Remember how your grandma always got you something sort of like what you wanted, but not the real thing you wanted? If you asked for one of those new sweaters at the mall, she’d knit you one. If you wanted a Barbie doll, Grandma bought you Kelly, Barbie’s little sister. When you asked for a Harry Potter book, she got you one of those crappy C.S. Lewis novels instead. What will Grandma do when you ask for heroin?
If laughing at this is wrong, I don’t want to be right!
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My friend Tim shared a hilarious bit of news from my neck of the woods this week. Yes, only in Florida will an old biddy call the police because her neighbor “stole” from her. 
The big heist? A single tangerine from the lady’s fruit tree. Ruth Snow (ain’t she a looker?) was working on a jigsaw puzzle when she saw her neighbor, Italo Tomaselli, walk to her tangerine tree and pluck off a piece of fruit. Apparently, Italo (who is 80 years old) has been helping himself to Ruth’s sweet, sweet fruit (ha!) for years, and Ruth (who is 81) had enough. In fact, she was so bitter, that she cut DOWN several of her own trees to prevent her neighbor from stealing any of her fruit. (Surely she’s heard of the phrase, cutting off your nose to spite your face?)
Tomaselli admits he was in the wrong. Ruth, proving she’s a hag right to the end, said she wants to see his butt in a sling. Very neighborly! I see a lot of fruit theft in her future, considering her name and address, as well as her spiteful actions, have been broadcast all over the news. She just made herself a HUGE target….karma, baby!
In her spare time, Ruth enjoys driving slow in the fast lane, and confiscating baseballs and footballs that land in her yard.
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I came across this site on StumbleUpon tonight, and as I took the “How many 5 year olds could you take in a fight” test, I thought about my good friend, Mr. Fab. If anyone could take down a swarm of grubby, germy, dirty 5 year olds, he could. He’d fight dirty too, and he’d even toss a few 5 year olds around, much like one would toss a dwarf at a bar.
I’m proud to say I could take down 23 five year olds…
Find a Ultrasound school near you
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I got this email last night – it was a joint collaboration from my 8 year old son, and my 10 year old daughter. I love that they email me, and then come to tell me they’ve emailed me, and that I should check my email and reply immediately.
HOW COME WE CAN’T CALL YOU MOM? DADDY LETS US CALL HIM DAD AND WE CAN’T BE YOUR LITTLE SNUGGLE BUNNY, SNUGGLE BEAR , AND SNUGGLE BUG FOREVER. WHAT I’M SAYING IS THAT WHEN CAN WE START CALLING YOU MOM? ALSO ALL OUR FRIENDS CALL THEIR MOM’S MOM. SO PLEASE TELL US WHE WE CAN START CALLING YOU MOM.
P.S: MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICE .
I love how they threw in a little threat at the end of the email!
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And not just because it’s all about me. Or because of the picture of my sweet, sweet ass…but those two things definitely help to rank Mr. Fab’s post calling ME the funniest blogger he knows. He knows a lot of funny people…and for me to be ranked #1? I’m in awe.
It all started when Mr. Fab left me a comment on this post, criticizing me for sending out a Christmas newsletter. My first reaction was to call him a bastard, which I did. (Not to his face of course, have you seen the size of that dude?) My second reaction was to get him, and get him good. I would send Mr. Fab the Christmas newsletter to end all newsletters! I deleted the information from the newsletter I had already sent to people, and typed up something very special – something I knew would appeal to Mr. Fab’s sick and twisted sense of humor. Jokes about windowless vans and polygamy, a gay joke, and a pedophile joke or two…it had to be just the right mix of sarcasm and humor.
(Full text of the letter is on his blog, linked above – click and enjoy!)
I mailed the letter and waited, and waited. I think the U.S. Postal Service used the pony express to deliver it, because it took a week for it to get from Tampa to Gainesville. I knew I had gotten Fab when he texted me, giggling like a girl over the newsletter. What a sense of satisfaction! The best way to make someone laugh is to do the unexpected…and I certainly did that.
As for being the funniest blogger he knows, aside from the fake Christmas newsletter, I don’t remember what I did! We sat next to each other at PostieCon, and I’m sure I made snarky remarks and comments, and I typed 137 words a minute, but I don’t recall doing anything that was really hilarious. I think Mr. Fab and I just work well together, and it’s easy to crack someone up when they’re as sick and twisted as you are!
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I found this link while Stumbling:
Please, if I ever look like that, and try to strut my stuff on a beach, stop me, ok? On the flip side, I always wondered what breast implants would look like on an elderly woman, and now I know. That’s another check in the “con” column for fake boobs. Sheesh. I want to gouge my eyes out with a rusty fork.
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My son and I were snuggling on the couch last night, and I poked him in the bellybutton. That led to a discussion on why he has a bellybutton, so I explained that before he was born, he was attached to me via the umbilical cord. I told him that when he was born, he was still attached to me, so the doctor handed my husband scissors and told him to cut the cord.
Matthew asked how big the cord was, and using my thumb and forefinger, I guesstimated. (It has been 8 years since I’ve seen one!) He said, “Wow, they must have some big scissors.” Well yes, hospitals generally don’t use the same ones that a 3rd grade class uses for art projects.
He then went on to say he didn’t know if he’d want to cut the cord if he got married, and if his wife had a baby. He thought about it for a moment, and said, “Well, maybe I will cut the cord. It might be my only chance to use the big scissors.”
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I was just communicating with my son via the walkie talkies we have. He likes to use them when he’s playing outside, and I like to use them because I don’t need to scream his name out the front door when I want to talk to him. Anyway, we just popped in new batteries, so we wanted to test them out. He went outside, and I sat her, and started talking:
Me: Breaker, breaker, this is Big Momma, calling the Boy. Can you read me?
The boy: I can hear you. Uh, Mommy? You don’t need to talk like that. We’re not in the navy. But if you want to PLAY navy I will be Goose and you can be Maverick.
Me: 10-4, Roger Dodger, over and out. (If I’m Maverick, do I get to make out with Kelly McGillis?)
The next time he calls me on the walkie talkie, I’m going into pilot mode. “Uhh…..folks, please leave your seat belts fastened as we uhh….make our descent into Tampa. Uhh…..It’s been a pleasure serving you today, and we uhh….hope to see you again soon.” (I’m a natural, right?)
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I can only imagine the search engine traffic I’m going to get by linking to free porn for women. Yes, women like pornography too, we’re just a lot more selective than men are. It takes more than a naked man to get us hot and bothered, but when you find the right combination of images, and words, like the link above has – watch out!
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In honor of Halloween today, I have a special post in store for you. Last week, I attended a costume parade at the school my children go to. 
I saw a lot of great costumes, and a few that missed the mark. I wanted to share the best of the best, and the worst of the worst with you, so that you can learn from the mistakes others have made.
Please note – I’m not making fun of children. That would be wrong, and mean. I’m making fun of the parents who let their children out of the house in these costumes. And that is quite fun!
Here’s the first costume – Dr. Phil. I actually think this one is genius! I don’t know that I would shave my kids head for a costume when he’s only 9 or so years old…but the costume is hilarious. Of course, I’m sure his peers don’t have a clue who he is, but all of the parents enjoyed it. I guess the Dr. Phil costume isn’t much fun for him…dressing up as something that your peers don’t “get” is a tough position to be in.
This one is a what NOT to do. 
I covered up the kids faces to protect their identities, but this poor kid was on the verge of tears. He is well aware that his parents dress him funny, even when it’s Halloween.
I’m not sure if he’s supposed to be Pinocchio, or if his parents are into lederhosen, but either way, they’re asking for their kid to catch a beating on the playground. What’s the deal with the big fake wooden clogs?
And lastly…this one is just plain WRONG.
This is a 10 year old boy, dressed in a princess outfit. Complete with his high top sneakers underneath his skirt. SOMEONE has issues. If he was 15, this would be a funny costume. “Ha, ha, look at Mike! He’s the captain of the football team and he dressed like a girl for Halloween!”. When the boy in the princess dress is only 9 or 10, it makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth. What were his parents thinking?
I don’t care how much your 10 year old begs and pleads to let his inner girl out on October 31st, it’s just WEIRD at this age level. Be the parent and hand him a hobo costume, or a Freddy Krueger mask instead. It’s not ironic at this age, it’s just creepy.
As for my kids, they’ll be leaving the house dressed as a boy pirate, a girl pirate, and the Bride of Frankenstein. There will be no fake clogs, or shaved heads, or gender bending dresses. Call me old fashioned!
*I should probably point out that this entry has a lot of sarcasm in it. I realize a lot of people will not pick up on that, and will attempt to use the comments to make me out to be the bad guy. If you feel the need, keep on movin’.
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