Monday, September 12, 2011

Suburbs of Our Discontent

A pie made of humans (Titus Andronicus)

A plucked-out eyeball (King Lear)

A dose of poison in the ear (Hamlet)

A Polly Pockets Beach Ball in the arse (our house)

I was gonna do some profound talkin' about Shakespeare today, but recent events have proven more Marlovian. As in, Marlowe's Edward II where Edward gets something unpleasant shoved up his . . . Ahem.

For reasons unknown, my four-year-old decided to put a Polly Pockets Beach Ball in her bum today. Like, all the way in.

By the time we walked into the doctor's office, word had spread about our predicament. I noticed that the receptionist ladies were trying hard not to laugh.

After a brief but intense struggle, the doctor failed to remove the beach ball manually. It has since been released . . . more naturally.

How weird and gross is that?

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