Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Busted, you cold-blooded bimbo.

For the record I am not lazy. The appropriate term is busy. This is Derick. The William Dalton guy. Shelly forgot to log off, and now the world will know the truth. For example, Shelly makes the Vulcan live-long-and-prosper-sign more than I do, even without an opposable thumb, so she can't give me grief over anything relative to sci-fi nerdiness.

Don't let her fool you about the bath, either. She will sit and blow bubbles (both kinds) for hours if I let her. And here's not very ladylike for you: she likes to squirt water out her nostrils. I have to admit, it is quite impressive. I've tried to mimick her and haven't had nearly as skillful  a result.

So, back to busy. Shelly's parenting skills, along with those of all turtles, would warrant intervention by some government agency. Worse, she doesn't even have kids. At least none that I know of. Or that she knows of. Am I being species-ist? Is it unfair to judge all turtles by the actions and words of a polysyllabic sharp-witted hard-shelled slow-moving worm-eating dirt-digging shade-seeking floozy who will say yes to any male of the right species? Probably. Because I pay the internet fees and buy the worms and dirt and hire those males. (Yep, you heard me, Shelly. I hired every one of those guys.)

But she's right about one thing. My children don't always wash their hands after pooping.

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