As I Wear Flippity Flops…

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For the record, the child is walking the campus in 6″ heels all day…and if you’re not familiar with my blog, the child is a 6’3″, self-identified, drag queen, who comes to high school, dressed for the Milan runway.

D’Avonte: “My feet are killing me.”

Me: (Looking at her feet) “No shit.”

D’Avonte: “Jealous?”

Me: “Every single day of my life, my love, every single day of my life.”

Ask Your Doctor If Your Heart Is Healthy Enough For Sexual Activity

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Matthew: Did I tell you that BJ had a heart attack?

Me: No!  Is he okay?

Matthew: Dude almost dies two weeks ago, and then he posts that he had THIS for lunch.

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Me: Yeah, that is NOT on the heart patient menu.

Matthew: This is the equivalent of saying, “I just got rid of my syphilis, time to rawdog some hoes!”

Me: I’m pretty sure, after a heart attack, they advise against rawdogging hoes, as well.

 

So, Maybe Showing Them Jaws, Two Days After Announcing The Family Cruise, Was A Bad Idea

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For those of you that remember this conversation I had with my sons a few days ago…  Their most recent objection to our vacation plans, is that there are sharks in the ocean.

At my parent’s house for family dinner…

 

Grandma: “So, I did some research about Bermuda today.”

Liam: “Did you find out that we’re going to disappear in a Sharknado?”

Grandma: “No, but you two should know there hasn’t been a shark attack in Bermuda since 1939.  What do you have to say about that?”

Liam: “So…they’re due, then.”

So Much For Good News

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Me: “Hey, guys!  Grandma and Grandpa booked a big trip for all of us this summer!  Guess where we’re going!?

Boys: “Where!?”

Me: “BERMUDA!”

Boys: “Like the TRIANGLE!?”

Me: …

Xavier: “Is that even safe?”

Me: “Are you kidding me right now?”

Liam: “Seriously, is it safe?”

Me: “Would I ever take you someplace that wasn’t safe?”

Liam: “Did you even SEE Scooby Doo!?”

Me: (throws up hands)

 

Excuse Me, While I Just Wrap Myself In The Floury Goodness

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Ryan: Where are you?

Me: I’m sitting, alone, in the kids’ therapist’s waiting room, with my feet on the coffee table, eating warm tortillas out of a bag. Let’s hope no one walks in.

Ryan: Why, because they’ll want some?  Tell them to get their own damn tortillas.

Me: I’ll even share, motherfuckers!

Ryan: No, no, sharing…just stare them down.

Me: I think I figured something out.

Ryan: What?

Me: Why I have a kid in therapy.