I had planned on writing about a different topic, but once I saw what Steph wrote (she has a penchant for poo), I decided to go in another direction. Feel free to blame her for this post.
When I was a baby, my parents couldn't take me out without having a couple of changes of clothes for me. Shoes, too. Yes, I had a special way of not only filling my diaper, but having it go up my back and all the way down into my shoes. And in case you're wondering, yes, my daughter did pay me back in full for that. With interest. Anyway, I was a pooping machine.
One day, my mom took me into the bedroom to change my diaper and laid me down on the changing table in the corner of the room. In the other room (because my dad never changed a diaper *insert guilt here*), my dad heard a shriek and then laughter. He came into the room to find my mom holding my legs up in the air, mid-change, and a large amount of poop dripping down the wall my rear end was facing. Explosive. That's what it was. It's a good thing babies are cute, huh? And no, that didn't entice my dad into changing any diapers in the future. Go figure.
So, want to join in the carnival? Sign up below! Oh, and a special thank you to those of you who have joined my carnival in the past and remembered to link back to me. And for those of you who don't speak Passive-Agressive, I'll translate: If you sign up, link back to here in your post. That's how this whole blog carnival thing goes. What, were you raised by wolves?
Memorial Day. Hey, isn't that the day we celebrate the start of summer by having barbeques? Huh? You mean there's more to it?
Yes, there's so much more. Today is the day we honor those who gave their lives to preserve the freedom we have in this country. My heart is full of gratitude for the brave men and women who loved their country enough to give the ultimate gift to defend it. And to the family members who have lost loved ones who were serving our country, thank you. Your sacrifice was great indeed.
I hope you all have a good Memorial Day. The Life is Funny Blog Carnival will return tomorrow.
I love the old Little Caesar's commercials. Love. Them. Why, oh why, did they stop making them? I just don't get it. So today on Saturday Silliness, I'm going to share my favorite one with you. Because I'm a giver. Please, no applause. Just throw money.
And because I just can't help myself, I'm throwing this one in as an added bonus. Will miracles never cease?
And remember people, Rir rooor rou.
Now why don't you head over to Kathy's and see what kind of funny she's cooking up?
No, this is not an abandoned blog. I know, I know. I haven't posted in a while. But I'm here now, and that makes it all better, right? Right? Hello?
Yesterday was my daughter's 8th birthday. Where has the time gone? And how is she getting older when I'm not? Anyway, my husband and I decided to buy her her first big girl bike for a present. So we took her to Target yesterday morning (by the way, bikes are on sale there this week) and picked out a bike for her. Since this is her first two-wheeler, we knew she'd need some training wheels, so we grabbed some of those, too. My daughter could hardly wait to get home to try out her new bike.
The bike came pre-assembled, which was really nice, but we had to put together the training wheels. How hard could that be? It says right on the box, "Assembly is a breeze." If by "breeze" they mean "tornado," then yes, assembly is a breeze. While the company that made the training wheels is an American company, the evil things were actually made in China. Apparently, the assembly directions were written in China, too. They had a picture of all the parts and were even kind enough to show parts that weren't even included with the kit. And the written directions made no sense at all. None. My husband and I spent a couple of hours trying to figure the darn things out, but nothing was working. So my husband checked YouTube to see if anyone had made a video about putting together training wheels. He finally got the training wheels attached, but even though the box claims that they fit the size of bike we bought, the wheels float about 3" or more above the ground. In case you were wondering, that doesn't work. It looks like the training wheels need training wheels. Apparently, me rocking in a corner while smacking my head and saying, "Find a happy place! Find a happy place!" wasn't working very well. So we're admitting defeat. My husband is taking the bike to a bike shop today to get some help. After experiencing this training wheel nightmare, I'm guessing the bike shop does a booming business installing training wheels.
Hello, my name is Wendy and I'm a re-poster. Don't judge me. I'm just so busy with big, important things right now. Huge things. Of global importance. Okay, I just can't come up with anything to write right now. But this is a really old post, so you probably haven't read it yet. So just be happy. And now... Onward!
It's that time of year again... The time when parents are embarrassed by the things that come out at parent/teacher conferences. Isn't it mortifying cute how children perceive things?
So my husband and I went to our conference today and got to hear about how lovely our daughter is. Things were going well until the reading journal came out. In this journal, they are to take a story that they've just heard and relate the situation in it to something in their own lives. Good for comprehension, huh? Anyway, one of the stories was about a character who was very sad because he was always left out of the fun things that everyone else was doing. How, one might ask, did my daughter relate this to her own life? Was it by telling about the time that her friends wouldn't let her play with them? No. She wrote about how it made her so sad that Mommy and Daddy wouldn't let her play the dice game with them. And to make things more interesting, she drew a picture to go with it:
Notice the big smiles on Mommy and Daddy's faces, and the big boo-boo face my daughter is wearing. All she needs to do now is to draw horns on us and add a soundtrack of evil, maniacal laughter. Yes, we are just mean parents who won't let our daughter do anything that resembles fun.
I guess it could be worse. When my parents went to back to school night, they were greeted by a picture of my creation 0n the wall describing what I help my mommy and daddy to do at home. There, in all its glory, was a picture of my dad and me with big smiles on our faces while my dad pointed a gun at a cat's head. It said, "I help my daddy shoot cats." Ah, good times...
It's Saturday, and you know what that means! Yup, Saturday Silliness! I love the following video. Love. It. Who can resist the combination of Queen and the Muppets? Not this gal! I think my friend, Helen, showed it to me the first time I saw it. And if it's from Helen, it must be good, right? So, without further ado...
I wasn't going to do a twitter post this week. I only had a handful or so of tweets, and that's clearly not enough for a twitter post. But then it happened. Twitterrhea. And most of it in one conversation. And for that, I say to you sorry/you're welcome.
The one-liners
Facebook is for people you went to school with. Twitter is for people you wished you went to school with. (RT @valdiskrebs)
Okay, gotta run already. Gotta go teach some Girl Scouts some manners. No really, there's a badge for that.
Wow. There's a whole lot of not funny going on around here.
A little bit longer ones
duane_scott Our car broke down. We are in the most redneck service station I've ever been in.
duane_scott It is truly a different culture down here in the South.
weightwhat @duane_scott You're not hearing "Dueling Banjos" playing off in the distance somewhere, are you?
weightwhat Holy moly! I just realized I have almost nothing for a Twitter Ho-down post this week! AAAAAAA!!! Someone say something funny, quick!
sarahmsalter @br8kthru I just prefer not knowing. That way, I won't 4ever think of you as, "The pastor with the nice butt." It's just disturbing for me.
Helenatrandom @weightwhat Whew!!! I was afraid you went home because I wasn't here yet! Have we decided whose underwear to run up a flag pole, and manner.
weightwhat @Helenatrandom Surely there must be someone who needs a trip up the flagpole... Oh @Nick_theGeek! Helen and I want to talk to you...
Phew! It's over! Or is it...? Feel free to head on over to Fellowship of the Traveling Smarty Pants if you haven't had your fill yet. You're a glutton for punishment, right?
Welcome to another round of the Life is Funny blog carnival! Feel free to join in below - the more the merrier!
For today's post, we're going to go back in time. That's right. So kindly step into the WABAC Machine so we can get started.
We now find ourselves in a hospital room back in 19*cough cough*. My mom is being told she's in labor, but she's not believing it. She said she wasn't feeling any pain and just wasn't convinced. But they were keeping her there anyway.
While she was there, she got a visit from their Southern Baptist preacher. To hear tell, my mom wasn't too thrilled about the visit in the first place. But then he started lecturing her on the evils of dancing. Yup, evil alright. And he kept talking. After a while, a nurse came in and asked her how far apart her contractions were. My mom told her that she wasn't having any contractions, but the preacher told the nurse that the contractions were 3 minutes apart. It seems that during his lecture, he was watching my mom and taking note of when she looked uncomfortable. Turns out she was in labor. Apparently, my mom couldn't tell the difference between the pain of labor and the pain of being admonished about dancing. I wonder if that timing trick is something they teach in seminary...
It's Saturday Silliness time! I had originally planned to post a different video today, but after checking out Kathy's blog post for today, I've made a change. It just seems to fit. WARNING: This video is so sweet you may just get some new cavities.
For more silliness, head on over to Kathy's blog. Don't worry, she doesn't bite. Much.
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