Imagine the following scene:
Voice speaks:
"It's cold outside, and I, the benevolent narrator of this little vignette, am walking along a quiet street. On this cold and blustery evening I clutch my collar tightly about my neck with one hand as I hold down my hat with the other. As I make my way past the warmly lit houses, I see that the Happys are home for the evening. I wonder what quaint domestic scene is unfolding in there. Let's have a look-see, shall we?
We approach the Happy household, and peek in the windows.
Ahhhh, a quaint domestic scene: The lamps are lit and there is a candle glowing on the dining room table. It would appear that the Happys have had a nice supper and are relaxing after doing the dishes. Mrs. Happy is sipping tea and knitting, while Mr. Happy relaxes on the chesterfield.
I wonder what they are chatting about? I suppose they are making plans for the weekend or perhaps discussing world politics, art, music or some such thing. Ah... well. Let's leave them be, shall we?"
Narrator wanders off down the street. Content in his assesment of the Happy scene, he anticipates arriving at his own home.
Meanwhile back inside the Happy household:
Mrs Happy: ... and then she said...
Mr. Happy, interrupting: Oh My Goodness, Stephanie, you have got to see what is in my bellybutton!
Mrs. Happy: Wha? In your bellybutton?
Mr. Happy: Yeah, come look. It must be from the new shirt I'm wearing.
Mrs. Happy (crossing the room and peering at Mr. Happy's stomach): OH MY! That's insane! Look at that!
Mrs. Happy plucks the lint from Mr. Happy's bellybutton. It's HUGE!
Mr. Happy: I KNOW
Mrs. Happy (reaching for a camera): I have got to take a photo of this.
The Queen seems amused.
*Alternate titles:
1. Because the Internet Just SCREAMS For Crap Like This
2. Documented for Posterity
3. Somewhere, In a Cottage in Ontario, a 1.5" Long Nose Hair Is Taped To a Wall
4. You Can Serve Dip in It Too
Voice speaks:
"It's cold outside, and I, the benevolent narrator of this little vignette, am walking along a quiet street. On this cold and blustery evening I clutch my collar tightly about my neck with one hand as I hold down my hat with the other. As I make my way past the warmly lit houses, I see that the Happys are home for the evening. I wonder what quaint domestic scene is unfolding in there. Let's have a look-see, shall we?
We approach the Happy household, and peek in the windows.
Ahhhh, a quaint domestic scene: The lamps are lit and there is a candle glowing on the dining room table. It would appear that the Happys have had a nice supper and are relaxing after doing the dishes. Mrs. Happy is sipping tea and knitting, while Mr. Happy relaxes on the chesterfield.
I wonder what they are chatting about? I suppose they are making plans for the weekend or perhaps discussing world politics, art, music or some such thing. Ah... well. Let's leave them be, shall we?"
Narrator wanders off down the street. Content in his assesment of the Happy scene, he anticipates arriving at his own home.
Meanwhile back inside the Happy household:
Mrs Happy: ... and then she said...
Mr. Happy, interrupting: Oh My Goodness, Stephanie, you have got to see what is in my bellybutton!
Mrs. Happy: Wha? In your bellybutton?
Mr. Happy: Yeah, come look. It must be from the new shirt I'm wearing.
Mrs. Happy (crossing the room and peering at Mr. Happy's stomach): OH MY! That's insane! Look at that!
Mrs. Happy plucks the lint from Mr. Happy's bellybutton. It's HUGE!
Mr. Happy: I KNOW
Mrs. Happy (reaching for a camera): I have got to take a photo of this.
The Queen seems amused.
*Alternate titles:
1. Because the Internet Just SCREAMS For Crap Like This
2. Documented for Posterity
3. Somewhere, In a Cottage in Ontario, a 1.5" Long Nose Hair Is Taped To a Wall
4. You Can Serve Dip in It Too
*snerk* I don't usually giggle before 6:30 AM, but you've got me bustin' out all over in my kitchen.
ReplyDeleteThat is truely hysterical. Especially the nosehair comment. Most of our conversations revolve around Britney Spears* and pooping.
ReplyDelete* or whoever else is showing up on "Oh No They Didn't"
I can't believe you blogged about the lint, even slyly alluding to the dip-bowl-like proportions of the bellybutton in question, and yet didn't bring up the important and possibly life-changing question of which kind of dip would be more appropriate. Ranch? French onion? Or salsa? These things could keep a person up at night.
ReplyDelete(but don't worry, I wasn't up all night worrying about the dip. After our chat I tried to watch some of my ninja cartoon but ended up moving all of my belongings out from under the wet spot in the ceiling instead, and so the night was spent with one ear cocked, listening for drips).
I don't know why I can never, ever spell the verification word on the first try. I did pass kindergarten, you know.
ReplyDeleteToo funny. I'd be lying if I said we hadn't had a discussion along those lines once or twice!
ReplyDeleteYou could totally spin that lint and make socks!
ReplyDeleteMan...y'know, between the cold medicine and your blog - my life is pretty trippy these days, lady.
ReplyDeleteOkay, you guys are wierd. I don't think we've ever discussed belly button lint. But you went beyond discussing to actually photographing. And I don't even want to think about something that size trying to call itself belly button lint. That's like me calling those things under my couch dust bunnies, when in reality, they rival the cats in both size and furriness.
ReplyDeleteAnd your little flickr button is showing Lynne snorgling Henry. I wonder what Henry's belly button lint would look like?
Next time dictator daddy has eyebrow dandruff i am taking a picture.....
ReplyDelete(you remember how extraordinary the length of his eyebrows are...)
bwahahaha...
ReplyDeleteWhy don't they write about that stuff in romance stories? hehe
I can never spell the verification word either- gawwwwd.