Last week I read this post, which was entertaining and aggravating because we’ve all been there, it totally sucks when you get stuck next to someone anal on an airplane.
I clicked the link in the post … and when I saw what the link was about I got icky cold shivers and clicked away.
And then I got curious and I clicked back.
Then I put my fingers in my ears and started singing, “LA LA LA LA LA I can’t hear you!” until Alex looked at me like I was on crack and I realized that it was my EYES putting this information in my brain and not my ears, so all the singing in the world was not going to erase this image.
I mean, people, do what ya gotta do if everyone is up for it, but this ain’t an option in my repertoire. I know, I know, I’m a party pooper.
But I had to give it some thought – WHY is this thought so repellant to me, and it hit me like a brick over my head.
The only parts of my body that are all mine are my Mutt Bowl and my Armpits.
And no one has ever suggested that perhaps I’d like it if Scout got freaky with my pits.
The way I see it, my hair, shoulders, arms, hands, legs and feet all go into taking care of the baby. These parts are pulled on, sucked on, used to carry and used to transport the Kaiser all day long.
The entire world sees my face, and my eyes and ears are tuned into keeping the baby safe all day long.
My breasts feed the baby. When he’s not using them, Scout would like to cuddle them, pretty please.
My stomach housed the baby, and the baby left his mark all over its surface.
My lady bits allowed passage to get the baby into existence and into the world, and now Scout would like them back, pretty please.
So, Mutt Bowl and Armpits it is.
I feel the urge to burst into song.
Dawn TwoShews, and everyone else who feels particularly close to their Mutt Bowl – this one is for you.
M is for Mutt Bowl,
It’s where no one else can see!
M is for Mutt Bowl,
It sets all my to-ots free!
M is for Mutt Bowl,
Wipe front to ba-ack when you pee!
My Mutt Bowl, Mutt Bowl, Mutt Bowl’s
JUST FOR ME!
Okay, clever readers, help me bring it on home. Write a verse of your own! Here’s some rhyming help if you need it.
9 Comments
Kelly O
… AH HAHAHAHAHA!! … Heh.
Random Ramblings
OMG Dying laughing!!! Sooo needed that!!! π
Sarcastic Mom
I’m with you, not an option. It’s an exit, not an entry. I get pissed off enough when people walk INTO the “exit” door at the grocery store. I want to strangle them.
Ok, here goes:
“A, It’s my asshole
Now honey can’t you see?
A, It’s my asshole
For Exit, Not Entry!
A It’s my asshole,
Not your pleasure pantry!
Asshole, Asshole, Asshole
LEAVE IT BE!”
*bows*
Jackie
I could not possibly do any better than you or Sarcastic Mom so I’m not even going to try but ha, ha at party pooper!
Arkie Mama
LOL!!!!!
I cannot possibly come up with a verse that compares to those, but ?Β’βΓΒ¨βΓΓΉ
I am in total agreement that the backdoor shall be marked EXIT ONLY and remain locked to intruders.
Hydes Like Us
Terrific.
-HH
Ewokmama
WOW! I was not prepared for that! π LOL.
Flutter
ok sarcastic mom’s comment just made me lose bladder control….
Veronica
OMG laughing so hard at Lotus!
I think I need to sing that to DH sometimes.