Doe Fostin and No, no babe.

Ok so here’s the 411 on the Times-Union fakery…

So a couple years ago, during a convention that required our full names to be submitted for admission to said convention…Vern goes ahead and writes our names on the form and mails it in. All is good until the admissions lady can’t find Dee Fortin anywhere in the registrar. What? It’s there. I know it’s there. My (completely whacko) parental unit mailed it in for me.

No ma’am. But we DO have a Doe Fostin. Doe Fostin. Great. I shoulda remembered and hence prohibited Vern from attempting anything like perfect adherance to the principles of our written english language. You know the folks who deciphered the Rossetta Stone? Not brilliant enough to decipher Vern Weiss’s handwriting. I use the term; “handwriting,” loosely.

Hardy har har. A good laugh was had by all except me who had to walk around with some freakish scroll on her nametag and folks glancing from namebadge to face and face to namebadge, muttering ; “What an odd name, Harriet.”  “Yes, I agree Hortence, kids these days…”

There went the tale of Doe Fostin. Thanks Vern, for never forgetting and for beating THAT horse waaaay past dead.

 On to the A. Bourbon hilarity…Not her real name, by the way.

So about 6 or 7 years ago I had this thing called a girlfriend. I know, I KNOW! Hard to believe. On my birthday, Sept.4th, (for anyone who hasn’t written this in magic marker on calendars from here to eternity) I called her up to ask why she was so late for my birthday party at Lu and Vern’s.

Cue the heavy Cuban accent;

“Hey Babe…. Que? Today? Oh no Babe, today ees not your birthday. Eet’s tomorrow.”

{Groan}

Vern and Lu never liked that one. She remains my friend, but golly, she can be OUT THERE to this day. Not my freakin’ birthday? WHAT?

Girlfriends are long gone from my plans. (Any girl would be DOOMED to suffer thru Vern’s antics and I haven’t enough money to pay for the hazards of the job.)

Oh well. It’s all good and all lighthearted.

And it’s so good to laugh in this here life. It’s the best thing ever.

So thanks, clown feet, for making my day.

(editors note* see below. )

*Clown feet, clown feet. You haaaaaave clown feet.

This entry was posted on Monday, December 10th, 2007 at 11:09 am and is filed under Family figures, Humans. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.