Team USA!

After 17 days of non-stop Olympics coverage in our home, I have come to learn some very important information.  For Example:

*If your country has less than 4 people marching in the opening ceremony, you are probably tied with Tajikistan for 83^rd place with one bronze medal.

*The athletes from the USA have a lot of wonderful things to say…about themselves.

*Usain Bolt is my new hero because he can pull off the “Hulk Hogan dip-lean-&-point” like no other.

*A lot of girls look like boys.

And finally,

*Although China took a not-so-close second to USA in the medal count, they win the prize for having a country name that rhymes with one of my most favorite words in the world!

Think…

Keep Thinking…

Do you have it yet?

Follow me here…

Having been subjected to countless hours of Olympic viewing, I have come to understand two very important pieces of information: 1) Not everyone in the world looks like me, and 2) I can recognize someone that comes from a country that received almost as much TV coverage as Team USA.

So today at Meijer, when I saw a woman that was clearly one of the 1.3 Billion born in China, I had this to say to her:

“IT’S NOT CHINA, IT’S VAGINA! ”

Having said this numerous times during the games, it should not have come as such a surprise to my mother.  But it was.

Lucky for her, the woman (whose first language was clearly not English) looked more confused than angry and just smiled at me.

I, of course, smiled back…the biggest shit-eating grin I have ever smiled in my life.

I think someday I will be an ambassador for this great country of mine.

Bungee Innovations

I’m curious.  I’m inventive.  I’m mischievous.  Quite an extraordinary combination, I know.

This trifecta of useful traits came in very handy when I discovered the surprising elasticity of bungee cords and their many uses.

Use #1: A fantastic leash when the mood strikes me to pretend to be “Barron”, my alter-canine-ego.

Use #2: A makeshift lock when I loop it around both the doorknob on my door to the doorknob on my sister’s door.  The further the bungee stretches, the harder it is for them to open their makeshift prison.  Watching one of them try to escape while the other pries open the door is like watching someone try to clear the gauntlet…unsuccessfully…every time.  I just roll on the floor watching & laughing.

Use #3: Excellent connection between my sister’s bike, the wagon, the sled & my big wheel (in that order).  The one downfall…when the first object stops, the bungees recoil but do not aid in the stopping process, thereby creating quite a pile-up.

Use #4: De-pantser.  I am smaller than most (approximately ass-height to most adults).  This handicap comes in handy when I want to hook a bungee to the belt loop of anyone taller than me & then sit down.  When they realize what is happening, they instinctively turn around, thereby aiding in the process of bringing their pants to their knees.  Fantastically hilarious…for me.

Use #5: Opener…of everything.  Simply by hooking one end to my shirt, the other to anything needing to be opened and then backing up, I just let physics take over.

What could possibly go wrong with this?  Let me tell you…some things are not secured or attached to a fixed object as well as others.

For example…dresser drawers: attached, cabinet doors: attached, fence gates: attached, faucets: attached, oven doors: attached, dishwasher drawers: NOT ATTACHED!

In a painful discovery, I found out that bungees DO have a maximum tension & something has to give.  In this case, the very tiny plastic clips holding the very heavy sliding drawer full of glasses and bowls were no match for my bungee power.  The surprise outcome (at least to me), the entire drawer broke free from the dishwasher and came soaring toward me in a rocket-propelled instant.  The retracting the bungee, again, did not aid in stopping the inertia of the drawer.

This isn’t the first time my Mom has spent the day shining a flashlight into my eyes to examine my pupils (and I’m sure it won’t be the last).  I don’t know what “checking for dilation” means, but if she’s trying to look into the depths of my brain to somehow explain my actions…keep looking baby!  It will take something stronger than a flashlight to find that source.

#2 Katie, #2 Katie! Where for art thou, #2 Katie?!?

My favorite thing about family reunions?  The possibility of a non-relative showing up so I can work my magic.

Such was the case at the annual Brown Family Party that took place on July 4^th.

There aren’t too many of these kinsfolk that I see on a regular basis, so I took it upon myself to acquaint myself with each and every one of them via my standard introduction, “Hi.  I Brennan, Who You?”

Then, like the clouds parting to reveal a double rainbow, I saw HER. 

Pulling out all the stops I approached her, smiled, and smacked her leg with the swim-noodle I had positioned between my legs.

Not understanding how I charm the ladies, my Mother said, “Brennan!  Nice boys don’t hit girls with their noodles.”  With a smirk, I let that one go because sometimes the countless number of counters that could be said just shouldn’t be said.

After establishing that my new obsession’s name was Katie, I quickly dubbed her #2 Katie.  Not because she held anything less than #1 in my smitten heart, but because my aunt is also named Katie, and I grant seniority when and where it is due.

And just as a pesky mosquito is nauseatingly attracted to a luminous figure amidst the darkness, I felt the uncontrollable magnetism that redheaded goddess had on me…and it was on.

For the next three days she was my one and only focus.

If she wasn’t in my presence, I was asking where she was…constantly.
If she was in my presence, I was all over her…relentlessly.

I didn’t let a little hurdle like my inability to swim hamper my willingness to attempt to paddle through the waves on Lake Huron to get to her.  Nor did I let the minor setback of height inhibit my attempts to get as close as possible to the mirrored glasses that adorn her face.

I pulled out all the stops.  Again bringing in the swim-noodle as a prop, I pranced around in front of her on that bendable piece of foam swinging the “tail in the front” it had formed, determined to turn her attention away from that boy who brought her to town.

Technically, I think he is my “first-cousin-once-removed”, but regardless of our familial relations, I will take that boy down to get to the prize.  Bring on your brothers, both of them if you need, I have a little something called chutzpa to back me up.

Look it up & be prepared.

As for my beloved, #2 Katie…until we meet again.  And by then I will be a full year older, wiser & that much more aggressive.

Area-O-Fun

Some things are just made for each other, like peanut butter & jelly, mashed potatoes & gravy, Ike & Tina.

And some things are not, like anything that is spring-loaded & my penis!

It has long been my M.O. to clamp, stick or generally attach things to my junk on an inquiring basis.  It really comes down to curiosity and my ever-burning desire to figure out the many different functions of my boy-parts (not to mention, anything that involves me taking my pants off is an added bonus).

While primping herself for the day, my Mother called me into her bathroom only to find that I had removed my freedom-inhibiting pants, gently secured some plastic pliers to the soft squishy section below my penis, and was swinging it to and fro like a giant clock pendulum.  With a gentle unhinging, she removed them and went back to her business.

As I watched her remove the giant clip securing that mop of burnt blonde hair atop her head, I thought, “I wonder what else that would clamp to?”  My first thought…MY PENIS, OF COURSE!

Seeing as I was already pants-free, it took me no time at all to grab the toothy clip, squeeze it open and position it over my entire area-o-fun.

BIG MISTAKE!

With a howl and a hunch, I scrambled to remove my delicate manhood from the jaws of spring-loaded hell.

It was in that moment I was reminded that not everything should take an exploratory trip down penis lane.

And according to my Mom, that includes spring-loaded hair clips, markers, anything attached to the other end of bungee cords, sandwiches, and all girls associated with GoDaddy.com (4 out of 5 I actually have experience with, the 5^th may need further research once I figure out what that means).

Things That Make You Go, "HMMM"

First, I should clarify that I often confuse the meanings of “where”.  As in, I may say “home” when I mean “office”, or I may say “garage” when I mean “basement”, or even “up” when I mean “down”.  Details I have yet to bother learning.

So when my Dad started in on his usual inquiry as to our day, I had more details than necessary to share (90% of which were dead-on accurate).  They went a little something like this…

Dad: “So what did you do today?”

Me: “We go Dr. Brian’s house.  Mommy put me in playroom with toys.  Dr. Brian tell Mommy lay down on special table.  Mommy say ‘UGHHH!  HMMM!’  Then Mommy feel better.”

Dad: “?”

Mom: “Dr. Brian is my Chiropractor!”

You can call him whatever you want, as long as he keeps taking away that crabby crazy person we have grown too accustomed to when she is in pain, I will call him a champ in my book.