Good One
Every April 1st, I wage a little battle with myself. On one hand, I HATE April Fool's Day. But on the other hand, I'd sort of like to play a really good joke.
Sometimes I think about writing a blog post complaining about how, as I was driving my dang kids to school I had to slam on my brakes, thus causing my lighted cigarette to fall into my morning beer, which made me say a string of curse words (without blushing) that would have scarred my innocent children had they not taught the words to me earlier in a heated exchange with their school Principal after he dared to complain that they'd taken his car for a joy ride and driven over the cemetery near our house, which, as I explained to the Principal, wouldn't have happened--it's never happened when they've taken his car before --but they were trying to teach the puppy to drive.
I'm always a little afraid that someone will take something like that seriously, though, and as we all know, I HATE beer.
Still, I have an appreciation for a good joke as much as the next person. Take, for example, what it's doing outside even as we speak.
Good one, God.
Sometimes I think about writing a blog post complaining about how, as I was driving my dang kids to school I had to slam on my brakes, thus causing my lighted cigarette to fall into my morning beer, which made me say a string of curse words (without blushing) that would have scarred my innocent children had they not taught the words to me earlier in a heated exchange with their school Principal after he dared to complain that they'd taken his car for a joy ride and driven over the cemetery near our house, which, as I explained to the Principal, wouldn't have happened--it's never happened when they've taken his car before --but they were trying to teach the puppy to drive.
I'm always a little afraid that someone will take something like that seriously, though, and as we all know, I HATE beer.
Still, I have an appreciation for a good joke as much as the next person. Take, for example, what it's doing outside even as we speak.
Good one, God.
Comments
It created some lovely pictures in my head of what I'd like to do just one time in my all too goody two-shoes lifetime.
Just once to be really, really bad, and—well, enough for that now. I have dishes to do, errands to run, and my daughter will be home from school soon.
Let me just state for the record that lugging half a sheet cake from the parking garage up a short flight of stairs to the elevator and thence to the 7th floor and my desk, should not qualify as a new Olympic event, but apparently today it does. Hence the steroid dose pack which is waiting for me after I have finished my lunch.
Oye. Oh how I wish this were an AFJ.