I Have A Funny Son: Fact.

I have a funny son: fact.

Spud was on form yesterday.

On Tory Boy’s session playing Warhammer at the Warhammer shop the other night:

Spud: Was Ponytail Paul there?

TB: His name’s not Paul.

Spud: I go to a grammar school; we use alliteration when we insult people.

The ongoing struggle between Spud and me about the fact that he never, ever, goes barefoot.

Spud [Having taken off his fluffy black school socks and shown me fluffy black feet]: Sorry if I leave a mess on the carpets, Mum.

Me [Exasperated]: One day out of 365 you decide to take your socks off…look at them – wash your feet!

Spud: Hey, I’m just strutting my fluff.

And finally, a joke he read that he knew I’d appreciate:

What noise does a grammatically correct owl make?

‘Whom.’

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Read more Six Word Saturdays here.

Joke 180

A young couple were due to marry. As the big day approached, they grew apprehensive. Each had a problem they had never shared with anyone.

The groom-to-be, overcoming his fear, decided to ask his father for advice.

“Father,” he said, “I am deeply concerned about the success of my marriage.”

His father replied, “Don’t you love this girl?”

“Oh yes, very much,” the young man said; “but you see, I have very smelly feet, and I’m afraid that my fiancée will be put off by them.”

“No problem,” said Father.  “All you have to do is wash your feet as often as possible, and always wear socks, even to bed.”  This seemed a workable solution.

The bride-to-be, overcoming her fear, decided to take her problem up with her mom.  “Mom,” she said, “when I wake up in the morning my breath is truly awful.”

“Honey,” her mother consoled, “everyone has bad breath in the morning.”

“No, you don’t understand. My morning breath is so bad, I’m afraid that my fiancé will not want to sleep in the same room with me.”

Her mother said, “Try this. In the morning, get straight out of bed, head for the bathroom and brush your teeth. The key is not to say a word until you’ve brushed your teeth.”

“I shouldn’t say good morning or anything?” the daughter asked.

“Not a word,” her mother affirmed.

“Well, it’s certainly worth a try,” the bride thought.

The loving couple were finally married. Not forgetting the advice each had received, he with his perpetual socks and she with her morning silence, they managed quite well. That is, until about six months later. Shortly before dawn one morning, the husband awoke with a start to find that one of his socks had come off. Fearful of the consequences, he frantically searched the bed. This, of course, woke his bride and without thinking, she asked, “What on earth are you doing?”

“Oh, my,” he replied, “you’ve swallowed my sock!”

The First Time Ever I Saw This Is A Mad Factor

Red is the new Black.  Half of the text refuses to change from grey to black and I must have uniformity for my sanity, so it’s all red from now on, like the mist before my eyes.  WordPress grey is like a Stockport summer sky and I just can’t do wishy-washy; it’s not in my nature.

Phase Three of the X Factor started on Saturday, with the live shows.  I was disappointed in Matt’s performance; it wasn’t terrible but he’ll have to get better if he’s going to win.  I preferred his boot camp audition.  He starts singing at 1:40.

Mary was fantastic but I don’t think she’ll win. 

Aiden Grimshaw was the stand-out performer of the night.  I hadn’t rated him but the Hub, in his infinite annoyingness, spotted him from his first audition.  Although I’ve loved the song in all its incarnations, I never really understood just how mad a world it is until I watched his interpretation.

Perhaps the song needed a teenager to bring out the real meaning: it seemed to me that on Saturday Aiden was channelling Monday-morning Spud.  Today’s Drama of the Week was initiated by odd socks.  If my boys are anything to go by, grunge fashion extends as far as the feet; my sons never wear matching socks if they can avoid it.

 I’ve another pair at home just like it.

Spud has to wear black socks for school on pain of being expelled, but I compromise by buying multiple pairs of the same pattern so he has matching socks but they are not necessarily from the same pair.  Aren’t I clever?

This morning, he had a hissy fit because he had no school socks – and he had brought down his washing basket at eleven o’clock last night.  I can only assume I should have set my alarm early and got up at five to wash them.  I don’t have a tumble dryer but that’s not a problem because the morning screaming I do would provide enough hot air to send him off to school with the toastiest toes in Stockport.

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Perhaps my child’s descent into typical teenagerdom inspired this bleak senryu, which came from the latest Writer’s Island prompt, ‘envision’.  It was five stanzas long at first, but you need to know the Book of Revelation to appreciate it, and it was so grim I couldn’t bring myself to post the rest.

Apocalypse

Envision a world
where fowl gorge on the flesh of
kings, and hope is dead.