Musings of Mo » Humor

A Plethora of Useless and Inappropriate Information

Aubrey — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 11:27:49 +0000

THE OTHER DAY I PROCLAIMED, “ENOUGH!” and I scooped the cat up off the floor. It wasn’t pleased. It had been in the process of “doing the ‘nip” as all the tabbies call it, and was quite offended at the rude interruption.

I called Kevin over for assistance. They both became increasingly confused when I presented him with the cats rear end. “Take a picture.”

“You want me to take a picture. . .of it’s butthole?!” He looked at me in horror and disgust.

“Yes. And then I want you to send it to Ashley so she can tell me what this cat IS.” The cat thrashed it’s tail in anger while Kevin’s camera took aim. Getting the shot turned out to be harder than it seemed, as I couldn’t stop laughing. The look on Kevin’s face – nose wrinkled and mouth pursed. And on top of that he kept telling me how it smells like poop.

Well go figure, you ARE looking at it’s butthole. And taking a picture no less!

Ashley was quick to reply, “Male. And don’t text me animal porn!”

Now that my dreams of calling it Ginger are out, I’ve taken to yelling at him, “YOU’RE RUAN-ING MY LIFE!”

And my meanness doesn’t end there. It’s even extended to being rude to my husband.

Sad but true.

About a week ago, I was woken up in the middle of the night by Kevin grabbing my stomach. Not in a loving way. He was squeezing it pretty good and he sounded concerned when he asked, “what the hell is this!?”

“Wha?”

“This. There’s something in our bed!”

I rolled away from him and snapped, “that’s my stomach, ASSHOLE! Leave me alone!” (A word I’ve never called him, ever. We were both in fits of laughter in the morning about it.)

SL,UT!

Aubrey — Sat, 12 Feb 2011 17:30:50 +0000

WE HAD AN EARTHQUAKE IN MY NEW CITY YESTERDAY. The ground rumbled and rolled, houses shook, babies cried and dogs barked. My biggest fear, essentially, and . . .

WE MISSED IT.

I’m not sure whether I’m happy or disappointed. I have a weird need to face fears. Just not my fear of spiders, because those freakers are messed up.

But we missed it because we went on a date up to Salt Lake and it was nice to just be us, and flirt, and well, what I’m trying to get at is I think I took things a little too far and kind of turned into a slut.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get ready and make goodies – I’m hanging out with my two best friends Kamie and Evonne today!!

Things to Do During a Utah Winter

Aubrey — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 10:28:16 +0000

I HAVE A THEORY. And that theory is this: Utah winters don’t really start until the last week of December and they don’t end until the beginning of May.

Don’t believe me? Just ask me how many times it’s snowed on my birthday. (Okay I really don’t know, but if I did, I’m sure it would be a lot.)

So what do you do during a Utah winter when it’s a toasty 15 degrees outside?

Go sledding! Duh!

Just make sure you’re dressed like a ninja.

Or a thief.

Or a. . .well, I’m not really sure what that is, but it’s creepy and it (just Machelle, lest you think I hang out with weirdos) scared a large majority of the small children we were sharing the hill with.

Or wear a hat.

Or just dress like a marshmallow.

A delicious, squishy marshmallow.

Where were we? Ah yes, sledding and freezing our butts off (true story, we’ll get to that momentarily.)

You’ll need a sled or two.

And a steep hill.

Also, might I suggest long johns or some sort of shirt that tucks in? Because mine didn’t. I went down the hill with Aspen, and this happened.

I am nothing if not honest!

I hope you enjoy your sledding as much as we did and that your crack stays snow free!

Some Scares as of Late

Aubrey — Tue, 21 Dec 2010 12:21:05 +0000

SO WE WERE DRIVING AROUND MONDAY NIGHT, doing important things (which basically means stalking the Taco Amigo – you really should get there number 2 bean burrito combo, it is fabulous) and talking about important things, i.e. which houses have too many Christmas lights and arguing over the dilemma of the stray dog from earlier, where a poor hound was wondering in the middle of a busy street and Kevin forbade me from adopting him, feeding him food or at least calling the owners (which now that I think about it was probably a wise move. I mean, we have Ollie and he is high maintenance in and of himself. Plus he has some funky rash down in his nether regions and I just smacked him for rubbing his butthole on the carpet which must have surprised him because he squealed like a pig and ran in his cage, I do kind of feel badly. I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell Grams.)

So there we are, talking, driving around like hooligans (and can I say how awfully…safe of a driver Kevin is? I drive like a maniac. He drives like he’s from the home (you know the home that I speak of) 99% of the time, the remaining 1% he drives like a freak – swerving and trying to slide in the snow – WHEEEEE!) and the topic of guns comes up.

Because Kevin got a gun for Christmas.

YOU’LL SHOOT YOUR EYE OUT!

I know! I know! Need I even tell you that he looked exactly like the kid on “A Christmas Story” growing up? I would find photographic evidence to show you but alas, I think that would lead him to shoot my eye out and we all know how important my baby blues are.

So anyway, Kevin mentions that to get his concealed carry permit (yea, he be packin’. Soon anyway) he has to get a background check by the government which he was a bit concerned about because although his criminal history as an adult is spic and span…his adolescent record is not so much.

That is because in eighth grade my husband? Built a BOMB.

(Well and there was this one time when he was little and he called 911 during a concert and Kathy Mattea told the cops not to take him or his mom – but that is neither hither nor thither.)

But the bomb man, it was legit. Apparently they made groundflower bombs (which I was guilty of as a teen too although I never got caught, neiner neiner dear husband of mine, I am a better mischief maker than you!) and they accidentally left the groundflower bomb by some poor old souls garbage can, who promptly called the cops, who called the bomb squad, who sent in ROBOT to blow the thing up.

It was even on the news.

I married a criminal! Holla!

I am here to report that owning a gun has not stopped Kevin from jumping up at 6 in the morning thinking someone is stealing Aurora (his most precious possession, a blue bullet bike thingy) nor has it stopped him from rudely throwing the blankets off his adorable sleeping wife in the process (because lets face it I look like a hot fox when I’m sleeping, here is a reminder lest you doubt.)

So even though I am curled up all warm and cuddly and sleepylike, he peels the covers off of me one by one until there are none. I decide that I can’t pretend to be asleep any longer so I glare over my shoulder and notice he has a mad glint in his eyes and he’s mumbling about a Something In the Bed. Here was our following conversation:

What’s wrong?

A MOUSE!!

What? It’s 3AM.

THERE IS A MOUSE IN OUR BED. I FELT IT.

There is no mouse. It’s 3AM (we all agree that any and all mice don’t even come out until 5AM, am I right? It was more likely a spider – possibly the one we found the next night in the dogs bed?)

I FELT IT CRAWL UP MY BACK AND TOUCH ME I SWEAR IT.

Get back in bed. Well, give me the covers first.

I can’t sleep now. I’m wide awake.

Obviously.

* * * * *

Wasn’t that just a thrilling conversation internet? I’m so glad I could give you that peek into our lives.

Want another story? We have a lovely brown blanket courtesy of Kamie. And the day after Kevin woke me up with the Mouse In the House Scare of 2010? I got him back by pulling our sheets back, pointing to a few stray sheds of the brown blanket and screaming, “Look! MOUSE POOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!”

I am turning into such a great wife.