Behold The Bouf
The woman who birthed a slew of bloggers.
Here she is, before careless hospital attendants mussed The Bouf.
She's had to put up with the whole slew of us for a lot of years. It's no wonder she tap dances to songs in her mind.
Katy Barzedor proclaimed this to be so at 7:57 PM
27 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':
The woman's a saint. She put up with all of us!
And the Bouf is intact!
BEHOLD...THE BOUF!
LadyBug...that's scary. The post sat there in edit mode for over two hours, with the title: Behold the Bouf. Great minds and all...
Mr. B - Nice picture. Lard is so hard to resist.
Squirl - at least when I came along I was a calm child who was no trouble.
I bow down and pay homage to the power of the Bouf!
I can't get over the fact that even though you guys (you, squirl, Mom le Bouf) all look so much different from one another, there is just something that just looks the same on all of you... I can't put my finger on it... the eyes?
Ha! "Mom le Bouf"
Bucky, the Lard has been resisted for quite some time now. :(
Kitty - yeah, Squirl, Tardist, and I all look much more like Mom than we ever did like Dad. I think the similarity is in the knockers.
Mr. B - doesn't it feel good to give in to the lard?
Beautiful. And I do see the resemblance. Bucky, behold your future hairstyle. You can't beat a bouf and some tats.
First, Bucky, nobody's going to believe that you were the calm, no-problem child. Second, now we'll see if Tardist is reading on a regular basis. See what he says about the knockers reference. :-)
I love the bouf with the high collared top, very Estee Lauder.
I am one, with the lard.
Do we call her Mom le Bouf? Mother Bucky? Mother Blogger? She looks sweet, don't pick on the mamma. Mr. B is one with the Lard. O LARD, HEAR MY PLEA...
I place my faith, in the lard.
Please, all join us in a Lardful hymn now posted on a YPS!! blog near you.
WE'RE NOT WORTHY OF THE BOUF! Madre de la Bouf must have invested in the same afro-pick manufacturer that my grandmother single handedly keeps in business. The resemblance is uncanny. I am humbled in the presence of the sacred Bouf.
(PS, We're happy because we eat Lard!)
You guys kill me, Madre de la Bouf, hehehe
Cleanse yourself in the presence of the lard.
I'm still dying about the knockers comment.
That bouf has it's own gravitational field and weather system. It's the key to any successful bouf.
It's bouf-a-rific!
"In the name of the father, the son and the holy lard...I bless you."
*anoints kitty with liquid lard*
Be healed child!!
Ah Greenie, disciple of the lard, yay may you walk in the light of the lard.
I really can't dispute the knockers comment - but I don't have to like it.
May the Lard be with you.
Susie - the evil truth is, I've been slowly turning into my mom for years now. And Jim doesn't let a single instance escape notice and comment. Now if we could just get Mom some tats...
Amy - I'll tell Mom you think so. She'll be delighted, even if she's not sure who Estee Lauder is.
Lard worshippers - all I can say is, you're gonna LOVE my ass.
Spoonie - your gramma uses an afro pick? Maybe your sis was onto something with her Jamaican obsession.
Greenie - I see you understand that The Bouf is a force of nature, and not to be fucked with.
Tardist - if you had to like everything I said, I'd be a lot quieter.
Mr. B - if you're gonna go round anointing people with your lard, you're gonna be responsible for washin' the sheets, mister.
I'll gladly wash the sheets, now bring on dat AAAAAAAASSSSsssss!
Lard, fatty be thye name...
"LARD... It's what's for dinner."
Time for the movie: Oh Lard, Book II
Now that is some perfect hair, now why havent any of you lovely kids taken her in to the beauty parlor to get a nice lavander tint going on with that bouf?
You have to work a bouf like that.
Succumb to the lard. Be at one with the lard....
Back that Bouf up.
Yes, Buck, my grandma uses one of those old lady fro picks, the kind with a few metal tongs at the end of a wide toothed comb. Got a prob? But the g-ma I speak of is my mom's mom, and the Jamaican blood apparently runs on my DAD's side of the family. So you see... you lose.
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