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We were watching hockey the other night and complaining about why it's just so damned hard for Kovy to KEEP THE FREAKIN' PUCK when they suddenly zoomed in on one of the refs and...I saw something curious upon his fingers!
Gracie: *Eyes wide and giddy* "...is that...a WHISTLE RING??"
George: "Yeah sorta."
Gracie: "It's a whistle AND a ring??"
George: "Yeah. It's kinda...like...taped to their fingers so they can just raise their hand to their mouths and blow the whistle. Easier when skating. Doesn't get in the way or swing around n' stuff." *Goes back to focusing intently on game, clearly not realizing how Very Important this is to Gracie.*
Gracie: "So it's NOT around their necks??"
George: "Nope."
Gracie: "Ooooooo, I TOTALLY need one o' THOSE!"
George: *Hears 'that' tone in Gracie's voice...game ceases to exist for a moment...eyebrows furrow* "...WHHHHYYYYYY?"
Gracie: "For around HERE!"
George: "Oohhhh no you don't!"
Gracie: "Sure I do!" *wickedly pictures all the occasions where the whistle would be handy...for summoning her boys...for calling out penalties against said boys (in favor of HERSELF) ...and apparently her 'picturing' is all-too-evident by George's next comment....*
George: "Oh, SURE you do...if you don't MIND choking on a whistle...."
Gracie: "iiii don't think that's really POSSIBLE."
George: "Oooohh hhhhooo HO. TRY it, Missy! And you'll find out what it's like to pass a whistle!"
*Next 20 seconds are spent with much Starbucks hot chocolate loitering yuckily in Gracie's mouth, unable to be fully ingested, for fear of either choking, vomiting, or spitting it all over herself*
Yes he's very funny, but there's just something about George's delivery that makes any joke 10 times funnier just because of HOW he says it. He = my favorite. And not JUST because of how much he makes me laugh--STILL--but also because my husband, Mr. Romance to those in the know, bought me two bottles of perfume for Valentine's Day. Oh and not just ANY perfume, but SPECIAL pee-fume. And that's another reason why Gracie hearts George so much...because of WHAT those two bottles of perfume ARE. The first? Smells like Play-Doh. Yup. and the second smells like sawdust. ON PURPOSE, people. Both of them. See below for proof:
Note the phrase on the gift bag as well...so appropriate for Gracie!
 I think it's funny, too, that they're called "Pick-Me-Up" colognes. Haha.
There IS a reason. Well...for the sawdust perfume, anyway. The Play-Doh thing was just funny. The sawdust perfume was funny (times two) because of my weird-ass ...something. I don't even KNOW what to call it. And I can't believe I'm going to admit to it here, but...sorta have to now...
...See, I have a thing for wood.
hahahaha. Sorry. I just heard that.
Okay, in all seriousness, there must be some vitamin (NOT MENTAL, SHUDDUP!) deficiency within me because ...oh gawd...I'm gonna regret this...whenever I smell fresh-cut wood? I want to...lick it. I'm not being subtly sexual here. I'm serious. Each time I smell freshly cut wood (or sawdust) I have an overwhelming desire to stick my tongue on it. Not to eat it, of course (cause THAT would be CRAZY) but to ...taste it. Like the wooden coffee stirrers at Starbucks? Ohhh how I love those. And popsicle sticks? Like 'em better than the popsicles. I know. And I cannot explain it. I've tried. I've wondered if maybe it's because when I was a child we would move just about every year for a while there and we'd buy houses that weren't in the best shape and tear down much of the insides, build them back up and then sell the homes for a profit, gradually improving our status and finally being able to afford better and better homes. While it wasn't always the easiest of times, I still cherished a lot of the memories. And every time I smell fresh-cut wood or paint or spackle I get a happy feeling. So maybe it's that.
Though...it doesn't explain the urge to stick my TONGUE on a splinter-laden slab of TREE. I just don't know. But I can assure you...going to Home Depot with me is a treat. George hates it. And yet he never seems to remember how I "get" (and I never remind him as we're preparing to go because I'm afraid he won't go through with the trip there and I can't resist the urge to sniff). As soon as we walk through the doors and I get that first delicious whiff of wood? It's like the smell of chocolate in a Hershey's factory for someone addicted to sugar (though...to be fair, I think I can honestly say that I am NOT addicted to WOOD).
Anyway, as soon as we arrive in the store, I breathe very deeply, close my eyes, smile and make some variation of a "mmmmm" sound, which is usually followed by a goofy childlike giggle (and, on a few occasions, clapping). George always tilts his head back and to the side, while rolling his eyes and muttering "Awww geez..." and then drags me to where ever it is he wants us to go (which, by the friggin' way, is NEVER in the direction of the WOOD aisle) and hisses "FREAK!" at me as I look lovingly over my shoulder at the shrinking wood aisle and finally allow myself to be led away.
So you can see why the gift of wood-scented cologne would be wonderful for me! I love the play-doh one, too, because it's hilarious and really DOES smell like it! Also he got me candy cigarettes, which was VERY thoughtful since he knows how much I miss the real ones.
Ahhhhh, but the wood. THAT = the TRUE preeeeecious.
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I have to mention a comment made by one of the announcers during the Thrashers vs. Oilers game February 11:
"There's Stortini...actin' like a WEENIE if ya ask me."
Hahahahaha. It was true...it was a terrible game and there was some truly crappy behavior going on (of course it was ALL on the opposing team's side...NEVER us). I have no idea which announcer said it...maybe Darren Eliot? I dunno...I was laughing too hard to hear. I love hockey. Where else would you hear a comment like that?? Called him a WEENIE. heh. hehehe.
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I also have to mention George's new way of "getting" to Gracie. And it is NOT a pleasant development, let me just SAY.
He's always looooved comparing me to Monk with all my OCD and phobias n' crap, but he has taken it to a new LOW, people. We were bickering the other night about something or other and as he was getting up to go to the bathroom, he decided to have the last word. Out of the blue he says "Oh YEAH!?" and leans over the coffee table, says "Well how about THIS then...?" and ...knocks three times on the table, turns back to look at me, raises his eyebrows in a "Whaddaya think about THAT!?" look and...marches off to the bathroom all full of arrogance and pride.
That's right...
THREE TIMES he knocked. NOT the appropriate five. Or even four (which would be an EVEN number and, therefore, acceptable). Nope. The asshole knocks three distinct and snotty times, then takes off to the bathroom, cackling all the way, knowing that it would drive me insane. THIS is his new way of messing with me when he's decided that I have said or done enough and it's time for me to refocus and/or shut up.
Isn't that sweet? My husband instigates an OCD stress-out to win arguments.
Turd.
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Someone arrived here searching for:
fuckaroo, facial [well see now I ...don't know if I'm up for that]
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she forced me to smell her stinky feet
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my husband's mom...porn [how do you spell buhhleeeuuuuggghhhh?]
when is it goot or the best time to masturbate [laughing...too...hard. can't...respond...]
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