You're a Foul One, Mr. Crotch.

The Grinch was on last night and as we're sitting around watching them sing "Yahoo Door-ehs" or whatever the hell it is they've been singing at me for the last 30 fucking years, so that  you would think I'd know it by now,  when it occurs to me that even when I read the book by Dr. Seuss, the voice in my head sounds like Boris Karloff. 


Hmmm... I didn't know I could do that. Or rather I did but never thought about it. 

And then I start thinking about who else I have in my head. Definitely the guys from Monty Python pretending to be women everytime I think of the word "who?", because in my brain it's a high-pitched keening mispronunciated "Ooo?". (I am keenly aware that "mispronunciated" is not a word. I'm making up for it by using both variants of "keen" in the same paragraph. Also, shut up.) 

So now I'm thinking about Monty Python and trying to watch the Grinch, except every other goddamn word in The Grinch is "who" so that the opening sentence sounds like this:

"All the Ooos down in Ooo-ville liked Christmas a lot..."

Except the "Ooos" are all spoken in the Monty Python screech and the rest is Boris Karloff and none of it is my own "in my head" voice and it disturbs me greatly. Then The Boy jumped onto my head wearing only his underwear, and I ate crotch and it wasn't a Christmas miracle but just gross.

The End.


ps: The moral of the story: You should probably be reading something else.

pps: The underwear may have been clean but I give it like a 30-70 split percentage-wise.

ppps: This night was so uneventful on the grand scale of my life that I almost didn't blog about it, but then I realized eating boy-crotch should NOT be the "norm" of my experiences and maybe by writing about it I can better cope.

5 comments

Char said...

my, that was special - the sad thing is that I did the same voices reading the blog

foxxx said...

And then there's this parrot. This, is an ex parrot......

Kurt said...

@Char: That's not sad. That's affirmation. Woo Hooo!

Kurt said...

@foxxx: He's not dead. He's just shagged out after a long squawk.

Mimi said...

I have Orson Wells in my head when I read most things. It is fine when it is something of great literary depth, not so fine when it's the back of a tampon box. I think that if you ate some crotch for christmas...that was not your son's...I would count that as Christmas miricle...but how would you wrap it?

(Now I'm going over the possibility of writing a grinch themed porn, making up Suessicle words for all of the naughty bits, Damn you)