On Wednesday, Mr. Zed and I took the children to the Zoo. We saw lions and tigers and bears, oh my...ate elephant ears, watched the bird show and had a bald eagle fly like .34 inches over our heads, saw the monkeys pick vermin off one another. We saw the elephants, and the Musk Ox's and the Zebra's take a shit. We also got a collector zoo cup for the low low price of $3.99. We took the zoo train down to the rose gardens, we took tons of pictures of the children sitting on cement slugs, and photo's of fountains with brass salmon jumping over blue marble rocks. Tired and exhausted by the end of a remarkably pleasant day...by this I mean, neither of the children pulled hair, kicked, punched, bit, yelled at, threw the other one in with the poisonous pythons, or caused me to loose my patience and scream things like "BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP OR I SWEAR TO THE ALMIGHTY WHATEVER I WILL SELL YOU AND SPEND THE MONEY ON WHORES AND CRACK." Ok, I wouldn't really yell that at my children. I'd spend the money on shoes. But I digress...

We are at the zoo from opening to closing...almost eight hours of zooness. And Mr. Zed and myself are pooped out, to say the very least...when I look over to where the chitlens are standing...just beyond them, I see it. Well, I see THEM. THEM, being the gaggle of gangbangers and their ho posse. These girls were not dressed. No really. Like Not. Dressed. They seriously made Britney Skankyho look like Mother Theresa. They couldn't have been more than, oh, I'd say 16. Really. I, of course, busted out in laughter, and pointed them out to Mr. Zed, who just rolled his eyes. I also stated in my outside voice that I hoped she didn't have to bend over and tie her shoes, because then we wouldn't be able to enjoy the animal sounds over the wind whistling and echo sounds her cooch would inevitably make. Yanno, being all cavernous and all.

My oldest daughter asked me what I was laughing at, and I proceeded to point them out to her, and tell her in my most mothering voice that if she EVER...EVER even looked at clothes like that in a store, I would buy her a chastity belt and bolt that sucker on so tight, she'd squeek when she walked. Then she asked me what a chastity belt was, and I quickly changed the topic. Because although I'm open to being a smartass with my daughter...I'm not open to having the sex talk at the zoo, in front of the Hoochie Posse.

So yeah, that's the story of how my daughter learned the word chastity belt, and how her mother can make a complete spectacle of herself, and the hoochie possie at the zoo.

The End.

Listening To: Garbage - Paranoid