Heather Christena Schmidt

Two orders of business I did not include in my previous blog post, oh faithful blog followers. (By the way, if you are so faithful you should perhaps consider “liking” my blog’s page on Facebook, and sharing. I share back like that hooker you met in Vegas shared her venereal disease)!!

The Winner

You people remember how I had a giveaway? Yeah, you know that one for a $25 iTunes gift card that only required you comment with what you like to b(itch) about? Yeah that one … THAT GIVEAWAY ONLY 18 OF YOU INGRATES ENTERED?!

I have the winner. First and foremost, though, let me thank the 18 of you who did enter. I thoroughly enjoyed your b(itches) – LOVED THEM.

Now to the winner. [Insert drumroll]:

Alien Red Queen! She’s a writer and a blogger and a fantastic lady, if you ask me. You should all check out her blog and congratulate her with a follow!

My Winner

That’s right, this one is about my sweet Pookie. She is my winner: not only has she championed her tennis and moved on to Round 2 with a firm promise to get the violin and violin lessons she has been asking for if she proves through this second round of summer tennis that she has learned the understanding of the concept “commitment.” But she has also proved to me to be the winner I have taught her to be: a jokester.

Not jokester in a mean way, but jokester in a funny way. I typically avoid jokes about bodily sounds or functions – I think people who talk and tell jokes about gas and the ass excessively have little class (no, I did not intend that to rhyme).

But then there is my dad and my grandpa, both of whom have this thing where they belch so loudly sometimes I think my eardrum is rattled from the force. My grandpa even includes an audible enunciation of what he’s doing BELCH as he does it.

To try and deter this, I taught Pookie that when one of them burps so loudly that people in the next town over can here it, she should make light of the situation with the following joke:

I’ll take your belch and raise you a …

It has apparently caught on, because my father reported this evening that she’s doing it all the time to him. I know what you all are thinking … mother of the freaking year.