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Posts Tagged ‘humor’

“fox raccoon mix” This was listed under the top searches to find my blog. I wonder, did this person think a fox and a raccoon were able to breed? Red pandas do kinda look like an adorable mix of the two.

red panda

Or less adorable, maybe they were looking for a fur coat. Fox and raccoon combo coats do exist; I found this hideous example. A poncho too, shudder.

ugly ass coat

Or perhaps they were making a hillbilly stew. Or looking for a trendy cocktail recipe. Or searching for an obscure DJ. I’m curious.

I have no idea what they intended to find, but I wonder why any search engine would send them to my blog. I don’t think I’ve spoken once about either of these woodland critters. I haven’t yet mentioned our old dog Suzie, or the origins of her full name, Foxy Suzie Dottie Whittemore Dog. And I haven’t told the story of my sister’s controversial nickname as a baby, Pet Coon. (I swear there is a funny and in no way racist story to back that one up. Guess I had better tell it soon.)

Fox Raccoon Mix Googler, I wish you the best of luck in your quest, whatever it may me.

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God’s Wish List

God's Wish List

A pony.

A better question: Does God write a letter to Santa?

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I had a fun Christmas visiting my grandmother in Arkansas. During our stay my family finished off three bottles of Crown Royal, a new tradition my grandma isn’t exactly wild about. My grandma is great. She is spunky and certainly a character, but anyone who has visited her knows why alcohol is a good idea. She started her old “I may have to move into a nursing home” talk (I’m not being inconsiderate) at breakfast the day after Christmas and my uncle told her we still needed her around for a while, until we’ve mastered her recipes. I made some mean deviled eggs, delicious sweet potato casserole, and a pecan pie that was tasty, but a little on the soupy side. My sister got the sweet milk gravy down and she and my mom are working on the dressing.

My uncle who has recently really gotten into alt. country singer-songwriters gave us a concert. He discovered that there is a limit of Crown and waters he can have and still be able to remember his songs. That night we only stopped drinking long enough for more ice cubes to freeze. The weather was really warm and my parents and uncle were continuing the party on the deck. My grandma said “I wish they wouldn’t go outside like that. I have Baptist Christian neighbors!” When she mentioned this to her daughter Mom said “Well, if they are good Christians I bet they would give us some ice!”

I was just happy my old Church of Christ Grandma acknowledged her Baptist neighbors as being Christian.

My uncle played this song for us. It pretty much sums up our holiday.

Christmas Pies!

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We are lead to believe that the game of M.A.S.H., which of course stands for Mansion, Apartment, Shack, House, gives any elementary school girl fortune telling powers. No need for a Ouija board, tarot cards, or other mystical supplies, notebook paper is all she needs to predict who she will marry, what car she will drive, where she will live, her career, etc. M.A.S.H. is hardly a game, it is a dark art.

My friends and I never had much luck with the occult. We were always too scared to say “Bloody Mary” into a mirror and light as a feather, stiff as a board never worked out (until high school when we discovered it was less about magic, more about science, and you had to use a chair). We did however play M.A.S.H. constantly with high hopes that one of the cute boys the game chose for us would really be ours in the end. The games where we ended up with a fat boy in our class were largely ignored.

Well, I’m writing to tell you that M.A.S.H. has proved to be a game of absolute lies! If it had any truth to it today I would surely be living in a mansion in Hawaii with my husband JTT and our nine kids. None of the games I’ve played ever suggested that I would be nearly 25 years old, single, currently unemployed, driving a beat up Mustang, and moving back in with my parents in small town Georgia. I mean, not a one of our Tiger Beat boys (standard M.A.S.H. picks) has so much as even asked me to the movies!

I suppose it is for the best that I didn’t marry Brad Renfro after all. Our children would have had a tough time with his heroin addiction and eventual fatal overdose. And the last time I saw the cutest boy in our class he looked like an AIDS patient thanks to meth. Even the fat boys got thin on that. So, I will keep looking on the bright side. My future could have been lots worse. I know being single at 25 is no big deal, but living in my parents’ house is something I cannot and will not get used to.

If you have not heeded my warnings and must try your hand at fate you can get a M.A.S.H. prediction for yourself at mashgame.com.

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