Here's one for ya, sports fans...
The guy who's infant I just got done babysitting?
Wants to...
...yeah.
I need beer. Many beer#. A plethora; nay a millennial tide.
Of beer.
ONLY MY LIFE.
_________________________________________________
I am not the worlds' sexiest woman. I know that is a terrible shock but that's not my problem. I'm an average looking, chubby little housewife (with rockin' gazongas) who runs around wearing raggy jeans, stained slogan t's and sandals. I go shopping, I drive a geezermobile and I garden. I am a GRANDMOTHER for the love of Mike.
Probably because of the way I was raised, realizing that someone wants to do the horizontal bop with me makes never fails to me feel like I've done something wrong. This is how you tell you're Catholic, as a matter of fact...wait until some slavering random nut comes along with a perpetual hardon for anything breathing and if this makes you feel guilty, DINGDINGDINGDINGDING! You win the 'tiny little moustache' award!*
On an only marginally more rational level, it also creeps me out because I'm married to a man that has a well-known reputation for doing things like handcuffing people who irritate him to railings and pistolwhipping them (really happened) and chasing down careless drivers, pulling them out halfway through the drivers side window and cracking them off the rearview mirror a few times (really happened.**) He works in a smelter. He has tattoos. He has muscles. He has a moustache. He owns a Harley. This is a man by whose standard 'butch' is measured. Nothing subtle going on here. And I make no bones whatsoever about the fact that I am pathetically, hopelessly in love with this guy, either. I am SO married. Ask the Amazon; it can get downright embarrassing.
So when this redneck started coming on all fraught I though he was just stoned. You know, a little intense, a little too focused? I thought he was trying to maintain. Never occurred to me that he had anything barnyard on the brain.
That changed when I noticed what he was packing yesterday when he came to pick up the baby.
Now here is a banjo-pickin, white trash scenario for ya: While Daddy is standing there holding Baby, he's making heavy eye contact with babysitter (47, overweight, wearing 15 year old 'Cosmo Kramer' t-shirt stained with house paint that has corn fragments stuck all over it.)Daddy keeps casting longing looks towards babysitters bedroom. Daddy makes numerous "when's the Biker coming home?" statements. Meanwhile Daddy is trying to hide a raging redneck erection beneath the edge of the dining room table out of sight. The babysitter did not want to see this, but the Babysitter had to pick up the baby's blanket off the floor and OH MY GOD NOT, EW, DON'T, MY TABLE, NO, WE EAT FOOD THERE, AW GEEZE.
Daddy begins complaining about Mommy.
Babysitter cuts him off mid sentence because Babysitter does not want to hear that sad tired crap. Babysitter is bustling all over the house practically throwing things into the baby's bag in order to get Daddy out faster, meanwhile simultaneously doing laundry, hucking corn cobs into a bucket, wielding large knives and huge pots of boiling water and generally trying to maintain 'moving target' status.
Daddy hints that a ride home might be nice.
Babysitter looks at him incredulously.
Daddy wanders off down the sidewalk with baby, a six pack of beer and a teddy bear baby bag slung over his back, casting lingering looks back at Babysitter's house. Babysitter lurks behind curtains and trots from room to room making sure he's actually leaving the property.
Some girls have all the luck.
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#'beer' is the collective noun one uses when referring to 'lots of beer all standing around in a group'.
* thanks due here to Frank Zappa
** now, the only reason he did this was because he got to the guy's car first. I was still getting the seat belt unfastened. he's actually a very nice man most of the time. just don't shoot him with a small callibre handgun or cut him off in traffic and then flip him off. ok?
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I'm not a sports fan but I'm guessing he wants to show you his shuttlecock?
ReplyDeleteOr he wants to shoot a hole-in-one?
no, not only you, first nations. i heard he's willing to play hide the hot dog with anyone under 6 feet tall.
ReplyDeleteWants to score into the back of the net?
ReplyDeleteSooooo....have you ever seriously considered brewing your own? Start gathering beer bottles right now. No don't hit that man with it, save the bottle, slap the man. Good!!
ReplyDeleteI've just come by to show off my legs.
ReplyDeletemj: rodeo. I'm supposed to take a ride on the wild baloney pony.
ReplyDeletepink: aw shit. well THAT ruined my day. 'neck pokes anything? that rotten potty monster.
knudsen: no, he wants to fuck me. geeze, knudie. grab a clue.
gale: no, i never have. i am a complete failure when it comes to anything more sophisticated than making yogurt.*snif*
mj: and wonderfully stripey legs they are! HEY EVERYONE MJ HAS A NEW AVATAR!
"knudsen: no, he wants to fuck me. geeze, knudie. grab a clue."
ReplyDeleteNow THAT is funny. Thank you, F.N. for being the clever, witty, charming individual that you are.
Now, about Awaiting...(evil grin)
If you've got major league gazongas NOTHING else on earth matters!!
ReplyDeleteSEE?! Reg knows. You could look like the Crypt Keeper, but with those gazongas, it wouldn't matter at all. men lurve bewbs, that is all there is to it.
ReplyDeleteAnd...well, you know da keeps the shotgun behind his bedroom door, yeah? Ok then. Continue knife weilding, and I suggest chopping something bloody up whilst he visits
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ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDelete'shot: i keep telling you, this is a classy joint here. you should see my archives. particularly this post.
ReplyDeletereg: and you'd think id realize that by now. yeah, ok. corn fragments and all, huh? *sigh*
ssa: mom keeps a loaded 45 cocked and locked in her nightstand. does this guy seem depressed to you? because I'm beginning to wonder if he's trying to commit suicide by muk or something.
I didn't think it was possible to love you more, but after reading that, I do.
ReplyDeleteFirstly, "Congratulatory juices".
OH
my
gawd.
I must be new to the neighborhood because that is brand new to me and I'm stealing it and using it as my own as often as I can work it into a sentence.
Being a long time aficionado of "returning the favor", I wish I'd had a print out of this to give to all my potential "dining" partners in the past.
I did have to look up Ami James, as I am, how you say, oblivious to current events and such (Is Debbie Gibson still rockin' it Out of the Blue style?)
So, from me to you, and apparently having nothing to do with the post under which this comment is being left (sorry everyone); a great big, hips grinding inappropriately, not letting go soon enough and thus making things uncomfortable for all, smooshing yer mammaries, laughing with and not at (mostly) hug. (in a non-sexual, not offensive to tattooed, kick-my-assable biker hubby)
Face facts, you still got them, I mean IT!
ReplyDeleteI won't dilute this compliment by concurring with reg & ssa (spot on) so just smile and say thank you.
Maybe you need to create a conspicuous altar, replete with votive knife shaped candles, in front of a huge picture of Loreena Bobbit.
On second thought, this may be too subtle for a doofus who isn't smart enough to have considered the consequences of his actions.
Oh hell, you're prolly so used to men drooling that I'm surprised that you even noticed.
You're too sexy for that shirt
You're too sexy for your blog.. too sexy
'shot: would you do my laundry? :) i actually did get that published!
ReplyDeletehomoE: dude, please. the drool.
and i assure you, the shirt was rockin it larger than what was inside. not even the girls can out-sexy the red hot studliness of Cosmo Kramer.
dammmit, sugar...YOU are delish...i have missed reading you...thanks for this one ;)
ReplyDeletePriceless. Do you think he gets much play, trying to get it on in front of his child? Eish.
ReplyDeleteBlimey! He doesn't expect much from what he pays for babysitting, does he!! He'll be asking you to wax his car and clean the windows next as well!
ReplyDeleteI thought you looked like Cher!
ReplyDeleteGood grief!
ReplyDeleteThat guy is a dipstick, a 100% dipstick. Perhaps the next time he brings his li'l 'dipstick' to the party and uses your table to hide it (ewwwwww, there is just NO need for that kinda behaviour!!), you could illuminate him to the ways of the 'cut and burn' method:
He comes on to you again, you nail his bits to the table (c'mon if it touches the table twice, the table's gotta go anyways)set fire to the table, hand him a knife and suggest he either cuts his bits off, or he burns. See, simple.
Or perhaps a tad extreme...I'm not sure.
Jeez, some men just have no clue!
Hope you had a great weekend!!!!
xx
Jeeeez , what a retard , I wonder if his 'come on'technique has EVER worked.
ReplyDeleteI think its your whole sista of the soil, earth mother thing that gets em going, an attractive woman is more than a pair of hooters , its whats hanging of the back thats , more important :-)
Are you telling Biker about this? And can I bring him a cake with a file in it - when I come to visit him in jail?
ReplyDeletesee, in a situation like that, i would pull my southern belle, blonde, dumb as a doorpost routine. tends to make people feel sorry for me, aggravated at me, and confused all at the same time. if that wouldn't work, i would pick up the phone and exclaim, oh! my husband called, let's see what he wanted! if that didn't work, i'm outta ideas.
ReplyDeletesavannah: well thanks, sugah!
ReplyDeletefoilwoman: i know! i know! what kind of an ill pig does something like that? try to cheat on his wife with their INFANT in his arms?!??
reg: and THAT aint happening either.
ziggi: no, i look like Diane Downs disguised as Betty Page, wearing my grandmothers bedroom slippers and humping a corndog. clean your glasses.
punkin: you, my good curcurbit, have just earned honorary Flatbutt Tribal member status. well done!
beast: oh you sweet talking debbil you. drop that baby and come'ere you hairy drooly ol' thing you.
gale: and thats the 64,0000$ question, isn't it??? i think i will, but i'll wait until his day off, when he's nice and roasted, and then play it on the mild side. but yeah. he's got to know. that's the kind of shit you gotta keep aboveboard with.
pink: that's a good one. I've played that too...sally suburbia, butter wouldn't melt, duh. i just cant get past the whole 'infant in arms' aspect of it. jeezly christmas.
join a boat club and make friends with the men's team. it's like having an entire squad of 6 1/2 foot-tall, muscly, built like a brick shit house personal bouncer big brothers at your beck and call.
ReplyDeleteand unless you're a coxwain they won't want to bone you, guaranteed.
cb - better idea...have older brothers who are built like brick shithouses and their friends...all of whom play football (not soccer for the brits) and/or rugby. tell them that someone is messing with you, and they'll beat the living snot out of them. being the little sister has its' perks.
ReplyDelete