Pass the Puns, Please

My world is once again right side up. My darling Boo is to be released from the hospital this morning. And not a moment too soon, might I add. Because if he isn't released today, I'm going to have to kick his ass. I mean, there is only so much tolerance a wife has for a miserable, whiney man. A man who insists on batting his baby blues outrageously flirting with the female nursing staff and then defends his actions by saying he gets the best jello this way.

I'll give him good jello.

Scratch that, dear internet. I'll just kick him in the ass. I like that plan better.

But since I'm at home, polishing my ass-kicking boots, I thought I'd throw out some cheese. And then I thought of my daughter, Fric, and her attempt at cheering up her daddy.

She, like me, believes a little cheese can go a long way. So, courtesy of my ten year old, enjoy!



Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off?

He's all right now.


I tell you dear internet, I just about burst with pride. It's good to know I've raised her right.

Pass the Puns, Please

It is amazing how the quiet dripping of the coffee maker can seem so loud when a person is hung over. Also amazing is how quickly a person tosses back a few alcoholic beverages with little thought to the consequences of her actions.

Like how early her children would rise. And want pancakes for breakfast. Or how her head would feel like it will burst like a cheap balloon at the slightest noise louder than the sigh of a baby fly. Or, better yet, how her brother- in-law would phone first thing in the morning and she would find herself, along with her hubby, pushing his dilapidated van out of the bog hole he drove it into while trying to bury the family dog that had died, in our north pasture. (Picture me, bleary eyed and cranky, cussing a blue streak while being yelled at by both men, to push harder. Like I was in labour or something. Bastards.)

Yep, dear internet, those drinks were certainly worth it. Because (besides all evidence to prove otherwise) this Mommy had a great time last night shaking her booty with her girlfriends.

So it is with great pleasure that I pass onto you, yet another cheesy pun.

Now I'm off to shower to get rid of the damn mud that splattered all over me and find me some aspirin....



Two painters, one an old man and the other a youngster, were painting a very large home. It was getting late in the day when they reached the second floor.

There ahead of them was a very long corridor. The older painter said, "I've had enough for one day. I quit. How about you?"

With that, the younger painter headed toward the corridor and said, "Not me. I'm in this for the long hall."

The Return of Pass the Puns, Please

I have a whole new appreciation for mommy bloggers. And to who I was ten years ago. Last night, my five month old nephew stayed the night so his mommy could eat, drink and be merry with her girlfriends. (And because I am a sucker for a bald-headed baby with cheeks so chubby you just want to chew them.)

However, I failed to take into account how many times a youngster of this age would like to eat in the middle of the night. (Those cheeks just didn't happen you know...) Nor did I factor in my age, or the fact that it has been six years since I last had to rise to feed a youngster.

And somehow, I managed to overlook the fact that those cheeks aren't nearly as adorable when they are contorted with rage because his sleepy aunt can't manage to heat up his midnight, four a.m. and 6:30 a.m. feeding quick enough. And my darling little devil boy nephew didn't even have the good grace to look embarrassed when I did manage to stuff the bottle in his screaming mouth after walking into a wall, bumping my big toe on the door frame and walking into the square edge of my coffee table. Conveniently located at knee level so as to ensure maximum amount of damage, pain and cursing in the middle of the night.

Never have I been so happy to see the tail lights of a car leaving my drive as I was this morning.

(Yes, we all know that when I see the headlights of same said car tomorrow, I will be back to my cheek chewing, gushing aunty ways. But that's tomorrow after I sleep in peace tonight, with only the soft snoring of Nixon, World's Greatest Doggy, to keep me company.)

Onto the business at hand. Please enjoy, and no complaints to the chef.


What did the grape say when it got stepped on?

Nothing - but it let out a little whine.