dabbledooya

In Vegas they have a lot of places with signs outside that advertise Crapless Craps.

I don't know about you, but no matter where I go on a trip there are crapless craps for me.

I call it Vacation Guts.

Oy.

True story- I never said a curse word until I was in the seventh grade (due to my errant belief that God would strike me dead on the spot), and one time when I was about ten or so I was playing Trivial Pursuit with my dad and the word "craps" was in one of the Sports and Leisure Orange Chip questions I had to ask him and I got a case of the cold sweats because I thought I had to say a bad word so instead I played dumb and read the word as "crepes" and everyone was confused.

It was awkward, but not as awkward as the time I tried to read the bible the summer after second grade and kept getting hung up on the word "circumcision" and asked my dad about that one.

Listening to your dad talking about penis tips being cut off doesn't wash out of your brain.  Ever.

Any time I see a penis there is a split second that flashes in the spot right behind my ears in the center of my brain of an image of my dad on our old plaid couch trying to pull the skin on his pointer finger over the tip of that pointer finger with the fingers on the same hand his pointer finger penis was on and make scissor fingers with his other hand while stammering about sacrifices for God.

There are a lot of awkward moments in a girl's life when she is being raised by a single dad.

See also: Using Brylcreme and a Curling Iron in an attempt to create Totally 80s hair on the first day of middle school, failing miserably but not having enough time to wash it out before the bus comes.
Smell also: Singed Brylcreme

Read also: this back log