To get the proper context to this post, feel free to read my wife's post earlier today, "Genetic Strangeness." There's no doubt that they're all my wife’s children. All of 'em. Down to the last strand of DNA.This morning, Spencer came running into our bathroom with his clothing in his arms. He's a smart little turd -- he wanted to get dressed in front of the space heater. He dropped his clothing, made a face like my wife makes often, pinched his nose shut, and ran out of the bathroom yelling “Oooooo it stinks in there.” "What was that all about?" my wife asked, after 45 minutes of time at the mirror. I laughed and shook my head. I had no idea what might be coming. One minute (not four) as previously reported in another well-known blog, Spencer came back with a folded-up paper towel Scotch-taped over his nose and mouth. The tape was attached to his chin, his eyebrows, and the bridge of his nose. He looked a lot like my wife when she was a child. At least like the pictures I have seen. "I had to put this on so I could breathe," Spencer explained to his mother. "It really stinks in here. It’s really reeky." Yes, reeky. This is a term used frequently in my wife’s hometown. I was laughing so hard at Spencer's home-made gas mask as I looked at him through the shower door. "It smells worse than vomit," Spencer continued. Spencer, like my wife has a supersonic sense of smell. So he might have been detecting that bit of mildew in the corner of the shower. Or perhaps he was detecting the ever so vague remains of an offensive… Well, who knows what prompted the gas mask. It was hilarious. So I'm just chalking it up to "Schafer genes." Jill will contest, but she can’t deny her genetic strangeness. Why, just today she was trying to tell me a story and kept repeating her words. “She she she then then then went.. umm she she then… oh went went went. I stopped her cold as I slammed the trunk of the car after taking the last bag of groceries out. We had just returned from shopping at Publix. At Publix, we spent an unusually long time in the frozen food aisle. Jill threw one bag of frozen peas into the cart and then stood in front of the doors staring at the Green Giant section. “Why is this taking so long?” I asked. She looked into the cart and saw the bag of peas and said, “Why are those in there?” I shrugged my shoulders and didn’t ask another question. I thought she had better work out whatever frozen food disorder (FFD) she was suffering from. There you have it. My children are weird because my wife is weird. As for me -- I choose to be weird. That's different than being born that way. :) |
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Saturday, January 28, 2006
Genetic Strangeness?
posted by The Blogging Boss at 9:00 PM ©2005-2006 Beat Your Own Drum Information provided on this site is for informational purposes only; it is not intended as a substitute for legal advice. The information on this site is not to be used for legal defense. The Blogging Boss is not responsible for any actions taken by the reader or any results in the work environment. Always contact your attorney for professional advice. Who links to me? |
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11 Comments:
HILARIOUS post! I literally laughed out loud while reading it. :-) I'm not sure if it was because of how exceptionally well you wrote it...or the fact that I hand-crafted a similar type of gas mask out of kleenexes and drinking straws (yup, it was a funky creation indeed) when I was a child. :-)
ROFLOL you naughty, naughty boy!!!
And see, your readers are already giving YOU credit for the writing style that isn't even YOURS...so you'd better direct them to my blog first, tootsie-cakes, so they can read the original post!!!
Hope you don't get sued for plagiarism. Jillian's post has an earlier time stamp.
Unless...
Might you have major portions of it written in an old notebook from high school? Might the notebook be found to have wifey's fingerprints on it???
(scotch tape can transfer fingerprints from a water glass to a shiney notebook cover)
Do I have to separate you two?
YOU'RE BOTH WIERD!
Wierd boy gene meets wierd girl gene, out pops twisted gas mask face boy with superman undies.
I am waiting for Spencer's take on this "he said, she said, fly on the wall said" story. I envision it going something like this:
I entered the bathroom where mom's hair was standing on end due to extreme hairblowing, while the doors of the shower were vibrating back and forth from the tremendous force created by my dad's latest ilk fart.
"Holy Crap!" I said, and rushed out of the room before the odor worse than vomit was mixed with a smell that really was vomit.
Since I had no access to an emergency gas mask or even a good Glade plug in, I went to work to protect my senses from offense the only way I know how. Scotch tape and paper towels.
The tape to the eyebrows was necessary so that the tension would sufficiently plug my double barrel snot launcher upon return to the rankess of the reeky bathroom.
Meanwhile dad was flushing the toilet ranting about wiggly things.
They say the children of this generation have lost touch with reality, well no wonder...
Mom calls dad a retard in Iambic Pentameter, and dad is exchanging armpit farts with some guy code name Cheese Weasel.
Hm, judging from the two oh-so-similar posts, no matter which way you cut it, you're kids are doomed. ;-)
P.S. ROFLMAO at "Spencer's version"!!!!
Just for the record...reeky is not generally used in Catasauqua. Nor in the Schafer family. Sorry, but that one must be Boehme-ish!
Hmmm this seems rather deja vu with a twist.
reeky? oh, man. does that describe my bathroom after, er.. well, let's say "heavy usage".
And I have to agree. Jill has no monopoly on weirdness in your house. Of course, that comes from a guy who calls himself "The Eccentric Father."
I hate to say it Eric you have your own set of weird gene's LOL
Well, they always say to hear both sides of the story. But the case of this story we might want to the hear the story from Spencer :)
Wow... you won't even claim just half of the weird genes??
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