DogMomIf your fox was looking for Day Toes, he should have come to my house. We all went barefoot–he would have had a field day, and maybe he would have been satiated and left your toes alone at night!
To be fair to my tiger, it would let me retrieve any of my (quite numerous) stuffed animals that fell from my bed. But I knew, I just knew without a doubt, that if I tried to put a single foot on the ground, I’d be tiger food.
My monsters were actually vampires. I would have to pull all the covers way up and clench them under my chin to protect my neck so the vampires couldn’t bite me!
(I still pull the covers way up):eek:
Welby, we need to talk.
This really hurts. And what wounds me the most is you seem to have forgotten about me totally.
I need more in my life than sitting at home waiting for you to post while you are off propositioning pregnant women. I deserve better than that!
I would never make you beg for Legos. If you wanted Legos, all you had to do was ask. But no, you are off hitting on Tanookie, that pregnant tart, and offering her your Roger Waters CDs.
I mean, I do realize that you are only human, and we are talking Legos, and she was flaunting herself about, the trollop, but have a little self-control, man!
Or has all that self-abuse you were talking about rotted your brain? It’ll make you go mad, you know. And blind.
As for you, Tanookie, stop hittin’ on my man, with all your sexy Lego talk! You don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to? 
I didn’t have tigers or vampires - I had SNAKES!! The covers had to be perfectly smooth and free of snake tunnels. Otherwise, they’d slither up in the dark of night and that would be that.
I had an alligator, and covers or no, if a limb hung out over the edge of the bed … SNAP!!! To this day, my husband marvels at how I can sleep in pretty much one spot all night.
Also, we had the pile of clothes/stuffed animals that turned into a hulking, seething, vicious mass of–well, textiles–as soon as the light was turned off. It never occurred to me that if I cleaned the bedroom, that monster, at least, would go away.
Don’t worry Wintermute, I may be a tart and a trollop but I’ve already tried to let Welby down easy as I am quite spoken for (that would be by the guy that made me a pregnant tart.) Welby should be rebounding back to you any moment now… it wasn’t me he really wanted anyway; it was the legos. You know how men are with legos… They are like little plastic drugs or something 
Oh and lest I screw up the hijack and as far as monsters under the bed went… I didn’t have any of those. I lived in fear of my father so I slept at the bottom of a sleeping bag all zippered up with 100 stuffed animals at the top. I also slept fully clothed including shoes!
My sister–the one I shared a room with, not the ones that baked brownies after my bedtime, was a clean freak (still is actually), so we never had piles of textiles to turn into scary stuff at night. However, it never occurred to me to clean my room because my sister always wanted us to do it first thing Saturday morning and I wanted to watch cartoons first thing Saturday morning (the good cartoons, not these wimpy politically correct, non-violent thingys that air now). So my sister and I would have a fight first thing every Saturday morning, and eventually I’d make her cry and while she was in the bathroom, I’d go watch TV. She’d calm down and then clean up the room. Both sides. Alone.
It worked for me.
And no, I was not a brat. I would have helped clean our room if she had waited until the afternoon when the silly old movies came on, or the fishing shows. Really, I would have.
Speaking of which–Why are there fishing shows on TV? Who watches them? Is it possible to watch them without being drunk and/or stoned? Is it someone’s dream to be on a fishing show? Does being the host of such a show give one social status somewhere? I can see it now: the town’s most important people–the mayor, the police chief and the fishing show host.
I wasn’t really worried, but I felt I had to say something. You know, you have to be on top of these guys ::snort::, or they think they can get away with anything.
I didn’t have any make-believe monsters, either. It sounds like you, like me, had real ones to deal with.
Wintermute wrote:
There is just so much about this that makes me giggle. I have this slug style cartoon in my head of Wintermute all dressed in leather with a very large whip in hand standing over a repentant Welby in large pink pasties and matching thong.
(Because sometimes the guys like to try and get away with things because they secretly enjoy our wrath)
And sadly the real life monsters are so much creepier than the ones that hide under the bed. I can’t stand the smell of Old Spice even now!
Wintermute, my little bowl of cherries, I was only after **Tanookie for the Lego connection. There’s no way I’d actually give her any of my Roger Waters CDs, Legos or not. You, on the other hand, can have the whole collection. Even Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking, which is arguably one of the finest albums ever produced. Indeed, I’m reminded of a part of that in reference to the trollop’s latest post:
I awoke in a fever
The bedclothes were all soaked in sweat
She said “You’ve been having a nightmare
And it’s not over yet.”
And Wintermute, you can keep on top of me anytime.
I won’t wear anything pink though. And I prefer to go commando to wearing thongs. And the pasties are only temporary, while my nipples heal. And if you’ve got a whip in your hand prepared to have it confiscated and used.
You know, between welby, Wintermute and tanookie, and the slug, pasties, thong, riding whip and healing nipples images, I’m thinking that tonight, I’m gonna be missing that old tiger!
Please, I need a brillo pad for my mind.
Fascinating how quickly these things degenerate, isn’t it?
[sup]I really type “degenerage” the first time, then had to correct it. It must be my seething resentment of the flooring people coming to the surface.[/sup]
d damn it!
Thank you, dwyr for helping me fill the last few minutes of work time trying to figure out where the “d” went. I swear I read the thing 5 times before I saw it!
I foresee a new SDMB game–Match the Correction with the Error. Deep in the heart of every post, an error lurks. The original poster posts the correction, and the first poster to identify exactly where the error came from wins a prize! Those posters employed as professional proofreaders are not allowed to play.
(Girly “cleaning” nonsense excised by Exgineer.)
That sounds a lot like me and my brother, except that we fought over our Tonka[sup]TM[/sup] trucks, and I was much bigger than him, because I was a year and a half older, so when I punched him, he stayed punched. The “Saturday Morning Cartoon” thing was another factor to be considered. I liked Warner Brothers, he liked Hanna-Barberra. He was an idiot.
Of course, I had a lot of explaining to do when we finally got to breakfast.
“How did your brother get that black eye and bloody nose? Why are you limping?”
“I dunno.”
That never worked.
I offer my sincerest thanks to DogMom, earthpuppy, and skeptic_ev for trying to help me. I appreciate it. Unfortunately, it appears that I lost my bet.
Please report to Fairfax, Virginia, and collect your soul. Divide it up amongst yourselves.
You will come back and post again anyway, won’t you. Yes, I know you will.
Exgineer, how dare you think I would forget! I’ve been wearing my fingers to the bones looking at wedding invitations–no cheap envelopes for us, no sireebob–and paging through bridal magazines, and folding individually designed oragami centerpieces for each table (I wanted an early start becasue I’m a slow folder). Have you even thought about what kind of tux you want? Oh, you are wearing a tux, and it won’t be powder blue or lavender. I’m thinking dove grey, how do you feel about tails? Did you call the caterer, or do I have to do everything on my own?
Kallessa
(who has never planned a wedding, but has seen an essential bossiness, nay even bitchiness, arise in every woman she knows who has)
Happy to be of service Kallessa.
Ex just reminded me of something.
My younger brother also had a collection of Tonka trucks which he let me play with sometimes. One fine Saturday our Evil Older Brother decided to teach us how to play poker. However he didn’t teach us how to cheat like he did. Pretty soon he had won all my younger brother’s trucks and all my stuffed animals. Including my favorite, a skunk.
Which was oddly appropriate come to think of it.
Hey, how y’all doing? I’ve not read the thread, but also have not posted in a while (and my three year anniversary is coming up or is here, I’m not sure which), so thought I’d say hello. The beach is nice, but my affliction is still keeping me up nights.
later,
Shibb
Have you all noticed that the minute I started talkin’ wedding plans, Exgineer disappeared?
Back to one of the more interesting hijacks:
Warner Brothers cartoons were the best, loads better than Hanna-Barberra (which is not spelled corretly, I know). However, it was the The Adventures of Bullwinkle and Rocky that caused me my greatest dilemma. Bullwinkle was shown on Sunday mornings, and it just so happened that it was on at the same time as Mass. So I could either go to church with my sisters, or I could stay home and watch Bullwinkle. Sounds like an easy choice, right? But nooooo, there’s more. If I went to Mass with my sisters, I got to pick out a candy bar at the store on the way home. If I stayed home, I had to take whatever they brought me. Even if I asked them to bring me a certain candy bar, and they actually did bring that candy (“oh, we forgot that you wanted a Milky Way, we got you a Krackle.” Like a Krackle is even close to being as good as a Milky Way), I might be in the mood for a completely different one by the time they got home. But if I went, not only did I miss Bullwinkle, but the crazy priest that yelled might be saying Mass and he scared me. I watched a lot of Bullwinkle and ate a lot of bad candy. At least until I was old enough to go to the store by myself.