August 8th, 2008 | 25 Comments »

Seems like there is a gathering of the clan going on this weekend. My clan. The ones who dubbed me witchypoo in the first place. Not the Tool of Satan bunch. That would be the uber religious sector of the clan. They don’t party. Certainly not with fireworks. Because they’re all religious and all and don’t believe in fun. They figger they’ll have plenty of time for fun in heaven.

Mildly amusing OCD stepmother (MAOCDSM) is not exactly hosting the gathering, because she can hardly do much of anything what with her recent double mastectomy and all. Everyone is gathering nearby to pop in on her and see that she is well cared for, but careful she doesn’t get too tired.

My pyromaniac little brother channels his obsession into the socially acceptable activity of lighting the fireworks. He reminded me that I had started the whole thing at a family beach gathering years ago. I had supplied the fireworks, but had no clue what to do with them. Thankfully, nobody said bend over when I mentioned this, and Pyro Bro saved the day. Since then, he has perfected his technique and added to the array of pyrotechnics, making a more elaborate display each year.

Next morning: The fireworks were ooh and ahh worthy indeed. The little kids were thrilled, and were such a treat to interact with.

We took pictures of the three titty-do’s (that’s when your belly stick out further than your titty do) all for different reasons. WildChild was pregnant with twins, MAOCDSM had her boobies removed, and my belly has protruded out past the titties when I’m not wearing a bra. Then we put Pyro Bro in the picture for three titty-do’s and a dickey-do. You figure it out.

I retired to the camper, as it was very hot in the house. I didn’t awaken when Pyro Bro took MAOCDSM to the emergency room.

Seems that she who never farts (MAOCDSM) was so full of gas, she thought that she must be having a serious post operation complication.

I asked her if the doctor had prescribed a liberal dose of “pull my finger”.