Loving My Fellow Man(tis)
Serving up a heap-o strangeness just for you...
DID HE SCREAM HIS OWN NAME WHILE IT WAS BEING RIPPED OFF ?
Andy Andy Andy arrived at school Friday morning with a mangled right ear and a full diaper, causing the aides to argue vigorously for several minutes over which was more important: his continual blood loss or everyone else's need for breathable air. Good sense- but not scents- prevailed, and he was finally whisked off to the nurse, who wrapped an Ace bandage overly-tight around his head until it squished his entire brow ridge into his eyes, giving him the appearance of being deep in thought about her stapler as he mouthed it. Andy Andy Andy endured taunts about his resemblence to Vincent Van Gogh and the Karate Kid with his usual aplomb, contentedly licking the classroom wall until his mother finally appeared three hours later and whisked him off to Kaiser.
GOT A PERMIT TO SELL THOSE HOT DOGS ?
I've noticed that each day has its own theme at this school, and Tuesday's theme was wieners. It all started in PE class, when both Lucifer and Andy Andy Andy were simultaneously struck by the same hormonal muse. While Andy Andy Andy took the direct route of whipping it out for our viewing pleasure, Lucifer opted for a more subtle approach and snuck his out through the left leghole of his gym shorts, walking around with the fabric jauntily draped over his member to protect it from the sun. Big G also tried to get in on the action by frantically rubbing himself, but couldn't Get No Satisfaction because there's 2 inches of diaper between Little G and fresh air, earning him the sympathy of every guy on campus but not much relief. Coincidently, we had hot dogs for lunch that very same day- I ain't lyin'- and several of my coworkers were bigger dicks than usual, which I thought showed real school spirit.
SAVE THE DRAMA FOR YO' MAMA
This week's family festivities consisted of e-mails shooting back and forth between myself and various aunts, disputing whether or not I should be putting a humorous spin on my grandma's imminent departure from her body, and even more alarming, from her sofa. I was declared innocent by 3 aunts, merely tasteless by the fourth one, and the fifth one who started it all keeps alienating potential allies by proclaiming herself the family spokesgriper without their consent. Eat your heart out, Court TV...
CLICHE OF THE WEEK:
"He/she really loves you, they just can't show it."
Hahahahaha ! Allow me to wipe the tears of laughter from my eyes before proceeding on to my other personal fave: "She/he did the best they could."
Can you really say that with a straight face ? Me either. Is spending your kids' child support on opera tickets and calling your ex-wife to gloat about it really the best you could do ? Spare me.
GIVING A WHOLE NEW MEANING TO THE TERM "POD PERSON"
Everytime I walk out the door with my grandma on my mind, there happens to be a praying mantis hanging from Hope's screen door and literally giving me the bug-eye. Last time, I removed the little guy (gal ?) downstairs to the garden, but she (he ?) keeps returning to freak me out again. Oddly, there's never any sign of it until I happen to be ruminating about when to fly back to see my ailing grandmother. Being the superstitous New Age nutjob that I am, I can't shake off its coincidental timing and invest its appearances with all sorts of spiritual significance, which is why I've hidden the bug spray from my roommate's skittish daughter.
I have a long history with the mantis species, starting with being scared half to death by one in first grade and apparently not ending anytime soon. Predictably, my favorite Space Ghost character and probable next tattoo is Zorac, a giant keyboard-playing mantis who secretly plots to overthrow humanity. My brother had similar aspirations and hatched a 6-inch mantis pod in his bedroom one spring, unleashing his micro-minions upon the entire second floor of our house. Both he and I were upset when Mom swept up all the tiny tots and dumped them unceremoniously out the window, and to this day her neighbors still wonder where the unruly mantis mob stalking through their begonias came from. So, I'm asking you all to be especially nice to mantises- you never know who's grandmother you might be stepping on...
C-ya !
DID HE SCREAM HIS OWN NAME WHILE IT WAS BEING RIPPED OFF ?
Andy Andy Andy arrived at school Friday morning with a mangled right ear and a full diaper, causing the aides to argue vigorously for several minutes over which was more important: his continual blood loss or everyone else's need for breathable air. Good sense- but not scents- prevailed, and he was finally whisked off to the nurse, who wrapped an Ace bandage overly-tight around his head until it squished his entire brow ridge into his eyes, giving him the appearance of being deep in thought about her stapler as he mouthed it. Andy Andy Andy endured taunts about his resemblence to Vincent Van Gogh and the Karate Kid with his usual aplomb, contentedly licking the classroom wall until his mother finally appeared three hours later and whisked him off to Kaiser.
GOT A PERMIT TO SELL THOSE HOT DOGS ?
I've noticed that each day has its own theme at this school, and Tuesday's theme was wieners. It all started in PE class, when both Lucifer and Andy Andy Andy were simultaneously struck by the same hormonal muse. While Andy Andy Andy took the direct route of whipping it out for our viewing pleasure, Lucifer opted for a more subtle approach and snuck his out through the left leghole of his gym shorts, walking around with the fabric jauntily draped over his member to protect it from the sun. Big G also tried to get in on the action by frantically rubbing himself, but couldn't Get No Satisfaction because there's 2 inches of diaper between Little G and fresh air, earning him the sympathy of every guy on campus but not much relief. Coincidently, we had hot dogs for lunch that very same day- I ain't lyin'- and several of my coworkers were bigger dicks than usual, which I thought showed real school spirit.
SAVE THE DRAMA FOR YO' MAMA
This week's family festivities consisted of e-mails shooting back and forth between myself and various aunts, disputing whether or not I should be putting a humorous spin on my grandma's imminent departure from her body, and even more alarming, from her sofa. I was declared innocent by 3 aunts, merely tasteless by the fourth one, and the fifth one who started it all keeps alienating potential allies by proclaiming herself the family spokesgriper without their consent. Eat your heart out, Court TV...
CLICHE OF THE WEEK:
"He/she really loves you, they just can't show it."
Hahahahaha ! Allow me to wipe the tears of laughter from my eyes before proceeding on to my other personal fave: "She/he did the best they could."
Can you really say that with a straight face ? Me either. Is spending your kids' child support on opera tickets and calling your ex-wife to gloat about it really the best you could do ? Spare me.
GIVING A WHOLE NEW MEANING TO THE TERM "POD PERSON"
Everytime I walk out the door with my grandma on my mind, there happens to be a praying mantis hanging from Hope's screen door and literally giving me the bug-eye. Last time, I removed the little guy (gal ?) downstairs to the garden, but she (he ?) keeps returning to freak me out again. Oddly, there's never any sign of it until I happen to be ruminating about when to fly back to see my ailing grandmother. Being the superstitous New Age nutjob that I am, I can't shake off its coincidental timing and invest its appearances with all sorts of spiritual significance, which is why I've hidden the bug spray from my roommate's skittish daughter.
I have a long history with the mantis species, starting with being scared half to death by one in first grade and apparently not ending anytime soon. Predictably, my favorite Space Ghost character and probable next tattoo is Zorac, a giant keyboard-playing mantis who secretly plots to overthrow humanity. My brother had similar aspirations and hatched a 6-inch mantis pod in his bedroom one spring, unleashing his micro-minions upon the entire second floor of our house. Both he and I were upset when Mom swept up all the tiny tots and dumped them unceremoniously out the window, and to this day her neighbors still wonder where the unruly mantis mob stalking through their begonias came from. So, I'm asking you all to be especially nice to mantises- you never know who's grandmother you might be stepping on...
C-ya !
posted by Fredrika Krueger at 8:07 PM
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