It’s back. Like meeting that school yard bully at the stroke of 3 behind the teeter totters, but you do it over and over and over again every 7 days. You try to train the other days to prep for your fight. You try to find a way to sneak out early, or fain near death to escape what you know will happen. Monday- it’s here, to kick your butt, over and over again. I am here on Mondays, to share with you a story that spotlights my amazing ability to be a Moron. This will hopefully arm you with the ability to compare my utter stupidity with your day and declare your day a WIN !
As you may remember via my now infamous ( ahem shut up it is) Friendship Disclaimer video. I am an admittedly craptastic friend. I do make random attempts to be nice to everyone ( except people who manage to work my nerves) as long as it requires very little effort on my part or I am looking for an excuse to get out of work or something.
So I was sitting here making out with netflix because it just “gets me” and we were talking long term relationships and stuff then I saw this tweet.
Besides the fact that all kinds of alarms went off here, because you used the word “Mississippi” and “not trash” in the same sentence and that nearly fried the entire internet. If you don’t know young sweet Mer, she is a doll baby an she sent me cookies, then in some weird arranged marriage type thing she became the future wife of The Prince, who is 9. So I am thinking at some point she will be my daughter in law. Plus the cookies were chocolate with chocolate chips and clearly she knew the men in my house would wrestle a goat naked for that kind of goodness. Hearts were won, kingdoms were merged, the HOT light came on at Krispy Kremes around the world.
So anyway I say uhm I live in Mississippi and I am quite sure The Prince is a well trained genius ghost hunter. So we will send you a picture.
Yeah we should probably throw in a ghost or 2 because otherwise it would be “The Trash of Mississippi” I only have like 5 memory cards for my camera, and really I don’t think I need to elaborate any further.
Me- ” Yo dude your woman she’s been feeling down lately and she this”.
Then I showed him the tweets.
The Prince- ” grab your camera mom, give me 3 seconds meet me on the deck”
Me- “uhm do you have an idea”
The Prince- ” now you have 1 second, don’t waste it”
Me- ” Do I have to put on shoes?”
The Prince- ” just bring your camera and come out here”.
The rest followed within 10 minutes. I am proud to say I never put on shoes thus furthering the stereotype ambiance of Mississippi.
Within seconds we found a Ghost in Mississippi, but it was totally photo bombed by the dogs staring at the neighborhood Chupacabra. He is totally a camera hog.
Proverbial Ghost hunter shot. ( also proof there are teeth in Mississippi)
It probably doesn’t get any more conclusive than this. Ghost, Kid Ghost Hunter, Ghost Dog ( probably), Ghost woods, and indeed the Ghost Trash that Meredith was totally looking for. We got it all right here. Yep that’s definitive proof and if I do say so myself one hell of a cover shot.
and so the deed was done and she loved it and ThePrince made Princess Mer very happy and they lived happily ever after in like 12 years from now when they meet and he will be allowed to date.
Then a friend, father, blogger and Florida Resident ( you lucky dude) wrote this.
“instead of saving up for college, I hope you are saving up for therapy when he grows up”
Nope ! I have 2 solutions-
1) His 21 year old sister gets her bachlors degree in May, guess what? Psychology ! Sweet Free Counseling.
2) He can blog out his issues just like the rest of us, it’s free, and guarantees he won’t be dating.
So there ya have it folks. Clearly no one is immune to my epic asshattedness. We hope that our ability to be Morons helps you get through your Monday.
xo
PEACH OUT
* NO CHUPCABRA, GHOST DOGS, CHIMNEYS, OR 9 YEAR OLD BOYS WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS POST. Also – the arrangement with Mer may be off since I see her tweeting about other dudes, and as her future MIL not sure if she is willing to wait for ThePrince.
1. Your child curled in the fetal position when you wore the wrapping paper dress. I think therapy was already an established thing that would be needed
2. Shit, I need to read that book you gave me
3. The Beave says my leg is gonna look like the Chupacabra when I get the cast off (hair and shit)
4. I LOVE LOVE LOVE the “Ghosts of Mississippi” rendition you and the prince did! FAAAABULOUS! Plus I like his chilean miner head lamp thing.
You make a very valid point about if your son blogs, he won’t be dating. I haven’t had a date since I started blogging.
You are cracking me up.
@Miley, yeah I think every child should probably have some sort of memory to repress. The Wrapping paper dress may be his.
@WeaselMomma- yep, I think blogging pretty much secures your status as NON available even if your title is HELL YEAH I WANT A DATE. I think he will start blogging around 15 or 16?
@Justin- in the land where silliness rules. I am the QueenMum
Why save for therapy when you can get it for free? Also.. can she set up a sliding scale fee for my family? You know its pretty bad when your adult child asks you to “act right” when going out in public.
@Holly- since you are technically sort of part of one of my multiple personalities I am thinking we can get the group rate aka family discount.
yes, this was therapy to my shitty monday. reading blogs is just as helpful (maybe more) than writing one.
aww Patty, I lub ya, not cool monday, stop shitting on my buds !!!
[…] This post was mentioned on Twitter by ThePeachy1, ThePeachy1. ThePeachy1 said: Todays post, it's all about College or Therapy, and Trashy Ghosts and @meredithblumoff being my possible DIL http://bit.ly/i4ref0 […]
WAIT WAIT WAIT….my prince, my sweet darling baby brother will NEVER marry! EVER EVER EVER!!! AGHHH!
Ghosts, outdoor patio chimneys, and a chupacabra.
You have the coolest shit in Mississippi!
@Didactic Pirate- Yes contrary to popular belief we have more than goat sex here. ( if your on the coast, I can not account for the central and northern parts of my state.