VeryContrary

Cloud:  My laptop is in critical condition. Apparently it needs a new hard drive, so I now I have to wait for some poor family to lose their laptop so that my laptop may live.  It’s just all so sad.

Silver Lining:  The extra desktop computer we have works just fine (except for no flash thingie) so except for Youtube, I can still do all my favorite online stuff while we wait for an organ donor.

Cloud:  Last night, Little Man’s t-ball team was demolished by a team called The Chaserz.   With a fucking Z. I blame the parentz.  Fuckerz.

Silver lining:  We get another chance at victory tonight.  Hopefully we’ll be playing the Fluffy Bunniez or the Throw Like a Girlz.

Cloud:  We is some broke mofos this week.

Silver lining:  Tomorrow is another day and so far no one’s been forced to root for turnips in the garden.  Which is good, because we don’t have a garden and if we did, we damn sure wouldn’t be planting turnips.

Cloud:  I’m pretty sure I’m experiencing the most drawn out weepy case of PMS the world has ever seen.

Silver lining:  What fucking silver lining?  There is NO silver lining and you can kiss my ass if you think there might be.   (Pray for my family y’all.)

How’s your week going?

Little man has an awful spring cold (after having made it through winter without so much as a case of the sniffles.

The other night, he started coughing something fierce at about 10:30 and his Dad went to give him some medicine.  I handed him my water glass as he passed by so that Pooter could have a sip of something to wash the taste of the medicine out of his mouth.

Pookie goes to give him the medicine and it’s, ‘But it’s red! What if it gets on my sheets?’

After he takes the medicine and Pookie offers him a drink, it’s ‘But it’s a glass! Made of glass!  What if it breaks?’

Little did he know that I was in the living room worrying about those VERY SAME THINGS.

Also, I accidently made my kid scared of bugs.  To a fairly unreasonable degree.   So now I’m trying to be braver about bugs so I can set a better example

(although, I was a grooming a dog the other day and it’s (male) owner was helping me when I noticed a bumblebee flitting about and I informed my customer that I was not going to be able to finish his dog if that CREATURE was in the room.  Don’t tell PETA, but he didn’t exactly catch the bee gently and give it a little air kiss as it flew off outside.)

Pooter’s getting better though.  Yesterday, he was watching some ants do their thing and did not freak the fuck out that an ANT MIGHT BITE ME, AGGGHHHH.

Then today, he actually brought me a bug and a caterpillar to see.  Sadly only one of them made it to me alive.  Sorry, little generic squashed bug.  As you were the first bug he ever voluntarily touched, he did not know his own strength.  Please know that you gave your life for a noble cause, namely; my kid not getting his ass kicked by other kids for being a wuss.

I’m happy to note that the caterpillar is alive and intact.  Maybe a little annoyed and disheveled, but alive!

Here’s to progress!  Maybe I won’t have to actually touch a bug myself to help him get over it.   That would be awesome.

See that kid there?   His team won a game for the first time tonight.   11-5.  He himself did an awesome job of running the bases, bringing one of his teammates home for a run and scoring a run of his own.  We’re very proud because before this game, his usual method of rounding the bases involved more  ‘meandering’ or  ‘frolicking’ than  actual running.

As you can see, he plays for The Rangers.  The opposing team was The ‘Lil Diggers’.

Yeah, they’re still trying to dig out of that hole we dug for ’em.  Heh.  I iz a good winner!

(also, one of the little fuckers hit me in the head with a ball.)

Still; baseball flung at head < shooting oneself in head = bring on the baseballs, baby!

We celebrated out victory with a visit to DQ, where we consumed many calories and congratulated ourselves heartily.

Recently, we went to our local public library so Little Man could pick up some new reading material (My kid can READ, y’all. Like, really read. Like, better than most 5th graders).

One of the books he picked out was called Your Pet Beaver. Now it sounds a little dirty, but we didn’t notice then because he also picked out Your Pet Bear and there are other animals in the series (camel, elephant, giraffe, etc.)

Then.  THEN.  I read the book to Little Man that night before bed.   Oh my Lord.

Here are some excerpts from Your Pet Beaver by Bobbie Hamsa.

1) “Grooming a beaver is rather fun.”     Ok, so you have to be a bit of a perv to think that’s dirty, but as it turns out, I’m a bit of a perv.

2) “Your beaver will need a big wet place to live.” Still a little innocuous, but it’s getting better.

3) “Your beaver is a lot like you- clean, polite and friendly.” My beaver and I are both boy scouts, apparently.

4)  “You’ll notice your beaver rests all day. And fools around all night. That’s nice. Because if you can’t get to sleep, you’ll have an instant playmate.”   OMG.    At this point, Pookie was literally ROFL.  And I don’t use the word literally figuratively.  The poor man was on the floor, rolling around, laughing.

5)  “Your pet loves exercise.  {redacted boring (not dirty) stuff} And it loves all water sports, especially “Submarine.” It was at this point that my head exploded, which only made Pookie laugh harder.

6)  “Your beaver is eager to make itself useful.  Cracking nuts…repairing fallen plaster…making mud pies…spanking naughty dolls…and shaping hamburgers for Dad.” I’m honestly not sure which imagery disturbs me more, but I think it might be the idea of my beaver shaping hamburgers for Dad.  That just sounds…unsanitary. I think the imagery Pookie might find most disturbing is the idea of my beaver cracking nuts.

Also, Spanking Naughty Dolls would be a good name for a rock band.

This book was published in 1980 and I happen to know that word ‘beaver’ was heavily in use as a synonym for, well…YOU KNOW.   Don’t make me say it for God’s sake. I’ve been talking about beavers this whole time and I don’t think I can say another filthy thing. (EAR SEX!)

Anyway, my point was that at some point, the author of this book must have known what it would sound like.

I’m willing to bet she giggled and snickered and snorted  her way through the whole book.

Just like me. And my pet beaver.

Pookie sent this to me in email and told me that it was going to be a ‘What The Fuck’ moment. Not even a WTF moment, but an all out What The Fuck moment.

I was a little concerned that I was going to get RickRoll’d like all the kids are doing these days, but I have as yet been spared.

Instead, he sent me a video of an Asian Elephant painting a self portrait. You read that right, it’s the Pachyderm Picasso. Except that this elephant can actually paint an elephant and I suspect that if Picasso ever painted an elephant, it’s trunk would be coming out it’s ass or something equally vile. (In case you haven’t figured it out, I don’t really *get* Picasso)

So if you ever wanted to see an elephant paint (and paint well) or if your mind just needs a good blowing (heh), watch this video. Afterwards, go check out her other work and find out more about her, if you’re so inclined.

Don’t you hate it when you’re just minding your own  business, maybe having a little snack, and then all of a sudden you’re dead and some little bastard dog is humping you?   Man, I hate when that happens.

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A forum I frequent is doing something of a blog tour of the members.   The current subject is ‘Weirdest Vacations’, and well, I hate to admit it, but I’ve never been on a weird vacation.

However, Pookie and I are taking a honeymoon/vacation this next week and I have my way, it’s gonna pass weird and head straight on into TMIville.

So maybe I’ll have something to blog about after all!

(Ok, so I just remembered one weird thing from one vacation.   Kentucky ‘s term for a check that has bounced is ‘cold check’.  { I read it on a store’s countertop and asked; I wasn’t bouncing checks in Kentucky. I save that shit for home.  ANYWAY.}   The term for a check that has bounced here in Texas (and everywhere else I’ve lived) is ‘hot check’.   That’s weird, right?   What do they call it where you live?)

Anyway (again), I’m gonna (try to)make a little blogroll comprised only of those who belong to the same forum I do, so y’all keep your eyes peeled (eww) for that.

So.  Ahem.

I wonder if this was on purpose or an accidental wardrobe malfunction ala Janet Jackson.

Her groom seems pleased, if a bit stunned.

A partial list of shit I’ve done since last time I posted:

Paid for Baby Girl to get her tongue pierced.

Held Baby Girl’s hand while she got her tongue pierced.

Found out Baby Girl was one tough Mo-Fo when the first piercing was off-center and had to be redone.

Signed Pooter up for his first year of T-Ball.

Volunteered to an assistant coach for T-Ball team.

Screamed, “No, the other way!!”, 27, 000 times.

Tied shoes 45,000 times.

Confiscated baseball gloves being used to flay skin from teammates’ faces 324 times.

Prayed for rain every Mon and Thurs at 5:30pm. And sometimes Saturdays at 10am.

Only got rain once. Wept for joy.

Went to a festival and did not eat anything on a stick.

Did eat the world’s sloppiest gyro. Enjoyed muchly.

Felt guilty about ignoring blog almost every day.

Managed to get past guilt every time.

Spring cleaning.

And for your visual enjoyment, here is a picture of Pooter and a tiger cub. I’ll let you guess which one is which.

Sorry the picture is so big, but I periodically forget how to resize photos. This is one of those times.

Edited because picture was cut off and Pookie fixed it for me because he’s A Big Stud.

Remember the video with Sara Silverman and Matt Damon?

Well, apparently, it drove Jimmy Kimmel to the brink and, well, it ain’t pretty y’all.

Jimmy Kimmel is fucking Ben Affleck.

I wanted to expound a bit on my ‘Worst Day post, as there were some interesting comments.

Mrs. Chili was surprised that I made dogs my life’s work after that.  Well, the fact is, I was completely infatuated with dogs. Hell, any animal really, but mostly dogs. I still feel that way today.  I will say though, that I am no fan of most arctic breeds (as Pookie said in the comments).  In my not so limited experience, you’re MUCH more likely to get chewed on by a Chow, Husky, Malamute, or even American Eskimo Dog than you are a Pit Bull or Rottweiler.  I will and have worked with these breeds countless times, though.  I just don’t necessarily enjoy the experience or find it relaxing.
Dan said that he doesn’t trust dogs and as much as he loves them, he’ll never have one as a pet.   I absolutely agree that if someone feels this way, they should not get a dog and just try to get over it.  If you don’t trust your dog, your dog can’t trust you and that makes for a bad situation.

Obviously the dog that attacked us was not to be trusted.   I didn’t have the skills to deal with a dog in that mindset.  I’ve aquired those skills in the years since then and my response to such an attack now would not be to stand there and do my best imitation of a Milkbone.   I wish I’d known better how to handle a situation like this so that I could have stopped the attack before he moved on to my little brother.  That was a lesson learned for me and my kids have been brought up handling dogs and would at the same age (I was 12) have handled the same circumstance much better than I did.   Pooter can drag the 120 lb Great Dane around and never suffer anything more tragic than a stomped on toe.   Because I raised both the dog and the kid to act right.

Kizz wanted to know whether it was worse being attacked or watching my little brother be attacked.   Well, I was actually surprised to find out that I had wounds because getting chewed up is pretty painless when it’s happening.  Between the sharpness of the dog’s teeth and the adrenaline, I didn’t really feel it.   Watching the dog attack Andy was much more horrifying because I could actually see the damage being done.

To be truthful though, the absolute worst part of the whole thing was sitting in the ER with Andy, waiting for an OR and trying to pretend like he didn’t look all that bad.  It was my first experience with not looking absolutely fucking terrified so I wouldn’t scare someone else.   It was more difficult than you might imagine.

All in all, I’m over it.   My little brother is over it; in fact, he lives with two big dumb dogs himself.   It was a really bad day, but we’re both still here and he’s not blind.   We’re good.  It’s all good.

He’s still a badass though.