I talked to my Dad on the phone last night and he said,
"What do you do with an elephant with three balls?"
"Uh... I don't know, Dad."
"Walk him and pitch to the Rhino."[Da Pop repeats only the jokey jokes of the finest QUAL-EE-TAY because da Pop be nutzen.]
Later we were talking about the kids and he said,
"Do you call them The Mayor and The Rooster at home?"
I was suddenly really, really, really, really quiet.
[There were bird tweeting noises.]
"Uh... Dad, have you been reading my blog?"
"Yes. Every day."(Hi, Dad.)
"For how long?"
"Oh, months now."
"So I guess I'll have to stop writing so much about my vagina," I said.
"Well the last I read you were writing about The Rooster's vagina."
"You mean her pussycat?" I asked.
"No. The other post. The one with the song."Oh, right --- The Gyna Song.
That catchy tune.
I went to the Farmer's Market for groceries right after I wrote about Rooster's Gyna Song.
As I pushed my cart into the store, I realized that I was doing a strut-shimmy combo and singing at top volume,
"MY GYNA, MY GYNA THE PEE COMES OUT MY GYNA."
OH, THE JOYS!!!!!!
Welcome to my blog, Dad. You must be so proud.