1000-mile crankiness

I arrived home last night at 6pm to find competition for parking in my own driveway. I might have been more cordial about the situation, had I not been driving since 8:30am. It was probably the attitude induced by the 1000 mile roundtrip journey that spurred me to have the following conversation....

"Oh, hi. You're S's Mom, aye? Nice to meet you. Don't worry about parking in my spot. Actually, this is a very fortuitous meeting, as I was getting progressively worried about S and have been hoping to speak to someone close to her. I have heard escalating screams and pounding noises at early-morning and late-night hours, and was concerned about her welfare. Has she been OK?" *dumb-blonde BLINK BLINK*

*devious grin to self*

New-fangled Pet

New-fangled Pet,
originally uploaded by beckybumblefuck.

Statements uttered by Noel that led up to the

"appropriate-fun-with-the-fish" talk:



#1. "I'll sleep with my fishy ALL night!"

#2. "I can tickle my fishy."

#3. "I want to take my fishy for a walk."

#4. And some garbled speech (she was going on and on while seating in

the back of the car, as I was driving) combined with talk of a "fishy

bandage."



Note: The fish has successfully lived in our possession for a full 10 days now.

Wind me Up

The little lady has found a new tactic to TRY to wind me up. (I say TRY because it was early in the morning and I have to muster the small rements of energy available and focus in order to break for a red light, much less respond to a comment. *wink*)

Yeah.
SO.
We're driving along when the little lady says, "Carby is a slow car."
[Note: "Carby" is my Honda Civic.]
Followed by, "Make him go faster."

*sigh*
A.) Telling a speed queen that her car is slow can be a terrible blow. I like to pretend.

B.) There are limitations. By limitations, I mean traffic. By traffic, I mean that I live in the goddamn, overcrowded, too-densely-populated NorthEast, where assholes drive their Eddie Bauer, BMW, SUV-monstrosities and run over babies on the sidewalk.

Looks like she's taking after me...well, this time. She also hates amusement park rides and swing sets. *shakes head* I don't get that.

Cheese up, meatballs down

Cheese up, meatballs down,
originally uploaded by beckybumblefuck.

Noel and Big Boy Bryant have been scheming for ages, planting ideas in

each of the respective Mom's minds that the other expects a visit to

happen (fortunately the babyschool teachers are informants to this

trickery). Anyways, a visit to Noel's house did happen one evening.

Now, I *know* that the lovely Noel quite fancies BBB, but as a sage

friend of mine once uttered: boys with exotic eating habits are

difficult to feed and hence, keep. And BBB is certainly picky as HELL.

Show me a kid who doesn't like pizza, huh? Well, this young

gentleman, even having had the privilege of being the toppings-picker,

STILL managed to consume only a single bite. (He specifically directed

that his pizza should have the cheese on top, with meatballs

underneath.) And TRUST me there's almost nothing that makes me feel

like more of an ass than sending a child back to their parents hungry.

[P.S. I deserve an extra gold star for this post...I mean *you* try

and compose sentences over the sounds of multiple, pounding,

his-and-her orgasms and see how far you get...

P.S.S. I deserve a bit of coddling tonight, so I appreciate any love

you have to give. BOTH people that I spoke with this evening fell

asleep while we were talking. That's right. Two for two. SNORING,

loudly. *sigh*]

My (clean) Sister Riding the Mattress

My (clean) Sister Riding the Mattress,
originally uploaded by beckybumblefuck.

OK, OK.This actually happened over a week and a half ago. But I'm

still sent into fits of laughter when I view this photo. I had to

share.



In unrelated, more recent news, my upstairs neighbor moved her

boyfriend in this weekend. I've already been treated to bouts of the

most musical, piercing orgasmic-screams that I've ever heard. At 2:00

in the morning.



I feel strange when I run into my neighbors. I hardly know anything

about them, although we've lived in the same house for over a year. I

do know what their sex sounds like, though. Hardly a good

conversation piece.

My names based on transcripts

First: Backi
Last: Boston, Rockland, Bockman, Batmon, Bucklin

I must have garbled speech...maybe I should take a few of the marbles out of my mouth. ;)

[Note: None of these are my actual name.]