About Me

My photo
I love a lot. I wait a lot. I try to find a lot to laugh at. I don't usually have trouble with that. I pray a lot. I'm not always sure who or what I pray to, but I firmly believe that prayer makes a difference. I try not to panic very often. I try to learn something new every day. I spend a lot of time poking my nose into other peoples' bidness via their blogs. I clean up an awful lot of feathers. You can dress me up, but you can't really take me out. I travel a lot when I can find bird sitters and we take them with us when I can't. I drink, prolly to excess, but I rarely get sick because my body is a hostile environment to germs (or maybe no SELF RESPECTING germ would LIVE in my body?) I collect: gnomes, passport stamps, MONEY-preferably US dollars or Euros, red headed womyn and chicks named Stephanie. My Momma taught me many many years ago that girls don't fart, they foosie. She taught me lots of other chit too. Thanks for stopping by-leave me a comment and let me know you were here, feel free to link to me, or email me at jacquelynn.fortner@gmail.com

Thursday, October 23, 2008

All quacked up and no place to go

These plucking quackheads.  They literally quack me up, every morning at the quack of dawn.  Right outside my bedroom window, they call for the Innocent Bystander to get the flock out there to feed them.  Don't they know that quack is whack?

Okay.  Mo' betterer now.  *sips coffee*

Yesterday was a very good day.  The IB's wire transfer came in, so we got to make that long anticipated trip to the bank to *DRUM ROLL PLEASE* pay off the house.  Now the only two things we have that are not paid for are the boat and the camper.  If worse comes to worse, they can have those back, and we will still always have a place to live.  What a feeling of peace!

While I did some chores around the houseboat, the IB went to the house and bleached it and broke a pipe in the process, so he went to Lowes to get some PVC to fix it.  When he got back, I got confirmation that he does, in fact, read my blog, for there in the bag he brought in was a light fixture to replace that forking chandelier.  He really does love me!

On the way to the play, we went by Circuit City and picked him up a little mortgage burning present-his long dreamed of set of Bose speakers which he's been farting around with all morning.  (And may I suggest, dude, that when you go outside at quack-thirty to play with said speakers full blast that you play COUNTRY music?  I mean, I don't want someone to take you OUT and I don't think most folks around here appreciate Stevie Wonder like you and I do.  Just a thought.)

The play.  Oh, my.  El Juevo (and YES I KNOW IT IS SPELLED HUEVO BUT THAT IS NOT HOW WE SPELL HIS NAME) did just fine and dandy (his character actually was a dandy!) and we had no seizure problems at all.  The play itself, and this is just my opinion, was a pain in the arse to watch.  The characters were supposed to be speaking in an Irish brogue, which was kind of hard for some of these little southerners to master, so you really had to concentrate on translating what they were saying to keep up with the plot.  But there was one rather Reubenesque young lady who was playing a shall we say 'simple' girl, and when she started dancing around the room, I almost came unglued.  I'm sitting there with my mom, the Purv, and the IB and when she started twirling around and her skirt lifted up around her EARS, all I could think of was the skirt to my sex costume from a couple of weeks ago.  And then I had to wait for her to twirl around again before I could determine whether or not she in fact HAD ON ANY KNICKERS.  At this point, I think the IB had already started snoring, so I don't think he noticed, but Mom and the Purv know how my mind works and they are watching me try to hold it together with my shoulders shaking and tears and snot streaming down my face, choking back the snorts, which got the two of them started.  Then toward the end she brings out this bloody damn rooster that lays on the stage for the rest of the play and while they are droning on onstage I'm thinking about the fact that there is a stiff bloody COCK just laying there.  All in all it went very well.  And I have no problem with the fact that my son is more comfortable wearing makeup than I am.

P.S.  Dude-I'm sorry I intimated that you were going to get some yesterday and then didn't come through.  I just couldn't get the image of (potentially) flapping labia and those pearly white thighs and that bloody damn chicken out of my head, and I didn't want to hurt your feelers if I burst out laughing whilst we were doing it.  I hope this morning kinda made up for it.  I know you buttered my biscuit!


darsden said...

Alex was the main highlite of the play..however the damn Cock about took the show..all I could keep thinking is there is a dead cock on stage...Play sucked for the most part...Thankgoodness for A-man

Di said...

WHAT is that a picture of?

Pearl said...

A paid-off mortgage?! Well done and hot damn!
This post made me laugh out loud. Quack is whack.

derfina said...

purv-Of course I thought he was too-wouldn't be prejudiced now, would we?

di-THAT is the stiff bloody cock that laid on the stage for pretty much the whole second act.

pearl-Quack IS whack! (And yes, the mortgage issue makes my panties wet every time I think about it.)

Di said...

yeah, that officially creeps me out lol

Captain Steve said...

I've never been so happy to not be getting any. Bloody cocks and flapping labia.