Hot air

This weekend, my friend Sinde's sister Renate had one of her baby showers. I was invited to come along and take pictures of the event, and after much arm twisting, I decided to go. (Actually, I heard there was going to be free food.) Unfortunately, they also managed to put me to work. From the looks of it, I think they found a job perfectly suited for all of my hot air:

• http://donyoung.us/images/don_hot_air.jpg

A couple of quick stories (like you didn't see that coming). Renate isn't a person who likes to cook, unless it comes from a box. Her idea of a gourmet meal is Kraft macaroni and cheese ... not that there's anything wrong with that. The card I got her was a picture of a bun in an oven ... get it? Bun in the oven. On the inside I wrote, "Well, I guess you finally cooked for once."

Sinde got her brother-in-law a Diaper Tool Belt, which included things like a diaper, a mask, tongs, rubber gloves, lighted goggles, diaper rash cream, etc. For the card, she came up with a very funny 10-12 line poem that mentioned everything in the tool belt, except for the diaper rash cream, mainly because she couldn't think of a good rhyme for the product name. I was enlisted to help and came up with the following lines (which mention the actual diaper rash product):

We finished our poem,
But in our haste
We couldn't find a rhyme
For Boudreaux's Butt Paste.

Ok, so it's not exactly Shakespeare. Then again, I don't think he ever had to rhyme butt paste either.