Tuesday, May 24, 2011

SBC.

No, I don't mean Seattle's Best Coffee, now owned by the illustrious and esteemed Starbucks Corporation. Although I forgive you for thinking so, given who's speaking here.

No. SBC means something totally different. And totally awesome.

But before I share with you, I must first implore your sympathy. See, I have this terrible habit of calling my children horrid names. Like, names other people wouldn't even think of attributing to their children. Or even their dogs. Names that have absolutely nothing to do with them, aside from the fact they may indeed own a vagina. (Or not.) And just when I start to feel guilty about this terrible habit of mine, I recall that my own mother had a few good ones up her sleeve too. (Eh heh. It took me some years to realize that "dildo brain" was not something I should call my friends.)

This apple didn't fall far, but when she fell? She rotted.

Okay. So. You're now properly warmed up for being introduced to my precious daughter's nickname, the name I call her most and the name by which many of my closest friends refer to her. I'll give you a quick hint... it's shortened version is "Cheese". Appropriate also because cheese is her favorite food. Inappropriate for so many other reasons.

Violet the ...Cheese

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SBC = Stinky Butt Cheese.

Stinky. Butt. Cheese.

Yes friends. I named my daughter after excrement. Dat's love, raught thar.

For those of you not on Facebook...

Sunday, May 22nd:

Instead of just asking if he could sleep in our bed tonight, Tiny Man gave me an extensive lecture on how his room, bed and floor were all too warm to be properly slept in and that he needed somewhere cool, comfortable and partially populated in which to sleep. No other accommodations were adequate. My life flashed before my eyes as I realized, to my chagrin, that I may pay for law school after all.