December 31, 2007

The 2008 Pee-On Tour

Ruthie and Ray came to visit Boyfriend and me this past weekend. We indulged in many glasses of chocolate cherry wine, and other assorted libations. As you may know, drinking chocolate cherry wine makes for some pretty aggressive talk accompanied by laughter most likely to cause one to wet one's pants. I managed the Kegel pretty well, but there is a suspicious spot on the couch where Ruthie was sitting.

One thing I learned about Ray is that he hates Bing Crosby. He doesn't avoid Bing Crosby. He doesn't dislike Bing Crosby. He can not stand (read: hates) Bing Crosby. Why Bing Crosby? I have no idea. What's not to like? Except for the fact that he was a known child abuser to his kids. Ray can't stand to watch him in movies and I'm guessing he throws up in his mouth a little when White Christmas plays on the radio. In fact, Ray got so agitated over his hatred for Bing that he declared his wish to go piss on his grave. And not just piss on his grave, piss on his grave after drinking forty-seven cups of coffee. Ray wants to make the old corpse float away.

Bing Crosby? Piss on his grave? That's just weird. Pretty damn funny, but weird.

The more we talked about peeing on Bing's grave, the more we came up with other names of people we hate. (So much for goodwill feelings of the holidays.) We decided to organize a Pee-On Tour where we map out the graves of these despicable people and pee on their graves. Unfortunately, the people we came up with aren't in graves yet, except for Bing. Ray decided we could just knock them over and pee on them while they were on the ground.

Our list so far:

Bing Crosby (of course)
Rachel Ray
Oprah Winfrey
That icky football player who's too full of himself (Ruthie's pick, but I can't remember his name)

Now that I'm putting this in print it seems really stupid. Peeing on people. Peeing on graves. It's pretty twisted, isn't it? I can't make it sound as funny as it actually was. Oh, just go drink a bottle of chocolate cherry wine and read this post again. Then add some people to the list. I know you'll want to.

December 08, 2007

Up On The Housetop

It was many years before I realized reindeer had hooves. You know, because of that song:

Up on the housetop reindeer paws...

Songs are written to reflect the times. Up On The Housetop takes me back to a simpler time when there was no such thing as soccer moms or the obsessive-compulsive overprotectiveness we see hanging like a black cloud over little kids who just want to play and pretend. Take, for example, the booty little Will gets:

Next comes a stocking for little Will
Oh just see what a glorious fill
Here is a hammer with lots of tacks
Also a ball and a whip that cracks.

Will doesn't get these things in modern times because Mom figures he'd probably bonk himself repeatedly in the head with the hammer and swallow the tacks. God only knows what he'd do with the whip.

Hey Mom, do your research and make sure that toy isn't painted with lead! Watch out for those button eyes on that stuffed animal! Don't forget the knee, shin, elbow, and head gear to go along with that new tricycle!

Oh, the good old days, when his whip was a boy's best friend.