Big Kahuna’s is 17!!!

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Me (to #16) – Where did you go?

< Elapsed time 12 minutes, current temperature 22 F. >

#16- I went for a walk.

Me- In other words, you took up smoking.

#16- Did not. Smell my hands.

He already KNOWS the routine.

If I detect an over abundance of cologne, sudden affinity for minty gum, new air freshener, windows rolled down in my car… I’m suspicious.

I’ve been randomly interrogating him since he was around 12.

My eldest two never did it, but THIS one’s my wild child.

I use advanced methods like smelling his fingers, nose, hair and clothing.

I wasn’t born yesterday.

Also, I used to sneak cigarettes myself… from my husband, so I’m experienced.

Anyway, he was clean which is good because he’s already doing time for something else.

The something else didn’t make the inter webs because it was a doozy. Don’t even bother asking.

If you read my blog, you know I refer to #16 as Big Kahunna’s and Jackass #16. Since today is his 17th birthday, he’ll now be known as #17.

He’s my wild child… my mini-me with testosterone.

Gasp.

To celebrate his big day I shall post a few links to his misadventures from the past year.

Big Kahuna’s Goes Driving

Make Way for the Jackass Mobile

Testosterone Behind the Wheel

 

Happy Birthday #17!!!

Make Way for the Jackass-mobile

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My 16 y/o son- Big Kahuna’s #16  is less than a month away from taking his driving test.

Name origin explained HERE–> Big Kahunas

https://extrememom.net/2013/07/02/cruisin-in-the-jesus-mobile/

A light bulb *burst* over my head this morning while I was pondering this upcoming event and the realization that soon he’ll be unleashed into society… on wheels.

*Making sign of the cross*

TESTOSTERONE OVERFLOWETH…

Fun Fact- Blood flow initially intended to nourish the brain is diverted due SOUTH in the teen years and probably into the early twenties.

The obvious problem here is… the penis can’t see over the dashboard.

We’ll call these the jack-ass years and refer to the inexperienced boy driver as the JA.

What to do?

We have blind JA drivers amongst us.

The clear solution is to somehow “mark” them for easy identification by the rest of society and/or possibly wrap their vehicles in bubble wrap.

However, I came up with something a little more FUN for the rest of us.

For the first five years that the JA has his drivers license (I chose the five year plan to adequately cover late-blooming rookie penis’s starting out at age 18 and 19. I know… good thinking) the boy shall be mandated to mount a giant jackass head in the likeness of donkey from Shrek on the roof of their vehicle.

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The head would be portable and easily detachable in the event the driver changes vehicles.

The jack-ass mascot will make loud  HEEEEEE-HAWWW donkey noises when the vehicle exceeds the speed limit and at any other time the boy does something stupid like text, run a red light or simply divert his attention elsewhere.

Also, the talking head would scold the boy in Eddie Murphy’s voice.

I’m not gonna lie… THIS is my favorite part.

“Whatcha doing, man?? You think this is Indy 500… slow yer shit down, you almost took out that old lady and her ugly mutant dog. You ain’t getting no bonus Indy points for that reckless shit. Stop the vehicle right now- Donkey’s taking the wheel. You a dangerous muther sucker.”

Quite frankly, I’m hesitant to publish this post without patenting it first because it would make an ass-kicking movie script.

Pun intended.

Move over Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Insurance company’s, parents and motorists everywhere are going to LOVE this idea.

Hold your applause while we vote.

All in favor…

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Cruisin in the Jesus-mobile

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If you think your 16 year old has the smarts NOT to put the pedal to the metal on a flooded street… think again.

Yes, he did.

Dammit.

I guess it’s entirely possible my good catholic boy thought we were driving the Moses-mobile and the flood waters would part for us… or perhaps he had it confused with the Jesus Grand Caravan that floats on water.

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I’m not quite sure, but he knows now, because I yelled “HolyHELL! and GODdammit!”

Among other things.

Also, I think my head spun around 360 degrees.

Luckily, nothing green came shooting out of my mouth on account of I didn’t eat any green veggies at dinner, because sometimes (every day) I skip the green group entirely.

A definite perk to eating whatever-in-the-hell you want.

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This, of course, does not include green M&M’S.

Love those.

The moral of the story-  take NOTHING for granted when your 16 year old is driving.

Apparently, they have the same skills and mentality as a two year old driving the self-propelled Fred Flintstone car.

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Also, it wouldn’t hurt if the car seats doubled as floatation devices in the unfortunate event of a water landing and for my sanity and reassurance.

Dear God,  I took the liberty of tagging you, just in case you’re busy attending to some sort of important Godly business and miss this post.

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Also, you  probably need to authorize overtime for his guardian angel. That feathery-winged patrol officer certainly has his hands full with this one.

Amen.

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Dumb Shit my Son Says… When I’m Teaching Him to Drive

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Dumb Shit my Son Says… When I’m teaching him to drive.

 

“Stop being a backseat driver.”
Umm.. wait.

 

It’s clearly spelled out in the responsible LICENSED adult manual.

 

Nag, nag and nag some more- from the FRONT seat where you’re within striking distance of the minion student.

 

And, don’t forget your jumbo fly swatter. (Dollar Tree $1)

 

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“I did too look.” (did not)

 

“Speed bumps are dumb.”

 

Yeah, maybe if you’re trying to thread a needle or balance a cauldron of meatballs on your head while driving??!!

 

“I knew I could make it.”

 

Knew= making ASSumptions and making ASSumptions= dead.

 

If you die I will kick your ass.

 

Yes, I will.

 

I’ll jump right through the portal to the spirit world and kick your ghostly ass.

 

Be very afraid.

 

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Mom’s are allowed EVERYWHERE including but not limited to the men’s room, locker room, school bus and afterlife.

 

“I’m only going the speed limit.”

 

There are times you should NOT go the speed limit, like say there’s three-legged kitten parade or senior citizen wheelchair race, a baby highway crawl-a-thon or just maybe THAT chicken is trying to cross the road.

 

WHY? Nobody actually cares why.

 

Get over that shit. Chickens are dumb. (and tasty)

 

That reference has outstayed it’s welcome, so please if you see that chicken crossing the road… run it down for Gods sake and end this charade once and for all.

 

Unless, of course, you’re an arrogant 16 year old with a learners permit.

 

Then your copilot mom gets to do it, as this will release some of her pent up tension and potentially save your life.

 

Win. Win.

 

We’re having chicken for dinner… again??

 

Let’s make something perfectly clear.

 

If you have a LEARNING permit to drive, assume you do NOT have the right of way.

 

Ever.

 

You’re a highway minion.

 

Strike that.

 

You’re a flea on a highway minions butt.

 

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Behave yourself.

 

You’re a danger to yourself and others.

 

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Plus, you frighten the rest of us.

 

Class dismissed.

 

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Hang on to your Butt- Teen Driver!!

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Dear People who make cars,

I have a very brilliant idea I’d like to submit for your approval.

You are welcome ahead of time.

It’s called…

The Taser Gas Pedal and it’s likely to be unanimously coveted by parents and insurance companies everywhere.

 If you haven’t already figured out the obvious, the gas pedal tasers the 16 year old boy or whomever may be drivings foot when he exceeds the speed limit.

I added “or whomever may be driving” to the above because some 50 year old men are still little boys in race cars.

Zroom zroom!

Damn right I said HE.

No mistake there.

An evil clown will also pop out of the visor and smack the overconfident driver upside-the-head if when he doesn’t come to a complete stop at a stop sign… or for pretty much any reason at all.

 

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There are many more innovative ideas where these gems came from.

I’m headed over to my LinkedIn profile right now to add…

Connoisseur of Creative Ideas that are Awesome.

 

Big Kahunas goes Driving

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From this day forward my 16 y/o son shall be referred to as… Big Kahunas #16.

*As defined by Urban Dictionary, NOT to be mistaken with a cool Hawaiian spiritual guy.

Although, should you mistaken it with Kahuna, as in the Australian slang word for penis, you might be are on the right track.

Honestly, I didn’t wake up this morning thinking… Today would be a great day to make up a fun new name for my youngest boy, also known as #16.

Nope. #16 has his drivers permit and we went DRIVING.

THAT’S what happened.

*Over the speed limit.

* Not coming to a complete stop.

*Failure to use directional.

*Not looking before changing lanes.

ALL within a short ride around the block.

The Block from HELL. 

“But Moommm!!… you do it all the time!”

I think this is where, “Do as I SAY, not as I DO” comes into play.

My default response being, “When you’ve been driving for 30ish years, have something like a gazillion street hours under your belt and still haven’t killed anyone or lost your driving privileges AND, you pay your own car insurance, THEN and only THEN, will you have the RIGHT to drive like an asshole. An EXPERIENCED asshole.

It takes Big Kahunas, ladies and gentlemen.

Testosterone is a dangerous muthersucker.

The Christmas tree air freshener people should really consider making  little XANAX scented  palm trees for moms teaching their sons to drive. 

There would be a pre-filled flask in the tree trunk, but that…  goes without saying.

 

kahu