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Archive for June, 2010

(This conversation took place via Teh Ninterwebs,    with someone I consider both a colleague and friend)

Lovely Colleague,  venting:         She’s just determined to keep ratcheting up the drama until she hits on SOMETHING that’s actionable.       What if he doesn’t buy him shoes?       What if he sleeps in his bed?       What if he doesn’t take him to soccer What if he doesn’t take him to the doctor?       What if he doesn’t take him to school?       WHAT IF HE’S A SERIAL KILLER WHO KICKS PUPPIES!!!! ARRRRGGGGHHH!!      Dang, Lady.      Learn to cope for Pete’s sake.

Me:    OMG what if he’s like…OMG!     What if he WEARS TIGHTY WHITIES!!!!     That’s a reason to have his rights terminated, surely?!

LC:    <snort> tighty whities.      good one.

Me:    (wait.      Chronic tightywhityism is a cause of infertility, right?       Thus we wouldn’t have the question in the first place.        UNLESS…unless of course Mommy was skinny dipping outside of the immediate gene pool…oh my!)

LC:     Oh I can’t wait to hear THAT one.
1. The pill didn’t work
2. The shot didn’t work
3. The condom broke
4. The spermicide was out of date
5. Our “rhythm” was off by a week
6. I didn’t do enough jumping jacks afterward
7. The aspirin dissolved
8. His drawers weren’t tight enough!

What we need are smarter vaginas.     You ask the sex candidate scientifically relevant questions which get transposed into binary code on some kind of modified IUD and processed.        As soon as you start going at it, the spring-loaded mechanism kicks in and he goes flying off the bed.

Me:     Smarter vagina?      There’s an app for that.      I’m seriously predicting the launch of the I-Vag.

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(We got takeout pizza.      Two mediums,     both different.           He’s in the kitchen,    I’m in the bedroom)

Joe:    <says something I mis-hear>

Me:     So it’s just like an English penis?

Joe:     …….what?!

Me:       Uncut.

Joe:    …..uh..?!

Me:       That’s what you said,   right?     My pizza is uncut?

Joe:   ….no.   I said it was “On Top“.          As in,   “your box is on top of mine….”

Me:    …………………..Oh.        Right then.

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(I reheated beef stew for Joe’s lunch,  and it was too hot to eat immediately)

Me:    Why isn’t there some sort of anti-microwave thing that cools down your food quickly?

Joe:     *pause*

Me:     Oh…I cannot believe I said that….

Joe:      Yes love.     That would be the freezer….

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Holy crap

You can REALLY tell we’re coming up to a full moon.

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Wake up.

Lick hoomins.

Wonder why they don’t like it much.

Nom.

Hump pillow.

Lick my butt.

Nom.

Lick butt again.

Try to lick hoomins.

Still wondering.

Nom.

Get lovins.

Pee.

Nom again.

More lovins.

Hump pillow.

Go back to bed to stop hoomins from hanky-panky-ing.

Watch hoomins get out of bed.

Wonder what they mean by “wait till she goes out to play”.

Nom some more.

Sleep.

Lovins again.

Pee.

Poop.

Play.

Lovins.

Nap.

Poop.

Nap.

Poop.

Sleep.

Play.

Bug Mommy Hoomin to let me go online.

Pout when she refuses.

Nap.

Nom.

Play.

Try to steal Mommy hoomin’s wine.

Pout when scolded.

Nap.

Lick butt.

Nap.

Go to bed.

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Pants

This has been one heckuva weird week for me.

Really.

BUT!

Long weekend a-coming!

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Yes, this is how I sometimes feel.

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