No, this is NOT an advertisment for Canton's First Monday, and anyway, it's not the first Monday of the month, just the first one this week. The weekend went so so. We did nothing exciting. The girls are here today, playing beauty shop in the bathroom. They spend more time writing receipts and making signs than they do messing with hair.
Chloe broke her foot a few months ago, and didn't realize it was broken. Her foot kept hurting, so she went to the ortho 6 weeks ago. He diagnosed a torn achiles tendon. She's been in a walking boot, but not getting any better. She got an MRI today, and had to take out her retainer. Of course, she left it there, and realized when she was eating, that it was missing. (It is for holding a prosthetic tooth in place, it's part of her facial reconstruction mouth work on the roof of her mouth.) They made a mad dash back but managed to find where she'd laid it down, all wrapped in a napkin. It was at lunch time, thankfully they don't eat in the MRI room.
Mark is working at the office for a few days, so Sheila invited the g-kids to have a swim party at her house. They can invite their friends. Of course, both are estatic. Chloe gets to take Mosha, and Morgan probably won't take anyone. Her age sort of limits her ability to take friends swimming. We're going to do hot dogs, and I don't know what else. Chloe will have to go back to the ortho doctor tomorrow, but we'll stay and swim. Then, Morgan starts her tutoring. Morgan suffers from dyslexia (I have no idea how to spell it) and hearing / speech issues. It is almost $300 a week, and it will be for at least one year. Wow..... that's expensive. Hopefully, it will catch her up before she is held back.
Sheila and I drove to golf together las Wednesday. Gary T didn't go, so one of us had to drive. GAWD, it was awful driving. Anyway, I did fairly well, Sheila also. I'm not sure how we did in the long run, but I'm sure she beat me gross, but probably not net. I also believe I lost money to her. Carlos was there, so we did have fun.
I will take my camera tomorrow, so I'll have pictures to post. I won't post for a few days, probably, cause tomorrow night is movie / dinner night for the gals. Wednesday, we go to Greenville to play Webb Hill CC golf with the Texoma League. I haven't been there in years, but hopefully it will be in good shape. That's it for now. Since I didn't post anything exciting, I am reposting something I found on the BLOG scene. If you know my sister Janice, you would know that when the two of us get together, some weird and funny always happens. This could be us in a heartbeat. I am not kidding. I also believe her husband is just like my stick in the mud hubby, Gary. I'm adding it at the very bottom. Go pee before you start reading.....
Here's your paraprosdokian.....
We never really grow up, we only learn how to act in public.
Instead of giving you the url, I am reposting, cause it's so popular, the web site doesn't always respond. Enjoy....
And that’s why you should learn to pick your battles.
Then
Laura came to pick me up so we could go to the discount outlet together, and as Victor gave me a kiss goodbye he lovingly whispered, “You are not allowed to bring any more goddam towels in this house or I will strangle you“. And that was exactly what I was still echoing through my head an hour later, when Laura and I stopped our shopping carts and stared up in confused, silent awe at a display of enormous metal chickens, made from rusted oil drums.
Laura: I think you need one of those.
me: You’re joking, but they’re kind of horrifically awesome.
Laura: I’m not joking. We need to buy you one.
me: The 5-foot tall one was $300, marked down to $100. That’s like, $200 worth of chicken for free.
Laura: You’d be crazy not to buy that. I mean, look at it. IT’S FULL OF WHIMSY.
me: Victor’d be pissed.
Laura: Yup.
me: But on the plus side? It’s not towels.
Laura: Yup.
me: We will name him Henry. Or Charlie. Or O’Shannesy.
Laura: Or Beyoncé.
me: Or Beyoncé. Yes. And when our friends are sad we can leave him at their front door to cheer them up.
Laura: Exactly. It’ll be like, “You thought *yesterday* was bad? Well, now you have a enormous metal chicken to deal with. Perspective. Now you have it.”
Then we flagged down a salesman, and we were all “What can you tell us about these chickens?”, as if we were in an art gallery, and not in a store that specializes in last years’ bathmats. He didn’t know anything about them, but he said that they’d only only sold one and it was to a really drunk lady, and then Laura and I were all “SOLD. All this chicken belongs to us now.”
Insert-inappropriate-cock-joke-here.
So he loaded it onto a trolley, but Beyoncé was surprisingly unstable, and the giant 5 foot metal chicken crashed over onto the floor. And Laura and I were all “CHICKEN DOWN! CLEAN-UP IN AISLE 3″ but he didn’t laugh. Then the manager came to see what was causing all the commotion, and that’s when he found the very-conservative salesman unhappily struggling to right an enthusiastically pointy chicken which was almost as tall as he was.
The salesman was having a hard time, and he told everyone to stand back “because this chicken will cut you“, and at first I thought he meant it as a threat, like “That chicken has a shiv”, but turns out he just meant that all the chickens’ ends were sharp and rusty. It was awesome, and Laura and I agreed that even if we got tetanus, this chicken had already paid for himself even before we got it in her truck.
Then we got to my house and quietly snuck the chicken up to my front door, rang the doorbell, and hid around the corner.
Knock-knock, motherfucker.
Victor opened the door and looked at the chicken in stunned silence for about 3 seconds. Then he sighed, closed the door and walked away.
Laura: What the fuck? That’s it? That’s the only reaction we get?
me: That’s it. He’s a hard man to rattle.
Victor was surprisingly pissed that I’d “wasted money” on an enormous chicken, because apparently he couldn’t appreciate the hysterical value of a 5 foot chicken ringing the doorbell. Then I said, “Well, at least it’s not towels” and apparently that was the wrong thing to say because that’s when Victor screamed and stormed off, but I knew he was locked in his office because I could hear him punching things in there. Then I yelled through his door, “It’s an anniversary gift for you, asshole. Two whole weeks early. 15 YEARS IS BIG METAL CHICKENS.”
Then he yelled that he wanted it gone, but I couldn’t move it myself, so instead I said okay and went to watch tv. Then when the UPS guy came I hid, but he was all “Dude. Nice chicken” and Victor yelled, “IT IS NOT A NICE CHICKEN”. Which was probably very confusing to the UPS guy, who was just trying to be polite, Victor.
Victor seemed more disgruntled than usual, so I finally dragged the chicken into the backyard and wedged it into a clump of trees so that it could scare the snakes away. Then I came in and Victor angrily pulled me into his office so that I could see that I’d stationed Beyoncé directly in front of his only window. And I was all “Exactly.YOU’RE WELCOME.”
I told him that he could move Beyoncé if he wanted to, but he totally hasn’t. Probably because of all of the giant rocks I piled on Beyonce’s feet to dissuade burglars. Or possibly because Beyoncé is growing on him. Still, I can’t help but think that we wouldn’t even be having this argument if Beyoncé was towels.
Honestly, this whole chicken is really a lesson in picking your battles more carefully. Plus, he’s awesome and I can’t stop giggling every time I look at him. Beyoncé, that is.
Best. 15th anniversary. ever.
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