In regards to my last post about digital photography, this is a fine example of I can't go without taking a picture.
The playgroup went to the zoo last Friday to visit some animals.
It could have been the fresh smell of rain in the air, the sunshine peeking out from behind the storm that had past, perhaps it was the subtle Kenny G playing in the area; Love was in the air.
This is a fine example of the fact that my sense of humor is that of a 14 year old boy.
Caution: A word that refers to feces by a bull is used in the post that some might find offensive, if so please close browser now. I'm sorry.
The following are emails exchanged between The Queen Bee, as I call her, and myself. The Queen Bee is the nice lady that founded a Northern Kentucky playgroup for stay at home parents. It just so happens that I'm the only guy, that I know of, in the group and they are kind enough to say hello and invite us to the gatherings, which is greatly appreciated.
The names, besides mine, have been changed or deleted to protect the guilty.
OK Kevin...this is the next email I received after reading yours...from my Australian friend who lives in Switzerland. Hilarious. I'll ask you to join me on this response to get a different perspective (and since you've proven yourself to be such a good writer...). To be honest I never even use the word but since I am familiar with it I can respond. I'll reply to my Australian friend in Switzerland with my give on the word and would like to include (giving you the credit, of course) whatever you can bring to it as well. Game?
Hey girlfriend! How's it going there? Do you ever get a minute to yourself these days?!? I can't believe your little boy is so big already! I am loving his blog. I bet the teeth haven't helped with the sleeping situation. I feel for you there. So, I have an ulterior motive for contacting you this time. I am doing a unit this semester called Intercultural Communication. One of my discussion questions that I have to post on (that seemed like a bit of fun) is to compare the Australian and American meanings of the word...."bullsh*t"! So...what does "bullsh*t" mean to you? If you have a minute, do you think you can tell me what it means and in what contexts you would use it? Like put it into sentences or something. Feel free to ask your husband or anyone else - all input is welcome! I'll tell you the Australian meaning once I've found out about the American one. Of course, if you don't have time, it's no biggie. I was at a kid's storytime here yesterday and there were lots of American mommies and I was really tempted to ask some of them for ideas, but I didn't know ANY of them and I didn't think it would be a good intro question. Right, thanks heaps and lots of love from this side of the world.
I am completely appalled that you would ask me this and use that kind of language with me. I know we contact one another on occassion, but it's strictly on a basis of sharing information about playgroups for our children and our surrounding areas of Northern Kentucky. To think that you can transmit that type of filth to me and think it is hilarious is shameful.
OK, I'm just bullsh*tting you. Totally kidding. Please don't take any word above seriously at all, besides the fact that you know more about playgroups and Northern Kentucky than I do. I love that the start of her email to you is "Hey girlfriend!". Australian living in Switzerland, cool. That would have been awesome for her to go up to unknown Americans and ask them what bullsh*t meant to them. That would have been hilarious.
Let's see, Bullsh*t. I think I, like a lot of others, consider the term "Bullsh*t" to be a statement of untruth. Now with that being said, I do find major differences in the level of untruths being told. When joking with friends, being sarcastic, or when someone will tell an obvious untruth for means of laughter I consider it "Bullsh*t". When someone tells an untruthful statement to bolster themselves or that statement can be debated and found truthful, I usually refer to that as "A crock of sh*t!".
An example of bullsh*t is the above message I replied to you, just me bullsh*tting or something that you should find as bullsh*t. I think you know me well enough, or at least now you do, to know that was bullsh*t. More examples follow. Queen Bee said the other day, that Kevin has proven himself to be a good writer, that's bullsh*t. I was watching Meet The Press on Sunday morning and the General from The Army Corps of Engineering was talking about how they didn't expect a levee failure in New Orleans, which is a complete crock of shit. I don't know if that is useful, but there you go.
Thanks for your take on "b.s.". I'll be anxious to hear the Australian take as well. They say things a little differently...my friend uses "reckon" all over the place. Of course, it's probably pretty common in some part of KY here. Wish me luck...off soon to the grocery with all 3 kiddos. later.
Yeah, i use "reckon" and "fixin" all the time. Let us not forget, I am originally from Louisiana. "Fixin" is a staple in my vocabulary and was always made fun of in Chicago.
"10-4 Roscoe, I'm all set up and waiting for those crazy Duke boys to come flying through here in that goofy looking, orange, poor man's Lightning McQueen they call a race car. I'll see you back at the Boar's Nest for a full slab of ribs later. Over and out."
All of a sudden it's Monday. Monday before The Lady and I go away to London without the children.
Me and the kids went over to the Queen Bee's place for a fun playgroup today, but The Little Man was kind of crazy at the beginning. It was sing-a-long time, which was very nice, but my children just can't comprehend the let's be still and sing like all the other children and moms do. When the kids are like that it doesn't help me at all, I become the big sweaty fat guy with the crazy kids. Ugh!
Holy moly, I have a lot of stuff to do before we leave.
Tonight I'm typing up directions on how to use everything in our house, just in case my mother-in-law thinks better of it, half way in, and out sources the childcare at our home to someone that has never used a stove, microwave, or washing machine before. I'm also printing up maps to anywhere she would need to go here in Northern Kentucky. It sunk in a little when I was printing the map to the nearest emergency room....gee, it's gonna suck for them if they have to make a trip there.
So long suckers!
While doing all my chores and getting ready to start packing for our trip, I've been listening to British Invasion tunes and other British artists from the recent past. I've also been putting together playlists for my Ipod, with the most important one being songs that I'm hoping will help me relax and even close my eyes on that long flight over there.
The one record I want to tell everyone about right now is the latest album, The Search, by Son Volt. It's a really good record of Americana tunes, if you will, that is well written and produced with a polish, but it's not too slick. The band formed after the split of the band Uncle Tupelo, with Jay Farrar forming Son Volt and Jeff Tweedy forming the band Wilco.
The Search by Son Volt. It sounds really good coming through the speakers.
I've been lucky to find a group of ladies (moms) that don't mind including men (dads) in their playgroups and reindeer games.
The leader of the pack is this highly organized woman that plans a lot of the meetings and outings. She is known as The Queen Bee in our house. Her family just moved to the area around the same time we did, and there is another woman and her family that recently relocated here as well. These are the gals I talk to the most when the group meets, since we have the transplant conversation to fall back on.
I like to attend the functions on the most part for the kids to interact and play with others, with the adult conversation being a bonus. Talking to two kids, one being a three year old girl that questions everything, all day wears me out. Although, when I am around other adults I can hold a conversation with it is awesome. I have to remind myself to shut up at times, because I can sometimes tend to talk someone's ear off. Literally, they just look at me with that please shut up look and then oops, their ear falls off.
So today me and The Little Man went over to Pantera Bread (I know that's not the real name, but wouldn't it be neat to see some metal band guys baking muffins and scones?) for coffee time with the playgroup, while Doodlebug was at school.
The kids are usually enjoying muffins, cookies, or fruit while the grown folks enjoy a latte or something. The conversation is very nice and consists of parenting talk, weather, what's going on in respective families, grocery shopping, pooping on the potty and then at some point there is going to be some talk of OB/GYN.
Peachy.
So today I'm sharing a shortbread cookie with The Little Man and the next thing you know the ladies are talking penis. That's right, circumcision folks! All faces are looking at me, a deer in headlights, and I said, "Now we're talking. Wait a second this is man talk! What's going on here?" I'm an idiot. For some goofy reason I volunteered up the fact that The Little Man and I were members of the under the knife club simply because of the hygiene issues involved.
Luckily, I went straight from that, right into talking Randy, Simon, and Paula with one woman and letting her know how ashamed our family is that we aren't watching this season and how disappointing it is not to be in on the weekly side betting on the contestants that is taking place at the playgroups website.
I am so happy I found this group that allows us to partake in their activities, they are wonderful people.
