ABOUT ME

About me: I'm 40 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 8-year-old Junior, our 5-year-old Everett, our baby and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Another invasive weed has taken root!

Before moving to Assachusetts last summer, my mother lived on a lake in Connecticut. One evening, when she and my step-father were out, my then 15-year-old brother decided to try out a distress signal he'd learned about by flicking the dock light on and off in rapid succession.

That same night, the EPA was taking field samples of an invasive weed that had taken root in the lake. They saw my brother's signals, motored over to the dock, docked their boat and pounded on the door.

They were thrilled to find my pimply peckerhead brother alone and well; they told him as much.

The moral of the story? Signals work. Even if you aren't aware that anyone is watching.

Let this post serve as a cautionary tale for my husband, Chuck, who can't seem to keep his snake in its cage.



No matter what he's wearing.



Word on the street is that an open fly is akin to a wedding bandless finger. Or further evidence that you want to start mimicking and boinking.

Balls in your court, Chuck.

Um, er, the figurative kind of ball that is. You perves!

9 comments:

Pricilla said...

poor, poor Chuck.
He will never live that one erm, down

VandyJ said...

It couldn't be that he thinks another kid is a good idea right now? Oh I hope not.

Brittney said...

Hahaha!!! Maybe he just needs some velcro maybe the zipper is too complicated LOL j/k

Elizabeth said...

Ya know, I tried very hard Sunday to have a sitdown chat with my 7 year old son re this very subject. I was obviously getting nowhere, because he kept coming back to the supposedly hilarious, yet profoundly disturbing fact that I referred to the offending item as his "fly". He wants me to call it his "zipper" and says he's just not going to listen to me if I keep calling it his fly. Cause come on, Mom, only ooolllddd people call it that. So I just decided to let it go, for now, much like I previously did with the thumbsucking. Of course, I was assuming eventually he'd figure it out on his own and STOP DOING IT! Maybe not, huh???

The Momma/Nanny said...

OMG, my husband does this too!!! He says I'M a pervert because I must be policing his crotch non-stop in order to notice it as much as I do. *Ahem* Riiiight...His pants are unzipped but I'm the damn 'policing' perv. Shit, maybe I am. :P

Mrs. Pickle said...

Oh I got all excited thinking I was going to see a picture of Chuck’s penis!

Frogs in my formula said...

Mrs. Pickle, I guess I know what my next post will be.

A Beer for the Shower said...

Ah, so that's what my problem with women was. Not enough sack cleavage. What was I thinking?

Essie the Accidental Mommy said...

What the heck? My husband has the same problem. WHAT is SO HARD about zipping?