I'm going to continue to share.
My sister-in-law Kristin, who I can talk freely about right now because I know for a FACT she's not reading my blog. I have her computer right here...HA! SOMEONE (and I'm not pointing any fingers at my other sister-in-law who surfs the web like it's her job and plays internet poker) gave Kristin's computer a virus. And she gets these insane pop-ups all over the place. So now I have to fix it. Well, I guess I don't HAVE to, but I'm going to. Because I'm nice like that. Really. I am.
But I digress.
Kristin has 3 kids. She took said kids to the Walmart? Kmart? Local pet store chain? I don't know...took them SOMEWHERE to have their pictures took. (Like my midwest slang?) Individuals and a group shot. Well, getting 3 kids all dolled up, hair curled, not crying, not killing each other and getting them to the picture place is quite an undertaking. But she does it, gets them there...smile smile smile, pictures ordered. GOOD JOB! Until she got the pictures back. Ummmmm, yeah, the baby? He had on denim overalls and a red plaid shirt. Cute, right? Until you look at the 8X10 and the 11X13 and realize, HOLY SHIT, his shirt still has the size sticker on it! You know, the long strip that runs down the front of clothing and says 6-9 months. Yeah, THAT. On the wallets you can just see the glare of the flash off the plastic. But on the big pics you can read the size plain as day. Kristin is mortified.
We find this out, at all places, at the wake we went to on Friday. We are in the back of the funeral parlor laughing our asses off with some of the cousins. Inappropriate? Maybe.
So there is this costume party the next day for Rylee, spawn of Kristin, but truly my daughter from another mother. Kevin and I are discussing at dinner what his costume could be. I talk about him being Blake, and how should go with stickers on his shirt. We take it one step further and buy him overalls the next day. I'm walking around Sears taking the size stickers off as many shirts as I can get my hands on and I'm shoving them in my pockets. Kev-head is convinced I'm going to get us thrown in jail. But we make it out with stickers in hand and when we get to the party, they all think Kevin is a farmer. Until they look more closely, and see all of those stickers on his chest. I thought Kristin was going to fall out of her chair. "I'm Blake" he announces.
Good stuff right there. That's what family is for! To take your embarrassing moments and remind you of them daily.
Chick, chick BOOM! (MRA3=Dork)
That is all.
Have a nice day.
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3 comments:
I don't know if many people will remember it but it seemed pretty embarassing (sp?) to me. I'm referring to the 30th b-day party that was thrown for me in Aug. Specifically, pulling up Mom's driveway in my Dad's minivan with Snoop Dogg at about 30 decibels. I think, as I came into sight Snoop was yelling Biotch! Yeah, there was 40 people there.
I think I hear Mike yell, CHICK CHICK BOOM (MRA3 = DORK)
That was a thing of beauty, Jimmer. You and your hip-hop....looking like you're 3 sheets to the wind. Not knowing what to do because we're all standing there.
And Hayden SOBBING because the horn he had been waiting and waiting to blow wouldn't work.
Pictures are such a pain in the ass...I can totally relate. Poor Kristin.
But enough of the sympathy, that is hilarious and will never be forgotten. And that Kevin, such a card.
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