Thursday, April 22, 2010

Well, obviously

Scene: Speech therapy assessment. Rory sits at a table talking about what he sees in a drawing.

Rory: That's crazy! There's a ballerina with hot dogs!
Speech Therapist: Why is that crazy?
Rory: Because usually ballerinas have cupcakes.

Monday, April 5, 2010

I guess you could call it a box, Lord knows it's been called worse

Teeny tiny fact you need to know for this story to make sense: Brigit was born on my 30th birthday. There, that's all.

Brigit: Mom, when did I come?
Me: On your birthday.
Brigit: I didn't come on my birthday, I came on your birthday!
Me: That's right - you were my birthday present!
Brigit: Did I come in a present box?

Sunday, April 4, 2010

I hesitate to use the word "threat," Easter Bunny, so let's just call this a "suggestion"

This is not funny:

Every year, Easter Bunny, every fucking year this happens and I tell you, no more grass. And every year, you're all, "yeah, yeah, the kids, with the thinking they're zombies and strewing the shit all over the house. Yeah, yeah, I'll remember."

But it's not your head they're licking when they moan for brains, now is it?

Maybe this will help you remember next year to skip the grass, Easter Bunny. Mothers and children and defenseless pirate mice are not the only victims of the Evil Grass.

Even though, I grant that from this angle it looks more lamb than rabbit, I assure you, this is one of your kind (cue INXS song stuck in my head).
So, let's talk about next year. I'm not going to threaten you or anything. I mean, it's not like I saved all that grass to use in some sort of Easter bunny booby trap or anything. I'm just going to say it might be "for the best" if you skip the grass next year.