Thursday, February 21, 2008

P-Day


MY mom wanted a gay son. That is the only rational reason I could and still can come up with for this one.

I was listening to sports talk radio the other day at my masculine job work where I build Chevy's out of old tank parts while listening to Bruce Springsteen and stabbing Vampires. When the host began to talk about his football sheets as a child. He described how he was so protective of his sheets even at a young age and would get into fights with his brothers if they dare to try and take them.

Then I remembered. Then I had a brain aneurysm-

I don't have a kid. . . that I know of. But if I did I would use THE GOOGLE to figure out how to potty train him. Or I would hope that by 1.5 years old he could use THE GOOGLE to teach himself. This is what he would find:

"My personal recommendation
is to first teach your son to potty training sitting down. Once he completely potty trained for both and is accident free, then I would recommend training him to pee standing up like his father and brothers!!" Weeeeeeeeee!!!

My mom did not have THE GOOGLE. She had OLD MOUNTAIN DEVIL WITCH METHODS. Which is why I had Bambi Sheets.

Listening to my manly sports talk show shot the memory of my mom putting me to sleep with a tuck in, kiss on the forehead and a "Don't pee on Bambi's mom"

This was notNOT followed by "Gee the old girl had it hard enough what with being shot, she doesn't need you pissing all over her face." Oh no no noes!

"You don't want to get Bambi's mom dirty." Would anyone be surprised if I said I was in a onesie Culture Club jumper?

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