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Loralee's Looney Tunes Reviews

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Loralee Choate

Welcome to my review site I do my own reviews and compensated reviews and you will NEVER be confused which is which.

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The Bastardly Bottom Boys OR The Bait From Bastardville

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

I suppose when one is in their 30's, have a documented history of back and neck SUCK, and the muscle tone of head cheese, one should probably refrain from intense physical activity as to avoid injury.

I'm not really sure that playing the air-ukalale and spazzing out to blue-grass tunes in my living room constitute "Intense Physical Activity" but sucky injury was acquired non the less.

Translation: My neck hurts. Bad.

I blame the "Soggy Bottom Boys" for this. Maybe I'll sue.

To add insult to injury,I've been laying in bed in Nyquil because I also have the head cold from Hades that will not go away despite strict adherence to the wise words of Ferris's Bueller's Father: "Make yourself some soup. Get nap. Wrap a hot towel around your head."

**********************************************************************
Oh.My.HELL

I was going to leave my post at the above...short, simple and funny. Before I hit publish, I heard a SSSCCCCCRRRREEEEEEEAAAAAAAAMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
From outside. It was Christopher.

Understand...when you've had a kid die, you tend to NOT RESPOND WELL to ear piercing screams and a horde of little children telling you that your child is hurt.

I ran outside, petrified. My only thought was, "If he is screaming he can't be dead".

Somehow...SOME WAY...my child manages to get the following deeply embedded in his foot WHILE THERE IS STILL SNOW ON THE GROUND!

It was not pretty. Christopher survived despite being completely traumatized and convinced that there are now flesh-eating fish out on a mission to devour him.

James is running around like mad, waiting on his afflicted brother, fetching him juice boxes, kleenex, water, and he solemnly informed me that I needed to get him "An adequate supply of cinnamon graham crackers from the pantry."

Little kids keep walking into my house to check on "The injured". One little girl in particular keeps running in and out. James took her hand and walked her to the door.

"Thank you for your concern, but these are our closed hours, Brooke."

I love my boys. They will be great men.

2 Comments :

  • At 9:05 PM , Blogger Jes said...

    OH my god, that is so cute! Stop it, you're making my maternal instincts kick in.

     
  • At 10:17 AM , Blogger Sue said...

    That's adorable. I mean, not the foot injuring part, the other part. Yeah...

     

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