'Out Of Gas'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
{{{Daisy}}}
When we lost my grandpa at age 88, I recall that even though the funeral was sad there was still a lot of jokes and good stories about him to make the event a warm and pleasant one. That is the kind of funeral I want. I want jokes and funny stories. I want people to laugh.
((((Daisy and family))))
It sounds like he's had a good run, but it always seems to end too soon.
When we lost my grandpa at age 88, I recall that even though the funeral was sad there was still a lot of jokes and good stories about him to make the event a warm and pleasant one. That is the kind of funeral I want. I want jokes and funny stories. I want people to laugh.
My dad's family is like that. Sometimes we even feel bad that we're having such a good time and someone is dead.
Losing my dad's dad was really hard for me, but his funeral was a lot like what Cash described -- lots of stories and laughter and an amazingly Dixieland version of "Amazing Grace" during the ceremony that he would have loved.
ION, we just had major unexpected toddler pukage. On. Our. Bed. I foresee laundry this evening.
{{Daisy Jane}} My thoughts are with you and your family. 96 is a good life, one to remember and make family legends out of. My sympathies are with you.
ION, we just had major unexpected toddler pukage. On. Our. Bed. I foresee laundry this evening.
Oh, no. Poor Sara. I hope she feels better (and that it goes right away).
Daisy, honey, I'm so sorry.
I honestly don't know where the strength comes from! Bless every single parent among you.
Costco? Wherever it is, I had a sudden run on needing it about ten minutes ago when my toddler suddenly stuck her short, sharp-nailed finger UP MY FUCKING NOSE and then laughed at my scream of pain as she punctured the skin on the inside of it. My eyes crossed and watered with the pain of it, and right now, I am sitting with a tissue shoved up my nostril to keep blood from dripping everywhere.
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
Oh, OUCH, Plei. The physical indignity of motherhood really drives me nuts sometimes.
Sara's fine now, Cindy. I don't know what happened. One minute she was down here saying good night to me, and two minutes later she was howling upstairs and Ben was running down to spread the word while Stephen mopped her up.
It's so sad -- whenever she throws up, she gets this horribly vulnerable look on her face: "My body has betrayed me! In the grossest way possible!"
Costco? Wherever it is, I had a sudden run on needing it about ten minutes ago when my toddler suddenly stuck her short, sharp-nailed finger UP MY FUCKING NOSE and then laughed at my scream of pain as she punctured the skin on the inside of it. My eyes crossed and watered with the pain of it, and right now, I am sitting with a tissue shoved up my nostril to keep blood from dripping everywhere.
Its karmic vengance for the Kissinger thing. I'm sure of it.
Aw! Bless you people with small children.
I, however, need no small child to make bad adventures happen to me. This afternoon, as I was walking down the (shallow, carpeted) steps, carrying two laptops, I slipped and began to fall gracelessly downwards. Being as they were very shallow and my bum is not as shallow, I didn't stop. Oh, no. I kept going until I had hit the bottom, slamming the computers into my face a couple of times and sustaining very unpleasant carpet burns and bruises to various locales on my body.
Needless to say, ow.
But you will be happy to know that the computers were just fine.