My mom’s going to kill me after I finish this blog post. Nice knowing you all. If you could get me a nice plot near the chocolate factory, I don’t think I could even complain about the maggots. But it’s such a cute story… it has to go down for posterity sake. This post is to celebrate your cuteness, Madre!! Take it and like my girl Beyonce used to say… Girls… we run the world. That made more sense in my head than on the computer screen.
We had a gathering for the city firework show on Friday night late. Some of my awesome cuzzins got together and partook in desserty items before we hijacked the neighbor’s backyard to watch the firework extravaganza (not gonna lie… pretty sure at least 3 of them were drunk ON LIFE… the neighbors, not the cuzzins). So, we were eating our desserty items on the back deck and gabbing about really important things like mosquitoes and ducks… and sunsets… and various other things like boomboxes (yes, the folks still have one). I was sitting next to cuzzin Kale, so I intermixed my Berger klutz gene with her Berger klutz gene and we managed to drop an entire root beer float into her lap. THANK YOU… I’m here all week.
Being the nonhelpful being I am, I went inside the house and wet down some paper towels… like that would magically erase the stickiness. Madre was inside and so I asked her if she had any wet wipes and then went back out with my wettened paper towel glob.
Next thing we know, Madre is back out the house and in front of John Deere tractors and country fried steaks everywhere, she plopped the following down right next to the fruit pizza and vanilla ice cream container:
Now, maybe some of you from the other gender will not know the real purpose of these suckers… and I can guarantee you Madre thought nothing of it… totally an innocent romp through trying to be helpful to the root beer stickiness sufferers, but the whole end of that picnic table burst into laughter. Every time I think about it I burst into laughter. Like I’m seriously laughing right now (maybe it’s because I borrowed a little sumthin sumthin that was making the neighbors so dagnabbed happy). Madre was all like… “I ain’t had a baby since 1980… you think I have wet wipes!?!?!?” Apparently, my mom talks like the grandma from Beverly Hillbillies in my head space. Needless to say, cuzzin Kale passed on the wet wipes. Good call, cuzzin… good call.
And just so we even up the parental embarrassment unit, here’s something to give you nightmares:
He’s apparently angry about being a clown fashion model… and I’ve had a nightmare every night since.
Happy Belated Fourth of July, dear friends and family. Thank you to all of those who have served to make this country free for the rest of us!!
LucyFur awaiting further instruction after I made her memorize the Pledge and the entire Constitution. And you thought your pet was smart.