Dude, you're confused...

As you can see, I've moved the poll (about starting another blog) to the sidebar, since the votes are still pouring in. I mean, it just doesn't stop, people. You know, you often hear celebrities talk about how hard it is to be so famous, and I really can see they're right...  I'm just getting pounded by these things (that's what she said).  The count is in the tens, now, so it's quite exciting and clearly anybody's guess how it will come out.  You still have time to answer, if you haven't already (meaning, please, please answer my sad little poll.  This is me, on my knees, begging- oh, and just ignore the creaking noise.  It's normal.  It's just hard for a fat girl to get down on her knees.  And, there' no guarantee she's gettin back up, either).  Come on, people!  Let's silence all those naysayers (I think there were like 2 of 'em... maybe 3) who said I could never reach the masses and be the incredibly successful blogger that I am today!  Let them see that literally tens of people would want to read what I say.  TENS!  That's like...  around a hundred, just about.

Anyway...  Massive, celebrity-like, blog popularity aside, I do actually have something to tell you today.  Something funny.  This will be a shorter-than-usual story, but too cute not to share.  And, let's be honest, you've earned a short post or two from me, haven't you, my long-suffering little friend?   I was going to post it only on FB, but didn't want to embarrass one of my boys, and you'll see why in just a sec... 

Okay, now for the Story of the Day, titled:

Dude, you're confused... 

(Dim lights, begin music)...

The other day, while sitting on our couch next to Sam, one of my older sons (I will refrain from humiliating the boy by revealing his identity, although I'd like to.  I really would) engaged in a certain... oh, let's say, a 'flatulatory behavior, ending  with a thunderous release of what can only be assumed was a fetid, evil presence.'  Are we on the same page, here?  It was a belch that took a wrong turn, in other words; a canary killer; the song of the South; an air biscuit; the barking spider's mating call...  a *F*A*R*T. 

And the big kid obviously did it. There was much smirking and proud snickering involved.  Sam was right there, but he was completely innocent of the heinous, disgusting act of biochemical warfare perpetrated upon the whole Fam Damily, leaving the room aglow in the haze of a thick, neon-green fog, which, incidentally, made the dog's hair fall out...

This sequence of events makes sense to you, yes?  I guess it didn't to Sam.  He heard the noise and suffered the following assault on his other senses, and he said...

"Uh-oh! I pooped!"