Saturday, January 19, 2013

Don't Sweat It

Hand To Gawd just saw a chick in the self checkout a t Walmart scan a container of deodorant, raise her shirt, and apply the deodorant to her underarms before dropping it into her bag.

This even tops the time that Hyphen had us stop at a convenience store to buy a disposable razor so she could shave her armpits in the parking lot before we went out for the evening.
Now I know that some people ARRIVE at Walmart lacking basic personal hygiene, but to have the innovation to conduct your grooming routine while others are just trying to get in, get their milk, bread, lawn chair, and Snickers bars, and get out. . . Whole new level.

Friday, January 11, 2013

Grand Delusion

So.  Felix is now among those of us privileged souls who have been blessed with the arrival of a new baby grandsh1t.    And she informed me tonight that he will be calling her Nanna because she doesn't want him calling her the same thing that everyone else is called like Meemaw or Grammy.  Bless her ever-loving heart.

What an amateur.  Does she not realize what a great opportunity she's missing out on by having him call her something normalish when she could instead have him call her something completely unique and off the wall like, oh I Don't know, Princess  or something, and then not only would no one else would be called by that name, but she can have tons of fun in the process. 

This led me to the totally great idea that I just might steal for myself is she really and truly doesn't want to use it, because it could provide HOURS (if not years) of complete and utter fall-down-wet-your-pants laughter. 

I think he should call her B1tch.

Now before you get completely upset  and freak out and tell me what a horrible person I am, I need you to see this from every possible angle, because it entirely resounds with  almost pseudo yet somewhat inebriated logic that only I can provide.  

First of all there's the aforementioned opportunity for laughter at a small child's expense.  Think of the great stories you will have when your grandchild comes home from his first  day of school and tells everyone that he was sent the office because he was asked what he did over the summer vacation, and he replied,  "I went to go see my B1tch."  Also imagine what fun it would be when you go pick him up from school, and he tells his teacher that he's riding home with "my B1tch." 

If he wants a cookie and you are raising him to be well-mannered, he will ask thusly: "B1tch, please."

And. . . no one would be able to fault the kid if he tells everyone that his daddy is a son of a B1tch. 

Finally (and this is the most important point) how often do you think you're going to be stuck babysitting the little monster if his parents don't want him to pick up any more dirty words from you? 

I call that INSURANCE.