Penis-hands

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I have three sons.

One of these sons has a penchant for his dingdong.
By this I mean that he always has his hands down his pants.
He’s been told repeatedly to remove said hands from said pants, because, and I quote, “Your penis isn’t sterile. Then when you put your hands in the bowl of popcorn or the bag of chips, we all get your penis germs.”
His reply, “I’m not touching my penis. I just like resting my hands between my legs.”

Sure he does…

Anyway, this is yet another battle I’ve given up.
I figure if the kid isn’t smoking pot or flipping off the teachers, then there are far worse things he could be doing in the privacy of our home than fondling himself.

At supper time, however, as we were getting ready to eat pizza and bread sticks, while I was in the kitchen getting plates and glasses, I could hear this conversation in the dining room:

“Ewww…Don’t touch the pizza, you’ve got penis-hands.”
“I don’t have penis-hands! I washed my hands before coming up for supper.”

The scary part is that I understood every single word of this interaction without even having to ask the kids to elaborate upon the meaning of penis-hands.

Then I wondered how many other mothers with adolescent boys in North America would have understood the meaning without having to ask for clarification…

Then, to make myself feel better, I called out, “Get your hands out of your pants at the dinner table!”

There. That outta do it.

Smothering mother

Apparently Google Friend Connect is going byebye for those of us not with Blogger. If you wish to continue following the trials and tribulations of a narcissist, either subscribe or else “Like” me on the Facebook thingy to the right. Today I decided to teach my teenage boys how to do their own laundry. In…

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Apparently Google Friend Connect is going byebye for those of us not with Blogger. If you wish to continue following the trials and tribulations of a narcissist, either subscribe or else “Like” me on the Facebook thingy to the right. And now go on to read a post in which I analyze the reason my…

Move over pretty woman!

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I don’t give a damn anymore

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I was over at Scary Mommy’s blog the other day where I read a very interesting post in which she displays a picture seen circulating on Facebook; a picture of an abdomen with stretchmarks with the caption, “You’re body is not ruined. You’re a goddamned tiger who earned her stripes.” In true fabulous Scary Mommy…

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Before I send you over In the Powder Room, I have to give a great big thank you to Jennifer Boykin from the new and very fantastic site called Life After Tampons. She featured me in her launch: Twentyfive Powerful Women Reveal the One Success Secret they Wish they Hadn’t Missed. I’m shocked yet very…

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Google Friend Connect will be leaving me soon. If you don’t already, be sure to “like” me on Facebook, and/or subscribe via my feed. This picture has been circulating on Facebook: Obviously the purpose is to scare the shit out of Western society: Look, it’s a soft, baby pink substance used to make chicken nuggets!…

Creepy stalker guy…

I’m at In the Powder Room today. Go on over and discover how you, too, can frighten your neighbours…or they can frighten you ~cue scary music~