Sunday, June 18, 2006

Party at the House

Well, that is the way it is sometime. It is party hardy-not party Harley.

Now a number of years ago we were down in Texas visiting relatives for Christmas. And we got the phone call that you always dread to hear. You know the kind, the kind that begins: "Did you know that..." Well this came from the next door neighbors. It begain this way: "Did you know that a party had been going on in your hourse for the past three days, but the police came by and finally shut it down."

Well, true enough we did not know. And true enough it did happen. However, I am delighted to say it was not Her Majesty the Imp Queen. It was one of the others (who I might add called me today to wish me a Happy Fathers Day.) Well, by gones are by gones, by golly.

Now having the Imp Queen in your house growing up was like taking the two movies "Species" and "Animal House" and combining them into one uproariously frightening movie, complete with tutus and fast car chases.

However the Imp Queen was not to be outdone. First she calls at 6:05 a.m. to wish me a Happy Father's Day. Now that is what I call a clever, yet considerate daughter. She gets her call in first. By that was not enough. She next high jacks my blog and blogs away about flatulance in pretty pink on my manly Harley Blog causing my friends and acquaintances to wonder whether I have had a sex change operation and now call myself "Her Majesty, the Queen." Well, I am as non-discriminatory as the next Harley Rider, but I assure you that is not one of my titles.

Then harkening back from days of yore she invites her buds over to my blog for a party. Well, I have told her time after time that if you are not in leather and over 30, you stay out of my bloggin' house.

At any rate, it has been a great day. I organized my shoe closet, poked fun of the speaker at church and dug a post hole for my new postbox. I then filled the box with concrete. Wait until those young whippersnappers (redundant) hit it with the baseball bat next time. Also the added value is that the postperson (see how politically correct I am) can not insert bills and advertisements into it. (Just think about it, when was the last time you got something good out of your mail box).

In a paroxym of Fathers Day Celebration let me thank the following:

HMIQ-for stealing my blog in her own inimitable way. Bless you my child may you reign forever.

Emerald Prince-for calling and sending me the drawings. Great drawings. They cost many a cigarette and I appreciate the call, the thought and the consideration.

The Von Jetts-for the wonderful card and for defending the freedom to blog and to photograph without fear (other than the fear of having your blog kidnapped).

Brokerbelle and Princessbelle-For love (and the money was not too bad either)

Gloria of TatooFun-for my new tatoo (oops, perhaps I should not have mentioned that).

Finally, I want to thank those of you who read the blog. And for you I have a special treat. Perhaps you have always wondered about mail boxes for farmers and horse proctologists. Above are pictures (or at least they will be there later when I get to my other computer). I hope I do not have to explain them; however if I do, please see Her Majesty, who is a nurse, and she will explain them graphically. Call her at her 900 number it is only $8.72 per minute and she will give you a very slow and detailed explanation. If I don't get the pictures up, use your imagination and call Her Majesty and she will describe them anyway.

HarleyDad


2 comments:

impletqueen said...

One should note that of your comments from yesterday, all but one were from people over 30. I'd be willing to bet that 80% of your commenters were wearing something leather at the time of said comments, although I'm told not to discuss exactly what. Just noting.

Anyway, glad you had a great day!

Harley Dad said...

Yes, Brokerbelle said exactly the same thing. It is great to have a mensaesque daughter, but where did you get those pointed ears, little red riding hood?

Oh, by the way, we shall utterly corrupt your daughter in NYC by taking her to shows and making her pretend that she is a true yuppie-HDlaughs with fiendish glee!!!