Rebuttal

Ok...I knew that I was going to cause a bit of riff with my mushroom blog but I had no idea the wrath that was going to be brought down upon me by my normally very even keel Mr Man. Dude, he spanked my ass over it. (I'm not going to clarify) It didn't even get a hint of smile, snicker or single ounce of amusement. He was pissed. So the purpose of this is to completely clarify that I did not in fact have anything to do with the bite marks in the mushroom...some where in my back yard there is a big fat very stoned bunny rabbit. As a matter of fact, possibly the last thing in the yard that I would choose to munch on would be the mushrooms....They will kill you. If you think differently then obviously you grew up or lived through a MUCH different 70's than the girl here did. I am fully aware that most people's 70's ROCKED...that's why I was not allowed to make eye contact with them...some of their heathenism could jump right off of them and directly into my eyes blinding me forever. Actually that's not why I wasn't allowed to make eye contact. The reason I couldn't was because (and I'm sure this will be news to some of you) everyone who rode a motorcycle was a Hell's Angel and they were murderers and unless I wanted to somehow provoke or threaten them then I had best not look at them. Please bear in mind that I was 6 and looked strikingly like Opie....I'm betting I couldn't have provoked or threatened anyone if my life (and crooked teeth) were on the line.

My dad's army buddy somehow was not included in this murderer/motorcycle rider notion. He had a motorcycle and a love van. I was unaware at the time but the super cool Scoobish van with the king mattress in the back...yea more went on in there than just a cool ride....but as a kid it was an awesome playhouse when he came over....I'm doubting he bothered changing the sheets very often....ick...gives me the hybies now to think about the DNA that I was probably playing around in. Note - he also carried around a bag of lemons and always had a bottle of Texas Pete in his back pocket. Officially an odd cat but very loyal... He came and slept in the floor when Daddy was in Hospice so even as odd as he is, I give him the big cheesy Chips thumbs up.

So back to the mushrooms. Not only would eating them kill you...like a cruel and painful death (nothing ever mentioned about any hallucinating or tripping or pink elephants or whatever) but if you touched them it could also lead to immediate torturous demise. So to calm all of you that lived the alternate version of the 70's. NO, I DID NOT EAT THE MUSHROOM. I'm just a dork that didn't think anyone actually ever ate crap out of yard and BTW I didn't touch it either cause there was no one here to rush me to the hospital.