Patootyism

Here on the compound, we really appreciate humor. 

We even (especially?) appreciate humor at the expense of others. Or ourselves. Or The Pretty One.

Every Sunday, we and The Bossy One's family eat at our local fake-Asian restaurant. There is always much gossiping, and occasionally there is also plotting. 

During the summer, The Pretty One, The Smart One, and I work at the pool teaching small and large children how best not to drown when near or in a pool. The Bossy One is our Boss. At the pools, there is a slight problem with romantical relationships and the inevitable drama that results. At the time of the conception of patootyism was born, The Pretty One was in the first tentative stages of such a possible relationship. Because the Compound inhabitants are horrible people, we found this hilarious and worthy of much teasing. 

Sidenote: The Pretty One is gullible. Very, very gullible.

And so, over chicken fried rice and crab wontons, The Doctor whispers to The Bossy One. 

"I have a plan."

The plan was patootyism. 

Patootyism is, as The Boss Lady and I told The Pretty One, like nepotism. Only not. Because it's just when people work together and are in a relationship. Which is a real concept, but patootyism is not a real word. In case you were not aware. 

The Pretty one bought it. She absolutely, unquestionably believed us. She got angry at our suggestion she was unprofessional, worried about how much to interact with her love interest at work, defensive to our teasing. She also told pretty much everyone else at our place of work to watch out for patootyism, because, as we had told her, it could get you fired. And lectured by the Big Boss Man. And fired.

The summer passed. Patootyism was used in daily, normal conversation. We even talked about it at inservice training. It became a real thing. Better yet? It stayed a real thing.

She only realized that we were lying liars who tell lies this week. 

The best part of all this?

There are fifteen kids walking around the world, right now, who wouldn't blink if you started a conversation with them about all the reasons patootyism is not a good idea. They would probably chime in with personal anecdotes. 

(We still love you.)

mad skillz

You should be impressed. 

We're a human totem pole dedicated to the spirit of win, or something equally foolish and dramatic.

From the bottom up: Me, The Pretty One, The Wild One. 

Coming soon: FOUR PEOPLE.

music videos and death

Have you seen Demi Lovato's new music video? It's her new song, Skyscraper. It's a pretty horrible video. Really. Bad. I was most annoyed by the fact that when she sings the line, "I will be rising from the ground like a skyscraper!" no actual skyscraper pops out of the desert floor on which filming is taking place. So lame, right?

The following conversation happened en route to church:

[someone mentions the general atrociousness of the video, which The Smart One has not seen]

The Pretty One: "... Oh yeah. It sucks. And then, at the end, she dies."

[Everyone looks shocked.]

Me: "... No, she doesn't"

The Pretty One: "Yeah. Well. She should have."

Also, this happened today:

The Middle One: "If you could have any one wish, what would you wish for?"

The Funny One: "I would wish... for.... Oh! I would wish for all the trash in the world to magically poof away!"

TMO: "... Why?"

TFO: "So we don't die. Did you know that we bury trash? And it gets in the ground? And in the air? And in the rain? And it could kill us. [Rant about the dangers of garbage continues. He's ten, in case you didn't check the sidebar.]"

carrots, celery, morality, and other fibrous things

The following conversation occurred while The Smart one was helping The Temporary One with his 'how to be a good person' class. They were talking about what you should do if the cashier gives you an extra five dollars in change. Or something. 

Has it ever occurred to anyone else that 'moral fiber' is a weird phrase?

The Smart One (typing as he speaks): "I... would... probably...."

Me: "Keep the money. Cha-ching!"

TSO: "... Because I have no moral fiber."

Me: "Because you're like Wonder Bread, or something."

TSO: "And not a carrot."

Me: "I would probably keep the money because my moral fiber is more reminiscent of a cheeto than celery."

TSO (to The Temporary One): "Can I put that? Can we please say you're more like a cheeto than celery?"

The Temporary One: "Um.. No?"

TSO: "How about, 'I would return the money because my moral fiber is like celery?'" 

TTO: "No."

Me: "OH I KNOW! 'I would return the money because my moral fiber is more similar to the fiber content of those foods consumed by individuals of higher socioeconomic status than those of lower socioeconomic standing."

TSO/Me: "BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Dobby

So we have a pet wallaroo.

Seriously.

He's pretty great. He likes pretzels, belly rubs, ear scratches, our Golden Retriever, and attempting to groom the people he loves, even though the people he loves don't really appreciate that at all, because he has tiny, grabby little Velociraptor hands that don't feel so great when they're trying to rip non-existent bugs off your legs. He also hisses like a cat, but only when he's happy. Two years later, and I still have to remind myself that the hissing is not my clue to back away slowly.

Dobby also comes when called. Consistently. And pretty rapidly. We have a ridiculously large number of pets, and only two other creatures (the dogs! and only two of them!) in our world do that. So we enjoy it. Also, I love Dobby enough to talk to him in the stereotypically doting baby-voice of all pet owners. I already know this - you don't need to point it out.

This is How it Starts

With The Pretty One slowly waking up and becoming semi-coherent after getting her wisdom teeth pulled. A nice sister would have been too busy comforting her to get the camera rolling. I, however, had the camera ready and - about five seconds after the end of this clip - put on a song I knew she would try to sing along to. She did, and it was funny. I taped it. A post for another day?