Tuesday, August 9, 2011

WWD: W@#nie P@#p!!!

Talking about poop is very big in our house lately. Well, not JUST poop. Weenies are funny too. If you put them together? HILARITY ENSUES.
Imagine the scene: Me, at the computer, or making dinner, or doing anything really. Random triplet walks up and shouts "WEENIE POOP!! WEENIE POOP! WEENIE WEENIE WEENIE POOOOOOP!!!!!" Then laughs uproariously. It's like I'm living with three tiny Andy Dick's at any moment, except they may be slightly MORE mature and LESS inappropriate, and there is less tequila involved (on their part - I cannot speak for mine). We DO also like to show our weenies (those of us who have them), so that, also is pretty Dick-ish. Pun definitely intended. I was also informed this weekend, when Simon was sitting on the toilet, "I just did a GIANT poop. It's bigger than my head!!!" I'm so proud. There always seems to be someone with their hand down their pants, and I never guessed the number of times in my life these words would come out of my mouth: "Get your hands out of your pants at the dinnertable!!!" Bloody hell, Al Bundy.
Listen, I am nothing if not amused by a good fart. For the love of Swoosie Kurtz, at one point in time I owned not one but TWO remote-controlled fart machines. If ONLY I could find them, I could keep the Trips entertained for DAYS. I just think between the constant talk of poop, toots, weenies, etc., it's too much EVEN FOR ME (yes, I said it, Amy). Of course, it could also be that the talk is going hand in hand with visual sighting of said weenies (again, pun intended). There is constant grabbing of the weenie, and talk of grabbing the weenie. Butter my butt and call me a biscuit, but I had NO IDEA how Stretch Armstrong-like those things really are.
It's not ALL weenies and poop and tie dye in our casa these days though. OH NO. We are also making random un-supervised phone calls. For instance, on Friday, I was in the kitchen making lunch when my cell phone rings. It was my cousin Holly (who is also my job share partner), calling from work. I though it was weird that she was calling on my cell.

"Where are you?" she asked.
"I'm in my kitchen making lunch, why?"
"Because I'm talking to your children - are you with them?"
"HUH???? No. I'm downstairs; they're upstairs..."
Fast forward to The Hubs and I going upstairs to find them in the bathroom sink (the water was turned off many moons ago after they flooded the bathroom into our kitchen below), giggling maniacally, phone in hand. What. The. WHAT???? Apparently Scarlett snuck the phone upstairs, hit the redial button and had a 5-minute conversation with my co-workers until Holly called me. At least it wasn't Australia. 
Caftany cardi, Earrings: F12
Tank: Sears
Jeans: Old Navy
Shoes: Jessica Simpson
Necklace: World Market
Bracelet: Won 

WOWM: Work Out With Me
Come ON, ya big weenie poop. DO IT.

Merci!
Shan

1 comments:

oomph. said...

my gawd, lol! we've totally had the fart machine...very entertaining. my two kids are fart machines...no remote needed! fab-o-lous top!

[oomph.]