Thursday, November 01, 2007

In Need of a Short Crabbatical...

Thanks for the "KONK/SLAP" combo, Monica. I needed it. I've been burning the old candle outta both holes, or however that saying goes, and I've somehow managed to rip mySELF a new one. The last coupla nights, after working into the wee hours, I've found myself staring at this blank text box, unable to pinch-off an original fucking thought. So, rather than waste virtual paper, I've given myself a little break.

Anywhich, let's see. Last night was Halloween. Windy, cold and wet, as usual. Who the fuck decided to have a walking-around-the-neighborhood-for-two-hours holiday at the end of October?! Oh yeah, it was Satan. Guess it makes sense, then, actually. Nevermind.

So, Mr. Z was Yoda and Miss O was Sparkle, the sun fairy.

I went as "Old Man at Wit's End." Miss O lasted for about an hour and then wisely headed back to Casa de Crabby with the Old Lady. Mr. Z, wet productive cough, hoarse voice and all, decided to keep the jocularity up for another hour, so off the fuck we went. Five pounds of fun-sized-frivolity later, we found our way back home, where Mr. Z sorted out his booty and I dried off mine.

I was hoping to chow down on some of the leftover candy the Old Lady had been passing out, but, of course, there wasn't any. I KNEW it. I told her two weeks ago at Target that we hadn't gotten enough, but she said, "Oh c'mon! This is PLENTY! We'll have tons left over."


However, she redeemed herself tonight when she came home with this:

That, my friends, is why I married the woman. Goetz-fucking-caramel-creams! They're like scrumptious cross-sections of tiny, corn syrup impacted candy rectums. Confectionary sphincters of deliciousness. And they're all mine. Maybe they'll even help me shake off this brain cloud that's been plaguing me.

I hope so, 'cuz I really want to want to start posting again. It's just been kinda painful lately, like pushing out one of those turds that feels like it's coming out sideways. But, you know, when it finally does make its way out, it's such a satisfying feeling, ya know? Like, "Man, it was really painful getting that thing outta there, but just LOOK at it! I made that! Me! With my own two hand-- er, colons."

Man, I need a vacation.


Kim said...


Go Goetz 'em!

I personally prefer the Cow Tales version (which you can occasionally find in the chocolate variety). In fact, I will only eat the Tales version now since you've tainted (no pun intended...ok, yes it WAS intended) the way I think about caramel creams...candy rectums indeed!

crabbydad said...

No, Kim. The caramel creams are the sphincters. The Cow Tales are the entire, prolapsed rectum. The taint, of course, is Laffy Taffy.

Matt said...

I refer to that sideways turd pushing process as "birthing butt babies." I didn't have a phrase for it until this past week when I've been testing some new high fiber bar that the netterwebs sent me.

I realize this probably doesn't help your brain flow, but "birthing butt babies..." I made that, and I'm proud of it. What you birth is better, even during brain slumps.

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