his cubist phase."
"And here, he was in his toilet rolls and copper wiring phase."
So, I've realized that I must have just been in my crapper phase...which I tend to be in with some regularity (yes, that pun is intended)...so maybe it's more like a crapper orbit...I'll have to continue pondering that...
The Adventures of Bumpus in the Elevator
Last week, Bumpus was taking the elevator from the third (top) floor of his high rise megaplex down to the basement. No, that is not some sort of metaphor for kinkiness.
Third floor:
Three people enter the elevator: Bumpus and two youngsters (20-ish), one female and one male. The latter is wearing a shirt that says "I love my wiener."
Second floor:
Another young male is waiting as the doors open. Upon seeing the shirt, he guffaws and says, "Funny shirt! But it would be even better if SHE were the one who was loving your wiener."
First floor:
Doors open and the two young guys disembark.
Doors close on the way to the basement:
Young woman deadpans, "Apparently he thought I knew that guy."
Do you love your wiener?
PS: Don't trust that "Click to enlarge" crap. Bumpus tried that on me and it doesn't mean what you think it means...
Added Later: Good Lord! I can't even spell WIENER properly when it's right in front of my damned face (as in on the "I love my weiner" sign above)! Now I've corrected it...Did I fail 5th grade, cat crap?
Added Even Later than That: Good Lord Part II! Different web sites spell WEINER WIENER different ways! Here's one. And another, for example. SO?!? Which witch is which?!? Now I'll have write it both ways from now on, leading me to develop a new tic. WEINER/WIENER CHICKEN DINNER.
Okay, My Final Addition and Then I am LETTING IT GO (tic tic): So now, I have put it back the way I had it before ("wiener"). Dictionary.com says that the right spelling is wiener. At least that's the way you spell the wiener that means hot dog and (GASP!) is slang for "penis"? Who knew?!? By contrast, "Weiner" is in Arkansas. Funny. I thought he moved to New York... (Of course, I couldn't resist that. It was just there for the taking.)
Wisdom of Rufus #606
Rufus is attending vacation Bible school this week and recently announced at dinner...
"Jesus is everywhere! Which means that right now, he is in my underwear, sitting right next to my peety."
I guess Rufus was feeling the Spirit within him.
"Jesus is everywhere! Which means that right now, he is in my underwear, sitting right next to my peety."
I guess Rufus was feeling the Spirit within him.
Boudreaux Collides with Rufus on the Road to RU
Rufus: "Goozie is a hottie."
Boudreaux: "No, she's not. She's cute, which, when compared to the development of a butterfly, is like the cocoon phase of being a hottie."
Rufus: "Sort of like a Hottie in Training?"
Boudreaux: "No, she's not. She's cute, which, when compared to the development of a butterfly, is like the cocoon phase of being a hottie."
Rufus: "Sort of like a Hottie in Training?"
Monday, June 04, 2007
How I Spent My Summer, Part IV
That cat had a way bigger bladder than I do...
What the hell are they feeding Nunchi? Fiber pills and cabbage?
Friday, June 01, 2007
How I Spent My Summer, Part I:
Contemplating a New Tattoo
What is that red stuff in the center of this guy's belly button?
And won't it look even grosser when Bart's booty is all hairy after the shave wears off?
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