Friday, October 18, 2013


Given her genetics, I suppose that it will come as a surprise to no one when I tell you that my child can be something of a smarty-britches.  She gets her smartassedry honestly from her Dad.  Just looking around my desk I have several examples of her humor:

Exhibit A: A couple of years ago, I kept getting quizzed as to what I wanted for Christmas...and honestly, I couldn't come up with anything.  So anytime anyone asked me, my answer was: "World Peace." Lo and behold, on Christmas morning, my gift from my child:

She had gone to Hobby Lobby, bought a blue foam ball and created for me "World Peace."

Exhibit B:  I freaking hate squirrels.  They are nothing but tree rats.  The squirrels in my back yard and I have had hostile relations since we bought our house...they chew on shit I have stored in our shed...they've built nests inside my Christmas wreaths and birthed more of their flea-ridden kind...they taunt my dogs and cause them to get foaming-at-the-mouth hysterical...and they sit up in trees and make that weird, chittering squacking sound at me that sounds like four-letter-words in squirrel-speak.  I visited my friend, Nance in Canada where they had some vicious-looking demon-spawn black squirrels that also acted like they hated me.  I came back from my trip and told my family that it looked like the word was out on me in squirrel-dome because it had spread internationally that I was on the squirrel shit-list.
So naturally, when I asked my child at the beginning of the year to get me a calendar at the bookstore for my office, she came back with one full of squirrels.

Just look at these greedy little bastards.

This squirrel is clearly saying, "Imma gonna eat your brain just like this pine cone, lady.  Better lock up at night."

This one is so evil it's grown hell-beast horns...and it's scratching at the bubonic-plague-carrying fleas on its chest.  Filthy creature. (Shudder)

Final exhibit: I love cats. I love funky I was very pleased when I opened up my birthday present this summer and found this in my bag o' goodies the kiddo had put together:

Until I was heading out the door one day shortly after my birthday wearing it...she stopped me and said, "You can't WEAR that, Mom!  I bought it as a joke!"

"A joke? I don't get it."

"Bend your finger back and looks like it's humping your finger."

So, yeah.

No comments:

Post a Comment