Home sweet home
Bob's sister Hannah
Bob's sister Ada
Bob's brother Otto
Bob's sister Eve
Bob's sister Nan
A baby picture of Bob and his siblings (clockwise from upper left: Otto, Eve, Hannah, Ada, Bob, and Nan)
Bob's childhood home
Bob's mom and dad
Bob in his youth
Bob's cousin Alphonse
Bob's Uncle Ralph and Aunt Edna
Bob's cousin Archibald
Bob's stepbrother Herbie (who really needs to quit smoking)
Bob's cousin Chester
Bob's Great Uncle Norbert and Great Aunt Phyllis
Bob's cousin Saffron (who will do anything for a drink)
Bob's sister-in-law Sybil
Bob's cousin Thorndike
Bob's brother-in-law Vinnie
Bob's cousin Orville, who loves the Green Bay Packers
Bob's nieces Lulu and Bitsy, the biker chicks
Bob's stepsister Eloise, with the twins, Rudy and Trudy
Bob's Uncle Henry and Aunt Rowena
Bob's niece Esmerelda (who likes to live dangerously)
Bob's Great Uncle Arthur up in Saskatchewan
Bob's cousin Louie, the grackle of grumpiness
Miss Screech, Bob's journalism teacher
Bob's nephew Winthrop, who loves sports
Bob's Uncle Seymour and Aunt Bernice
Bob's second cousin Schlomo in Brooklyn
Bob's nephew Baxter
Bob's cousin Darrell
Nigel, Bob's pen pal in New Zealand
Bob's sister-in-law Delphine, who volunteers at the animal shelter
Percy the Pickpocket, Bob's third cousin once removed (the relative no one likes to talk about... every family has one)
The Bluebird of Happinessâ„¢ (no relation to Bob)
A pair of boobies (also no relation to Bob, but included for readers who desire titillation)
A pair of tits (in case the boobies were insufficiently titillating)
Bluebird Bitterâ„¢, the beer they named for Bob
lol! lOVE THESE!!
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Giggles!! Hugs!!
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Not being the best cleaner/cook myself I really appreciated these!
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Reblogged this on Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog and commented:
BlueBird always brightens up a day 😂
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😀 😀 😀
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Reblogged this on Cage Dunn: Writer, Author, Teller-of-tall-tales and commented:
See – I told you … and I’m not the only one, am I?
Get a laugh for the last day of the week; these are great (and visit Bluebirdofbitterness)
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Thank you for reblogging. 🙂
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You’re very welcome – thank you for sharing the moments that uplift!
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[…] See – I told you … and I’m not the only one, am I? Get a laugh for the last day of the week; these are great (and visit Bluebirdofbitterness) […]
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Lovely dresses.
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Love these! Especially the last one! 😀
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Hilarious. 😀 — Suzanne
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But, cleaning the house is like a full-gym workout! When done, then you can relax and make a peanut butter cake or something. At least that was what Mom always claimed, but my stepfather did nickname her butterball. Me? Ouch, no, I hate housework as much as Mom did, so I go clean the barn, which she liked to do, as well, then make the cake. And my name ain’t butterball 🙂 And, the house stays clean because there’s a law thou shalt not mess the durn house on pain of suffering for it. BTW, our Bob is more an angry grizzly bear than bird, at least on his good days. God bless he takes right after Pappy, me!
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Thank you very much Bob, for another chance of laughter. 🙂 You are the best. Have a great weekend. Michael
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[…] Chris shared this very funny post via Housework won’t kill you, but why take a chance? […]
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Thank you for the link. 🙂
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Reblogged this on Therapy Bits and commented:
Very funny 😀
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Thank you for reblogging. 🙂
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Reblogged this on GettingrealwithPTSD.
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Thank you for reblogging. 🙂
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I think I’m in the minority in that I like cleaning and organizing my living space. Still, as I have quite a few friends who don’t care for it, I can appreciate this post’s humor. 🙂
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I like things clean and organized, but once I’ve cleaned and organized my house, I like it to STAY clean and organized, and woe to the person who comes in and messes it all up.
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Why women smoke: Mom gets up early to do a quick sweep and make the house look nice. She cooks breakfast, feeds hubby, sends him off to work and smiles at his grumbling. Kids get up, see the house is clean and get very, very quiet. Big mistake, Mom feeds them, giving the energy to wreck the house before nap time. Shew scowls at them, asleep, innocent, so vulnerable… Then sits down fuming over all the extra work, drinks her coffee, and lights a cigarette and calms down. Well, she says, they’re just small children. they’ll do better as they get older. She cleans the house, cans pickles, starts the roast for supper, and makes lunch. The kids get up, trash the house, eat, and she chases them out to play, but eyes hubby’s deer rifle. Instead, she eats and drinks her coffee, then lights a cigarette and shrugs it off. Kids come in and she has to take care of boo-boos, wash the one who fell in the mud, treat scratches listens to complaints, gives them a snack and sinks into a chair, exhausted, a little angry. the bills came in and she needs to figure out how to pay everything. hubby comes home, drops his things on the floor by a recliner, watches some TV, plays with the kids, and then goes to clean up for supper. He leaves a ring about the bathtub, the toilet seat up, drops wet towels and dirty clothes on the floor, dresses, and comes down to frown over dinner. She shudders. That blamed deer rifle… Instead she lights a cigarette and with ‘help’ from the kids, sets the table and puts the roast on. He eats, complains about it, but finishes it, and sits back with a beer. “Dang, woman, don’t you ever do anything but sit around and smoke cigarettes and drink coffee all day?” She starts to stand, that deer rifle…But lights a cigarette and smiles. At hubby, not the rifle. Later, maybe, the baseball bat her mother gave as a wedding present that she used to use to keep Dad in line….
Many decades ago, I learned one vital life fact: Be it on the cattle range or cook range, 11th Commandment–one does not fuss at the coosie (cook). Being native American, I could never understand why judges put women in prison for killing bad husbands. God said, “A man shall leave his father’s house and cleave only unto her (his bride). Niio, walk in God’s beauty.
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