Pass the Puns, Please
I decided to take them to the restaurant I used to take their brother to almost daily, while he was in preschool. We went there so often that the waitstaff came to his funeral when he passed. His fondness for spoons and drooling over an orange peel were sadly missed when he left. I thought it might be nice to give the kids a little piece of their brother.
Turns out, they were bowled over by how classy the joint was. I really have to stop feeding my kids in the back seat of my car. They couldn't believe there was a salad bar. I know, I know. Really, I couldn't have set the bar any higher if I tried! They behaved themselves, and asked a million questions about their brother, which I answered while trying to blow bubbles in my milkshake glass. (Cuz I'm classy like that.)
Eventually, the conversation shifted from their brother to more current topics. Like boyfriends and girlfriends. My daughter Fric, has apparently met her soul mate; some scruffy, short boy, who resembles an elf. And not a cute elf. But hey, who am I to judge? Let's give the boy a chance. He hasn't hit puberty yet. There still may be hope. And it's not like I was a prize when I was ten. I should be thrilled that she isn't so vain that she picks her boyfriends based on looks, right? Except I have visions of troll babies as my future grandchildren....
My son, however, is like his dad. A real connoisseur of the ladies. He wants to sample them all before he chooses just one. I can't tell you who choked louder when he explained that he liked to kiss them first to see if they were any good before he asked them out, me or the couple sitting at the table next to us, listening to our conversation.
They really do put those tables close together.
After the couple and I caught our breaths, and I determinedly did not make eye contact with them, my daughter informed me what a
But not before I loudly proclaimed to my kids that it was always good to sample the goods before making the final sale. As I left I could hear that poor man hacking up his lung. Next time I decide I'm too lazy to cook, I must remember to choose a less crowded restaurant.
Digest your cheese while I hit the book stores to find a book to learn how to parent the next generation's Romeo, so that I may avoid future mobs of angry parents and broken-hearted girls.
Enjoy your cheese!!
As migration approached, two elderly vultures doubted they could make the trip south, so they decided to go by airplane.
When they checked their baggage, the attendant noticed that they were carrying two dead raccoons.
"Do you wish to check the raccoons through as luggage?" she asked.
"No, thanks," replied the vultures. "They're carrion."
I would like to thank Mama Tulip for awarding me a ROFL award for my post on the pitfalls of personal hygiene.
It's good to know that my suffering and the mutilation of my pink parts brought joy to someone's life. I couldn't sit for a week, but damn, it's good to be funny.
Thanks Tulip, I heart you. And if you haven't read this woman's blog yet, she can and does give me a run for my money on a daily basis. She's got a dirty mind and husband who believes flatulence is the truest sign of love. What's not to love about that?
You can also check out the other winners over here and here. There's some damn good giggles out there.