Skip to main content

Bein' boys and doin' stupid shit

The last day of the camping trip, right as we were getting ready to leave, I walked up and said, "Hey Dean wanna hear something funny?"
"Karin, I'm so ready for your something funny."
"Check out my pants. They were Kelley's. She wore them as jeans." I laughed. (Kelley's 4'11", thus the funniness.) Then came his monumentally stupid response.
"What were those her maternity pants or something." He said chuckling.
"JESUS DEAN! Why don't you just kick in the face and call me a fatass."
These are the pants.
the jeans

Ha ha, Kelly wore those as pants. And I am clearly not fat. So there must be another explanation for the astronomical level of stupidity of that comment. Who fucking says that?

I back tracked in my mind and began to piece together the previous 24 hours of Dean's.

I remembered the hornet's nest and how the boys had thought it was a good idea to throw rocks at it.

hornet's nest

Then, I surveyed the surroundings of the fire pit and noticed an inordinate number of objects Dean and others thought would be fun to toss in the fire.

I'll make you my bic

I remembered Amber saying something about this and how she'd been the only one to move away from the fire at this point shortly before the lighter blew up.

jesus dean, don't light my fire


burned grolsch

I noticed when I looked at the burned Grolsch mini-keg a clue to the culprit. Check out the upper left hand corner.

Grolsch

Aha.

the culprit: yes its hornitos

Notice the brand is Hornitos. Ha ha.

In his words, "I'm sorry, Karin, I was so hammered I pissed the tent last night. Its all over my climbing gear, I'm just a fuckin mess."

Ok, Dean. I get it, you're just that hungover.

Plus, I look just fine in those jeans.
butt in jeans
Mmmmhmm.



Comments

  1. As another Dean used to say: 'The worst thing you can ask a boy is "What were you thinking?" because he wasn't!'
    MOM
    By the way - love the capris

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Home birth- The real fuckin deal

So the end of pregnancy is for the fuckin birds. I'm sure plenty of you out there know this. There's nothing to say but that you're sick of being pregnant. You're a little sick of the sweet smiles and knowing looks from strangers. You're just all over sick of it. You're spectacularly sick of the: when's your due date how far are you are you having a boy or a girl I bet you're sick of this what hospital are you going to, conversations. You miss when people used to ask about the soccer game you played or the book you're reading. You're sick of swollen handsfeetfaceneckanklesEVERYTHING. Oh and from the beginning of pregnancy until FRIDAY, I had NO stretch marks. Friday my entire lower abdomen erupted into one. giant. stretch mark. So all weekend, I thought, please let this be over soon. Every cramp I felt I welcomed and thought, "whatever work my body does now, it doesn't have to do during labor." Little did I know how much

Having Babies at Home

My whole life, I've heard the story of my cousin Anna's birth. And her sister's too. But I hear more about Anna's. My aunt didn't exactly have a lot of love for the medical profession. And her first baby had been a horrible experience. She'd had him wrenched from her at least as much as she "gave him up" for adoption by nursing staff who leered at her and called her unpleasant names. And she loved him when he was born. And she found him when he turned 18 and loved him till the day she died. When she had kids for keeps, she did it differently. She read books and assigned duties and had them at home. She was brave and surely faced many people who disagreed with her decision. But she stuck by her convictions and her desire for a natural birth and won 2 beautiful girls. My mom was there when Anna was born. So was her sister, Kristina. They both still get this sparkle in their eyes whenever they talk about it. My mom says it was one of the most

Wednesdays' Weirdos: Mouse-stache-kateer

Need I even type something?