Showing posts with label barbecue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label barbecue. Show all posts

Monday, 23 September 2013

Just call me ass floss and I won't remember anyway

How do I get Into Compromising Situations with Turkey Asses?


You're never going to believe was ANOTHER freaky fucking turkey. However, this time I took photographic evidence. Smart? Maybe... (That totally depends upon your definition.)
We decided to barbecue a turkey in an outdoor pit for the first time. I unwrap the turkey and WALLA - I start to laugh my ass off as I spot the turkey cuff/IUD-from-Hell. Unfortunately this alerts my youngest son who comes to investigate.
By the time he gets to the kitchen I had popped the plastic cuffs off the miscreant's legs and was still yanking on the evil IUD. THEN I get the brilliant idea to take a picture.
"What are you doing?" asks Reece.
"Taking pictures."
"Why?" he asks SO reasonably.
"Because nobody is going to believe me," I explain.
"But why are you taking pictures of a turkey bum?"
Boy, you'd think I was creepy or something.
"Who doesn't love a turkey bum?" I reply, after all - who can argue with that?
Turns out - nobody can.
Also turns out I realize THAT must be the line they use to convince some idiot to take the job of jamming these things up turkey cooters all-the-live-long-day.
So now I'm back to yanking on this plastic IUD-from-Hell and my son is watching me (which is SO WRONG by the way, I felt judged). It is SEVERELY stuck.
"What is that?" he asks.
"I honestly don't know," is all I can tell him as I'm giggling away. Something is SO wrong with me that I find this hilarious.
Finally it pops out and Reece is AMAZED.
"Is that a bone?" he asks.
"No, it's not a bone."
"It's got to be a rib," he tells me.
"No! It's plastic," I tell him as I snap a picture.
"Why are you taking pictures of it? It's a weird bone, isn't it?" and he looks concerned.
"It's definitely not a bone. Don't you have to go play?" I beg and laugh at the same time.
"You're going to stuff it now. You're laughing, it must be fun."
"Well, like I said - who doesn't like stuffing things in a turkey bum," I tell him (and totally another PR Turkey line).
Oh my God...what the Hell is wrong with me? Anyways, here's the hard earned evidence:

How Annoying did You Say?

Kaelan has always had an interesting way of naming things. We went through some fish named Fish and Little Fish. Stuffed bats named Black Bat... What's in a name? EXACTLY what you are.
Kaelan's sister recently went to the Fair where she won him a nice, flappy bee. He was very excited (Kaelan...not the bee) and all set to name him.
"Guess what my stuffies name is," Kaelan says to me.
"Mister Bee?" I guess.
"It's Annoying Bee," he informs me.
Wow, how appropriate on TWO levels. One: he screams like a Banshee at bees. Two: this very second I was getting a flap-attack from Annoying Bee in the face.
"Mister Bee is his middle name," he tells me.

Ass Floss is Not a Food Group

There are so many things in my life I did not think I would ever say. This is one of them.

"I can't believe you're chewing on that lion's ass," I say to the dog.
"She's chewed a hole in it," my Mom tells me (probably also something SHE never thought she'd say).
"That's disturbing... There's a hole in your aaa-SSS dear Lizaaa!" I sing (as opposed to There's a Hole in Your Bucket for any of you old enough to remember that one).
"She uses it like dental floss," my Mom explains.
"I wouldn't want to use ass floss."
At this point my Mother almost sprayed me with coffee, looks me in the eye and says "Well, you wear ass floss."
"At least I don't eat it."

Just Call me Frieda

I just might be the most oblivious person on the entire planet. How's that for an intro?
Both of my son's have the same senior Behavioral Therapist. She left a voicemail on my cell phone today. On the drive home from the city I realized I have been calling her by the WRONG freaking name...for quite some time. And by saying I "realized it" I should actually say her secretary corrected me when I called her back today to return her call.
And it FINALLY sank in.
THEN I realized the Behavioral Therapist has been using her voodoo powers on me, not-so-effectively. Let me explain. Behavior Therapists help with social skills and guide subtly with PROMPTS.
She sends me e-mails:
To Terry:
This is Deena, blah blah...
Thanks so much, see you soon!
Then I respond:
To Dianne:
That'd be great! Thanks!
Or she phones: "Hi Terry, this is Deena..." And I respond: "Thanks Dianne!"
She stops by to see my sons and I INTRODUCE her to everyone around! So she keeps leaving me her business card (and I just thought she was all remindy with her number) "In case you need to get a hold of me."
Holy shit am I slow. Maybe she should've done it back to me. When I called her Dianne she could've called me Frieda. It could've been fun! And less subtle.
It could even be like a social skill game of pretend - we could even dress up. But since she has the nicer hair and tan - I get the crown. Especially since I'm the Queen of Oblivious.

Monday, 11 February 2013

Sometimes you just get boned...and it's hilarious

Thank God
You Aren't Really what You EAT

Sunday the weather was freaking BEAUTIFUL, so we decided to have a barbecue in the backyard.
My son's Dad picked up smokies, chicken and ribs - yummm! It was a big hit with everyone, Kaelan especially loved the ribs.
"Look! I eated the bone," he tells us with pride - as he crunches on the end some more.
"That is fantastic!"
He was SO thrilled with his ribs, he decided to draw some when he was done his dinner. He comes up to me with this picture:
"Look! Look!"
I start to choke... "What's that?" I ask. (To be honest here, this was one of THOSE MOMENTS where I wasn't sure if I should ask - but I was SO glad I did.)
"It's Daddy's rib!"
Oh, I canNOT wait to share... (I know, I'm going to Hell.)
I take the board and walk (or gleefully dance - which is what I was doing in my head) to the kitchen, tap Daddy on the shoulder and show him the pièce de résistance.
"What is that?" he asks with (understandable) concern.
"It's your rib bone!" I answer (with the BIGGEST smile EVER).
"Oooh, that's not my rib."
"Sure it is!"
"Nooo... That must be your bone."
"Oh no, you're made from Adam's rib..." (Okay - that's a stretch - plus it probably didn't have barbecue sauce, but that was most likely an oversight.)
"That's EVE."
"Kaelan said it's DADDY'S rib. *Snicker.* Daddy's rib looks like a big wiener."
"Oh my God."

Fairies Everywhere
(where's my repellent?)

"Hey Mom, you know the Fingernail Fairy?" my oldest son asks me at the dinner table.
We know how to make classy dinner feel free to invite us.
"No." (Mostly because I didn't feel like losing my dinner.)
This was, however, NOT going away.
"You know, the Fingernail Fairy. You put your fingernails under your pillow and the Fingernail Fairy leaves you a big rock of gold!"
...Note to self: Check under the pillows and wash bedding asap.
"Don't say no!"
"And quit picking your nose."
Speaking of big rocks of gold...double yuck.