Tag Archives: Funny

Saving the World One GPS At A Time

Posted in Conversations With, Doggie Diaries by

D1: OH MY GOD THE DOG JUST SHIT AND NOW SHE’S PLAYING IN IT! 

Me:  Perhaps you should tell her to stop

D1: OH MY GOD NOW SHE’S RUNNING ALL OVER THE HOUSE!  EWWWWW!!

Me:  Perhaps you could catch her so it doesn’t infest the floors with dog feces

D1: OH MY GOD SHE THINKS I’M PLAYING WITH HER AND NOW SHE WON’T STOP! 

Me:  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

D1: IT’S NOT FUNNY!!

Me:  I used to have to run after you for the exact same thing when you were a baby!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

D1:  WHAT??!!  That’s not helping.

Me:  No, but it is funny….

What? It wasn't me! WANNA PLAY?!

What? It wasn’t me! WANNA PLAY?!

Below is an excerpt from an email I sent to ma DH ladies last week.  It seemed to generate a lot of discussion.  Hmmm….

Now that spring has sprung and kids have already begun to get lost, I suggest the following to keep the kiddies safe and the mommies sane:

 

* have a GPS locator installed on your kids’ shoes.  It saves a lot of texting, calling, yelling, screaming and crying.  AND, it’s kickass to have a GPS installed in your kid’s shoe.  True Story.

 

* Circulate a map of the area with the areas highlighted where the bodies may be buried with instructions that the kids stay away from there.  Then, because we know our children so well, have zombie-like mannequins buried in very shallow graves so when they do look for them, they will have the shit scared out of them.  Then they can come running home and you can all say what all mothers have been destined to say for centuries “I told you never to go there!!  Listen to your mother!  I know what I”m talking about!  Now get upstairs and put on clean underwear!”  

 

* Post signs for a non-existent neighbourhood watch program and install fake video cameras at every lamp post.  It’s creepy and the kids will be ominously looking skyward and waving at the cameras.  Visitors to the street will wonder what the fuck is wrong with these kids who are randomly waving and looking at the lampposts.  They’ll call city hall and then city hall will inspect the street, find the name-withheld-for-obvious-reason’s in violation of every lawn infraction imaginable and evict them.   Perfect. Solution. 

 

I could so solve the world’s socio-economic problems if just given half a chance and some alcohol…

 

This is why I get invited to DH every other week.  I may actually do some of this shit!

Fart Dreams. What Else Is There?

Posted in Misguided Musings by

The voices in my head that reverberate incessantly are retaliating in the most resourceful way they can by imposing the oddest dreams imaginable during my REM or whatever it’s called, sleep.  Last night I dreamt about snot and farts.  No really.  The epitome of class and the higher echelons of elegance.  Snot and farts.  My dreams are awesome. 

At one point in the dream, I had a huge booger that was in my nose and the only way to extract it was with tweezers.  When I did, it was a green ball with spikes. Not that I usually pick my nose…or use tweezers for that purpose.  BUT A SNOT BALL WITH SPIKES?!  Who dreams up that shit?  Apparently, I do.  Twelve year old boys everywhere want me as their mom. 

Later in my dream I am participating in a ritual dance of sorts where I am prancing and flailing around as if to dance in procession when suddenly “SQQQQUUUUUEEEEETTTTTT” goes my ass in rhythm to the music.  I stop.  The AUDIENCE, yes, AUDIENCE, withdraws into silent disgust in my abhorrent display of gassiness.  With little choice but to look elsewhere in bewilderment as to the source of the fart, I blame it on a young faceless girl behind me.  “Oh, no that was all you princess” somebody said…I turn to a giggling audience and walk silently offstage, the blond girl following haplessly behind me only to hear, once again a “SSSQQQQUUUUEEEETTTT”.  That was her and I look appalled and not at all impressed that she had the absolute gall to copy me.  I am mortified that she just farted in front of MY AUDIENCE.  Wait…didn’t I just do that?  Yeah, but it’s okay for me.  I was dancing.  Totally justified.  And maybe a little fucked. up.

I’m not entirely sure why these dreams are haunting me in a most peculiar way.  There were other nuances to the dream that I can’t describe just for the mere fact they were so bizarre that I probably would not be able to do them justice.  I mean, when one dreams of spiked snot balls…it’s all a little weird isn’t it?

I’ve had weird dreams that involve people that have been dead for years.  The creepiest one was the other night.  I dreamt I was at my brother’s funeral again. He died in 1986 in a motorcycle accident.  I dreamt that I was at his funeral, but it wasn’t HIS  funeral.  it was different with different people and my boss was there.  There was nowhere for family to sit as our seats were taken and I kept saying “This isn’t my brother’s funeral. That was a long time ago.  This isn’t it” and then the dream ended.  I found out last week, one of the DH lady’s cousin died tragically in a motorcycle accident the day after I had that dream.   Kinda creepy, huh?  As I learned more about him, he closely mirrored my brother….

So, I’m hoping my dream tonight isn’t a tragic one.  I’ll also take one without the spikey snot balls and farts, thank you very much. Maybe one involving Johnny Depp and chocolate???  Hmmm….

 

My sign...notice the decorative heart and flowers...I think Hubby should rethink his position on this. It's awesome

What I said after all my dreaming…

Attack of The Crows

Posted in Misguided Musings by

Current events in our city has prompted this drawing.  Crows are attacking innocent peeps in a terrifying Hitchockian manner!  Residents walking downtown minding their own business and totally not shouting or mocking the birds.  Observe:

A picture is worth a thousand words...or at least a few hundred

A picture is worth a thousand words…or at least a few hundred

Now you are officially informed.

Pray for us….or send slingshots.  At least that way we could charge admission to the public for their chance to play the game called “Scare The Crap out of the Crows” If someone actually hits one, they win a free bucket o’chicken.

Artwork by Kayjai

 

 

Shit I Did This Weekend

Posted in Conversations With, Misguided Musings by

Played The Board Game from Hell

I think my family is expecting a post about the perils of the game Trouble.  Then again, I think my family expects more from me in general, anyways so, here.  Don’t say I don’t do anything for you guys.  Geesh, stop bothering me will ‘ya?  It’s like having Erkel around all the time.  GAAAAAWWWWWD. What’s wrong wit…sorry. Babbling.  Okay you can start reading now…orrrrr now.  Now?  Yeah, now. 

The devil's invention that sends me into fits of swearing and air punching. I commend thee!

The devil’s invention that sends me into fits of swearing and air punching. I compel thee!

Have you played this raunchy-when-I-play-it- over-the-top not-for-little-kids-mutha-of-a-game?!  One minute into the throws of punching that plastic bubble in the middle and I was calling my sis-in-law a 6-whore and demanding a replay from my niece.  My poor 79 year old mother-in-law must have thought I was possessed or have been negatively influenced from living in the city too long.  She stayed quiet while I fiercely pounded the bubble as the dice inside REFUSED to turn over to a number 6. The number 6 is necessary to even begin the game.  You know, 6…Devil, Beast, Asshole…(If you’re a Trouble virgin like I was, I’ll give you the condensed Kayjai version of the game.  You. Are. Welcome.

You have 5 game pieces who are safely ensconced in ‘home’ position.  The object is to get your 5 homies into a safe house, but first you have to wander aimlessly around the neighbourhood, but watch out!  The crackheads are out and gunning for your ass, so it’s survival of the fittest.  You get them, before they get you.  You nail their asses before they have a chance to say “I need a fix!”  Got it?   It’s probs. not supposed to have ‘crack’ references or raucous swearing and bouts of fist-flinging…or insulting commentary, but I was trying to bring it to a level most people relate to.  Not that you relate to crackheads…or strangers chasing you down and calling you names in your neighbourhood.  Or maybe you do. I don’t know…I don’t know where you live…anymore.)

 I finally made it out onto the actual playing board and when I did I was gunnin’ for 6-whore and whoever else got in ma way.  I think I obliterated my mother-in-law a few gagillion times and inspired a mob mentality by getting my niece to chase after her momma with ire and determined fury.  Yeah.  I think the Devil was having a grand ol’ time watching me morph into some evil-crazed sociopath looking for a little payback and attacking any innocent bystanders who may be present.  I was half expecting the arrival of a priest to hose me down with incense and holy water. I think I caused my mother-in-law to fall into immediate prayer and beg for my salvation…we played two games.  Niece had to go to work…pfft…LIKE THAT WAS IMPORTANT. WE WERE PLAYING TROUBLE FOR GOD’S SAKE!  WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!  Anyway, they said I had to let her go, so after my final head-spin, I think I won the second game…AND, I wasn’t even the slightest bit drunk.  Ha!  I WIN! 

 

Played Card Games and ‘Borrowed’ A Truck

I played mother-in-law in two games of cards before suggesting we go to the next town a half-an-hour away for lunch.  Incidentally, I won the last game.  AND, I wasn’t even drunk.  Ha!  I WIN!  The kicker?  You know that Hubby bought a nice shiny brand new truck in November, right?  You know that I have never driven nice shiny brand new truck, right?  You know that he so BLATANTLY left his truck keys on the counter, PURPOSEFULLY pointing out to me where he left them while he and son and his bro went fishing.  AND, it was mother-in-law’s birthday..so of course I had to treat her to lunch.  In the next town.  And invite sis-in-law and her crew.  AND HOW WAS I GOING TO GET HER THERE???!!  Dat’s right…the nice shiny brand new truck that I have never driven before, of course!  Duh….

What?  I texted Hubby…

AFTER I had arrived at lunch and parked said nice shiny brand new truck FAR AWAY FROM EVERY LIVING THING IMAGINABLE, lest there be denting or scratching or heavy breathing on it. 

See?  Everything was fine. 

Observe:

Me:  I took the truck to take YOUR mother out to lunch since EVERYBODY ELSE IS GONE.

Hubby: K. Where did you go?  And have you reached your destination?  (he thinks everybody is watching him and reading his texts, so he remains formal like he’s met me maybe once in his whole life…unless he’s pissed at me.  Then he feels the need to speak like a sailor.  Bastard.)

Me: We are meeting sis and Niece at Gibsons for lunch in GFW.  We are here now.  The truck drives itself!!  I don’t know why I haven’t driven it before!

Hubby:  YOU DROVE MY TRUCK TO GFW??!!!!!!

Me:  YOUR MOTHER wants to know if she needs to get the frying pan ready.  (subtly trying to change the subject)

Hubby: You haven’t driven my truck because I don’t want you to.

Me:  Why not?  I’m like RainMan.  I’m an excellent driver.

Hubby:  EXACTLY.  Please be careful with my truck.  I luvs her right.

Me:  Well, maybe you should marry it then.

Hubby:  What?

Me: Ugh…never mind…

I’m so mature….

 

 

 

 

 

Sock Wars – Like Star Wars, Only With A Psychotic Puppy. And No Robots.

Posted in Doggie Diaries, Misguided Musings by

I have no idea what shit goes down at my house when I’m at work, but I’m sure it has something to do with all of my missing socks…and Mags.  She secretly hordes them, I swear.  I’ll find a random sock sticking out of the bottom of the bed or under a chair or strewn haphazardly on the floor and think “Where’s the matching one?  How did that get there?”  I see her looking at me all:

“What?  OH, YOU THINK I DID THAT, IS THAT IT?  I’M SUDDENLY THE BAD BITCH, NOW?  PFFFFTT…PUHLEASE.  I’M BETTER THAN THAT…WAIT.  ARE YOU USING THAT SOCK RIGHT NOW?” 

  “You mean the one that I’m currently WEARING?”

  “YEAH. NOT THAT I WANT IT, BUT ARE YOU?  I SO COULD……..NEVERMIND.”

“Sock whore…”

“Oh, yeah?  I think you just put a clean comforter on your bed…”

*Gasp*  “YOU WOULDN’T!”

“Who’s the bitch, now?” 

*rips off sock*  “Look, Maggie.  I got a pretty socky for you!”

“Oh!  GOODY, GOODY!! GIMMEE GIMMEE GIMMEE!!!!!!” 

Mmmm, hmmmm……..

Addiction is difficult. There will be an intervention, I'm sure of it.

“What?  Oh, these?  It’s nothing.  You see nothing, you got it?”

 

The word on the street that the Mob would have us relocate is getting to be more of a fact, than a rumor.  Now the question remains as to where to relocate the wonderful Kayjai-kin?  Aye, there’s the rub.  We are still in limbo, but the horizon looks very wheat-fieldy or Island Life, The Extreme North Edition.  Essentially, they want to haul us off to rural areas.  Maybe we have been city-folk way too long for their liking?  Ugh…go west old man, never seemed all that appealing to me.  Can I get a witness?  Hell, no we won’t go! 

As an aside, Hubby is quaking in his high browns, but we remain positive until the hammer comes down all definitive-like. No use panicking about something that may not happen.  With two daughters in Uni (D1 just got accepted to Nursing.  Can I get a ‘hell yeah’?!)   the prospects of having to go yonder ways to where they would have to either start a different university or stay here in residence is daunting and tipped on the side of inane.  Ugh.   

So for now, we sit and wait while the map is outstretched before the Mob Boss as he throws one hand over his closed eyes and with his other hand, juts his pointed finger towards the map and BAM!  We have been relocated.  Congratulations, Kayjai-folk!   

And THAT, good people is how it’s done….

True story.