Allow me to respond to the majority of the comments on yesterday’s post: Bite me. Y’all are kind of mean. Thank goodness you’re also kinda funny or my feelings would be throbbing in time with the throbbing of my ass. Which still hurts, in case anyone is interested. Fuckers. Funny Fuckers.
So, anyway. We took Pooter to the movies and out for pizza tonight to celebrate his birthday which is this coming Wednesday. He’ll be five years old. My baby is officially not a baby anymore, or even a toddler.
To illustrate how mature he’s getting, he spent the entire time we were eating pizza crossing his eyes and announcing that there was two of everything. I wonder where he gets that silly streak from.
W e took him to see Bee Movie, which was fine and funny and good wholesome American fun. However.
My son now feels as a brother to the noble bee. I’m willing to bet money there will be at least one stinging incident that can be attributed to the notion that bees are our friends.
Don’t get me wrong. I know bees are here for a reason. They serve a purpose. I am one with nature.
However, as soon as someone figures out how to make honey without those little bastards, I am going on death raids. They may want to look into ladybug costumes or something.
We all enjoyed the movie, though. Well, Pookie nodded off for a few minutes there, but that can be attributed to his advanced age and not necessarily how engrossing the movie was.