christmas is over and done...DONE i tell ya........!!!!
christmas morning 8:35am
jr: mmpfff...mrmmm... morning da....... (jr stops and stares in stunned disbelief)
8:35 am (a handful of picoseconds later)
jr: ...............OH MY GOD!!!! le.... le......LEEEEEEGGGGOOOOOSSSS!!!!!
at this point the chant begins..... legos, legos, legos......legos, legos........ (repeat ad nauseum) and the for 5 solid minutes jr wanders around in a lego induced haze staring at the panorama of built lego sets, he kinda squats down and tenatively reaches towards the first car and hesitates for a second (as if afraid that the toys might dissapear in a puff of smoke).
then... like some sort of all devouring lego black hole... he starts pulling ALL of the legos into a neatly ordered pile in front of him and utters a low maniacal grin. (more than a bit reminiscent of some freaky rabid squirrell, hoarding nuts).
picture taking courtesy of mom ensues.... at this point it was decided that maybe.. just maybe we should break the insidious lego spell, and encourage him to open his other presents..
he picks up a wrapped present, and very laboriously starts to pick the tape off, and smooth back the paper, all the time casting glances about to ensure that he is "unwrapping properly"
mom says go ahead.. rip it open..... jr's eyes widen a bit and.......
..... a horerendous sound, a lot like a cow being launched into an airplane propeller comes from the area around jr ( whoosh GRRRRRRRaaaaccckkkk) .. bits of wrapping paper start raining down like confetti, and i seriously consider putting my raincoat on.
oohhhhh a transformer....... at this point he hands the transformer to me and says "here daddy, open it please" with nark the skip of a heartbeat he dives into the pile of presents set before him, and the disturbing sound of cow meeting highspeed chopper begins again..... wash rinse repeat......
until....
the last and largest present gets hauled out from under the tree (ah who am i kidding, hauled?? naah... it sort of teleported into his hands from the spot ath the back of the tree).
jr gives this most magnificent of presents a shake or two... or twenty...... and looks at both of us and screams....... MORE LEEEEGGGOOOSSSS.. (sucker knows what legos SOUND like??? wrapped up even??)
this package gets treated just a tiny bit easier..... RRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPP......... (horrid horrid sound.. repeatedly... sounds like a bunnyrabbit being skinned) and as just enough of the box gets exposed for him to see that is in fact legos..... another bloodcurdling scream emits from his tiny frame...(the whole pack of sabine women have NOTHING on him)
CITYYYYY legoooos............
the remainder of the wrapping gets reduced to a fine spray of particulate matter, and he grabs this box of legos which is half as long, as he is tall..... hoists it over his head, so to show the world... and proclaims....
BEST CHRISTMAS EVER!!!!!
he then turns to me and gives me a hug and a kiss, n says..."i love you daddy, you rock"
ten foot tall and bullet proof??? nah.. i eat wusses like that for breakfast...
.
..
....
........
10 hours later... a mishmash of lego bricks and bits of former lego constructs litter the floor in coencentric circles around jr... he stands there surveying his domain, grabs his lego dragon, and emits a shockingly reptillian roar......
... OH MY GOD........GODZILLA .... iv'e raised godzilla..... heaven help us.
peace be unto all of you!
-dawg
Friday, December 26, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
christmas memories and whatnot
Well, christmas is here, and with it comes the nearing of a new year. for most people christmas is a time of reflection and family, this is true for me as well. however this christmas is a bit poignant, as i sit here writing i am remembering my aunt ruth. ruth was the quintessential "christmas maven" many were the holidays spent with her, watching her create feasts that still lodge in my memory to this day.
ruth was technically the "keeper of the recipes"in the family (in reality my father, and now i have about half of them) these recipes are a collection of family culinary treasures that have wandered from generation to generation and have been jealously guarded for literally a couple of hundred years. every couple of generations we seem to have one cook pop up that will rework or just plain add new recipes to the ever expanding hoard.. my grandmother was one of these stellar cooks, and in the grand tradition she handed over the recipes (well, some of em anyway) to her daughter (ruth).
it must be said that she didnt turn them over easily or without much grumbling. but the decision was made to pass on the torch after a disastrous incident involving my grandfather.
meemaw (my grandmother) was going to be out of town for a couple of days visiting friends, and knowing my popoo's (my grandfather) absolute inability to boil water, had left him some turkey tetrazzini, fearing that he might in fact starve if left to his own devices (incidentally popoo loved turkey tetrazzini, and meemaw absolutely DESPISED the stuff..... such is love, she made it for him anyway)
she had left it in a tupperware container in the refridgerator with explicit instructions on how to prepare it, what rack in the oven, what temp, how long etc....
this should have been the end of things.. but ohh no.....
ruth gets a call on saturday morning (day after meemaw went out of time) from popoo asking if meemaw had left any of the tetrazzini with her, and if so would she mind if he stopped over that evening and had some.. when questioned by ruth as to what happened to the tetrazzini that meemaw had left for him.. he simply stated "he overcooked it"..
meemaw had in fact only left the tetrazzinin for popoo, but ruth being... well.. ruth, said sure dadi have some, come on over at 6 for dinner, we'd love to have you. at this point ruth made a mad dash for the store to get the ingredients to make turkey tetrazzini, several frantic hours later she completed her tetrazzini (which she had seen meemaw make many many times) just in time for popoo to arrive for dinner. after the meal when asked how he had enjoyed it, he stated "mother must not be feeling well, it wasnt like she usually makes it, i'm glad she got to go take a break for a few days.
well, ruth took things in stride, as popoo did not know, and was not trying to be mean, he was just being his usual straightforward self (he was always a little oblivious to the goings on in the family), and propmptly discussed the incident with meemaw after she returned from her trip...
upon investigation (meemaw never asked popoo what happened) she found a charred lump of plastic with bits of equally charred tetrazzini still embedded in it stuffed in the bottom of the wastebin. it seems popoo followed the instructions EXACTLY.. putting the tetrazzini in the oven plastic container and all. meemaw was NEVER to repeat this mistake, and with some back room dealing it was decide that ruth would get the recipe book, and that in any future trips, popoo would eat with ruth and her family..
and thus the recipes were handed on....
the tetrazzini was made many times by ruth after that, and the comment was always the same... it was good ruth.. but it just seemed to miss something..
ruth never got hurt by this, as meemaw did have a habit of omitting a "sceret ingredient" or two from her recipes... and in fact quite often recipes of hers made exactly from the instructions, often failed to match the output of her own kitchen..
it was not until many years later (shortly before my popoo passed away) that ruth finally gave in and called my father to ask if he happened to know what the secret ingredient for the tetrazzini was, he laughed and told her the secret 1/2 cup of scotch... the first time she had ever made the tetrazzinin for popoo, she had made him a small scotch on the rocks for before dinner, and with drink in hand had gone over to give the tetrazzini a stir, and dropped the drink into the food...
popoo loved it.. and she never had the heart to omit the scotch again...
that is love...... so, next time you sit down and eat a meal with your family.. consider.. if it is a "family recipe" what the story behind that recipe is, you might be surprised.
peace
-dawg
ruth was technically the "keeper of the recipes"in the family (in reality my father, and now i have about half of them) these recipes are a collection of family culinary treasures that have wandered from generation to generation and have been jealously guarded for literally a couple of hundred years. every couple of generations we seem to have one cook pop up that will rework or just plain add new recipes to the ever expanding hoard.. my grandmother was one of these stellar cooks, and in the grand tradition she handed over the recipes (well, some of em anyway) to her daughter (ruth).
it must be said that she didnt turn them over easily or without much grumbling. but the decision was made to pass on the torch after a disastrous incident involving my grandfather.
meemaw (my grandmother) was going to be out of town for a couple of days visiting friends, and knowing my popoo's (my grandfather) absolute inability to boil water, had left him some turkey tetrazzini, fearing that he might in fact starve if left to his own devices (incidentally popoo loved turkey tetrazzini, and meemaw absolutely DESPISED the stuff..... such is love, she made it for him anyway)
she had left it in a tupperware container in the refridgerator with explicit instructions on how to prepare it, what rack in the oven, what temp, how long etc....
this should have been the end of things.. but ohh no.....
ruth gets a call on saturday morning (day after meemaw went out of time) from popoo asking if meemaw had left any of the tetrazzini with her, and if so would she mind if he stopped over that evening and had some.. when questioned by ruth as to what happened to the tetrazzini that meemaw had left for him.. he simply stated "he overcooked it"..
meemaw had in fact only left the tetrazzinin for popoo, but ruth being... well.. ruth, said sure dadi have some, come on over at 6 for dinner, we'd love to have you. at this point ruth made a mad dash for the store to get the ingredients to make turkey tetrazzini, several frantic hours later she completed her tetrazzini (which she had seen meemaw make many many times) just in time for popoo to arrive for dinner. after the meal when asked how he had enjoyed it, he stated "mother must not be feeling well, it wasnt like she usually makes it, i'm glad she got to go take a break for a few days.
well, ruth took things in stride, as popoo did not know, and was not trying to be mean, he was just being his usual straightforward self (he was always a little oblivious to the goings on in the family), and propmptly discussed the incident with meemaw after she returned from her trip...
upon investigation (meemaw never asked popoo what happened) she found a charred lump of plastic with bits of equally charred tetrazzini still embedded in it stuffed in the bottom of the wastebin. it seems popoo followed the instructions EXACTLY.. putting the tetrazzini in the oven plastic container and all. meemaw was NEVER to repeat this mistake, and with some back room dealing it was decide that ruth would get the recipe book, and that in any future trips, popoo would eat with ruth and her family..
and thus the recipes were handed on....
the tetrazzini was made many times by ruth after that, and the comment was always the same... it was good ruth.. but it just seemed to miss something..
ruth never got hurt by this, as meemaw did have a habit of omitting a "sceret ingredient" or two from her recipes... and in fact quite often recipes of hers made exactly from the instructions, often failed to match the output of her own kitchen..
it was not until many years later (shortly before my popoo passed away) that ruth finally gave in and called my father to ask if he happened to know what the secret ingredient for the tetrazzini was, he laughed and told her the secret 1/2 cup of scotch... the first time she had ever made the tetrazzinin for popoo, she had made him a small scotch on the rocks for before dinner, and with drink in hand had gone over to give the tetrazzini a stir, and dropped the drink into the food...
popoo loved it.. and she never had the heart to omit the scotch again...
that is love...... so, next time you sit down and eat a meal with your family.. consider.. if it is a "family recipe" what the story behind that recipe is, you might be surprised.
peace
-dawg
Saturday, December 13, 2008
He ate WHAT?????
I love the old joke about socrates.....
j: what wre socrates' last words......... "I DRANK WHAT???"
i NEVER thought i would utter any statement evn close to that.... but.. weird things happen.
samiel, my black lab (now a rambunctious juvenile) appears to now truly be a mixed breed. he seems to be a cross between a black lab and a billy goat... that damn dog eats EVERYTHING.
i've seen him eat fricking rocks..... so by this point .. nothing should surprise me...
cd jewel cases (with cd's inside) taste great with hot sauce.
books........ ala mode please
plastic bags........ oooooh more please
legos........ appetizers
spare change.......what??? i'm saving for a new rope bone!
and now the crowning, not wanting to believe it happend achievement.
.... in a box of computer parts, my son found a mouse ball.. ya know.. bout the size of a nickel.. weighs about a pound, the little rubber wrapped metal ball.....
and thw WIFE thought it would be a great idea to toos this thing to the dog so that he could "fetch" it.
LOOk honey ... watch!
swooosh..... CHUNK....scrabble scrabble!..... good boy!
swooosh....... chink.... roll roll roll.... scrabble scrabble .... sliiiide.... slurp...
umm honey.... i think sammy just ate the mouse ball...
HE ATE WHAT!!!!
well gues we are gonna find out what the phrase "like a dog straining to shit a peach seed" really looks like!
i wonder.... if i sticjk a usb cable up his but and rub his belly....... will my cirsor move??
peace
-dawg
j: what wre socrates' last words......... "I DRANK WHAT???"
i NEVER thought i would utter any statement evn close to that.... but.. weird things happen.
samiel, my black lab (now a rambunctious juvenile) appears to now truly be a mixed breed. he seems to be a cross between a black lab and a billy goat... that damn dog eats EVERYTHING.
i've seen him eat fricking rocks..... so by this point .. nothing should surprise me...
cd jewel cases (with cd's inside) taste great with hot sauce.
books........ ala mode please
plastic bags........ oooooh more please
legos........ appetizers
spare change.......what??? i'm saving for a new rope bone!
and now the crowning, not wanting to believe it happend achievement.
.... in a box of computer parts, my son found a mouse ball.. ya know.. bout the size of a nickel.. weighs about a pound, the little rubber wrapped metal ball.....
and thw WIFE thought it would be a great idea to toos this thing to the dog so that he could "fetch" it.
LOOk honey ... watch!
swooosh..... CHUNK....scrabble scrabble!..... good boy!
swooosh....... chink.... roll roll roll.... scrabble scrabble .... sliiiide.... slurp...
umm honey.... i think sammy just ate the mouse ball...
HE ATE WHAT!!!!
well gues we are gonna find out what the phrase "like a dog straining to shit a peach seed" really looks like!
i wonder.... if i sticjk a usb cable up his but and rub his belly....... will my cirsor move??
peace
-dawg
the 8,640 minutes of christmas!!! OR "how the mutant stole christmas"
On the first day of christmas my mutant gave to me, A FRICKIN EXCEDRIN HEADACHE NUMBER 3!!!!!
i have always loved the song "the twelve days of christmas" however,having a 4yr old in the house has truly tempered that enthusiasm. this is the first christmas that the mutant truly "gets it" well at least the presents, lights, snacks, etc....
twelve days may be a simple enough breakdown to lead up to xmas for most "ordinary" households, but with the mutant, we have to slog through it minute by exhaustive minute.
thus the "8,640 minutes" of christmas.
(on the couch watching tv)
daddy, is christmas here yet?
-NO maybe.... MAYBE christmas will be here in a couple of weeks.
(in the car going to the grocery store)
daddy, can we go to the christmas house????)
-GAWDinheaven.... SON!!!! there is no christmas house!!!!!....
but, but, but..... i WANT christmas legooooooooooo's
-GGGGRRRRRRRRR maybe if you are really really good... maybe.. maybe santa will bring you christmas legos.
(at mc'donalds)
DADDY LOOK....... I FOUND CHRISTMAS!!!!
-dammittohell....... put the damn ornament back on the tree.... NOOOWWWW!!!!!!!
(various times and locations)
DADDY...
-NO
daddy
-no
but daddy
-nonononono its not christmas yet! please please please STOP asking about christmas...
thank god only 12 days left.......sanity slipping.... need relief....
i swear santa if you don't show yer ass up promptly at 12:01 christmas morning, im gonna hunt yer fat ass down and eat your fucking reindeer.
peace be unto all, this holiday season.
-dawg
i have always loved the song "the twelve days of christmas" however,having a 4yr old in the house has truly tempered that enthusiasm. this is the first christmas that the mutant truly "gets it" well at least the presents, lights, snacks, etc....
twelve days may be a simple enough breakdown to lead up to xmas for most "ordinary" households, but with the mutant, we have to slog through it minute by exhaustive minute.
thus the "8,640 minutes" of christmas.
(on the couch watching tv)
daddy, is christmas here yet?
-NO maybe.... MAYBE christmas will be here in a couple of weeks.
(in the car going to the grocery store)
daddy, can we go to the christmas house????)
-GAWDinheaven.... SON!!!! there is no christmas house!!!!!....
but, but, but..... i WANT christmas legooooooooooo's
-GGGGRRRRRRRRR
(at mc'donalds)
DADDY LOOK....... I FOUND CHRISTMAS!!!!
-dammittohell....... put the damn ornament back on the tree.... NOOOWWWW!!!!!!!
(various times and locations)
DADDY...
-NO
daddy
-no
but daddy
-nonononono its not christmas yet!
thank god only 12 days left.......sanity slipping.... need relief....
i swear santa if you don't show yer ass up promptly at 12:01 christmas morning, im gonna hunt yer fat ass down and eat your fucking reindeer.
peace be unto all, this holiday season.
-dawg
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
hmm, maybe HOOVER woulda been a better name.
so now we are a month into living with the newest dog sammie (samiel) and things are getting really weird.....ok ok.. a little backstory here.
according to the previous owner (not sure if its true or not) she had previosly given sammie away to another lady that didn't take care of him and ended back in the local pound (he's chipped and she lives on a army base.. so guess who they called) well anyhow, the reason given for getting rid of him, was that her mastiff "tried to eat" him.. (heh it's a mastiff, ill buy that)
now i'm not sure if it was his time of neglect.. the near assasination by the mastiff, or the constant re-gifting, but this fucker is neurotic!
you even walk in the general direction of the food bag and he goes freaking nuts! i mean jumping straight up in the air and his ass is doing figure 8's while his tail is spinning like a helicopter trying to take off. (all the while making grunts and groans that remind me of the neighbors late night activities, from my first crappy apartment)
he follows the kid around as if jr were the messiah.. actually if i walk around the house it kinda looks like one of those "ducks on a string" pull toys. daddy (big duck)----jr (small duck)-----sammie (smallest duck).
of course if i was a dog, i'd be glued to jr too (never ending source of tasty bitz)
lately he has taken to sniffing the table (licking it when he thinks we aren't watching) and i've even caught him helping himself to jr's plate once.
last night.. this brilliant animal decided to snatch a piece of bread from MY table WHILE i was watching. listen folks i stabbed a guy in the hand with a fork for stealing a chicken nugget from me once.. you DO NOT TOUCH dawg's food.... that is what we would call BAD.
the only thing that saved this dog, was the fact that if i went after him faster, my food wouldve been all over the floor, and that other dog.... you know... the furry sausage with legs??, she would have been on it like an ethiopian on a chicken.
anyway, dog caught.. howling commenced... (OMG the sounds, it sounded like i was beating him with a porcupine) i'm lauging so hard at his howls that all i could do was whack him once on the head, at which point he looks at me like "thats it???? aww crap i thought i was gonna be hurtin???"
jr comes scrambling in, goes right to the damn dawg and hugs him round the neck and says "it's ok sammy" then promptly goes over and grabs a bit of sandwich off his plate and shoves it at the dog...which the dog promptly inhales (no shit.. his mouth opened, and from two feet away, this bit of sandwich seem to teleport to his mouth) just like a friggin hoover vacumn.
hmmm... HOOVER!
might be time re-name the dog, yet agin
peace
-dawg
according to the previous owner (not sure if its true or not) she had previosly given sammie away to another lady that didn't take care of him and ended back in the local pound (he's chipped and she lives on a army base.. so guess who they called) well anyhow, the reason given for getting rid of him, was that her mastiff "tried to eat" him.. (heh it's a mastiff, ill buy that)
now i'm not sure if it was his time of neglect.. the near assasination by the mastiff, or the constant re-gifting, but this fucker is neurotic!
you even walk in the general direction of the food bag and he goes freaking nuts! i mean jumping straight up in the air and his ass is doing figure 8's while his tail is spinning like a helicopter trying to take off. (all the while making grunts and groans that remind me of the neighbors late night activities, from my first crappy apartment)
he follows the kid around as if jr were the messiah.. actually if i walk around the house it kinda looks like one of those "ducks on a string" pull toys. daddy (big duck)----jr (small duck)-----sammie (smallest duck).
of course if i was a dog, i'd be glued to jr too (never ending source of tasty bitz)
lately he has taken to sniffing the table (licking it when he thinks we aren't watching) and i've even caught him helping himself to jr's plate once.
last night.. this brilliant animal decided to snatch a piece of bread from MY table WHILE i was watching. listen folks i stabbed a guy in the hand with a fork for stealing a chicken nugget from me once.. you DO NOT TOUCH dawg's food.... that is what we would call BAD.
the only thing that saved this dog, was the fact that if i went after him faster, my food wouldve been all over the floor, and that other dog.... you know... the furry sausage with legs??, she would have been on it like an ethiopian on a chicken.
anyway, dog caught.. howling commenced... (OMG the sounds, it sounded like i was beating him with a porcupine) i'm lauging so hard at his howls that all i could do was whack him once on the head, at which point he looks at me like "thats it???? aww crap i thought i was gonna be hurtin???"
jr comes scrambling in, goes right to the damn dawg and hugs him round the neck and says "it's ok sammy" then promptly goes over and grabs a bit of sandwich off his plate and shoves it at the dog...which the dog promptly inhales (no shit.. his mouth opened, and from two feet away, this bit of sandwich seem to teleport to his mouth) just like a friggin hoover vacumn.
hmmm... HOOVER!
might be time re-name the dog, yet agin
peace
-dawg
Sunday, October 5, 2008
quick, someone pass the holy water!
so, the search for a new dog ended (sucessfully...... sort-of, i think.....) rather quickly. after advertising on craigslist for a free "lab-like" dog, we ended up with a pure blooded black lab puppy. i mean, we have no papers or anything that says "this is a genuine lab" or any such nonsense, but by appearance he looks to be more lab than ya find at pet stores, and what the heck he was microchipped as well... who in their right mind chips a mutt puppy...
so here we go.. jet black, with slight white flash on chest, square blocky head, short oily coat, HUUUUGE feet.. microchipped... and definitely more enthusiastic than smart.
conclusion: black lab puppy. of course the previous owner neglected to mention the free worms, and ear mites that came with him... well, i guess ya get what ya get, and ya do what ya gotta do.
he came to us with the name "oscar" (which in retrospect might have been a perfect name, as he eats ANYTHING) but instead we promptly changed his name to "sammael" (sam -eye-ell) after the demon thing from hellboy....
little did we realize that the cute little puppy that was climbing all over our son licking and snuggling with him, would turn out to actually be the real sammael (the daemon from hellboy).
our little ball of joy has a dark side... we are talking dark lord of the sith here folks.
at night, or when we leave the house he turns into a ravening buzzsaw of destruction, and has taken to my books, with an orgiastic glee that is not to be imagined.. the blinds in my room have been reduced have been reduced by one third in size, my couch has a brand new storage space (right in the middle of the seat) and the "free range stuffed animal" population in jr's room has rocketed past endangered and is approaching impending extinction at warp 10!
the one saving grace with this whole situation is that jr freaking loves him.... god help me... the non-stop laughter is driving me insane.... i hear it in my sleep....... please ... someone.... pass the holy water... must exorcise..... the .....daemons!!!!!
peace
-dawg
so here we go.. jet black, with slight white flash on chest, square blocky head, short oily coat, HUUUUGE feet.. microchipped... and definitely more enthusiastic than smart.
conclusion: black lab puppy. of course the previous owner neglected to mention the free worms, and ear mites that came with him... well, i guess ya get what ya get, and ya do what ya gotta do.
he came to us with the name "oscar" (which in retrospect might have been a perfect name, as he eats ANYTHING) but instead we promptly changed his name to "sammael" (sam -eye-ell) after the demon thing from hellboy....
little did we realize that the cute little puppy that was climbing all over our son licking and snuggling with him, would turn out to actually be the real sammael (the daemon from hellboy).
our little ball of joy has a dark side... we are talking dark lord of the sith here folks.
at night, or when we leave the house he turns into a ravening buzzsaw of destruction, and has taken to my books, with an orgiastic glee that is not to be imagined.. the blinds in my room have been reduced have been reduced by one third in size, my couch has a brand new storage space (right in the middle of the seat) and the "free range stuffed animal" population in jr's room has rocketed past endangered and is approaching impending extinction at warp 10!
the one saving grace with this whole situation is that jr freaking loves him.... god help me... the non-stop laughter is driving me insane.... i hear it in my sleep....... please ... someone.... pass the holy water... must exorcise..... the .....daemons!!!!!
peace
-dawg
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
The search begins: or "how i truly lost my ever lovin mind"
well the move is over, and we have ahd a couple of weeks to settle in nicely, thers still an ass-load of unpacking to do, tasks to complete though etc...
funny thing is, before we ever moved in i had a list of round 15 things or so that needed to be fixed, it was so nice to move in and find out the water heater was fricking dead... now i was checking that list out earlier today (after completing like 14 of the "immediate fix" things) and much to my surprise there are now about 25 things on it... WTF???? i mean i added like 2 things... but where did the hell did the rest of this shit come from??
looks like the damn honey-do elves have been visiting... hmmm seriously gotta get one of those electric powered flyswatters now!
most surprising of all... the newest addition to the list
#26 obtain puppy for jr.
now i am totally down with that! (bout time something broke my way) so the search begins1
we had been talking about this for a while now, and had been trying to figure a breed out... i say saint bernard.. she says chihuahua (i don't believe our tastes can be much further apart on the size scale).. while we ar talking bout this, jr comes in and says.. can i "keep the kitty???" i damn near had a heart attack, and immediately said "OHHELLNO!!!" until i found out he was talking about a dammned stuffed toy he found in the clean laundry. (ohh yeah seriously allergic to cats... last time i told the wife that i would think about her having a cat.. i said it through a face that had swollen to elephant-man like proportions......"fTThhtcctthhh cccaaattthhhh mmmmmbeeeeee")
so now we have an appointment to go look a t a lab/mix puppy on thurs. maybe we will add a new "canine american" to our clan this week... wish us luck... pretty sure that jr's gonna see and try to smother it to death right away.....
....... WITH LOVE you evil minded freaks!
peace
-dawg
funny thing is, before we ever moved in i had a list of round 15 things or so that needed to be fixed, it was so nice to move in and find out the water heater was fricking dead... now i was checking that list out earlier today (after completing like 14 of the "immediate fix" things) and much to my surprise there are now about 25 things on it... WTF???? i mean i added like 2 things... but where did the hell did the rest of this shit come from??
looks like the damn honey-do elves have been visiting... hmmm seriously gotta get one of those electric powered flyswatters now!
most surprising of all... the newest addition to the list
#26 obtain puppy for jr.
now i am totally down with that! (bout time something broke my way) so the search begins1
we had been talking about this for a while now, and had been trying to figure a breed out... i say saint bernard.. she says chihuahua (i don't believe our tastes can be much further apart on the size scale).. while we ar talking bout this, jr comes in and says.. can i "keep the kitty???" i damn near had a heart attack, and immediately said "OHHELLNO!!!" until i found out he was talking about a dammned stuffed toy he found in the clean laundry. (ohh yeah seriously allergic to cats... last time i told the wife that i would think about her having a cat.. i said it through a face that had swollen to elephant-man like proportions......"fTThhtcctthhh cccaaattthhhh mmmmmbeeeeee")
so now we have an appointment to go look a t a lab/mix puppy on thurs. maybe we will add a new "canine american" to our clan this week... wish us luck... pretty sure that jr's gonna see and try to smother it to death right away.....
....... WITH LOVE you evil minded freaks!
peace
-dawg
Monday, September 8, 2008
thar be a storm brewin, captain!!
first off, let me apologize for not posting in a couple of weeks. the incipient move (sounds like i am talking about hemmorhoids huh?? .. ummmm wait a sec.....) has been my primary focus for a while, and has absorbed a great deal of my time and attention.
now that the move is literally a couple of days away, an odd sense of relief has set in (strange, considering that i am getting ready to take my ENTIRE LIFE and stick it in a small truck and drive away with it).
still there is a niggling sense that something just aint right.
sort of like in the movies, when the grizzled ol bosun looks at his captain, grimly points at the horizon and says "thar be a storm brewin, captain!!". ya know sunny skies with just a hint of threatning grey at the edge of the horizon.
it came to me yesterday, as i was going over the moving "plan of attack" with the wife (basically watch the kid and stay the hell out of the way). one of the last things on my list prior to actually loading the truck is pack xaviers' toys and then the tv/vsmile (OMFG this is gonna hurt!!)
the mutant is actually going to have to do without tv/games or toys for 2 or 3 whole hours. crapcrapcrapcrap! he is NOT going to be happy (and boy is he going to let us know for every horrible second of that deprivation).
thinking further about that..... i'd rather have elephant-sized hemmorhoids!!
peace
-dawg
now that the move is literally a couple of days away, an odd sense of relief has set in (strange, considering that i am getting ready to take my ENTIRE LIFE and stick it in a small truck and drive away with it).
still there is a niggling sense that something just aint right.
sort of like in the movies, when the grizzled ol bosun looks at his captain, grimly points at the horizon and says "thar be a storm brewin, captain!!". ya know sunny skies with just a hint of threatning grey at the edge of the horizon.
it came to me yesterday, as i was going over the moving "plan of attack" with the wife (basically watch the kid and stay the hell out of the way). one of the last things on my list prior to actually loading the truck is pack xaviers' toys and then the tv/vsmile (OMFG this is gonna hurt!!)
the mutant is actually going to have to do without tv/games or toys for 2 or 3 whole hours. crapcrapcrapcrap! he is NOT going to be happy (and boy is he going to let us know for every horrible second of that deprivation).
thinking further about that..... i'd rather have elephant-sized hemmorhoids!!
peace
-dawg
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Not fair...at all!!!
most of you (if not all) can relate to the following statement uttered by your parents at some point in your childhood (or in my case many, many, MANY times).
"i hope than when you have children, that they are EXACTLY like you"
of course when most parents say that waht they really mean is: " i hope your kids are ten times as rotten as you"
i deeply love and dearly miss my dad (he passed on a few years back) but i am truly grateful at times, that he is not around (sounds bad, but will make sense in a minute)
jr is at least as devious and rotten as i was in my childhood (and i personally suspect he will surpass ANYTHING i could have imagined as a kid). being a parent is a unique mix of pride, consternation, and frustration punctuated by moments of sheer terror.
i kid you not, i am only 35 (36 in november) and in just the last year have started to sprout noticeably grey hairs all over... i blame jr!
at this point i honestly don't think i could take my dad just sitting back and chuckling with that smug grin on his face (which is exactly what would happen were he around today) my god, i would go completely postal.
so jr comes up to me earlier, starts tugging at my arm, and chants at me "daddyletsPLAYdaddyletsPLAYdaddywannaplay" non stop.. (now to set the mood, he is bouncing up and down while all this is going on)
i tell him "daddy is busy, i will play with you in a minute"
his response? no kidding.. he GROWLS at me and goes stalking off to his room (gawd i wanna strangle him sometimes)
about 5 minutes later, he comes strolling in and says "DADDY LOOK"
knowing that if i don't look, this won't end for a loooong time.. i cave in and look (hear my spine snapping, don't ya?)
at which point he takes the book he's holding (battered copy of a softback 3 inch thick parenting book) and whops the dog upside the head with it (think melon dropped on concrete sound), grins... and HAULS ASS the hell outta the living room (smart booger sees the look on my face, and KNOWS his butt is about to reach 1000 degrees wheni catch him).
meanwhile the poor fucking dog is just kinda laying on the ground twitching trying to figure out what just happened...
i know that i was a rotten kid.... but dammit dad, did ya have to curse me with the SPAWN OF SATAN???
peace
-dawg
"i hope than when you have children, that they are EXACTLY like you"
of course when most parents say that waht they really mean is: " i hope your kids are ten times as rotten as you"
i deeply love and dearly miss my dad (he passed on a few years back) but i am truly grateful at times, that he is not around (sounds bad, but will make sense in a minute)
jr is at least as devious and rotten as i was in my childhood (and i personally suspect he will surpass ANYTHING i could have imagined as a kid). being a parent is a unique mix of pride, consternation, and frustration punctuated by moments of sheer terror.
i kid you not, i am only 35 (36 in november) and in just the last year have started to sprout noticeably grey hairs all over... i blame jr!
at this point i honestly don't think i could take my dad just sitting back and chuckling with that smug grin on his face (which is exactly what would happen were he around today) my god, i would go completely postal.
so jr comes up to me earlier, starts tugging at my arm, and chants at me "daddyletsPLAYdaddyletsPLAYdaddywannaplay" non stop.. (now to set the mood, he is bouncing up and down while all this is going on)
i tell him "daddy is busy, i will play with you in a minute"
his response? no kidding.. he GROWLS at me and goes stalking off to his room (gawd i wanna strangle him sometimes)
about 5 minutes later, he comes strolling in and says "DADDY LOOK"
knowing that if i don't look, this won't end for a loooong time.. i cave in and look (hear my spine snapping, don't ya?)
at which point he takes the book he's holding (battered copy of a softback 3 inch thick parenting book) and whops the dog upside the head with it (think melon dropped on concrete sound), grins... and HAULS ASS the hell outta the living room (smart booger sees the look on my face, and KNOWS his butt is about to reach 1000 degrees wheni catch him).
meanwhile the poor fucking dog is just kinda laying on the ground twitching trying to figure out what just happened...
i know that i was a rotten kid.... but dammit dad, did ya have to curse me with the SPAWN OF SATAN???
peace
-dawg
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
RANT WARNING!!!!!!
for all of you who read my blog, i apologize ahead of time for the following rant. i realize that most of my regualr readers come here for the antics of the mutant, and am truly humbled by the fact that i do in fact have regular readers.
this however is not about the mutant at all.
****profanity and strong language follow DO NOT read aloud to children... please*****
i swera to god, if it weren't illegal, i'd hunt down and fucking skin every single one of these lying retarded sack o shit realtors i have been dealing with over the last few months (my buyers agent excluded)
i wrote recently about how it seems that realtors do not even speak common english.
after months of searching, just in the last month we had found 2 separate homes that we wre interested in, and frankly just about fell in love with both of them.
now i realize as we are looking at budget homes, that there are expected condition issues that will have to be dealt with. i am fine with that
house#1 beautiful little house great condition, something that i caould easily call home.
so we put in an offer, granted it was a low offer to test the market out... and as expected the offer was rejected.. (no biggie.. part of the process)
the chicken shit realtor didn't even bother to call and speak to our agent.. he sent a freaking EMAIL, and not only that, was a fucking dick about things in the email... (resulting in "severe case of ass" about the realtor)
ok ... many fish in the sea and all that... move along to look at other properties.
interim (here is where we saw what these gems of humanity call "need tlc" homes (needs to be freaking condemmned is more like it)
house #2 little bit larger than the first, needs work (some obvious cosmetic stuff) but overall we really like it.. once again, something i could easily call home..
at initial offer it had a renter in it.. selling realtor says, up the earnest money, and we will have the renter out before closing (ok i can go fo that.. dsaves me some serious hassle) offer made, counter offer in, counter-counter offer made.... and BINGO we agree, and sign a purchase contract, contingent on home inspection and appraisal. turns out the owners were already evicting the renters, so they tell us "good news" we can move the closing up if you want to...
i'm thinking .. aweseome... now for the home inspection....
did the home inspection yesterday....... where the hell do i start.... this fucking idiotic asshole of a realtor could have given us a heads up so that i did not waste my time, money, and emotional investment (MAY IT ROT AND FALL OFF YOU PRICK)
ok the roof is rotting and needs to be replaced.. not only that, but the damn think is framed with 1X4's holy crap.. i wouldnt build a damn doghouse with 1x4's let alone a structural roof..
recalled POS (BUSS FUSE) electric panel.. that was actually recalled in the 60's
move to the basement...MOLD... LOTS OF MOLD ductwork is laying on the ground .. on the FREAKING MOLDY ASS GROUND.....
the home inspector and i have a quick (off the records) chat, and do some quick figuring.... to fix this thing would cost almost as much as we offered on the house.... so obviously.. no deal
this is after having our agent say DIRECTLY to the realtor.. "this is intended as a family home, and these folks will be moving in almost immediately after close" and him responding "great i think they will love it"
WHAT KIND OF ASSHOLE suggests that a family with children WILL LOVE living in a home that could a: collapse on top of them, b: burn to the ground due to illegal faulty electricals, or c: kill the inhabitants by injecting toxic mold directly from the basement into the central air sysytem...
apparantely i have found the josef stalin of realtors (just wnats his needs filled and dont care if it KILLS other folks).... ohh yeah.. sat on the toilet and almost ended up in the basement.....
thank god for home inspectors.....
-dawg
this however is not about the mutant at all.
****profanity and strong language follow DO NOT read aloud to children... please*****
i swera to god, if it weren't illegal, i'd hunt down and fucking skin every single one of these lying retarded sack o shit realtors i have been dealing with over the last few months (my buyers agent excluded)
i wrote recently about how it seems that realtors do not even speak common english.
after months of searching, just in the last month we had found 2 separate homes that we wre interested in, and frankly just about fell in love with both of them.
now i realize as we are looking at budget homes, that there are expected condition issues that will have to be dealt with. i am fine with that
house#1 beautiful little house great condition, something that i caould easily call home.
so we put in an offer, granted it was a low offer to test the market out... and as expected the offer was rejected.. (no biggie.. part of the process)
the chicken shit realtor didn't even bother to call and speak to our agent.. he sent a freaking EMAIL, and not only that, was a fucking dick about things in the email... (resulting in "severe case of ass" about the realtor)
ok ... many fish in the sea and all that... move along to look at other properties.
interim (here is where we saw what these gems of humanity call "need tlc" homes (needs to be freaking condemmned is more like it)
house #2 little bit larger than the first, needs work (some obvious cosmetic stuff) but overall we really like it.. once again, something i could easily call home..
at initial offer it had a renter in it.. selling realtor says, up the earnest money, and we will have the renter out before closing (ok i can go fo that.. dsaves me some serious hassle) offer made, counter offer in, counter-counter offer made.... and BINGO we agree, and sign a purchase contract, contingent on home inspection and appraisal. turns out the owners were already evicting the renters, so they tell us "good news" we can move the closing up if you want to...
i'm thinking .. aweseome... now for the home inspection....
did the home inspection yesterday....... where the hell do i start.... this fucking idiotic asshole of a realtor could have given us a heads up so that i did not waste my time, money, and emotional investment (MAY IT ROT AND FALL OFF YOU PRICK)
ok the roof is rotting and needs to be replaced.. not only that, but the damn think is framed with 1X4's holy crap.. i wouldnt build a damn doghouse with 1x4's let alone a structural roof..
recalled POS (BUSS FUSE) electric panel.. that was actually recalled in the 60's
move to the basement...MOLD... LOTS OF MOLD ductwork is laying on the ground .. on the FREAKING MOLDY ASS GROUND.....
the home inspector and i have a quick (off the records) chat, and do some quick figuring.... to fix this thing would cost almost as much as we offered on the house.... so obviously.. no deal
this is after having our agent say DIRECTLY to the realtor.. "this is intended as a family home, and these folks will be moving in almost immediately after close" and him responding "great i think they will love it"
WHAT KIND OF ASSHOLE suggests that a family with children WILL LOVE living in a home that could a: collapse on top of them, b: burn to the ground due to illegal faulty electricals, or c: kill the inhabitants by injecting toxic mold directly from the basement into the central air sysytem...
apparantely i have found the josef stalin of realtors (just wnats his needs filled and dont care if it KILLS other folks).... ohh yeah.. sat on the toilet and almost ended up in the basement.....
thank god for home inspectors.....
-dawg
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Friday, August 1, 2008
The great "brownie caper"
I tend truly to be fairly spartan with "treating" myself to just about anything, however the opposite is true for mama and the toddler. i'll get them damn near anything they want (sorry but that indiana jones whip just didnt make the "acceptable cut" hell it didnt even make the "so drunk i forgot my own name cut")
keeping this in mind, there are very few "treats" that come into the house that i get exclusively for myself, if it aint my generous heart that gives my goodies away then begging or pouting is usually successful (think basset hound with crocodile tears,and the resultant effect on me. and you might be able to imagine the sound of my spine snapping in two from wherever you are right now.)
while grocery shopping today i decide to indulge in one of my "daddy treats" (MINE.... iiitttssss mine.... my ppprrreeeccciiiooouuusssssssssss!) two bite brownies! now for those of you unfamiliar with this little gem of the modern "convenient" grocery shelf, let me enthrall you with a simple description.
take your most delicious "childhood memory 6 inch square 2 inch thick brownie" (well maybe they were a tad smaller.. but i digress..) and then compress them into a tiny 1 inch square (or round) sinfully delicious bite sized piece of brownie goodness.
now often when muching on these i will relent and share ONE with the mutant (the dangers of the mutant consuming too many brownies can not be imagined.... i will forgo sharing them with you, as i would not want to permanently damage you) and then go happily back to knocking out the remainder of the bag..
well todays selection were "entenmanns" brownie delights, which come packaged in 6 small bags inside a much much much (ridiculously larger) box. i started chomping on my brownitygoodness well before i was scheduled to fix dinner, and promptly lost myself in a chocolatey fugue (utterly robbed of any intelligence from the chocolate, i vaguely remember giving the mutant 2 whole brownies)...
said reverie was rudely interrupted some time later (time unknown) by a rather surly mam "wondering" aloud perchance when one might be able to obtain a "proper dinner" for herself and the mutant. properly chastened into action by the subtle hint (subtle, like being kicked by an elephant) and proceeded into the kitchen to make shrimp po boys.
30 minutes later.. freshly made shrimp po boys for EVERYONE. now understand jr LOOOVES fried shrimp, and this being right near his bedtime, usually eats like a starving wolf (mind the fingers lest ye return a digit or two short of original equipage). tonight was a little bit strange as he ate ok, but just not with his normal gusto, then promptly passed out on the couch.
awww the little sucker was just a bit hungry and waaay tired......
jr's asleep.... time for desert!!! ........(BROWNIES, you perverts... sheesh!) and reached towards the entemanns box, .... only to discover it was totally empty???? what the hell.. oh well musta atte em all.. (this sux.. majorly sux) with nothing else going on, i scoop jr up of the couch haul him up to my shoulder and take him into his room to lay him in bed for the night.
upon crossing the threshhold of his room, my bare feet step on something slippery and damn near break my back trying to stay upright and not drop the child at the same time.... heart pumping 200 gallons a minute, i lay jr in bed, tuck him in, and investigate what damn near killed me...
lo and behold two EMPTY brownie bites bags...........
HE
................stole them........ while i was cooking dinner???? oooooohhhhhh this lil bugger is getting dangerous......
might bear some more cautious watching from now on..... or maybe ill just hide my brownies better..... yeah thatll work!
peace
-dawg
keeping this in mind, there are very few "treats" that come into the house that i get exclusively for myself, if it aint my generous heart that gives my goodies away then begging or pouting is usually successful (think basset hound with crocodile tears,and the resultant effect on me. and you might be able to imagine the sound of my spine snapping in two from wherever you are right now.)
while grocery shopping today i decide to indulge in one of my "daddy treats" (MINE.... iiitttssss mine.... my ppprrreeeccciiiooouuusssssssssss!) two bite brownies! now for those of you unfamiliar with this little gem of the modern "convenient" grocery shelf, let me enthrall you with a simple description.
take your most delicious "childhood memory 6 inch square 2 inch thick brownie" (well maybe they were a tad smaller.. but i digress..) and then compress them into a tiny 1 inch square (or round) sinfully delicious bite sized piece of brownie goodness.
now often when muching on these i will relent and share ONE with the mutant (the dangers of the mutant consuming too many brownies can not be imagined.... i will forgo sharing them with you, as i would not want to permanently damage you) and then go happily back to knocking out the remainder of the bag..
well todays selection were "entenmanns" brownie delights, which come packaged in 6 small bags inside a much much much (ridiculously larger) box. i started chomping on my brownitygoodness well before i was scheduled to fix dinner, and promptly lost myself in a chocolatey fugue (utterly robbed of any intelligence from the chocolate, i vaguely remember giving the mutant 2 whole brownies)...
said reverie was rudely interrupted some time later (time unknown) by a rather surly mam "wondering" aloud perchance when one might be able to obtain a "proper dinner" for herself and the mutant. properly chastened into action by the subtle hint (subtle, like being kicked by an elephant) and proceeded into the kitchen to make shrimp po boys.
30 minutes later.. freshly made shrimp po boys for EVERYONE. now understand jr LOOOVES fried shrimp, and this being right near his bedtime, usually eats like a starving wolf (mind the fingers lest ye return a digit or two short of original equipage). tonight was a little bit strange as he ate ok, but just not with his normal gusto, then promptly passed out on the couch.
awww the little sucker was just a bit hungry and waaay tired......
jr's asleep.... time for desert!!! ........(BROWNIES, you perverts... sheesh!) and reached towards the entemanns box, .... only to discover it was totally empty???? what the hell.. oh well musta atte em all.. (this sux.. majorly sux) with nothing else going on, i scoop jr up of the couch haul him up to my shoulder and take him into his room to lay him in bed for the night.
upon crossing the threshhold of his room, my bare feet step on something slippery and damn near break my back trying to stay upright and not drop the child at the same time.... heart pumping 200 gallons a minute, i lay jr in bed, tuck him in, and investigate what damn near killed me...
lo and behold two EMPTY brownie bites bags...........
HE
................stole them........ while i was cooking dinner???? oooooohhhhhh this lil bugger is getting dangerous......
might bear some more cautious watching from now on..... or maybe ill just hide my brownies better..... yeah thatll work!
peace
-dawg
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Rengrish (ring-grish) or realtor speak!
Those of you who know me well, realize that i truly love the english language. we in america have been truly blessed with a wonderfully versatile language formed from so many cultures, that provides a wonderfully nuanced and shaded way to describe outr world.
what truly baffles me at times is the sheer ability to actually mangle or outright destroy such a beautiful tool of description.
case in point: Rengrish (english as realtors use it)
i have been in the market to buy a home for the past few months, and have finally realized that while the words and sentences look and sound like common english, they are in fact speaking a completely different language. i might go as far as to suggest that they are more "creative" in their definitions (if your definition of creative is "smashed outta yer gourd on absinthe")
here are a few of the gems i have encountered, and their common english translations, and my take on what they SHOULD have said to be accurate.
"might have a slight leak in the roof"
trans: when it rains you'll be a lot less wet if you just sleep outside
suggestion for ad: "brand new open air skylight and mini swimming pool.... in the master bedroom"
"lower level apartment needs total renovation, and property has wildlife on it"
trans: apartment needs to be condemmned, and the wildlife is currently living IN the apartment.
suggestion for ad. "demolition by nuclear weapon suggested, bring shotgun to fight off the rats"
handyman's special that needs tlc, and would look good with new hardwood floors
trans: watch your step when opening the door, would be nice if it actually had a floor to begin with!
suggestion for ad. "please buy this, and i'll throw in a free trip to scenic afganistan, heck the house there might give you upgrade ideas.... like maybe mud walls"
investment opportunity for a handyman needs some plumbing and electrical updating!
trans: the winos have ripped out and stolen EVERY SCRAP of copper in the place, including the electric meter.
suggestion for ad. "wheee.... wino pee, and bare frame..... "
charming cottage ready for renovation in a up and coming neighborhood
trans: built by drunken blind monkeys, caution neighbors WILL eat your dog
suggestion for ad. "no really... its just a kool aid stain, and please ignore the crime scene tape"
peace
-dawg
what truly baffles me at times is the sheer ability to actually mangle or outright destroy such a beautiful tool of description.
case in point: Rengrish (english as realtors use it)
i have been in the market to buy a home for the past few months, and have finally realized that while the words and sentences look and sound like common english, they are in fact speaking a completely different language. i might go as far as to suggest that they are more "creative" in their definitions (if your definition of creative is "smashed outta yer gourd on absinthe")
here are a few of the gems i have encountered, and their common english translations, and my take on what they SHOULD have said to be accurate.
"might have a slight leak in the roof"
trans: when it rains you'll be a lot less wet if you just sleep outside
suggestion for ad: "brand new open air skylight and mini swimming pool.... in the master bedroom"
"lower level apartment needs total renovation, and property has wildlife on it"
trans: apartment needs to be condemmned, and the wildlife is currently living IN the apartment.
suggestion for ad. "demolition by nuclear weapon suggested, bring shotgun to fight off the rats"
handyman's special that needs tlc, and would look good with new hardwood floors
trans: watch your step when opening the door, would be nice if it actually had a floor to begin with!
suggestion for ad. "please buy this, and i'll throw in a free trip to scenic afganistan, heck the house there might give you upgrade ideas.... like maybe mud walls"
investment opportunity for a handyman needs some plumbing and electrical updating!
trans: the winos have ripped out and stolen EVERY SCRAP of copper in the place, including the electric meter.
suggestion for ad. "wheee.... wino pee, and bare frame..... "
charming cottage ready for renovation in a up and coming neighborhood
trans: built by drunken blind monkeys, caution neighbors WILL eat your dog
suggestion for ad. "no really... its just a kool aid stain, and please ignore the crime scene tape"
peace
-dawg
Sunday, July 20, 2008
one of my favorite poems.
read it aloud to someone you love
Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called hum Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.
Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio daggers on his toes.
Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagonAt the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.
Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
and Blink said Weeck! which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.
Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.
Belinda paled, and she cried Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household
,And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.
But up jumped Custard snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm,
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.
The pirate gaped at Belinda's pet dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets, but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.
Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim.
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pirate.
Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio little pet dragon.
Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.
The Tale of Custard the Dragon by Ogden Nash
Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called hum Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.
Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio daggers on his toes.
Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagonAt the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.
Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
and Blink said Weeck! which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.
Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.
Belinda paled, and she cried Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household
,And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.
But up jumped Custard snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm,
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.
The pirate gaped at Belinda's pet dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets, but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.
Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim.
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pirate.
Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio little pet dragon.
Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Now for something totally different (mom speaks)
oh Hai!
No, not the Dawg, and anyone thinking to themselves with a smirk what a female dawg is called, well... all I can say is, YEP! (teehee).
I'm the missus, aka Hound's wife, and the bearer of the unique and startlingly accurate title of MommymommymommymommymommycanIhazcheezschlammich?
I was asked to put some thoughts on here, and in an effort to craft the wittiest, most comically satisfying, humorous post without being cliched, I've put it off for a week or two... ok, MAYbe three. In that time, I've decided to go ahead and post as my ability to make people laugh tends to strike at odd moments, and I may never catch that elusive mood in writing.
So you're stuck with this. :P Neener neener.
"Has it been four years already?"
This refrain has bounced around through my head and frequently comes out via the oral orifice lately. As in, since late June, lately.
The answer, of course is, no. There have been random wormholes that my son has either created or cleverly mapped and is time-jumping his way through infancy, and now toddlerhood. How else could it be explained? Just yesterday I was coming to from the anesthetic fog to see my honey all in blue cradling something making the most wonderful wailing sound I'd ever heard. You wouldn't think that an angry, squalling red face would make a perfectly sensible (stop laughing) woman get all blubbery, now would you?
No, wait... just yesterday a four year old was holding up arms sticky with appley-scented liquid saying, "I just want to love on you, Mommy!" in response to that age-old question, "Were you finger-painting my table with your apple juice?"
Errrr... or was yesterday the all-nighter worrying and holding and rocking a pitifully whimpering sickling while the fever hit 102 and finally broke?
um.
One sec, I'm sure there's a calendar around... here... somewhere.
OK, the secret is out. I don't know what day it is, I rarely know the time, and if you ask me when a birthday or anniversary is, I need at least 5 minutes to look it up.
But one thing is sure, I wouldn't trade my title for nothing in the world.
-Mommy
No, not the Dawg, and anyone thinking to themselves with a smirk what a female dawg is called, well... all I can say is, YEP! (teehee).
I'm the missus, aka Hound's wife, and the bearer of the unique and startlingly accurate title of MommymommymommymommymommycanIhazcheezschlammich?
I was asked to put some thoughts on here, and in an effort to craft the wittiest, most comically satisfying, humorous post without being cliched, I've put it off for a week or two... ok, MAYbe three. In that time, I've decided to go ahead and post as my ability to make people laugh tends to strike at odd moments, and I may never catch that elusive mood in writing.
So you're stuck with this. :P Neener neener.
"Has it been four years already?"
This refrain has bounced around through my head and frequently comes out via the oral orifice lately. As in, since late June, lately.
The answer, of course is, no. There have been random wormholes that my son has either created or cleverly mapped and is time-jumping his way through infancy, and now toddlerhood. How else could it be explained? Just yesterday I was coming to from the anesthetic fog to see my honey all in blue cradling something making the most wonderful wailing sound I'd ever heard. You wouldn't think that an angry, squalling red face would make a perfectly sensible (stop laughing) woman get all blubbery, now would you?
No, wait... just yesterday a four year old was holding up arms sticky with appley-scented liquid saying, "I just want to love on you, Mommy!" in response to that age-old question, "Were you finger-painting my table with your apple juice?"
Errrr... or was yesterday the all-nighter worrying and holding and rocking a pitifully whimpering sickling while the fever hit 102 and finally broke?
um.
One sec, I'm sure there's a calendar around... here... somewhere.
OK, the secret is out. I don't know what day it is, I rarely know the time, and if you ask me when a birthday or anniversary is, I need at least 5 minutes to look it up.
But one thing is sure, I wouldn't trade my title for nothing in the world.
-Mommy
And the birthday winner is!
Transformers, movies, petit fours, and legos. and the winner is ........ a balloon.
@#$$&!!@#!!#!@ a couple of hundred bucks worth of stuff that i woulda given my right nut for as a kid.... and he chooses a damn balloon?????
oh well, cest la vie.
with this latest "favorite" toy choice i have come to a conclusion about the criteria that the mutant uses in his selection process.
CRITERION:
1. must be noisy ( if ya think a balloon cant be noisy, just imagine it being bounced againsta a wall 90,000 times a minute for an hour straight..... no jury would convict me)
2. must be physically "non-permanantely damaging" (scars and gouges do not bode well for the retention of the aforementioned toy)
3. shoud be easy to conceal, or conceal ones self in ( this one sometimes gets ignored in favor of criterion 4)
4. should have "modification" potential (specifically can it be altered to make MORE noise?)
5. absolutely MUST annoy dad to the point of speechlessness in under a minute (for mom a 5 minute time limit on speechlessness is acceptable)
6. must NOT be interesting to the dog (except in a cringing oh god pleasepleaseplease dont hit me with that again, kind of way)
7. MUST have a protective "cute factor" (i.e. can be held in one hand, enhacing the cute factor while saying "i LOOOOVE you daddy)
soooo getting hit in the head by a balloon doesn't hurt??? BULLCRAP!!! i got to witness criteria 7 in action last night.
i am blissfully engrossed in a combination of heavy duty gameplay and good music (headphones on to shut out the "real" world.... mistake #1)
i am only peripherally aware of jr playing in the living room with his balloon (mistake#2 NEVER NEVER forget where the boy is)
i have forgotten to tel mom that i am in a raid (BIGGEST mistake, as she usually runs intererference during raid time)
all of a sudden out of the corner i "sense" more than see a large green object zipping towards my head..
result: i WHIP my head down and left to avoid the oncoming object and rocket my right hand up to block said object which at this time is no more than an inch from being in the space formerly occupied by my head. (ok folks just so as you know, i have very fast reflexes.. "pick a fly outta the air" type reflexes)
i actually blocked the balloon and about the same time that my fingers relayed the info "hey this is just a balloon) to my brain, my neck started relaying a completely different and quite disturbing message.... "OWowOWowFUCKowowowwo"
so how the hell do i explain to the dr that REALLY i got whiplash from a BALOON???
peace
-dawg
@#$$&!!@#!!#!@ a couple of hundred bucks worth of stuff that i woulda given my right nut for as a kid.... and he chooses a damn balloon?????
oh well, cest la vie.
with this latest "favorite" toy choice i have come to a conclusion about the criteria that the mutant uses in his selection process.
CRITERION:
1. must be noisy ( if ya think a balloon cant be noisy, just imagine it being bounced againsta a wall 90,000 times a minute for an hour straight..... no jury would convict me)
2. must be physically "non-permanantely damaging" (scars and gouges do not bode well for the retention of the aforementioned toy)
3. shoud be easy to conceal, or conceal ones self in ( this one sometimes gets ignored in favor of criterion 4)
4. should have "modification" potential (specifically can it be altered to make MORE noise?)
5. absolutely MUST annoy dad to the point of speechlessness in under a minute (for mom a 5 minute time limit on speechlessness is acceptable)
6. must NOT be interesting to the dog (except in a cringing oh god pleasepleaseplease dont hit me with that again, kind of way)
7. MUST have a protective "cute factor" (i.e. can be held in one hand, enhacing the cute factor while saying "i LOOOOVE you daddy)
soooo getting hit in the head by a balloon doesn't hurt??? BULLCRAP!!! i got to witness criteria 7 in action last night.
i am blissfully engrossed in a combination of heavy duty gameplay and good music (headphones on to shut out the "real" world.... mistake #1)
i am only peripherally aware of jr playing in the living room with his balloon (mistake#2 NEVER NEVER forget where the boy is)
i have forgotten to tel mom that i am in a raid (BIGGEST mistake, as she usually runs intererference during raid time)
all of a sudden out of the corner i "sense" more than see a large green object zipping towards my head..
result: i WHIP my head down and left to avoid the oncoming object and rocket my right hand up to block said object which at this time is no more than an inch from being in the space formerly occupied by my head. (ok folks just so as you know, i have very fast reflexes.. "pick a fly outta the air" type reflexes)
i actually blocked the balloon and about the same time that my fingers relayed the info "hey this is just a balloon) to my brain, my neck started relaying a completely different and quite disturbing message.... "OWowOWowFUCKowowowwo"
so how the hell do i explain to the dr that REALLY i got whiplash from a BALOON???
peace
-dawg
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Fun on the 4th: tennessee style
As i was sitting on the front porch smoking a ciggarette a little while ago, i got to think about the fourth of july and all the rituals that go with this all american holiday. (FIREWORKS ROCK)!
this sentimental flashback (or senile if you will) was prompted by what sounde like the fighting in beiruit int he 80's must have been like.
somewhere in the late 90s in or around my 7th year of sobriety and about a year after leving the militiary, myself, my ex wife and "uncle" daryl were invited to participate in a "bottle rocket war". (hmmmm lighting flying explosive devices and firing them directly TOWARDS other people..... FUUUUN!!)
needless to say what the "opposing team" and what we had in mind were two completely different things.. apparently the opposition had gone out and (rather deviously) cobbled together some "bazookas" (wrapping paper tubes with a stick taped to it) that they gloatingly showed to us before we staged each team one either side of a railroad bridge straddling a fair sized creek.
at that point it was getting kind of dark and daryl had not yet arrived with the "heavy artillery".
right about the time it went pitch dark daryl arrived with thegoodies we had put together. the engagement was initiated by various members of each team lighting up their smokes and starting to toss out a few "screamers" at each other.
eeeeeeeeeeeeee....... swwoooosh..... POP.... goldangitowthat hurt..... daryl screamed as a well aimed shot from an enemy bazooka hits him in the leg...
hey look.. dude... they are trying to cross the bridge..... GET EM..
daryl and i looked at each other with a kind of maniac glee, and unlimbered OUR bazookas!
see, where the other guys had stuck to wrapping paper tubes and whistlink bottlerockets (about 1/4 inch diameter and about 3 inches long, glued to a paper stick... daryl and i had created weapons of mass destruction.. we had taken various odds and ends like 4inch diameter carpet tubes, lexan sheeting, toy gun handles and radiator clamps to create monsters that could shoot the 9 inch long finned rockets (ya know those suckers you can almost take a jet down with).
turns out that if you pulled the little plastic finned assembly off of one of the rockets and glued it to the front of another one, that the resulting projectile was devastatingly accurate.
SWOOOOOSH.......ssssshhhhhhhhh........FWUUMMP! AHHHHHHHH... ..... .....SPlaSH!
holy crap, i think i just blew somebody off of the bridge...... ahhhh maybe we oughta bail... that can't be good.....
see thats what happens when ya give maniacs fireworks... ain't it great
peace
-dawg
this sentimental flashback (or senile if you will) was prompted by what sounde like the fighting in beiruit int he 80's must have been like.
somewhere in the late 90s in or around my 7th year of sobriety and about a year after leving the militiary, myself, my ex wife and "uncle" daryl were invited to participate in a "bottle rocket war". (hmmmm lighting flying explosive devices and firing them directly TOWARDS other people..... FUUUUN!!)
needless to say what the "opposing team" and what we had in mind were two completely different things.. apparently the opposition had gone out and (rather deviously) cobbled together some "bazookas" (wrapping paper tubes with a stick taped to it) that they gloatingly showed to us before we staged each team one either side of a railroad bridge straddling a fair sized creek.
at that point it was getting kind of dark and daryl had not yet arrived with the "heavy artillery".
right about the time it went pitch dark daryl arrived with thegoodies we had put together. the engagement was initiated by various members of each team lighting up their smokes and starting to toss out a few "screamers" at each other.
eeeeeeeeeeeeee....... swwoooosh..... POP.... goldangitowthat hurt..... daryl screamed as a well aimed shot from an enemy bazooka hits him in the leg...
hey look.. dude... they are trying to cross the bridge..... GET EM..
daryl and i looked at each other with a kind of maniac glee, and unlimbered OUR bazookas!
see, where the other guys had stuck to wrapping paper tubes and whistlink bottlerockets (about 1/4 inch diameter and about 3 inches long, glued to a paper stick... daryl and i had created weapons of mass destruction.. we had taken various odds and ends like 4inch diameter carpet tubes, lexan sheeting, toy gun handles and radiator clamps to create monsters that could shoot the 9 inch long finned rockets (ya know those suckers you can almost take a jet down with).
turns out that if you pulled the little plastic finned assembly off of one of the rockets and glued it to the front of another one, that the resulting projectile was devastatingly accurate.
SWOOOOOSH.......ssssshhhhhhhhh........FWUUMMP! AHHHHHHHH... ..... .....SPlaSH!
holy crap, i think i just blew somebody off of the bridge...... ahhhh maybe we oughta bail... that can't be good.....
see thats what happens when ya give maniacs fireworks... ain't it great
peace
-dawg
Monday, June 23, 2008
Toy shopping with "unca daywer" (daryl)
First off let me say that uncle daryl is my best friend, and for many years has proven to be one of the most stalwart, caring human beings it has been my privilege to know.
truly my life has been enriched (and sometimes dragged through the mud) by having him around.
..that being said, sometimes i seriously wonder if he is etier a: insane or b:just plain mean.
case in point, we went looking at toy ideas for xaviers birthday. these are just a few of the gems that he suggested:
1. remote controlled helicopter (aww hell no, this thing could take the place of my dremel, i can just see him grinding the dogs nose off with it)
2. battery operated moving roaring dinosaur (while freaking awesome... gotta say no to dino roars 26 hours a day for the next six months)
3. "little construction set" by black and decker (i cant even begin to explain how wrong this one is, the destruction potential is truly GLOBAL)
4. hot wheels playset (i almost ok'd this one till i realized he had picked out the one that had the motorized launching device.... yeah, i really want a toy car accelerated to mach one and then shot at my head)
5. "indiana jones" WHIP with real life sounds. (i swear my jaw hit the floor and i was freaking speechless)
proof positive that uncles be they honorary or fer real that don't have kids.. have absolutely no idea the hell that parents go through after ther seemingly innocent "GIFTS"
(i'm pretty sure he's just insane.... he actually knows this kid, yet he still suggested all of the above.... what would you think??)
whacked outta his freaking skull!
much luv daryl.. you really are the best!
peace
-dawg
truly my life has been enriched (and sometimes dragged through the mud) by having him around.
..that being said, sometimes i seriously wonder if he is etier a: insane or b:just plain mean.
case in point, we went looking at toy ideas for xaviers birthday. these are just a few of the gems that he suggested:
1. remote controlled helicopter (aww hell no, this thing could take the place of my dremel, i can just see him grinding the dogs nose off with it)
2. battery operated moving roaring dinosaur (while freaking awesome... gotta say no to dino roars 26 hours a day for the next six months)
3. "little construction set" by black and decker (i cant even begin to explain how wrong this one is, the destruction potential is truly GLOBAL)
4. hot wheels playset (i almost ok'd this one till i realized he had picked out the one that had the motorized launching device.... yeah, i really want a toy car accelerated to mach one and then shot at my head)
5. "indiana jones" WHIP with real life sounds. (i swear my jaw hit the floor and i was freaking speechless)
proof positive that uncles be they honorary or fer real that don't have kids.. have absolutely no idea the hell that parents go through after ther seemingly innocent "GIFTS"
(i'm pretty sure he's just insane.... he actually knows this kid, yet he still suggested all of the above.... what would you think??)
whacked outta his freaking skull!
much luv daryl.. you really are the best!
peace
-dawg
Picking presents, and birthday blues!
In just a couple of weeks (2 weeks to be exact) the mutant will have graced all us lesser mortals here with his magnificent presence for 4 WHOLE YEARS.
this milestone has brought an extremely important question to the forefront of my mind. WHAT EXACTLY do you get a world domination bent, daemonically posessed mutant toddler for a birthday present??? (other than holy water and maybe a cross to excorcise the daemon)
i figure the ideal present has to have a few basic specifications.
1. must be STURDY!
2. should be thought provoking (heh gotta sneak education in there)
3. should hold jr's attention (this one is tough considering the redbull-ferret on meth thing)
4. must be STURDY!
5. ideally should be low (er) cost.. (that leaves out that slightly used surplus tank)
6. should not be inherently dangerous to most higher life forms. (NO DARYL you CAN'T get him a remote controlled helicopter)
7. must be STURDY! (sense a pattern yet?)
8. absolutely must be dishwasher safe (cmon i dare ya, tell me ya aint tossed your kids crap in the dishwasher)
9. should be easy to operate. (damn that shoots down the JR SCIENTIST CLUB build your own space shuttle kit)
looks like kegos again...
.......sigh, yet another year of
"what the hell" (lego in shoe)
"owowowowowo dammmit what was..." (tiny lego under foot in middle of midnight bathroom run)
"NOnoNOnoNO do not stick that there" (said while removing lego from dogs nostril)
"look daddy i made a dog" (HOLLEE SHIT WHATTHEHELL ISTHAT)
and of course..
"GET YOUR LITTLE BUT OVER HERE NOW" (immediately following yet another flying lego experiment)
and ya REALLY were wondering bout the "birthday blues in the title, weren't ya???
i never said he was blue did i?
peace
-dawg
this milestone has brought an extremely important question to the forefront of my mind. WHAT EXACTLY do you get a world domination bent, daemonically posessed mutant toddler for a birthday present??? (other than holy water and maybe a cross to excorcise the daemon)
i figure the ideal present has to have a few basic specifications.
1. must be STURDY!
2. should be thought provoking (heh gotta sneak education in there)
3. should hold jr's attention (this one is tough considering the redbull-ferret on meth thing)
4. must be STURDY!
5. ideally should be low (er) cost.. (that leaves out that slightly used surplus tank)
6. should not be inherently dangerous to most higher life forms. (NO DARYL you CAN'T get him a remote controlled helicopter)
7. must be STURDY! (sense a pattern yet?)
8. absolutely must be dishwasher safe (cmon i dare ya, tell me ya aint tossed your kids crap in the dishwasher)
9. should be easy to operate. (damn that shoots down the JR SCIENTIST CLUB build your own space shuttle kit)
looks like kegos again...
.......sigh, yet another year of
"what the hell" (lego in shoe)
"owowowowowo dammmit what was..." (tiny lego under foot in middle of midnight bathroom run)
"NOnoNOnoNO do not stick that there" (said while removing lego from dogs nostril)
"look daddy i made a dog" (HOLLEE SHIT WHATTHEHELL ISTHAT)
and of course..
"GET YOUR LITTLE BUT OVER HERE NOW" (immediately following yet another flying lego experiment)
and ya REALLY were wondering bout the "birthday blues in the title, weren't ya???
i never said he was blue did i?
peace
-dawg
Sunday, June 15, 2008
If jr aint happy, aint nobody happy,: fathers day 2008
Well it's fathers day, and for the first time in his life jr was actually able to wish me a "happy fathers day. (with a little coaching from mom of course)
jr is sick at the moment with a little summer cold. and his overall demeanor has changed from bright and sunny (daemonic glee) to unhappy and apathetic (the neighbor shot and ate my dog!, but i don't care). and as is the natural way of things, he is determined to share his misery with all of us!
so our little redbull fueled ferret has degenerated into a badger with hemmerhoids.
me: xavier, are you hungry?
x: NO! hack hack cough cough (kicks the dog and flops to the ground)
me: xavier, do you want to watch a movie?
x: cough hack cough, NO!
me: xavier, do you want to take a nap?
x: cough, NO I DONT WANT TO NAP!!! hack hack
me: well? what do you want???
x: I WANT TREATS! cake! pleeease!
me: no xavier you cant have cake
x: WHIIINNNE, SNIFF SNIFFF aaaaahhhhhggghhhh!
mom: xavier, tell daddy happy fathers day
x:hack sniiffle cough happy fathers day cough sniff dadee.. hack hack!
me: here you can have a piece of cake!
ARGGHH HE DID IT AGAIN!
i am sooo whipped
peace
-dawg
jr is sick at the moment with a little summer cold. and his overall demeanor has changed from bright and sunny (daemonic glee) to unhappy and apathetic (the neighbor shot and ate my dog!, but i don't care). and as is the natural way of things, he is determined to share his misery with all of us!
so our little redbull fueled ferret has degenerated into a badger with hemmerhoids.
me: xavier, are you hungry?
x: NO! hack hack cough cough (kicks the dog and flops to the ground)
me: xavier, do you want to watch a movie?
x: cough hack cough, NO!
me: xavier, do you want to take a nap?
x: cough, NO I DONT WANT TO NAP!!! hack hack
me: well? what do you want???
x: I WANT TREATS! cake! pleeease!
me: no xavier you cant have cake
x: WHIIINNNE, SNIFF SNIFFF aaaaahhhhhggghhhh!
mom: xavier, tell daddy happy fathers day
x:hack sniiffle cough happy fathers day cough sniff dadee.. hack hack!
me: here you can have a piece of cake!
ARGGHH HE DID IT AGAIN!
i am sooo whipped
peace
-dawg
Sunday, June 8, 2008
The newest olympic sport: PACKING!
anyone who has ever moved has experienced the unmitigated hell that is packing for the move!
.....BUT, you until you add a 4 yr old to the mix of stress and boxes, only then can you truly understand "the inferno" as described by dante!
first off, we are buying a house (our first home) and even through all the whining this is truly a blessing. (now that the disclaimer is out of the way, ... back to the rant)
5 years ago the wife and i were in real bad shape financially, living in a pay by the week trailer, and selling our frigging BOOKS to make ends meet. i mean not ramen poor... but generic baloney and outlet store bread poor!
fast forward to 2008!
when we moved into our apartment 4 1/2 years ago we moved pretty much everything in the backseat of a 1981 monte carlo. today as im apacking our stuff in preparation for the upcoming move, it finally struck me how much STUFF we have accumulated in the last 4 years.
and seriously folks, i don't want to go into how much of it is USELESS CRAP that i never even look at, let alone use!
i opened the bedroom closet to get stuff out of there and pack it up, and got smakced in the face by a newspaper from 2004! i found clothes that i forgot i have have never worn (and seeing as that was 3-4 belt notches ago, probably never will wear em).
jr's closet.... well lets just say i found where the legions of plastic straws have been going!
so i'm packing all my books up in my bedroom (quite oblivious to the world) and all of a sudden this cold chill grips my spine. so i go out to the hallway to see what exactly has gotten my "spidey sense" tingling, and what do i see?
the last 45 minutes or so worth of paperbacks that i have been packing away neatly into boxes, have magically re-formed into a fortress blocking the hallway.
this thing is so solid, i could probably patrol the ramparts myself... 2 feet thick and 3 /12 feet high.
jr stands back... puts one hand on his hip, thrust the other hand towards me palm upwards (with a sweeping wave towards his bastion of solitude) and says "LOOK DADDY" "MY CASTLE"
45 minutes worth of work demolished and rebuilt in 5 minutes........ anyone need a general contractor? the mutant works cheap and fast!
.....BUT, you until you add a 4 yr old to the mix of stress and boxes, only then can you truly understand "the inferno" as described by dante!
first off, we are buying a house (our first home) and even through all the whining this is truly a blessing. (now that the disclaimer is out of the way, ... back to the rant)
5 years ago the wife and i were in real bad shape financially, living in a pay by the week trailer, and selling our frigging BOOKS to make ends meet. i mean not ramen poor... but generic baloney and outlet store bread poor!
fast forward to 2008!
when we moved into our apartment 4 1/2 years ago we moved pretty much everything in the backseat of a 1981 monte carlo. today as im apacking our stuff in preparation for the upcoming move, it finally struck me how much STUFF we have accumulated in the last 4 years.
and seriously folks, i don't want to go into how much of it is USELESS CRAP that i never even look at, let alone use!
i opened the bedroom closet to get stuff out of there and pack it up, and got smakced in the face by a newspaper from 2004! i found clothes that i forgot i have have never worn (and seeing as that was 3-4 belt notches ago, probably never will wear em).
jr's closet.... well lets just say i found where the legions of plastic straws have been going!
so i'm packing all my books up in my bedroom (quite oblivious to the world) and all of a sudden this cold chill grips my spine. so i go out to the hallway to see what exactly has gotten my "spidey sense" tingling, and what do i see?
the last 45 minutes or so worth of paperbacks that i have been packing away neatly into boxes, have magically re-formed into a fortress blocking the hallway.
this thing is so solid, i could probably patrol the ramparts myself... 2 feet thick and 3 /12 feet high.
jr stands back... puts one hand on his hip, thrust the other hand towards me palm upwards (with a sweeping wave towards his bastion of solitude) and says "LOOK DADDY" "MY CASTLE"
45 minutes worth of work demolished and rebuilt in 5 minutes........ anyone need a general contractor? the mutant works cheap and fast!
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
I have had an epiphany, WoW!
***SPOILER*** (this is NOT about the mutant nor the lump)
i very rarely write about myself, so this is kind of out of the norm for me.
TWO things to note about the "dawg"
1. i am utterly and hopelessly addicted to World Of Warcraft
2. as previously mentioned i am a bit of a procrastinator (hell with that, i am just plain lazy).
i have had a bit of an epiphany: i can work on my procrastination vis a vis the blog, by taking the regular tuesday WoW downtime to write a bit (and therefore generate regular post's)
a couple of thougts reagrding the WoW tv commercials.. and the various stars in them..
Vern Troyer: which came first? the "vern" or the world dominating gnome warlock??
i mean seriously look at them, vern's avatar freaking looks JUST like him. holy hell, if i saw MINI ME walking towards me shooting shadowy bolts of death, i'd run like hell, wouldn't you? ohh and wouldnt it be cool if his succubus just kinda carried him around? (like some kinda demonic baby)
William Shatner: DUDE,.... i would,...... so party,....... with william shatner! (nuffsaid)
Mr T: mohawk class???? i havejust 2 words for mr t's steroid riddled vision of his "mohawk class"
CHUCK NORRIS.
-peace
dawg
i very rarely write about myself, so this is kind of out of the norm for me.
TWO things to note about the "dawg"
1. i am utterly and hopelessly addicted to World Of Warcraft
2. as previously mentioned i am a bit of a procrastinator (hell with that, i am just plain lazy).
i have had a bit of an epiphany: i can work on my procrastination vis a vis the blog, by taking the regular tuesday WoW downtime to write a bit (and therefore generate regular post's)
a couple of thougts reagrding the WoW tv commercials.. and the various stars in them..
Vern Troyer: which came first? the "vern" or the world dominating gnome warlock??
i mean seriously look at them, vern's avatar freaking looks JUST like him. holy hell, if i saw MINI ME walking towards me shooting shadowy bolts of death, i'd run like hell, wouldn't you? ohh and wouldnt it be cool if his succubus just kinda carried him around? (like some kinda demonic baby)
William Shatner: DUDE,.... i would,...... so party,....... with william shatner! (nuffsaid)
Mr T: mohawk class???? i havejust 2 words for mr t's steroid riddled vision of his "mohawk class"
CHUCK NORRIS.
-peace
dawg
Riding off into the sunset.
The lazy blue lump is getting kind of old, and she is expanding as well! it is fairly normal for blue heeler's to get, well..... fat, as they get older. but i think mollie is attempting to take her expansion to a completely new level. just the other day i came to the realization that the lump had rounded out so nicely, that she can no longer reach around to bite her own butt. heck she just kinda lays there straining and groaning as she valiantly tries to reach some imagined itch. and after unsuccessfully trying for a while she sort of snorts and looks at me as if to say "hey ya lazy ass, why don't ya give an ole girl a hand?"
one unforseen side effect of her porcine transformation, is that her back has become rather flat as well.. imagine the mix of horror and absolute hilarity when glancing out the corner of my eye i see the mutants upper body (behind the couch) just sedately GLIDING along (no bounce, no roll just a magnificent grin and smooth linear motion). as this new apparition shocks me into stunned silence, he rounds the corner and i see that he is RIDING THE DAMN DOG!!
i mean he has lost his ever lovin little mind, he just saddled her up and decised to go for a ride. whats more, the long suffering lump actually looks like she is enjoying this whole affair. well that is all up to the moment he takes his riding crop (10inch section of wooden train track) and whaps her upside the butt. the lumps' reaction? well she lets out a howl of pain, fixes me with a look that says "HOLY CRAP THAT HURT" and bolts for greener pastures (uncermoniously dumping jr off in the process)
i don't think either of em will forgive me for my reaction.. i laughed so hard that i shot coke out my nose and damn near choked to death.
maybe it's time to get a bridle and saddle and work some of that excess off her.... naah!
peace
-dawg
one unforseen side effect of her porcine transformation, is that her back has become rather flat as well.. imagine the mix of horror and absolute hilarity when glancing out the corner of my eye i see the mutants upper body (behind the couch) just sedately GLIDING along (no bounce, no roll just a magnificent grin and smooth linear motion). as this new apparition shocks me into stunned silence, he rounds the corner and i see that he is RIDING THE DAMN DOG!!
i mean he has lost his ever lovin little mind, he just saddled her up and decised to go for a ride. whats more, the long suffering lump actually looks like she is enjoying this whole affair. well that is all up to the moment he takes his riding crop (10inch section of wooden train track) and whaps her upside the butt. the lumps' reaction? well she lets out a howl of pain, fixes me with a look that says "HOLY CRAP THAT HURT" and bolts for greener pastures (uncermoniously dumping jr off in the process)
i don't think either of em will forgive me for my reaction.. i laughed so hard that i shot coke out my nose and damn near choked to death.
maybe it's time to get a bridle and saddle and work some of that excess off her.... naah!
peace
-dawg
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Cowboys and indiana jones's
It truly is amazing how much the mind of a 4 yr old can suck up, and how strange, yet facile it can be as well.
IN the fever surrounding the upcoming 4th installment of the indiana jones series, i decided in a nod to nostalgia to add the first 3 movies to my library. to no ones surprise, jr friggin went through the ROOF when he watched them.. imagine the red bull-infused ferret (jr) alternately standing on the couch screaming at the top of his lungs "RUN MAN......RUN!!!!" whilst indy makes his mad dash for freedom from the crushing ball of doom and then sitting enraptured, quietly for 20 minutes at a time. later jr grabs one of his wooden train tracks (and holds it like an automatic rifle) starts goin "pow pow POW pow" ...." take that! i'll save you cowboy" as jr "shoots" at the bad guys once again try to capture/kill indy.
it seems like i hear the phrase "cowboy movie daddy...PLEASEEEEEE!" at least 3 times daily or more.. jr apparently idintifies indy by his hat, and has come to the conclusion that indy is in fact a COWBOY! where the hell he learned that "cowboys" are the stereotypical hat wearing rough and tumble heroes of the american psyche, i don't know... but ask yourself... if you saw indy for the first time, and didh't know what he was... wouldn't you think he migh tbe a cowboy too?
i really thought a little male heroism would be a good thing, until the other day when it smacked me in the face (literally) that this might be in fact a VERY BAD THING.
so there i am sitting on the couch blissfully absorbed in a good book, mom is stuck on the electronic nipple, and jr... well he's busy shooting nazi's (idyllic scene huh)!
little did we know that this was actually a cataclysm in the making.
SMAAACK! one of my wifes skechers brand boots (with the 2 inch thick rubber soles) whaps me upside the head with the force of a-rod trying to loft one into the next century.
i whip around knowing exactly who is responsible for this assault on me, just in time to see jr LEAP...(i mean he damn well jumped 4 feet down the hall from the top of the couch, like a spider monkey going for the next tree) all the while screaming at the top of his lungs "i'm sSSSOOOORRREEEE daddy" (god in heaven the survival instincts this kid has)
by the time i stagger to his room (a bit groggily, that freakin hurt) where he has retreated to, and is now ensconsed behind a veritable minefield of toys and toyboxes, (no doubt put there to slow down my inevitable approach) jr suddenly whips out his little stuffed dragon and says (with tears brimming inn his little eyes) " sorry dayddy here dragon gonna kiss it and make it better"
WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU DO WITH THAT!!!!! i mean i really can't whup the heck outta him.. he really is sorry, and it really was an accident....
defeated i stumble back to the living room i rub my head (and wounded ego) and look to see what had happened. jr ever so helpfully comes up to the shoe (now laying on the ground after clubbing the sense outta me) grabs one of the shoelaces and hefts this thing off the ground and says "look daddy, my whip"
DAMN YOU TO HELL INDY!
peace
-dawg
IN the fever surrounding the upcoming 4th installment of the indiana jones series, i decided in a nod to nostalgia to add the first 3 movies to my library. to no ones surprise, jr friggin went through the ROOF when he watched them.. imagine the red bull-infused ferret (jr) alternately standing on the couch screaming at the top of his lungs "RUN MAN......RUN!!!!" whilst indy makes his mad dash for freedom from the crushing ball of doom and then sitting enraptured, quietly for 20 minutes at a time. later jr grabs one of his wooden train tracks (and holds it like an automatic rifle) starts goin "pow pow POW pow" ...." take that! i'll save you cowboy" as jr "shoots" at the bad guys once again try to capture/kill indy.
it seems like i hear the phrase "cowboy movie daddy...PLEASEEEEEE!" at least 3 times daily or more.. jr apparently idintifies indy by his hat, and has come to the conclusion that indy is in fact a COWBOY! where the hell he learned that "cowboys" are the stereotypical hat wearing rough and tumble heroes of the american psyche, i don't know... but ask yourself... if you saw indy for the first time, and didh't know what he was... wouldn't you think he migh tbe a cowboy too?
i really thought a little male heroism would be a good thing, until the other day when it smacked me in the face (literally) that this might be in fact a VERY BAD THING.
so there i am sitting on the couch blissfully absorbed in a good book, mom is stuck on the electronic nipple, and jr... well he's busy shooting nazi's (idyllic scene huh)!
little did we know that this was actually a cataclysm in the making.
SMAAACK! one of my wifes skechers brand boots (with the 2 inch thick rubber soles) whaps me upside the head with the force of a-rod trying to loft one into the next century.
i whip around knowing exactly who is responsible for this assault on me, just in time to see jr LEAP...(i mean he damn well jumped 4 feet down the hall from the top of the couch, like a spider monkey going for the next tree) all the while screaming at the top of his lungs "i'm sSSSOOOORRREEEE daddy" (god in heaven the survival instincts this kid has)
by the time i stagger to his room (a bit groggily, that freakin hurt) where he has retreated to, and is now ensconsed behind a veritable minefield of toys and toyboxes, (no doubt put there to slow down my inevitable approach) jr suddenly whips out his little stuffed dragon and says (with tears brimming inn his little eyes) " sorry dayddy here dragon gonna kiss it and make it better"
WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU DO WITH THAT!!!!! i mean i really can't whup the heck outta him.. he really is sorry, and it really was an accident....
defeated i stumble back to the living room i rub my head (and wounded ego) and look to see what had happened. jr ever so helpfully comes up to the shoe (now laying on the ground after clubbing the sense outta me) grabs one of the shoelaces and hefts this thing off the ground and says "look daddy, my whip"
DAMN YOU TO HELL INDY!
peace
-dawg
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
mushroom soup and pb&j's
the sound currently assaulting my ears at decibel levels that would shame a fighter jet on full afterburn, and has finally pulled me away from the elctronic nipple.
for a long time i assumed that i was the most stubborn creature on earth. now i have to admit i have truly met my match. after 10 minutes of the aforementioned audio assault, i have finally caved in to jr's demands.
it is truly hard to describe what ten minutes of "SOUP DADDY...... I WANT SOUP!!!!" repeated over and over in a mind numbing mantra can do to your concentration (let alone what it does to your patience).
so grudgingly i un-plug my butt from WoW, and head to the kitchen to make soup.
easy task, right? I THINK NOT! you see i am incapable of just making something straight out of the can/box/package. as a trained chef, i just can't not improve!
so while i am in the kitchen improving the cream of mushroom soup (add heavy cream, bacon bits and bay leaf) jr sneaks up behind me and screams "PEANUT BUTTER JELLY SAMMICH..... NO CRUST.... PLLLEEEEAAAASSSEEEEE!!!!! DADDY"
rotten little culinary critic doesnt seem to want the soup anymore.... i mean what the hell is this all about...... little sucker has been screaming for soup like he's a half starved squirrel on redbull for the last 15 minutes, and NOW he wants to change the order mid stream???
i'm sorry sir, your soup is coming out now, if you still want the pb&j i can make you one when you finish your soup.
"ok' jr says , his shoulders slump as he sighs and dejectedly shuffles to his tv table. and as i set the soup in front of him he sort of scowls/pouts and (i kid you not, MUTTERS under his breath) says" i don't want soup."
i fix him with my hard assed daddy glare (actully work about 25% of the time) and say you better eat your soup or your'e gonna be hungry, he responds quite simply, through gritted teeth he says ooooKKKK. as i walk away i swear i hear him mutter agaiin "no soup"
approximately 35-40 seconds later as i have just walked backed into the kitchen i hear "MORE SOUP PLEASE" i look out at him as he waves a bowl that is so clean he has licked the painted flowers off the rim.
wtf, does he just enjoy yanking my chain.. ahh well fickle is the epicurean critique.
peace
-DAWG
for a long time i assumed that i was the most stubborn creature on earth. now i have to admit i have truly met my match. after 10 minutes of the aforementioned audio assault, i have finally caved in to jr's demands.
it is truly hard to describe what ten minutes of "SOUP DADDY...... I WANT SOUP!!!!" repeated over and over in a mind numbing mantra can do to your concentration (let alone what it does to your patience).
so grudgingly i un-plug my butt from WoW, and head to the kitchen to make soup.
easy task, right? I THINK NOT! you see i am incapable of just making something straight out of the can/box/package. as a trained chef, i just can't not improve!
so while i am in the kitchen improving the cream of mushroom soup (add heavy cream, bacon bits and bay leaf) jr sneaks up behind me and screams "PEANUT BUTTER JELLY SAMMICH..... NO CRUST.... PLLLEEEEAAAASSSEEEEE!!!!! DADDY"
rotten little culinary critic doesnt seem to want the soup anymore.... i mean what the hell is this all about...... little sucker has been screaming for soup like he's a half starved squirrel on redbull for the last 15 minutes, and NOW he wants to change the order mid stream???
i'm sorry sir, your soup is coming out now, if you still want the pb&j i can make you one when you finish your soup.
"ok' jr says , his shoulders slump as he sighs and dejectedly shuffles to his tv table. and as i set the soup in front of him he sort of scowls/pouts and (i kid you not, MUTTERS under his breath) says" i don't want soup."
i fix him with my hard assed daddy glare (actully work about 25% of the time) and say you better eat your soup or your'e gonna be hungry, he responds quite simply, through gritted teeth he says ooooKKKK. as i walk away i swear i hear him mutter agaiin "no soup"
approximately 35-40 seconds later as i have just walked backed into the kitchen i hear "MORE SOUP PLEASE" i look out at him as he waves a bowl that is so clean he has licked the painted flowers off the rim.
wtf, does he just enjoy yanking my chain.. ahh well fickle is the epicurean critique.
peace
-DAWG
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Sunday, January 13, 2008
how old am i ........REALLY??
i recently checked out a website that purports yo calculate your "REAL AGE" based upon your actual chronological age and then modofied by varying factors in your life such as health environment stress... etc...
my actual age 35.2
according to them 46.7
now i did this test twice and ommitted certain stress and environmental factors (the mutant factor)
and i got this result age = 35.5!!!
apparently for each year jr has been alive i have aged an extra 2 years at the same time..
somehow, that seems really really plausible.
now if this whole thing is true and dog years equal 7 years per human year, the lump should be 49 years old,, but factoring in the 3 for one deal over the last three years she is ACTUALLY 91 years old. (that really explaind why she can't hear shit, and lays broccoli farts down on a regular basis)
just thought ya'll might find that funny....... according to those folks, i'll probably survive just long enought to put jr through college (after which i will be of no further use anyhow) and the poor damn dog......... welll she should last another week or two.
peace
-dawg
my actual age 35.2
according to them 46.7
now i did this test twice and ommitted certain stress and environmental factors (the mutant factor)
and i got this result age = 35.5!!!
apparently for each year jr has been alive i have aged an extra 2 years at the same time..
somehow, that seems really really plausible.
now if this whole thing is true and dog years equal 7 years per human year, the lump should be 49 years old,, but factoring in the 3 for one deal over the last three years she is ACTUALLY 91 years old. (that really explaind why she can't hear shit, and lays broccoli farts down on a regular basis)
just thought ya'll might find that funny....... according to those folks, i'll probably survive just long enought to put jr through college (after which i will be of no further use anyhow) and the poor damn dog......... welll she should last another week or two.
peace
-dawg
New years resolution
it seems that i, like millions of others decide that at the beginning of each new year to set laudable yet often lofty goals to live by for the coming year.
in the past i have tried many different masochistic goals, such as
"to quit smoking and take up squirrel hunting instead" (lasted exactly 5 days, and all i manged to do was decimate the seed-stealing lawn rat population for the surrounding 3 counties"
"give up caffeine" (i don't even want to speak of this one..... ultimate idiocy)
"exercise more" (does switching to a trackball from a mouse count??)
"eat healthier" (well i kinda did this one..... i now deep fry my cheesecake in peanut oil)
"spend more time with the wife" ( bought her a computer and got HER hooked on ddo)
sooooo... THIS year i wanted to try something a bit more achievable...
NEW YEARS RESOLUTION 2008. "to procrastinate more"
hmmm 12 days late on a new years post....... looks like this one will work out just fine!
peace
-dawg
in the past i have tried many different masochistic goals, such as
"to quit smoking and take up squirrel hunting instead" (lasted exactly 5 days, and all i manged to do was decimate the seed-stealing lawn rat population for the surrounding 3 counties"
"give up caffeine" (i don't even want to speak of this one..... ultimate idiocy)
"exercise more" (does switching to a trackball from a mouse count??)
"eat healthier" (well i kinda did this one..... i now deep fry my cheesecake in peanut oil)
"spend more time with the wife" ( bought her a computer and got HER hooked on ddo)
sooooo... THIS year i wanted to try something a bit more achievable...
NEW YEARS RESOLUTION 2008. "to procrastinate more"
hmmm 12 days late on a new years post....... looks like this one will work out just fine!
peace
-dawg
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
