All Conversations Lead to the Ass

I took some time on a Sunday night to visit some friends who were pre-gaming for an annual golf outing the following day. It was a very mellow sit-on-the-stone-wall-and-drink-a-few-beers event. Someone found a random pill capsule in her pocket. It was a boring, legitimate prescription type of pill, nothing illicit or even with the potential to be so. I forget how, but the conversation turned to suppositories and the medical applications thereof. Out came the comment, "Everything works better when you stick it in the ass."

Now as you can imagine, taken out of context, that can lead people to think about all sorts of scenarios and misdeeds. But since we all understood exactly what she meant ... we decided to play with that line for a few minutes anyway. The eruption of comments that followed came so fast and furious, I just can't remember them. I swear I should wear a wire tap every waking moment of my life so that nothing gets lost. If I had nuts, I would have busted one from laughing so hard. These are the times that recording devices were made for. I envision a conversation like this:

Bell: Did you see that Edith Hastings in the parlor earlier this evening? Lifting her hoops and petticoat to show off her ankle!
Watson: Indeed I did. Scandalous! Shocking!
Bell: What a harlot. A filthy, vile harlot.
Watson: I'll wager she'll show her ankle to anyone. I'll bet she has the Consumption!
Bell: Ha ha! I'll wager she's shown her ankle to that Tesla miscreant!
Watson: She gave Nikola the Consumption with her bare ankle! Ha ha!
Bell: Ha ha ha ha ha
Watson: Ha ha ha. That was humorous ... you know Alex, about that telephone thing, maybe we should create a device to record the spoken word. I would be most joyful if we had a recording of that witty exchange.
Bell: Oh, I agree Tom, I agree. But alas I hear that Edison fellow is coming up with a similar machine to do so with musical compositions. It would serve a much better purpose to just be able to record our own conversations.
Watson: Harlot. Consumption infested harlot!
Bell and Watson: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!


A few minutes later we were shooing the children inside to play Wii. I told my own kids they needed to follow the rules of playing with the game. As the grade schoolers bounded into the house, slamming the door behind them, our hostess backed up my parental command by telling them, "Yeah, put the strap on!"
[Huh-huh. She said Strap-On!]
Once again an expulsion of lewd comments came from us infantile-minded adults. Honestly, I think the eight, nine and ten-year-olds are more mature than we are.

When we were driving home my son started signing a song, making it up as he went. It goes something like this: "Butt ... butt ... butt-butt-butt."
"Stop saying 'butt!'" I hollered. This kid is constantly testing me. He likes to say "butt" all the time and I need to tell him to knock it off, that it annoys me. But it doesn't always; sometimes I have to reprimand him using every ounce of my being to not break up laughing. I think he might know this too, which adds fuel to his fire. He knows that it's my obligation as a parent to correct his misbehavior, but secretly, I'm trying not to laugh like hell.

So then my daughter let out a Fanta Orange-induced belch. I've almost taught her well so immediately she speaks out,
"Excuse me," in her sweetly delicate little girl voice. Then follows it with, "For farting out of my mouth!"
"Hey!" I said choking on a chuckle, "Don't say that! Do you say that you burp out of your butt?"
They're hysterical in the back seat for a few seconds and then I have to hear, in all seriousness, me son tell me,

"Mom, don't say 'butt.'"