***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
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
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
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