Apr 21, 2011

Long long ago, in a galaxy far far away...

Remember when I was funny?

Careful how you answer that question....the suggested response is "you still are, don't fret buttercup".  

Well,  we both know that the blog has been lacking lately,  and though you've all been somewhat loyal fans,  which I can only assume,  because I don't know if you come here or not...and if you do,  you don't comment so maybe I'm just venting into the depths of mountain air freshness and construction frenzy.

Anyway,  in reading the postings of a new blogger,  who I don't know,  but followed from the blog of another blogger who's blog I enjoy, and return to his blog to read his blogging...(breath) I concluded that it's been a bit boring of late.  True,  the life has also been a bit boring of late.  So I dedicate myself to returning to make fun of the human race,  pointing out obvious flaws in how everyone except me runs their life,  shaking my head with a one eye brow raise at people's wardrobe choices, and generally enjoying how screwed up society is.

Round of applause,  The Divine M is cheering  (I just know it)

So let's start with Mr Sheen.  (my mother just went,...."who?")  Mr. Husband is a fan of the show that made this man ubber rich (refer to yesterdays post about the ubbers), and since I am a fan of Mr. Husband,  I too have sat and so/so enjoyed said show.  Whatever,  it's fine...not Community by any means,  but acceptable.  The show seems to be a tamed down version of his actual life,  less the under age companions of questionable character,  with paid for "enhancements",  paid for "injections" and paid for "stimulants"...of which Mr Sheen paid for,  since he's an ubber.  It's not like the dude is 20 and still discovering life and all it's deceptions.  He's not 25 and finding himself among the sea of college co-eds...the dude is like 50!  Get your crap together,  you're supposed to be a grown up.  I did enjoy his recent support of Bipolar awareness,  in his extensive walk to raise funds...the walk was from his hotel to the studio.  Like across the street,  ooohhh aahhhh,  look at the social awareness!

Job seekers,  or as I like to call them...penniless beggars.  I'm one of them recently,  so don't start composing your comments in all caps.  The job market has improved somewhat,  but the competition is fierce as the seagulls at Peter's.  So if you are finding it difficult to find a new position,  of course you should beg for a job on Kijiji or Craigslist.  This is sure to provide a prospective employer the motivation to call you right up and offer you cash.  Furthermore,  make sure and describe your robust body type of TV watching results,  your extensive experience in fast food joints,  and that you have several snot nose brats who are,  at this moment,  eating Cheetos and watching Sponge Bob.  FOR SURE,  this will have them frothing at the mouth, begging for your resume.  Oh but wait,  one final detail that will nail it...mention that you're not going to make May rent.  That's the clincher.  I can't make this stuff up,  I read this for reals.  (okay,  we both know that I can totally make this stuff up,  but for reals I didn't)

O-isms.  As you know,  Mr O is a funny dude.  He comes up with some surprising comments that make you think..."who's kid are you?  oh wait,  ha ha,  I know".  So the other morning he comes in at the break of dawn to announce that he has to pee.  I'm pretty sure that we've been over this multiple times,  we do not live in Communism,  you can pee if you want...right in the bathroom even.  He and his younger staulkier counter part J will stand at the side of my sleeping form,  doing the pee pee dance until I grogg out in a sleepy, eyes still closed voice..."Go pee".  This seems to be the empowering words that send them both into a wild race to the bathroom,  where they sound like a fire hose drenching the flaming shell of your house.  I don't know how so much can be stored into such small beings.

O is sufficiently emptied which then means that his mouth is revved up.  Again,  not sure where this particular DNA characteristic originates,  ancestors and covered wagons to be sure.  I love the morning snuggle with the children,  don't get me wrong.  But if there's any sort of 5 or 6...even 7 on weekends,  at the beginning of the clock display...pu-lease!   Yes O you may get in my bed,  no O we are not discussing world peace quite yet...but sure,  you can bring your DS,  with the sound off,  and play until I'm ready to be conscious.  On this occasion he concluded that he wanted to play a game on my phone,  fine...it's right there,  rock it out.  He knows how to work the Blackberry...he's 7,  Grandpa just figured out texting...he's 60...just sayin.

From the mouth of my blonde,  43 pound man of fury....to no one in-particular as all present were still hoping he was a bad dream at 6:30 am...."I'm a beast at this game".

J-ism.  Mr Husband concocts various fruity drinks for the children.  He likes to impress them with his skills...if you've met J,  he's not easily impressed and if he is,  there's no way he's changing his facial expression to show that.  Serious,  this 4 yr old is a serious one.  Mr Husband makes him an impressive display of orange juice,  tonic water fizziness and grenadine.  Orange and red layers in a fizzy display of yummy.  J has decided this is acceptable,  with a general glance at Mr. Husband.  He has his bendy straw,  like all real men...and is starting the one sip to empty your glass.  Mr Husband has a PhD in teasing.  "Hey,  that looks good,  can I have some?"  to which J,  without even expelling the straw from his mouth,  no unbending the bendiness says...."If you get your own".

J - 1 point
Mr. Husband - nada

That's all you can handle for today,  I know.  Overwhelming return to wittiness and flava (pronounced flAva) is too much for any entertainment seeking soul.

But in our next episode...

Children descend for a fun filled week of eating,  mess making,  slamming each other up against the stairway walls.

Parents quadruple their food budget for 8 days of joy.

20 something student wonders why she ever decided that this was a good place to live,  even if the top bunk of the toddler bed is supa comfy.

...and Saskatchewan residents return for corralling children for picture taking,  releasing the hounds of visiting marathons and dunking the kid.


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