Our Weekend… Which is Already Long Over…

So where were we?

Before I decided to take a little vacation day yesterday and write absolutely nothing?

I think we left off with me taking the boy and Enzo to see the movie, We Bought a Zoo.  I’d just like to go on record and say that YES!  And INDEED!  I think that I wouldn’t mind buying a zoo like the one featured in the cinematic flick at all, because I already know how to handle the wild cats.  Cat 1 drapes herself around my neck every night while I sleep, pretending to be a pretty, real-fur scarf, but let’s face it.  I know she’s really trying to smother me while I sleep so that she can rid her world of one more living creature.

Although the movie was great (And even tear-provoking, as I had a good cry in a couple of parts.), the best part of the evening was during the previews, when the trailer for the new Three Stooges movie played.  To say that Enzo and the boy LAUGHED is an understatement that cannot do justice to what happened.  Those two boys sounded like a couple of howler monkeys, hopped up on amphetamines.  They laughed until they couldn’t breathe; they slapped each other in the side; they both ended up flipping right out of their seats and landing on the floor.

The VERY STICKY FLOOR, because an earlier theater patron had obviously seen fit to spill a soda, right where we were sitting.  And that’s always nice, because if there’s one thing I enjoy while watching a movie, it’s having the bottoms of my cowgirl boots stick solidly to the floor and immobilize me.

Everyone in the theater around us ended up laughing at the two hyenas next to me.  The Stooges trailer was completely forgotten in the minds of every adult there, as they all pointed at the rib-breaking laughter happening in THAT ROW THERE!  THAT ROW WITH THE STICKY FLOOR!

After that, we headed into the weekend.

The boy’s good buddy, Ben, came up from Small Ranching Community, and he spent the entire weekend with us.  Ben is the only person we know who is completely comfortable kicking Cat 1 square in the chops, so that he sends her packing and licking her wounds whenever she bothers him.  Because of this, Ben is the ONLY LIVING PERSON Cat 1 has any respect for.  He’s the only child who visits our house who doesn’t receive a good hiss-at.  He’s the only person she refuses to strike at and bite.

On Sunday, after church, the boys REQUESTED Burger King.

I know.  I know.

I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.

It’s not that they were all crazy about snagging an order of the new French fries with the laboratory coating that may or may not be toxic waste.  The two of them had seen the new brownie sundaes advertised during their Hunting Big Foot marathon on TV, and they were looking to secure a big bowl of vanilla ice cream, sitting on a solid chunk of chocolate.

And the fries?

Well, the boy’s fries didn’t make it into our Suburban when we left the drive-thru.  They were forgotten by some Burger King employee who doesn’t pay attention to detail.  I hope this comes up in his annual employment review.  The boy simply said, “That’s okay; I hate the fries anyway.  I just wanted the sundae!”

And then Ben threw HIS new-and-improved, bigger-and-thicker, chemically-treated fries into the garbage can.

Because all he really wanted was the brownie-laced ice cream, too.

And Hubs and I?

Well, we ordered nothing, because what part of I JUST THREW UP A LITTLE IN MY MOUTH didn’t you understand?

(It’s nothing personal, Burger King.  It’s just that eating your fries is as appetizing as chewing an enormous lump of raw bread dough, and Hubs and I WEREN’T in the mood for brownie sundaes.)

The boys’ meals came with PAPER CROWNS.  I begged and begged them to wear the crowns, so that I could capture the moment forever with my camera, and they REFUSED ME!  They mumbled something about being COOL and IN THE 5th GRADE and NOT ON YOUR LIFE and WE’D RATHER BE YANKED APART BY BIG FOOT THAN HAVE YOU TAKE OUR PICTURE WITH BURGER KING CROWNS ON OUR HEAD AND SHOW IT TO GIRLS IN THE FUTURE.

(When they were 4th graders last year, they BOTH would have worn the crowns!)

And then they went outside and hit the paper crowns with golf clubs, because boys do enjoy a good moment that involves something destructive.

Because that’s what boys do.

And then Hubs, who hadn’t seen the movie preview for the new Three Stooges movie, called it up on his iPad.

And the hyenas let loose!

There’s just something about the Y  chromosome appreciating seeing three grown men poke each other in the eyes that the double-X chromosomes MISSES OUT ON COMPLETELY.

And also?

Well, Hubs has been growing his beard, because he honestly believes it helps the Denver Broncos win.  I have shared my long-term vision about his face with him, because I’m not a fan of the beards, and I think it’s safe to say that the mountain man and I are officially of differing opinions.

Especially since Denver just stomped on the Pittsburgh yesterday and made Hubs shout the roof off of our house with his merriment and enthusiasm.

Apparently the beard stays until Tebow has a Super Bowl ring on his finger.

Which hopefully isn’t as likely as me buying a zoo, because then I’ll be doomed with being married to a beard forever.

As Hubs said, “I’m just down from the mountains for the rendezvous, so I can trade hides for whiskey and gun powder.”

Happy Monday night, y’all.

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