You pee out of your butt!

8 Comments

April 27, 2010

Berlyn and I were out, she was on her bike and I was riding a skateboard.

That’s right.

A skateboard.

Whatever, I’m cool. Let’s not make a big deal out of it.

Anyways, we saw these boys and they started talking to us.

If you know me, you’d know that I don’t really enjoy kids, but these boys were kinda adorable, and they were 5-years old, so I made a special exception.

We did the usual chit chat about soccer, and baseball and how being five is way cool, but six is slightly better.

And then Kid A said, “you’re like 30 aren’t you?”

To which I replied, “Phhsh, 30? Are you serious? Don’t I look 24?

Kid B: No, you look like you’re 40!!

Me: 40?! I look 40? Dangit, I really should be spending less time outdoors.

Kid A: No, you look like you’re zero.

Me: Thanks…?

I think that was his very special way of giving me a complement. I don’t expect 5-year olds to understand the complicated psyche of a woman. Hell, I don’t understand myself most of the time.

Then we started talking about skateboards and how totally crappy I am riding one, and then Kid A said, “you have wheels on your butt!”

Me: Really? On my butt? Where?!

Kid A: You have wheels on your eyes!!

Me: Oh, I get it, you’re being weird. I’ll play along. Oooh, I have wheels on my eyes. Look at me, I can skate on my eyeballs.

And then I did this awesome pantomime thing like I was doing sweet Tony Hawk tricks on my eyeballs, and it looked like a cross between ice dancer-princess and like an angel was inhabiting my body for a brief second. I felt like I was floating on a cloud made of ethereal dust, but it was totally lost on them.

Doesn’t anyone appreciate preforming arts anymore??

Kid A: Dude, your boobs stick out. They stick out like this. (Making finger guns and sticking them on his chest) Nee Naw!! (that was his sound effect for my boobs…I find it fitting)

Me: Yup. I have boobs. Anyways, look a rock. You’re a kid, you like rocks, right?

(I was trying to divert this tragically awkward conversation)

Kid A: You have boobs and a WIENER!! You have a wiener that shoots boobs.

Me: Alright, You crossed a line, kid. Come on Berlyn we got to go.

(Thankfully she was out of earshot for the entire conversation)

Kid A: You have a wiener on your butt!! And you pee out of your butt too!

Me: Nope. I do not have a wiener on my butt. Don’t you understand basic anatomy? And people don’t pee out of their butt, they pee out of their urethra, so there!

ZING!

No?

Not really a zing, huh?

What was I supposed to do? Reprimand him? I didn’t know where his mom was. I kept asking, and he said she was inside their house.

I had to refrain from coming back with nasty comebacks, because, Hello? I’m an adult, and apparently I look 40, so I had to act appropriatly.

So, it’s conversations like this that remind me why I don’t really like kids.

8 Comments:

…totally will be making the “nee naw” boob shooting noises all day now. just sayin’.

by meredith on April 27, 2010

They were actually in their 20’s weren’t they? You don’t need to defend them.

by Libby on April 27, 2010

Yeah, “nee naw” is gold. Like donkey missiles.

by Steam Me Up, Kid on April 27, 2010

I like MY kids, just not very many OTHER kids. And this would be why. Nee naw, indeed. Their mom was probably peeking out the window praising whomever she praises that they were out pestering you!

by Kori on April 28, 2010

Kids suck

by Suz Broughton on May 1, 2010

I’m always left speechless when such talk comes out of the mouths of babes.

by MomZombie on May 3, 2010

Why don’t I know you in real life? You are hilarious. I have been poking around your blog all night. Let’s get a diet coke. I will leave my kids home since I know you don’t like them….. I don’t like them either.

by Sandi on May 5, 2010

I thought my neighbors were cool. You so win.

by melinda on May 7, 2010

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Maybe if I hired real massage therapists, and not Panda Express employees, I wouldn’t keep having these experiences.

15 Comments

April 13, 2010

So it turns out that I’m a celebrity.

Or, wait, my mom’s a celebrity, so that makes me a celebrity by proxy.

Why?

Because we had massages in her living room with her private masseur.

How bourgeoisie is that?

But because we ate left over Costco pizza, I think all the fancy was negated.

So, here’s the weird thing:

she massaged my ARM PITS.

She got right in there, and starting working my prickly and deodorant covered arm pits, like she was kneading some dough.

I didn’t know whether to smack her in the part that her lotion fanny pack covered, or start hysterically gyrating around like a wet noodle.

I did not like it.

Who massages in the arm pit?

Especially the arm pit of a lactating mother.

There are milk ducts in my arm pit.

We could have had a situation.

Although…

If she brought some cookies, we could have turned that situation into a par-tay.

Speaking of weird massages…

I’ve also been massaged in my mouth.

Yeah, the masseuse took her gloved finger and shoved it into my mouth and massaged my jaw.

I was like, “Kuld, juew not do that Pulese?”

Oh, and in Paris, I was massaged in between my boobs.

As in, she flipped the covers down, and massaged right in between my bare-naked ta-tas.

I didn’t mind that one so much.

It was like, hey, I’m in Europe, this is normal, right?

Plus I was on my honeymoon and I was just used to being naked and fondled.
WHAT!? did I just say that?

Yes, yes, I did.

Anyone out there have any weird massage stories? Or naked stories. Or fondling stories? Or fanny pack stories?

Please share, because sharing is fun.

15 Comments:

man, as if this weren’t funny enough, all these juicy keywords are going to make your google searches go nuts. i expect a full report in the coming days.

by Pat on April 13, 2010

Hey Pat! How’s the iPad?

by North County Mike on April 13, 2010

I once had a massage where the girl got up on the table, held onto a bar on the ceiling and JUMPED on my back.

I think that still would have been better than the armpit thing.

by Libby on April 13, 2010

Hey Mike! The iPad is a pretty incredible device. Fun to use, where a computer feels like work (probably just because it’s new). Go play with one at an apple store, you’ll see what I’m talking about. Cheers.

by Pat on April 13, 2010

As a massage therapist I could see why someone would get their armpits massaged but that is not a normal thing to do and should really only be done if it was discussed before hand. Arm pit massage is great for your lymph system but most people wouldn’t need it. Now the between the boob thing is totally normal and a great stress relief most Americans think it’s weird but that’s just our culture I suppose. If you ever want to feel like a celebrity give me a call and I won’t massage your pits. 🙂

by mariah on April 13, 2010

LOL!
Hey, like your new header! Finally get to SEE you more 🙂

by Suz Broughton on April 13, 2010

ugh. these are all reasons that I’ve never wanted nor had a massage.

I’m not so much with the wanting of the touching.

by Lora on April 14, 2010

Thanks Pat. Will do.

by Mike Krause on April 14, 2010

Milk and cookies. You got me with that one (*snort).

by melinda on April 17, 2010

The mouth thing? I would have laughed my ass off. That’s just so wrong, and gross, and the opposite of relaxing.

I once got a massage by a very strong young woman who decided to massage my hair follicles by DRAGGING ME ACROSS THE EFFING MASSAGE TABLE BY MY PONYTAIL!!! Yeah, that’s right. Wrapped my hair around her fist and pulled me for about a foot. I cried a little, but I didn’t say anything because I hate hurting people’s feelings when they’re being creative, which I think she thought she was, but as punishment for my consideration she DID IT AGAIN OH GOD NO MAKE IT STOP!!

I’m still baffled by that one.

by Steam Me Up, Kid on April 17, 2010

Your post and the subsequent comments are all the proof I need that my fear of massages is not unfounded. Only *certain* people are allowed to touchy touchy.

by MomZombie on April 19, 2010

I had the arm pit situation, too. So unpleasant. Especially for the massager.

by Marinka on May 1, 2010

Stumbled over from the BlogHer sidebar and almost spit my coffee out reading this. Too freakin’ funny! Seriously, who does that?

by Diapers and Wine on May 1, 2010

Found you through a blog her sidebar and actually laughed out loud. When I was newly preggo with my first, my hubby got me a massage for mother’s day. I’m overweight, we had just moved to a new city, and so the place he found didn’t come on recommendation. She did a full body massage, which I hate because of 1)I’ve overweight and 2) any area of my body being touched beside my back by a stranger makes me really uncomfortable. When she got to my legs, it was like she started at my ankle and tried to shove all my leg fat into my ass, which already had plenty of fat thankyouverymuch. And also? It was painful. As if that wasn’t horrible enough (since I carry my extra weight in my hips and thighs) then she just let go. It actually made a sound – like blughgggnttht. I was also afraid I had just started an earthquake. I was horrified. I knew my legs were chunky, but I had no idea they were capable of making sounds like that. Who does that? I mean…hello!??!!? Pregnant, hormonal woman on the table…what was she thinking? That was my last massage.

by Brooke Dahl on May 2, 2010

too funny. Cant wait to get a massage. asked my hubby to give me 1 he said he is afraid to (his words were) afraid like some people are afraid of spiders. Whatever…. so now he has to dish out the money for me to get 1 whenever i want it.. lol

by renee on January 6, 2011

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I have arguments with my own brain.

7 Comments

April 11, 2010

Every night before I go to bed I think of an amazing blog post and this is what happens with my brain.

One side of my brain: Tomorrow I should write about beefsteak tomatoes, and BEES! And Nacho cheese sauce! Ohh, this might just be the best Hippo Brigade post the Internets have ever seen.

Other side of my brain: You should write that down, you’re gonna forget it.

No, how could I possibly forget about bees and cheese sauce?! It’s the best post EVAH!!

Write it down.

No, leave me alone, I’m sleepy

Just jot it down

No, suck it, brain. I’m going to sleep.

Then my subconscious takes over and it’s all marshmallows, zombies, and sexcapades with Alton Brown.

There’s just something incredible sexy about a man who knows how to pickle stuff and ground his own beef. The guy knows everything about food. What’s hotter than that? You know I’m right ladies.

And the second I wake up, and wipe the crystallized drool from my chin, I think…wait, wasn’t there a post I thought of before I fell asleep?

But it’s gone.

Like dinosaurs and pudding pops.

7 Comments:

Snap! So many amazing blog posts forgotten because I couldn’t be bothered to write them down. Pulitzers could have been won with those forgotten blog posts…if they gave them to bloggers…European bloggers…

by D on April 11, 2010

I’d heard that Alton Brown is having a thing with Suzy Creamcheese but I’ve been unable to comfirm it

by Mike Krause on April 11, 2010

I always think up the best posts after a glass or two of wine. Then I realize no one wants to read about why Tony Curtis at 75 is still sexier than George Clooney at 45.

by Libby on April 11, 2010

Are pudding pops obsolete? How did I miss that? I LOVED those things. Getting old, for sure.

by Kori on April 11, 2010

I called the 800 number on the back of a box of Jello pudding one day about 15 years ago to ask them whatever happened to the Jello Pudding Pop.

The lady on the line basically called me a dumb ass because I was the only girl in America who didn’t figure out that they were just freezing Jello Pudding and selling it at a 500% markup.

And then SHE hung up on ME!!

And then I went to the dollar store and bought one of those make your own popsicle thingos and froze some pudding and I’ve been happy ever since.

And now Jello pudding pops are back on the market, btw, because Americans must have forgotten that they were just freezing Jello Pudding and selling it at a 500% markup

by Lora on April 12, 2010

I am big time in deep love with Alton Brown. He seems like the kind of guy that would get up on Saturday mornings and wash your car for you–MMMMEEEOOOW.

by Suz Broughton on April 12, 2010

All the best posts I’ve never written reside in the sleep-sticky corners of my brain.

by MomZombie on April 13, 2010

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I’m a thief.

10 Comments

April 3, 2010

I steal stuff.

And by stuff I mean a lemon.

I’m so close to getting a vintage roadster as my get-a-way car, and a Nixon mask to hide my identity.

Stealing lemons is serious business.

They’re like 68 cents at the grocery store.

I’m super jumpy because of my new found thievery. I saw a cop driving down my street and I dove into a hedge of rosemary.

I’m allergic to rosemary.

Like I said, serious business.

That’s how I roll.

But honestly, here’s how it went down:

I live in a magical land where there are groves of fruit trees.

On jogs *snort* I mean, walks, I’ll stop and grab a ripe lemon or orange.

This is totally acceptable.

Or it damn well should be, I pay 200 bucks in association costs. I’ll take whatever I want!

I’ll chop the whole tree down and drag it home if the mood strikes. And you better get outta my way.

This is not stealing.

But lately I’ve been using a lot of lemons in my cooking, and I’ll just send Pat out (because he’s super tall and grabby) and have him fetch me a ripe lemon or two for my salmon, or pink lemonade cocktail, or to throw at mountain lions, whateves.

So here’s the grey area:

There hasn’t been any ripe fruit on the trees, so I pointed out an adorable little tree in front of someone’s house.

We walked past the house and I was all, “Look, it’s outside of thier fence. Totally fair game. Take the fruit!!  TAKE IT!! I’ll stand watch.”

So we took a beautifully ripe, and succulent lemon.

A few days later, I noticed the owner of the house was fertilizing the plants and the lemon tree outside of her house.

I struck up a little convo about the weather.

I segwaued into salmon.

Then causally mentioned lemons…

Beautifully succulent lemons, hanging from her tree.

Turns out, they’re her lemons.

Turns out she doesn’t appreciate people stealing them.

Turns out I owe her 68 cents.

But I’m an outlaw now.

I scoff in the face of 68 cents.

Watch out.

I might steal your shit next.

10 Comments:

Bring it. I’ll sic my dog on your ass then squeeze the lemon juice on the open wound.

by North County Mike on April 3, 2010

I accidentally stole a scarf because my daughter grabbed it as we were leaving a store. I felt like an outlaw for a minute and a half, until I gave it back.

by Mommy Melissa on April 4, 2010

Hey! I spelled segwayed wrong. WTF spell check? You’re supposed to be on my side. Now everyone knows I’m a horrible speller.

by Beckey on April 4, 2010

FWIW, our neighbors lemons hang into our backyard and I ask my tall hubby to “borrow” some all the time. Want me to ask him to do your dirty work, or do you actualy take pleasure in the process of thieving?

by dgm on April 5, 2010

We have a lawn full of dandelions here. You are welcome to steal as many as you wish to garnish all your gourmet dishes.

by MomZombie on April 6, 2010

I have lots of shit in my yard you can steal if you are so inclined. Kids, dogs, tricycles, dump trucks, dirty dog blankets…you want it? Take it-and I won’t even bitch about the 68 cents.

by Kori on April 8, 2010

I am so jealous that you live someplace that has lemons growing on trees. I can’t even comment on the thievery, I am so jealous. Sadly, I am Canadian, so pretty much the only thing I could steal from local trees would be maple leaves. Not as good, especially since they all just fall off in the autumn anyway.

by Amber on April 8, 2010

Girl. David and I have a lemon tree and we have more lemons than we know what to do with! I know we are not as close as the lady you can steal from, but you can steal from us anytime with no guilt! 🙂

by Wendy Wilson on April 12, 2010

…and now I want pie.

by Suz Broughton on April 12, 2010

Best line: Tall and grabby. Your writing makes me happy.

by melinda on April 17, 2010

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The Take Over

5 Comments

April 1, 2010

Hey everyone,

It’s Pat. Beckey’s husband.

I’ve decided to post for Beckey today because she’s all snotty and sick, and honestly she’d probably never notice that I’d taken over.

We’re not really the prankster types, but it is April Fools’ today, and the thought of putting something up here on Hippo Brigade seemed like the right thing to do.

Especially since I am in posession of the most rare and stunning collection of Beckey photos that have ever existed. Take a look:

swimmer much? nope. these are for cutting onions.

beckey's super-good at party expressions

we went snorkeling once. beckey tried to wrestle a sea turtle. the turtle won/fled.

why is this monument copping a feel on my pregnant wife?

her eyesight isn't that bad, she just likes wearing things on her face.

she'd kill for a frozen banana

and loves beef jerky

i mean LOVES beef jerky.

funny party expression, numero dos

actually, she'll do just about anything for the camera

So there you have it. Just a little view into the real-life Beckey.

Cheers.

5 Comments:

I like Pat’s shit better. April Fool?

by North County Mike on April 1, 2010

Do you think I wouldn’t find out? You think I’d actually go the whole day without checking my email (because that’s where the comments go) or twitter (my posts automatically go to twitter)? Ohh, silly Pat. I might be sick, but I’m not dead.
But seriously, these are some pretty awesome photos. Too bad I don’t embarrass easily.
Oh, and pay back is a bitch…
I’m just sayin’

by beckey on April 1, 2010

that’s actually really sweet. I wonder what my husband would put on my blog, given half a chance.

by Lora on April 1, 2010

I love Pat. I couldn’t have hand picked a better husband for my BFF.

by Dena Lucas on April 1, 2010

Nice pics! My husband would never do this, but only b/c I don’t even think he knows my blog address 🙂

by Julie Snell on April 1, 2010

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