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It seems my mother bought two pygmy goats
I mentioned to her once that a classmate of mine had pet goats and her sister was selling them. It seemed to have planted fantasies of goat children in my mother’s mind and now I guess we have a couple of pygmy goats at home.
“They are named Billy and Gracie.” - Mom
Mom, that is super cute and everything but WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO WITH PYGMY GOATS. I AM SO CONFUSED. Though we are a legally registered farm, so I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to add them to our roster of horses, chickens, dogs and cats. Not to mention the ironic opportunities it might afford me…
I guess I can’t wait to meet them??
For your amusement, here are a few things my mom said while watching The Hobbit with my brother and I this evening:
“Where the fuck is Martin Freeman?”
“Aww Martin, there you are!”
“What’s the problem with Prince Grumpy McGrumpypants over there?”
“Prince Grumpy needs to stop ruining everyone else’s fun.”
“Oh shut up, King Scrotumface.”