Kid…We’re Upping Your Adderall.

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While hanging out at my parent’s house…

Caolinn: “Stop touching mom’s phone!”

My dad: “What?  What’s happening?”

Me: “Nothing, Dad.  My son just keeps touching my phone.”

Xavier: “Wait…your son?  Is it me?”

Me: “Are you touching my phone?”

Xavier: “No.”  (looks at Liam, holding my phone) “Oh…your other son.”

Caolinn: (under her breath) “Idiot.”

 

Does A McMcerson Take A Shit In The Woods?

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Xavier: “When can we go camping?”

Me: “Honey, mommy was raised by New Yorkers…even if we had a motor home, we’d need Bear Grylls to survive it.”

Xavier: “I know how to make a fire.”

Me: “I know how to make a reservation at a cabin in the woods.”

Xavier: “It’s not the same.”

Me: “Yes, but my way has a toilet.”

 

***Later that day, discussing this issue with my friend, John…

 

John: “Who in the hell is going to teach those boys to build a camp fire and kill small animals?”

Me: “Wow, you just described camping AND the warning signs of a future serial killer.”

John: “I’m not a serial killer. I think you have to kill more than five to be labeled a serial killer.”

Me: “Depends…were they all hookers or drifters?”

John: “I’ve already said too much.”

I Swear We’re Not Perverts…We Just Want To WATCH Perverts

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I have to preface these texts by telling you that Ryan and I have a running joke about Anthem, this very Stepford-esque suburban “planned community”, that lies just north of Phoenix.  He claims he heard a rumor about an underground swinger’s scene that goes on up there, where reportedly, the swingers identify themselves to each other by placing purple rocks in their yards.

Ryan: Damn it!  I was up in Anthem for that service, and I didn’t get a chance to look around.

Me: You mean that, while on your way to a FUNERAL, you didn’t try and track down some swinger-sign?  What’s wrong with you!?

Ryan: We could always go back this weekend.  That’s a fun date, isn’t it?

Me: Me, you, some flashlights…good times. What do we do if we find any?

Ryan: “I’m sorry, but we couldn’t help noticing your rocks.  We were wondering how you get them off?”

Me: “No, we don’t want to join…nice cold sore, by the way, but we’d like to observe from a safe distance.  Outside the ‘Splash Zone’, if you will…”

Ryan: “Do you provide tarps?  Oh, no, nevermind, we have rain panchos…that’ll do.”

Me: Good thing I keep those in my car.

Ryan: Yeah, we don’t want anything to get stained.

Me: LIKE OUR SOULS!  Bring that vial of holy water I saw in your kitchen.

Ryan: Pretty sure that turns to vinegar the moment it crosses a swinger threshold.

Me: So…Saturday?

Ryan: Sounds good.  Bring galoshes.