A Note on Being a Dud
"You gotta blog tonight, honey. Your blog is such a dud."
Soooooo..........
What to say....what to say....
Oh, I know. I will talk about the fact that my wife's razor sharp toenails sliced my knee and I actually started bleeding in bed at 5:00 in the morning. She claims that Touchdown invaded our bed and forced her to snuggle up with me on my side. I don't know if I buy the explanation. All I know is that the shock of being cut in the middle of the night is quite disturbing.
As for the wife, she thinks she is pretty funny. I teach Sunday School to the adults in my congregation and this past Sunday I used myself as an object lesson. I had some static cling and I asked if anyone could tell what was wrong with me. Well, it was like the Wife was on a pogo stick. She was like Horshack on Welcome Back, Kotter. "Oh, oh, oh. I know. I know. Where do I begin?" Oh, she got her laughs. She was pretty proud of her quick wit.
As for Lil Indy, he is a total destructo-boy. He can shred a roll of toilet paper like no other. And he talks. Oh, he talks. He is 19 months old and knows his ABC's and his numbers (more or less). He also knows that he can get chocolate anytime he wants if he just sweettalks his mama or his biggest sister. Needless to say, the Christmas decorations are scaled-back this year. All we need around here is a glass ball ornament in a million pieces on the floor.
My birthday is Sunday. Happy Birthday to me.
Soooooo..........
What to say....what to say....
Oh, I know. I will talk about the fact that my wife's razor sharp toenails sliced my knee and I actually started bleeding in bed at 5:00 in the morning. She claims that Touchdown invaded our bed and forced her to snuggle up with me on my side. I don't know if I buy the explanation. All I know is that the shock of being cut in the middle of the night is quite disturbing.
As for the wife, she thinks she is pretty funny. I teach Sunday School to the adults in my congregation and this past Sunday I used myself as an object lesson. I had some static cling and I asked if anyone could tell what was wrong with me. Well, it was like the Wife was on a pogo stick. She was like Horshack on Welcome Back, Kotter. "Oh, oh, oh. I know. I know. Where do I begin?" Oh, she got her laughs. She was pretty proud of her quick wit.
As for Lil Indy, he is a total destructo-boy. He can shred a roll of toilet paper like no other. And he talks. Oh, he talks. He is 19 months old and knows his ABC's and his numbers (more or less). He also knows that he can get chocolate anytime he wants if he just sweettalks his mama or his biggest sister. Needless to say, the Christmas decorations are scaled-back this year. All we need around here is a glass ball ornament in a million pieces on the floor.
My birthday is Sunday. Happy Birthday to me.
posted by Cool Dad at Tuesday, December 05, 2006
6 Comments:
Boy, are you in a mood. When are you going to learn NOT to ask someone what is wrong with you....Be glad Grandpa wasn't there. So, you are the Gospel Doctrine teacher...Hummmmmm......
HBD, your highness!!
Ah Happy Birthday for Sunday Mr Jones! Or as we'd say in Wales Penblwydd Hapus Jones-bach! Here's to the next year ;o)
Hello
I bookmark your site, best greetings.
I like it a lot! Good work, keep it up. You have to look at this too.
I know another good sites:
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See ya!
Oops! I missed your birthday. Hope it was a happy one. You and I seem to be in the same blogging bog.
Hey dud....post something so that we know that you are still alive...
Merry Christmas to you and the wife, Touchdown, Indy and Grandpa...
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