BRINGING THE SMACK DOWN

This weekend was full of attempted dutch ovens, ticklings, near suffocations under the covers and LOTS of, "don't you dare (insert not nice action here)'s," followed quickly by, "OW! BUTTHEAD!'s."

Some of the more noted occassions were Man Friend biting my arm, snapping me with a towel, and putting a bike helmet on my head and then hitting the helmet, which wouldn't have been THAT bad except one of the little plastic chin strap pieces is UNDER the helmet and got pushed into my head.

Don't fret however. I got him back. The most notable of these attempts was shoving a finger under his nose (a perfectly clean, relatively sterile finger) and telling him to sniff it (there may or may not have been a wedgie given as well).


NOT ANYWHERE NEAR G-RATED:
Mom: "Did I tell you that we had decided to get you and your (older) sister a hotel room you all can share with your significant others (at the youngest's wedding in August)?"
Me: "Yeah, you told me. Guess we're going to have to come up with some sort of sock on the door knob system then, aren't we?"
Mom: "Things I didn't need to know."

Me: "My dog won't be like that. I'll keep the pooch on a tighter leash than I keep him (Man Friend)."
Rusty: "..."
Dad: "Don't worry, Rusty. If you fly over (my home town) you'll see the dirt path I've run around the end of my lead."
Me: "Just shy of those tittie bars, huh Dad?"

Man Friend: (He got shocked, as in high voltage electricity coursing through his body, this week) "It felt like someone kicked me in the chest. My nuts jammed so far up into me, I thought I was going to choke." (That is more a rough guesstimation what was said because I don't remember EXACTLY.)