Superhero Symbol Needed

When Grandy posted about The Sweet Old Man it must have triggered something in the erectile dysfunction universe.

NOT kidding!!

Unilaterally the entire erectile dysfunction superheroes, with their capes and strong penis emblems blazen on their tights, keep stalking visiting this blog with their suggestions on how to get one...how to keep one...and how to let one go.

Why is it that? Was it the fact that we questioned the poor man's mobility or dexterity behind the wheel? Was it the fact that we wondered if that lovely number he was with was his wife or his daughter? Or was it something as benign as the fact that the words "old", "man" and "honk" were used (in no particular order) in the same post?

Now the bastards visitors are trying to get their spam in to some other posts.

Personally, I think Vince Neil would be insulted to know that you felt he needed to learn about Viagra at The Crue Review. And really, the "MoFo" part of the NoMoMoFo 2008 was seriously NOT directed at you.

One can only imagine what superheroes will converge on this blog now that the word "penis", "erectile", "dysfunction" and "LIMP" are used. Alright, technically I hadn't used limp before now but really...that is what we're talking about...right?

Where the heck are those spammers that can lift and enlarge your boobs with a pill? That I want to see.

Until then... Fear not dear citizens of Grandy-Land!!

Grandy is prepared to battle all evil spammers, while donning her cape. She is able to burst your bubble with barely a need for her wit. Able to delete your spam with only the strength of a mouse.

Her uniform, however, seems to be lacking that special symbol, however. All the cool superheroes have them. Superman had his "S". Wonderwoman had her Eagle wings draped across her boobs (I think that's what they were), Captain America had...what did he have? A flag and a trash can lid?

The superhero of Grandy-Land needs a symbol.

Any ideas???

Magic con Queso

See this cheese???

It's MAGIC!!!

It has a way of DISAPPEARING!!

Grandy has nothing up her sleeve, and NO rabbit hidden in her ass hat.

Don't believe me?

Really!!!

Cross my heart and hope to fry!!!

Grandy brings one of these to work every day and 3 times recently when she goes to get it from the fridge...it's GONE.

Grandy will find you, my precious.

Next time...when you disappear from the office ... TAKE ME WITH YOU!!

Must get me some of that MAGIC!!

Grandy Feels So Pretty

As the mother of a boy, I feel it is my duty to help enlighten my son on what might work with the girls, and what won't.

If Hubby does one of his dumbass man moves cute little mistakes and well...happens to say, "Honey, your 29" inch ass is blocking my 29" screen." (Oh yes he DID...albeit years ago but there is NO statute of limitations on a statement like that!) That opportunity is usually highlighted in the Grandy home as a learning tool for Little Grandy.

You know what I mean, right?

See what your Dad just did, Honey? Yeah? Good. Don't EVER do that! Ever.

Or how about this one???

Grandy says very excitedlyafter dieting for a couple months. - "Look honey!! I don't have to wear your big T-shirts to hide my belly anymore!!"

To which Hubby responds and almost loses his life - "Why? Are you buying bigger shirts?"

See what your Dad just did, Honey? Yeah? Good. Don't EVER do that! Ever.

Now as he is learning to communicate, my son will try to start a statement with, "No offense Mom..." or "Don't take this the wrong way..." And usually we talk about his statements and we separate what is being honest and what is better left unsaid, or if his statement is one that would even make one offended. I'm really quite proud of the way we can talk about these things.

For instance, one night Hubby and I were getting ready to go out and I was putting on my make-up. Ty comes into the bathroom and says, "Ummmm Mom? Don't take this the wrong way, but you look really good without your glasses."

That is obviously a compliment, and I'm training him well. We discussed that when he says something like that, he's paying someone a compliment and doesn't have to start it out with the first part. He said he just didn't want me to worry that I looked bad with them (he's so sweet).

I truly feel he will make a G-R-E-A-T Hubby himself someday. If I can teach my son nothing else, it will be how to communicate with people. I owe him that.

But alas...with every star pupil, there is bound to be a few set backs. ::sigh::

Recently he walks into my bathroom as I'm getting ready to go out (again), my favorite perfume recently spritzed for luck, and he walks in...coughs...GAGS...and says, "Holy crap, MOM!! What's that stink? It's horrible!!"

::sigh::

Oh well. I feel compelled to stay on task and look at the greater good that is being done. Another learning opportunity is before us.

Yeah...you know what you just said? Yeah? Good. Don't EVER do that! Ever.

PRICELESS

The Grandy family typically goes camping every year for Thanksgiving. For at least the last 7 years we have had turkey in our trailer, at one desert or another. It was perfect! We would order one of those turkey dinners from the store, it would fit perfectly in our oven, and we would feast.

Don't believe me? Take a gander at this pic (taken with Grandy's cell phone; pre-beautiful-camera days)...

Blackened Batcave BATMAN!!! Grandy just realized this pic was taken July 2007. About 18 months and 80 pounds ago...That WAS Grandy's ass on that Quad.

More importantly (no really, get your eyes of the "artist formerly known as" Grandy-Ass) please note my Trailer behind me.

The Grandys LOVED that trailer. It was our main mode of vacationing. Then...Grandy got whiny and started saying stupid stuff like, "It would be nice if we could take a where I wasn't surrounded by nothing but dirt."

Well, Grandy got her wish! (stupid Grandy) Last Thanksgiving we noticed a soft spot on the floor of the trailer. Uh-Oh! Better take it in!! We have really good trailer insurance (of course we do, Grandy works in Insurance) and they'll take care of it.

Well...we take the trailer in. Months go by...surgeries happen...more stuff happens...no trailer yet...Guess what folks! Grandy's trailer ends up being a TOTAL LOSS!!

"WHAT?!?" I know you're asking yourself.

It's true though. That soft spot on the floor was just the start. Apparently water had gotten in and completely rotted out most of the floor under the bed and in spots where we had not known it. We were fortunate because the trailer was covered, and in retrospect, I suppose it was better to find out this way rather than losing our bed on the interstate.

The Grandys had to cancel their Easter 2008 trip to Nevada, their July 2008 trip to Oregon, couldn't take our few trips to Dillon's Beach to go crabbing, etc. By the time Thanksgiving was upon us, we decided we weren't going to let the fact that we didn't have a trailer keep us completely off the dirt. Poor Ty had missed out on some good riding time.

So...Grandy rented a room at a hotel in Reno (which is about 20 miles away from where all our peeps were camping) and checked in about 11:00pm on Thanksgiving. Grandy couldn't sleep that night, the whole holiday just wasn't the same.

The next morning Grandy gets up, feeds her addiction, and slowly makes her way out to the vehicle (pouting), where we have all the bikes tied up on a flat trailer.

As they approach the vehicle, Grandy notices a yellow slip on the windshield. Too big for a ticket? Too small for a flyer? There was one on a truck parked next to us that had a U-Haul trailer attached to it. It was the security guard slip reiterating the parking policy. They tried to say we were blocking another space, and the aisle way, and we couldn't park there. We absolutely were not, we parked WAY OUT to make sure we didn't block anyone (the Grandys are good that way) and were not blocking any aisles.

"What a BOOB!" Grandy says to Hubby while reading the notice.

Then...it appears! The most hysterical coincidence EVER!! It truly made the rest of my day and snapped me out of my stupid pout.

Grandy notices the name of the officer:

a·re·o·la - (ə-rē'ə-lə) - Anatomy; small circular area such as that around the human nipple or an inflamed area around a pimple or insect bite.

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

Not getting to do your traditional Thanksgiving in your trailer? = SUCKY

Getting a parking notice from a putz security guard with too much time on his hands? = SUCKY

Same putz having a name that is an anatomical part of the boobie? = PRICELESS

The Sweet Old Man

I'm in no hurry.

Waiting for you, Mr. REALLY OLD MAN, to cross the parking lot aisle to get to your car.

I see your elderly wife putting the groceries in the trunk of your car, as you slowly limp across the way. Or is that your daughter? You little devil.

You are so cute as I watch you walk so painfully slow. The car behind me honks, as I turn and give them the stink eye. I'm not worried about the fact that you are now slowly walking down the middle of the aisle.

How rude people can be, don't you think? Can't they see this very sweet elderly man taking his sweet time getting to his car? He can't help it if he moves incredibly slow. He's elderly and has lived an entire full lifetime. He's earned the right to move slow.

I find myself smiling, wondering what stories this man could tell me, as he is still walking in front of my car. He's not quite cut that angle to get out of the way, and I actually don't care.

I wonder if he's fought in a war? Or how many? Is that really your wife? (Really, she does look a little young for you.)

As my mind continues to wander, he finally cuts that angle and slowly waddles over to the direction of his car. Your female companion has finished with the few groceries she had. I smile as I think how they will go home and share some conversation over a game of chess or scrabble.

I realized...this man could be my Grandpa. This is why I could reach out and HUG him. So many things about his frame, and his age, that made me think of him.

My mind wanders off to fine memories about Grandpa and I find myself getting all warm and fuzzy.

Then I notice that this sweet man is reaching into his pocket. His hunched frame slowly waddles across the aisle, not quite clear of my small car yet. "What's he getting?" I think to myself.

HOLY CRAP!!

I realized that this old man is getting the dang keys to the car? His female companion/daughter/wife is now in the passenger seat and this man is walking towards the driver's door.

WTF?!?

This man couldn't even move with enough agility to button his own pants and now he's going to DRIVE?!?!?!????????????

S-C-R-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-C-H!!

Any fond walks down memory lane were quickly met with a halt.

Get me out of this dang parking lot before this man can turn the key!!!

Crisis averted... for now.

Whew!!