I'm in a listy mood today, so here's some random crap from my Facebook statuses.
The other day, I got an AARP card in the mail with my name on it. I was pretty happy about that, because it means fifty cent coffee from the Stop N Go. I am not saying this to be funny. I am serious. However, since everyone laughed when I said it, I put it in my "When I Become a Stand Up Comedian" notebook. (Not that I ever plan on becoming a stand up comedian. But just in case I decide to, I'll have all my material in one place so I don't have to spend a year planning out what I'll say. I can just be like, "Hey, today I'm going to be a stand up comedian," and then that night I'll be selling out shows at the Apollo. It's good to be prepared, you know.)
Five got a cheerleader set for Christmas this year. It has a DVD on how to be a cheerleader, and the big pink pom poms. When she opened it, she got all excited and screamed "CHEERLEADER HANDS!!!" It was hysterical.
A few days before Christmas, Beastie made an interesting connection. As I was pouring a glass of milk, she asked, in a horrified voice, "Did this milk come from your BOOBS!?" I explained that, first of all, there's no way I could fill a whole gallon, and secondly, the milk in the refrigerator comes from cows. Cow boobs. Later, EJ asked me if that was true, that milk came from cow boobs. "Not just cow boobs," I told her. "Cow nipples." She got all grossed out and hasn't drunk milk since.
The kids are attending a karate class, taught by a friend of mine. When the class was in the planning stages, I asked the kids if they'd like to attend. They said yes, but I had to ruin their excitement with a disclaimer: No doing karate on each other.
Five was pretty pissed about that. "What if a big bear comes and eats me, can I do karate on him?" she asked.
EJ replied with, "No, a bear's too big. But you could do it on a vampire bat!"
Okay, here's a little tiny story about The Babe. Did you know that today is The Babe's birthday? He's sixteen months old today. He makes me laugh all the time, because he doesn't speak English. He speaks... something else. I'm not sure what, but he speaks it fluently. When he gets mad at me, he points his finger at me and curses me out in his own language. "Da ba gada ta ga daba ba ga na ma!" He screams, usually at the top of his lungs.
The funniest part is, he hates singing. I mean, he HATES it. Whenever I sing, he comes up and bitches me out until I stop. Then he walks away and I start singing again, and he comes back and yells at me again. If I sing while he's nursing, he either covers my mouth or plugs his ears. And if he happens to have something in his hand, he beats me with it while yelling at me.
The girls say he's a cranky old man in a little kid body, and I believe it.
My Mom Body (aaay_macaroni)
4 days ago