Every Tom, Dick and Ozzy

Warning - the following content is - well - just be warned, is all.

It's wonderful to marry and then proceed to give birth to the sort of people who enjoy the same things that you do and - better yet - who can make you laugh. I've established that my family is musical, but we are also all avid readers. We've always talked about the books we read with each other, and we particularly encourage Liv to do so because she has a lot of trouble when she is asked to summarize a book for school. "What was the book about?" generally prompts an answer that lasts twenty minutes and leaves one feeling like - without having read the book oneself - one could still probably write a pretty decent summary of the summary.

She's working on it.

So we were out to dinner last night and she had just finished a lengthy explanation of the book she'd just finished. Tom jumped on the conversation train and decided to share an anecdote from the book he'd just finished, I Am Ozzy - Ozzy Osbourne's autobiography.

"He was talking about Jack's birth and their decision to have him circumcised. Sharon is half Jewish or something, I don't know - Ozzy sort of writes like he talks. Anyway - he talked about the fact that he himself had several brothers who were not circumcised, but that he was. He asked his mother about it and she shrugged and said it was what was in fashion at the time."

I took a nice long sip of my margarita as he continued.

"So Ozzy said, 'Wait? Because it was in FASHION you cut off the end of my DICK?'"

I forced myself to swallow that mouthful of margarita rather than following my natural impulse to spit. Insert your own spit/swallow joke here - I'll wait.

"Wow. I'd like to thank you for waiting till I had a mouthful of libation before saying 'dick' in front of my daughters."

Laughs all around. When the laughter died down, though, Liv said, "I didn't completely understand all of those words, though."

Ever helpful, her sister answered, "Well, a dick is another name for a boys..."

"Not THAT word!"

Not that word indeed.

Can't You Read the Sign?

Just a couple giggles for your Friday afternoon pleasure:

I went to the hospital today for some pre-admission testing today. I found relatively convenient parking (I KNOW! Right?) and started walking into the building. I did a double take as I passed these signs:


Now perhaps I'm demonstrating my own less visible handicap, here, but doesn't it seem as though the handicapped entrance is right through that concrete? I pictures folks in wheelchairs backing up, speeding up, and disappearing straight through the barrier, like Harry Potter and his pals running through platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station to catch the Hogwarts Express.

Then there was this sign, passed on our way home from my parents' house last weekend:


I guess that might be convenient if you want to drop your animal off at the clinic while you have your back realigned and grab a quick tattoo. One stop shopping. For the animal loving tattoo enthusiast with poor posture.