Welcome to this month’s Fly on the Wall group post. Today 15 bloggers are inviting you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes. Come on in and buzz around my life for a while.
Tonight James, Andrew and Jack are glued to the Rockets-Warriors game. How am I supposed to pay attention when the players’ shoes are constantly squeaking up and down the court? I bet if you took a person who was born blind to a basketball game, they’d probably think it was being played by really talkative birds. Of course, why would you take a blind person to a basketball game? That’d be kind of cruel. Like challenging them to a game of Eye Spy.
Throughout the month, in preparation for this post, I make little notes on my phone of funny things I want to remember. But then, reading them later, I’m like “what?” Here are a few examples.
Never trust a plastic hippo.
Graffiti Stencils: ANDREW: I wonder if gangs ever use stencils for their graffiti. It would be funny if they sold them at Michael’s or Hobby Lobby. “Excuse me, do you have the twelve-inch Crips logo in Comic Sans font?”
Crack Black- A couple other moms, Nicole and Karyn (we’re trouble together) and I were watching the Rattlers (Andrew’s baseball team) and noticed that the middle seam on the back of their white pants were all dirty, like “black” dirty. Karyn says “Instead of eye black, it looks like they’re passing around a stick of crack black.” So, we spent the next 20 minutes or so making up ad slogans for Crack Black. The best I came up with was “Crack Black-for when the sun’s glare is too much for your moon.” Yeah, it still needs some work.
What if God was a Little League coach? I bet it’d be sort of intimidating to the other teams. “Great! We’re playing God’s team tonight. They go undefeated every year.”
Imagine if you had to be the umpire for that game. Talk abut pressure!
Speaking of baseball, I saw something the other night that completely floored me. My nine-year-old, Jack’s team was playing against a team that shall remain nameless. Okay, I’ll call them Scott.
Jack was at short stop and Scott had runners on first and third. Suddenly the kid on first takes off to steal. Halfway there, he trips over his own feet, falls face first and just lies there in the fetal position in the baseline. Concerned about the injured kid, the coaches run out to check on him. Meanwhile the kid at third runs home and scores. The catcher then tries to get him out, but it’s too late. And the fetal position kid jumps up and trots to second, where Jack tagged him. But the run still counted.
Did you follow all that? Total crap baseball! And their coach acted like his trick play was the most brilliant thing since Crack Black. You should NEVER want to win that badly that you fake an injured player. Did the coach do drills for that move at practice? “Okay, boys, let’s go over the ‘fall-on-your-face-move. And make it look real this time!”
Sitting among all the parents at that game made me feel sort of guilty for having all my teeth.
In other news…
ME: “OW!” (Hitting my elbow really hard, getting out of the car.)
JACK: “I know why they call it a funny bone.”
JACK: “Because when you hurt it, everyone else thinks it’s funny.”
ANDREW: “I wonder what kind of hand gestures birds give each other when they get mad in traffic.”
“That robin in the SUV over there just shot me a human!”
JACK (grabbing the basketball): “Mom, let’s play the long version of HORSE.”
ME: “What’s that called?”
MY MOM: “looks like my Digitalis is coming up.”
ME: “Digitalis? Sounds like something you’d have to give a urine specimen for. Oh no! He tested positive for Digitalis!”
The other day I heard someone mention their “cousin twice removed.” What the crap does that term mean anyway? Makes the relative sound like a basal cell carcinoma. “I went to the dermatologist to have my cousin removed again today. That’s twice now!”
If you’ve gotta remove someone twice, you should just get a restraining order.
Last week, we celebrated my cat Anakin’s seventh rescue anniversary, or “gotcha day.” My parents were never able to remember his name.
MOM: “Awww, Ambien’s letting me pet him.”
DAD “Here kitty. Come here, Heineken!”
(My dad passed away last March and never once called the cat anything but Heineken. And my mom still calls him Ambien. That really tells you a lot about my parents.)
That’s all I’ve got for this Fly on the Wall. Buzz around a few other bloggers’ posts and see what’s happening at their houses.
http://www.BakingInATornado.com Baking In A Tornado
http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/ Spatulas on Parade
http://followmehome.shellybean.com Follow Me Home
http://www.menopausalmom.com/ Menopausal Mother
http://stacysewsandschools.blogspot.com/ Stacy Sews and Schools
http://batteredhope.blogspot.com Battered Hope
http://www.justalittlenutty.com/ Just A Little Nutty
http://themomisodes.com The Momisodes
http://www.someoneelsesgenius.com Someone Else’s Genius
http://gndisney.wordpress.com Disneyland in Kentucky
http://singlemumplusone.blogspot.com Searching for Sanity
http://thesadderbutwisergirl.com The Sadder But Wiser Girl
http://dinoheromommy.com/ Dinosaur Superhero Mommy
http://www.juiceboxconfession.com Juicebox Confession