Looks like I'm by myself on this wee little ship for now. Lack of Callie makes me feel pretty selfish all over this webpage. Yes, I referred to this blog as a dinghy, because calling it a ship is so much of an overstatement. But actually, the likelihood that I'll post daily is about the same likelihood that I won't have seconds on Thanksgiving. (ie. Less that slim to none.)
I'd also like to welcome our art department, Chubs. Chubs is our artistically inclined friend who will be posting HILARIOUS drawings about everything that's anything. Welcome aboard, Chubs! Golly, I am just rife with nautical jokes today.
So just when I was eating dinner with the family, and as I was slowly starting to believe I wouldnt have anything awkward to post today, awkward struck me like a 16-wheeler. I got up to put my dishes in the dishwasher and AWWW I realized I got spaghetti sauce on my shirt. Where is the most awkward place for a girl to get sauce on their shirt? You guessed it; left boob. As my parents got their millage out of that funny moment, it got even better when my mom said the word breasticle. My awkward 13-year old brother hates the word breasticle almost as much as the word boob itself. So we all laughed at his cringing immediate departure from the table, while I was left to wipe the sauce off my shirt. BUT WAIT, the awkward truck backed up and hit me again, as my dad says to my brother, "Yeah, go tell your friends that your sister is lactating marinara sauce." WHO SAYS THAT. As funny as I thought it was, coming from my dad was just plain weird. But then, after a laugh, he adds: "Like a true Italian." Which would also be funny except for we are much more German than Italian, and our biggest Italian trait is the amount of food we consume. So, father, this last part is dedicated to you;
MLIAwk.
~Elise
No comments:
Post a Comment