Hey, Kids, The Beat of the Day is: I am Not a Whore

So my sis MR and her family were here this weekend for the opening of their show Sock Puppet Show Girls. Hubs and I have never been able to see one of their many artistic ventures because we have always lived so far away, so I was really excited to actually be able to see their creative talents in person (vs. YouTube, which is where you can also find this). The show was totally awesome and stands as a cultural testament to the fact that you can never proclaim, "I am not a whore!" too many times.

Potty Hi-jinks

On Saturday, MR, her Hubs, her in-laws, and her super-adorable daughter Y came over to spend a few hours with us and our crazy brood before heading off on a nice 7 hou drive up to SF, where her in-laws reside. Y chose their visit as her very first time to go poo poo in the potty. Of course, this was greeted by much fan fare by the adults and a yummy chocolate reward. J observed the praise with interest but you should have seen how big her eyes got when she saw Y eating that chocolate. Her skin almost literally turned green with envy as she watched Y enjoy her treat.

J: Y'ena cho'cate?
Me: Yes, Y got chocolate because she went poo poo in the potty. Isn't she a big girl!
J: *hopefully* Me Cho'cate?

Me: No, no. You have to go poo poo in the potty to get chocolate like Y.

*I turn around a few seconds later to see J standing next to the potty with her pants halfway down her ankles.*

J: *firmly* Me go potty.

Me: Okay

.2 seconds later...

J: All done potty. Now cho'cate?

Me: But you didn't actually use the potty.

J: *insistently* Me go potty!

M: No, no. You have to go pee pee or poo poo in the potty to get the chocolate.

J: *sadly* No cho'cate.

Me: Sorry, kiddo.

Yo Crabba Crabba

Not nearly as fun as Biz Markie's beat of the day, J and A (and Hubs) all have major colds going on. A lets us know his distress by refusing to sleep and sneezing out huge, green snot bubbles thus forcing me to use the baby-snot-sucker-outer-bulb-of-extreme-discomfort. It must really suck not to know how to blow your own nose. J, on the other hand, turns into the most crabbiest, crankiest, bitchiest toddler on earth and refuses to do anything but cling to me and cry. What fun!

More 8-Year-Old Humor

C: Mom, can you spell 'I Cup'?
Me: Sure can.
C: Moooom, you're supposed to spell it. *starts to snicker*
Me: Hmmmm, the snickering seems kind of suspicious. Are you trying to trick me?
C: *giggling* Nooooo. Just spell 'I Cup'
Me: Well, why do I have to spell it? Can't you spell it?
C: Mooooom, you're ruining the joke.
Me: Ah hah, so it is a joke.
C: *shrieking* No! It's not a joke. I swear, Mom.
Me: Fine, fine. I-C-U-P
C: *flops over onto her stomach and pounds the bed with her fist in gales of laughter* Bwah hah hah hah!!
Me: Whee hoo, peeing sure is funny.
C: *through her tears of laughter* I know!
Random Pu


Best book title ever or what the Shatwrights should name their next album...also this came up just underneath said book on Amazon search. Is it just me or is it slightly disturbing to think that people who are interested in identifying different types of feces also want to know how to make sexual handicrafts?

Seriously, Oh My Fucking God! That is like a prize-winning watermelon. How do your nether-regions recover from something like that!!??

What the eff?!