Where in tarnation…

In case you ever wonder why I go so long between posts…

This was screamed by Peanut from his bed at the end of an hour long bedtime battle royale from hell (screamed at his father):

“I want to go tell Mommy that I’m sorry I kicked you and hit you! [long beat] PLEASE! It’s important to me!”

Help me, Obi Won Ben or Jerry. You’re my only hope.

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9 thoughts on “Where in tarnation…

  1. “It’s important to me”? That seems like a very mature negotiating approach. Wow!

    But to you, I extend chocolate, wine, and lots of star stickers. With glitter. Because now JC has made it so that any time I give something, there has to be glitter involved.

  2. Glitter is one of the many things that runs thru my veins. Cheesecake is what clogs them. Together they give me happys and lols.

    Funny horrible not funny hilarious sucky story about my beginnings and obsession with glitter. A long long time ago (*American Pie* ref), I worked with a group of pranksters like myself. We lived together in the middle of nowhere. There were 16 of us jammed in 2 houses with a total of 4 electrical sockets, an outdoor grill area, a pay phone round the corner, and an ice cream shop down the road. No teevee, 1 couch in each building, 1 table, basic kitchen appliances. We pranked each other all day every day since we had nothing better to do after/before work. Pranks included hanging bras from the trees, tying chicken up under cars, putting stuffed animals in strange places. I did a little seamstress manuever on a dude’s pants – took in the crotch about 4 inches, closed a pocket, shortened one leg, closed a belt loop. The look on his face when he came down the stairs in his boxers holding his fave pair of pants was classic. Double bonus was that it was the only clean pair he had! Did I mention no laundry facilities within about an hour? Paybacks are a bitch. One morning, I go to put my clothes on, in the dark (it’s like 4 am), and something is flying all over. I’m not awake yet. I reach for the flashlight and realize there were at least 3 full bottles of gold glitter sitting EMPTY in front of the stairwell, and that the prankster filled my socks, shoes, pants, shirts, EVERYTHING with the glitter. I looked up to see a stuffed animal hanging from a hanger on the ceiling with an upside down mostly-empty bottle of glitter in its paws. My toothbrush = covered in glitter. Glitter in my shampoo. Glitter in my pillowcase. Glitter was everywhere, for weeks. YEARS LATER, I get a xmas card from the prankster. FULL OF GLITTER. I opened it IN THE CAR. *stupid stupid stupid* MORE YEARS LATER, I get a package from the prankster sent from somewhere in Canada and I couldn’t read the scribbled name. FULL OF GLITTER. All over my kitchen. LAST YEAR, I found out where the phucker lives now, and I sent a card. Oh yes, Glitter Baby Glitter. His wife did not think it was funny. She opened it. Whoops.

  3. Ben and Jerry would know just how to handle that, make it delicious AND give it a clever moniker…Because it’s important to them. Obi-Won, not so much. I mean, he had the cool lightsaber and all, but Ben and Jerry are all about creamy goodness…

  4. jc, sorry to laugh at your pain, but that was hilarious. Attempting to frame the stuffed animal is delicious genius. Shortsheeters have nothing on your seamstress moves, though, yo. A female relative in my family does the glitter in cards b.s., and I *never* remember to open at appropriate times and places.

    Maria, you complete me. And you see why I crossed out the clever and lusty Ewan McGregor in favor of either of the Vermont duo.

  5. Nap—you deserve the soul balm. Any kind you need, dearie.

    JC—I am FULL of LOLS and HAPPIES and GLITTERS from hearing that story!!! And how fab that the end is that his wife opened your glitterpackage. LMAO, for reals.

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