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This entry was posted on Monday, February 7th, 2022 at 7:38 am and is filed under circus of life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
Monday chuckles
bluebird of bitterness
The opinions expressed are those of the author. You go get your own opinions.
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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 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
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bluebird of bitterness 
Never been cool, never had the “walk” and certainly didn’t snap my fingers, what I did a lot is fall into puddles and walk into poles and door frames because of the klutz gene I inherited from some distant relative…
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I was never one of the cool kids, either, although I blush to admit that it wasn’t for want of trying. I shudder when I think of some of the idiotic things I did back in my misspent youth in an effort to be cool.
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The “Ahhhhhh” sound after drinking, and the flipping of everything is perfect.
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Thanks for the laugh. I think someone has too much time on their hands. 🙂
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