Army of Mom

So this is how liberty dies ... with thunderous applause.


Disregard the mushroom cloud

If you're driving through North Texas today and see a mushroom cloud looming and growing larger, don't worry. Just say a prayer for Army of Mom and Dad. It won't be a nuclear weapon in use, it will be the cloud of profanities spewing forth from our attic. AoD will be endeavoring to replace the AC drain pan in a crawl space barely large enough for me to get through, let alone my big strapping (checked the definintion at Webster's to make sure it was appropriate - it is) husband.

Decided that when I die, I want a Texas Rangers fan funeral. I heard the funniest bit about that on WBAP this morning. I can't remember all of it, so I filled in MY blanks.

Start time for the funeral is 1:05 p.m. ET. PA dude Chuck Morgan will introduce the funeral line-up. We'll all sing the National Anthem. Instead of the dot races, there will be casket races and the winners get a free Whataburger for the ride over to the cemetery. We'll have a seventh-inning stretch and everyone can dance the Cotton-Eyed Joe, complete with yelling Bull Shit at the appropriate time. We can make up our own song in lieu of Take Me Out to the Ballgame. Then, at the end, set off some fireworks to signify my homerun and my after-life trip to the Field of Dreams to watch The Babe and others play all the time. I like that idea.


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