The High Bar, Cont.

I sense the world’s most awesome trend starting, folks.

I bring you–The Birthday Afghan.

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In Which I Almost Die of a Stroke

So, we’re driving along and the nephew announces, “I see something black!”

“Is it a red door painted black?”

“No, it’s God.”

“God is in the car.”

“No, God’s clothes.”

“God’s a ninja?”

“Yep. Hei-ya!”

The Butcher: “Did you not see me trying to sleep here, man?  Who karate chops a man in his sleep?” I start to giggle, but try not to.  “Let’s see how you like it if someone karate chops you, for the rest of the day.”

I try harder not to laugh, but by now am so afraid of having a stroke, I have to guffaw.  Grandpa Dad tries to claim that it’s not that funny–a grown man karate-chopping a kid–but he starts to laugh.  Then he tells me that I have to stop laughing or he’s going to have an accident.

“Car or pee?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Doo, Doo, Doo, Doo, Breakin’ the Law, Breakin’ the Law

The dog and I got up early and went for a walk and we walked all over a park only at the last minute to see the sign that said “No pets.”

Oops.

We were up early because I have learned the secret of why Grandma A. got up early.  The earlier you awake is in direct proportion to the number of things in your bed.

If S=spouse

and g=kids under 10 (probably grandkids)

and d=dog

and c=cat

and h=hours of sleep

we could plot out a formula, something like

h=8+s(if “s”=sleeping)-s(if “s” is smiling naughtily at you)-g-d-c

The more things in your bed, the less chance of you getting any sleep.

Ha, I guess that’s a rule as true for libertines as it is for grandmas!

Ha, now the kid is running around the house yelling “I saw Grandma’s butt!” after getting chased out of the bathroom by her saying “I’m trying to take a shower!”

I’m starting to believe that folks have kids just for the amusement factor.