s#!+burger, get my pot off the back porch!

A few years ago SB began staying at my house.  As a matter of fact, during this time the house was lousy with males of the teenage variety.  Probably because I had two teenage daughters…But I digress.  SB became such a fixture that I told his dad that I would be claiming SB as a dependent if he did not stay home at least one evening a week.  

SB was around so much that I decided he had to have a “love” name.  He became s#!+burger.  Now, as per usual, everyone in Louisiana has a favorite gumbo pot.  Mine is red ceramic over cast iron. I’m proud of my pot.  I was perturbed when it went missing.  

About two weeks after it went missing I happened out on the back porch.  There was my pot!  Then it hit me…SB was supposed to take the shrimp and crawfish tails out into the field and dispose of them.   I yell “SB, get my pot off the back porch and clean it!”   I was very loud and unhappy.

I came to my senses when SB  snarkley  remarked that the neighbors might misconstrue my message.  Glad I didn’t finish my rant about having burnt my pot… 


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