The Legend of Petey

So, I’m gonna let “C’est Vrai, You Suck” marinate for a little while longer (and it’s KILLING me to stay out of the comments so I don’t taint my results!).  But I DID promise y’all I’d share with you “The Legend of Petey”, so here’s some of it:


Almost 4 years ago, I was looking for a new place to live (for I had fallen madly in love with Chuckweasel and could not therefore continue to live with the Evil Troll — so called because, like life, he was nasty, brutish and short).  So I was looking about at places to rent and I made Chuckweasel come with me, so I would not be killed.

Anyhoo, we went to see this one house, which I must admit was quite odd from the get-go.  You entered the front door from the driveway into what I guess was supposed to be a storage-type area (tiled floors and whatnot), then you went UP A WHOLE FLIGHT OF STAIRS to reach the kitchen/living room and the rest of the house.  There were no other doors but the weird basement one.

So, I’m standing there trying to get over the weird, when dear Chuckweasel says, “We can’t take this house.  Poor Petey will die in a fire.”

I of course said, “What?” And Chuckweasel proceeded to explain that if we had a baby, who for some reason would be named Petey, he would be sitting in his bedroom reading (just like his mama!) and would therefore never be able to get to the front of the house and the weird steps in time to escape the fire.  For some reason, this struck us both hilariously, pants-peeingly funny, and now every time we consider a place to live (or just about any purchase, really), we consider its merits relative to “Petey Safety.”  And if either of us suggest anything even remotely dangerous, that person is “trying to kill Petey.”

There’s a reason we’re perfect for each other.



Filed under The Legend of Petey, Twu Wuuv

12 responses to “The Legend of Petey

  1. That’s awesome it’s so important to have someone who just “gets” you. I think I know the type of house you mean, there was one an a property developing show and yes they are weird and have waaay too many stairs.


  2. My imaginary baby’s name is Jesus- not the Spanish pronunciation (hey zeus) , but the Jesus is Lord pronunciation. This way when J makes a bad choice such as in driving a certain way or whatever I can say “You would have killed Jesus!” Or “Jesus would hate that!” And he’s even more guilt ridden. Plus, if I ever actually “had” Jesus, people might get confused and bring me really cool gifts and shit.


    • That’s a fabulous idea — I always tell Chuckweasel that he’s “making the Baby Jesus cry,” but yours is so much more effective! (And Chuckweasel will be sorry for upsetting your imaginary baby!)


  3. I used to have a pretend baby too which started off as some joke at my last office and I think it revolved around my honeymoon, but now I cannot remember its name. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I shouldn’t have kids, I cannot even remember my baby’s name. Oh lawd.


    • maybe if it was a real baby, you’d remember its name? Or if not, that’s why the Good Lord gave us Sharpies (and that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I ALSO shouldn’t reproduce). I figure “Hey! You in the hat! Yes, you! STOP DOING THAT!” would pretty much cover all the bases, though.


      • I now remember the baby’s name – Roman. We honeymooned in Rome. That woman in my office thought she was so clever. Maybe I forgot it because it was lame as hell? There also was this woman in my office that thought I had a baby even though I had worked there for three years and was never pregnant. She never told me what she thought the baby’s name was, however. I am going with The Unborn or Unbornia.


  4. Have I told you you’re funny? Cause you are.

    A running joke Adrian and I have is, “Oh look, our ___ hasn’t been destroyed yet! HOORAY!” which we shout at whatever item we love most currently when we return home. Adrian and I have been robbed no less than 5 times, had a car stolen, I’ve had 2 house fires and a flood. We’re genuinely surprised when our things are intact.


    • thanks for the validation of my attention-whorieness (that may not be how you spell whorieness)!
      But seriously? If I was you, I’d probably live in a hotel — that way, the shit that gets destroyed/stolen/otherwise fucked up wasn’t yours anyway… but they’d probably have caught on by now. You’re on a list somewhere. But I am, too, it’s just a different one. One that says “Use Caution When Apprehending.”


  5. “if we had a baby, who for some reason would be named Petey”—For some reason would be named Petey? Like there’s any other name choice.


  6. Pingback: Funny Bitch Friday: Hoody Hoo « Oh Noa.

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