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Effortlessly Average

Sort of half-heartedly leading the charge into mediocrity since, oh, let's say around 1987 or so.

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Location: Roaming (additional charges may apply), Argentina

Proof that with internet access and a powerful laxative, even insipid people will blog; the place where your excellence and my mediocrity collide; where my Karma whips ass on your dogma.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Why You Miserable Corksucker!

So, I sometimes say inappropriate things. I also laugh at some of the stupidest things. Those of you who know me will be like "NO! REALLY?!" right now. The rest will be all "huh, who cares?" and click the "Next Blog" button up there on the header bar.

But should you care, and by way of example, take the other day when I was in the kitchen with my offspring, whipping up dinner (cuz, hey, what else are you going to do in the kitchen besides cook and have sex, but I ain't gettin' any of the latter and even if I were it ain't gonna be in when the offspring are present). Flyboy was sitting on the counter. The Puffinator was standing in front of him with her cup of ice cubes, which they both snack on like M&Ms. I was at the stove practicing culinary excellence. The offspring were engaged in a dare contest: "I dare you to take a bite of this jalapeno," "I dare you to call Dad fat," etc.

Suddenly I heard from the corner of my ear "I dare you to swallow this, asshole."

I spun around, flinging chicken almondine in a graceful horizontal arc across the floor. "What did you say?!" You can tell from by my mixing of punctuation that I was incredulous.

They both looked at me with confused innocence. "What? We were just messing around."

Looking at my daughter: "Did you just call him an A-hole? You know we don't use language like that toward family members. And A-hole is reserved for descriptions of Dick Cheney or that jerkwad who hosts American Idol."

Holding her hand out, The Puffinator showed me the ice cube in her hand. "No, I said 'swallow this ice, whole!'"

"Oh. Carry on, then" I laughed and returned to creating my culinary masterpiece, recollections of Roman Troy Moronie quotes wafting through my mind.

Odd, but I didn't seem concerned about my son swallowing an ice cube whole. It would melt before he died, right?

Well, I'm outta here for now. My goal today: to see how many times I can crowbar "Surely you can't be serious? Yes I called you Shirley" into other blogs.

I'm out!

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