Showing posts with label brotherford b. hayes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brotherford b. hayes. Show all posts

Thursday, July 22, 2010

The hips don't lie

Last night, Abbey spent the night at Uncle Stew and Suze's house so her very lucky father could go do this:

Yes, that is a real Superbowl XLIV ring and THE Superbowl XLIV Lombardi Trophy.

Points to Jeremy for showing some restraint, as I would have been weeping sweet black and gold tears of joy and also hugging that trophy as if it were Drew Brees himself. (Earmuffs, Stew. You don't need to listen to that part. Plus, I hear Brees is a big fan of earmuffs.)
Anyway, back to Abbey.

We were watching cartoons and I got up to go get her some juice from the kitchen. As I'm walking across the living room, she tells me "Hey Suze, I like the way your butt moves side to side when you walk."

Maybe I'm the one who should wear the earmuffs.

Friday, July 2, 2010

All you can art

I got bit by the creativity bug and came up with the bright idea to paint a little something for my Brotherford B. Hayes (Jeremy) for Father's Day.

I present to you...my work of ahhhhht.

Please keep in mind that I took complete, unashamed artistic license with this rendition of the New Orleans skyline. In no way are any of these buildings located in this configuration. Except for maybe the proximity of the New Orleans Arena to the giant grey cupcake Louisiana Superdome.

At least the Crescent City Connection has sexy legs, thankyouverymuch.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Rock of Ages

Ahhh, my brother Jeremy (a.k.a. Brotherford B. Hayes), (Hi Jeremy!) Where do I begin? Let's start here. In the 1980s...

Being the oldest child in the family, I often used my wisdom and power to torture manipulate my younger brothers. Specifically the red-headed stepchild middle child - Jeremy. Since I practically invented the whole "work smarter, not harder" way of thinking, I developed quite a few INGENIOUS techniques along the way.

For instance: To get my little bros to perform miscellaneous household chores that otherwise would have been my responsibility, I invented what I like to call "The Point System". In actuality, it was more of a scheme than a system, but whatever. IT WORKED. Whenever I needed my bed made, the trash taken out, etc., I'd con the little sheep into doing said chores by promising that I'd give them POINTS! Vacuum my bedroom? 500 points. Bathe the cat? 1,200 points. Take the blame for spilling a whole glass of Caffeine-free Pepsi behind the sofa? 13,752 points. And guess what? They fell for my evil little plan, because, let's face it. Who doesn't love POINTS!? After months of me shelling out hundreds of thousands of meaningless points, Jeremy finally wised up and inquired as to whether or not these points would ever add up to any sort of tangible reward. Crap, now I had to come up with a prize on the fly. So I offered him the choice of either a rock (that I found in the driveway), or a Hot Wheels car (which was already his to begin with), because I'm generous and resourceful like that.

He chose the rock. Which he proceeded to shove up his nose. And could not be removed via home remedies such as picking, blowing and/or shoving a pair of kitchen tongs up there. This was followed by a trip to the ER. Which was followed by precise medical extraction of the rock. Which was followed by (I assume) ridiculous medical bills for my parents to pay. Well Mom & Dad, in lieu of payment, you should have offered the health insurance company POINTS! Problem solved.

Fast forward to 2010. Jeremy and I were going through a rather large box of mementos (not to be confused with Mentos-The Freshmaker!) that my mother had saved for each of her children over the course of our childhood. We browsed through old kindergarten photos, finger paintings, sports medals and the like. That's when we stumbled upon what looked like, well, MEDICAL WASTE, and we were all "Mom, why does Jeremy's box have a shriveled up bag of MEDICAL WASTE?" My dear mother, sharp as a tack, took one look at that bag of MEDICAL WASTE and was all "That's the rock! THE rock!

And folks, here it is, in all its post-nasal glory. Behold, THE rock:






Warning: The stunts described above were performed by Jeremy Mohr, who has extensive experience of doing dumb stuff that lands him in the ER. Jeremy is practically a trained professional. Do not attempt to try this stunt at home.