Mom's Revenge

For those who remember my last week's Wordless Wednesday post, Jo suggested I do the same to my kids' pictures. However, I didn't have to do much, they'd already done it to themselves.

Miami, Florida 1949

We've all heard of visits from spirits. This actually happened in my family, and here's photographic proof. My youngest daughter accompanied my parents on their honeymoon in 1949!

Super Dan

The Jolly Green Giant and Smurfs have nothing on this character. Watch Daniel flex his muscles for the blue ray. When he was in preschool, I used to pin pillowcases to his back so he could run around saving the world. Not much has changed.

Six Eyes

Sweet Judy would never alter her Mom's picture and had nothing to do with last week's post, but I wouldn't want her to feel left out, so here is six eyes--no multiple personality disorder here.

The Best Brand of Fertilizer - #GBE2

What's That?

This week's GBE 2 prompt is a picture. Unfortunately, this plant is something I've never seen thriving in our yard. My husband and I tried to plant one and fertilized it with advanced college degrees. You know how it goes:  BS = bull sh*t; MS = more sh*t; PhD = piled higher and deeper. I guess we didn't add enough manure to the plant because it didn't bear fruit for long.

Maybe my degrees were all wrong. I received a BHS instead of the standard BS. It stands for Bachelor of Health Science which is a joke because I never had the clinical ear to be a speech therapist and listen to kids say, "Ew, ew, er." As for the Audiology part, I dropped it after noticing the people who worked hard for more sh*t degrees only to change jobs before thirty. You can only push buttons for so long.

So with the desire to make loads and loads of money, I pursued a more sh*t degree in Special Education. Our high pay is the reason the economy is so messed up. Just ask any of those politicians who are pushing anti-teacher bills. Since my career wasn't bearing fruit on the money tree, I could only hope the husband bought the right brand of fertilizer.

He holds three degrees. After receiving his BS, he went on to pile it higher and deeper, but lawyers do it wrong. After the doctor of jurisprudence, he added more sh*t. The tree started to bear fruit, but so did we. Three little money suckers swung from the tree's branches and turned it into firewood.

Now the monkeys are trying to add fertilizer to their own trees. Hopefully they're buying the right brand of manure at their institutes of higher education! I know the son did. A degree in Economics landed him an instant job straight out of college.

Spilling Guts

Should I or Shouldn't I?

Several bloggers discussed whether or not to spill ones guts out in posts. I say, "No." It's a messy business that will result in me tripping and pulling five feet of intestinal material out of my body. Of course with that, I could have a fine jump rope but probably wouldn't feel like skipping. I mean who wants to jump rope with your guts sticking out? Plus while everything's open, I could pull out excess fat. They call that a tummy tuck, but this would be a homemade one that wouldn't cost ten-thousand dollars. All I'd have to do is spill my guts, pull out fat, then shove the intestines back in. I'd probably lose forty pounds, so on second thought--okay. Maybe we should spill our guts out after all. But not in front of the computer because if one bleeds on the keyboard the computer might crash!