Showing posts with label dogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dogs. Show all posts

Wednesday, 11 December 2013

And then I Pee Stalked the Dog...

Christmas is either a Rip-off
or Elves might be really Scary

Two words: hearing issues. This is the cause of much entertainment and distress in our house lately. Although I am mega-glad it's no longer just me with the issues (at least those issues).
We're seated at dinner when Reece asks me "What's a conman?"
"It's a crook," I answer.
"It's a Santa," Kaelan tells him at the SAME TIME.
Now I'm laughing my ass off and imagining somebody getting less in his stocking for that comment.
"She said a conman was an Orc," Reece corrects his brother.
"Did he just say Santa was an Orc?" I ask my Mom, completely baffled - yet wildly amused (and totally screwed for presents by laughing at this).
Oh my God, we all need to clean our ears.

True Love

My oldest son has been sick with croup so I've been driving Reece to school rather than have him walk all by his lonely self. Reece is just about ready when we decide on this.
"I guess I have to go put on pants then," I tell him.
"Yeah," he says all serious, like I'm going to go driving him in the snow in my jammies and a robe.
"THAT'S true love, Reece - putting on pants."
Write that shit down, that's gold. True love is putting on pants...

Gender Confused Reindeer
get Cold Feet, too

I love the Christmas movie Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. I know it's old, but it's one of the best Christmas shows of ALL TIME. Being a Rudolph addict, we have Bumbles, Yukon Cornelius, and Rudolph's around the house to Christmasify the place. We play the reindeer games, yo.
I bought a great big Rudolph and Kaelan loves him! He takes him on drives, to bed, around the house. He's no misfit here.
"Hey Mommy, come see this," Kaelan calls me from downstairs while I'm making breakfast one morning.
All the giggling has me wondering, not to mention apprehensive.
"What is it?" I ask as I lean waaaay around the corner.
"Look! Reindeers need slippers," he informs me.
"Wow! That's fantastic!"
"Now she won't get cold feet," he says.
"I bet she won't. I love it!"
"Rudolph loves slippers, too."
I had NO idea...that reindeer got cold feet or that Rudolph was a girl.

New Emoticons may Simplify Life

Sometimes your buds ask you how you're doing...and maybe they shouldn't. They'd have regrets - or sore ribs from laughing at you.

And then I Pee Stalked the Dog

I have reached an entirely new level of creepy, but it was for a GOOD CAUSE (although that's probably what they all say in court).
My Mom was concerned something was wrong with one of our dogs due to a reddish piddle on the floor.
Then she went to the city for the day.
So I went out in the SNOW and PEE STALK the dogs when they went potty (to see who was the "Red Piddler", not for giggles) - and they stared at me all judgemental-like.
The next day she admits that the spot was only spilled fruit juice from one of my I was the pee stalker for NOTHING.
And then I poured fruit juice on her - in my head.

Monday, 23 September 2013

Just call me ass floss and I won't remember anyway

How do I get Into Compromising Situations with Turkey Asses?


You're never going to believe was ANOTHER freaky fucking turkey. However, this time I took photographic evidence. Smart? Maybe... (That totally depends upon your definition.)
We decided to barbecue a turkey in an outdoor pit for the first time. I unwrap the turkey and WALLA - I start to laugh my ass off as I spot the turkey cuff/IUD-from-Hell. Unfortunately this alerts my youngest son who comes to investigate.
By the time he gets to the kitchen I had popped the plastic cuffs off the miscreant's legs and was still yanking on the evil IUD. THEN I get the brilliant idea to take a picture.
"What are you doing?" asks Reece.
"Taking pictures."
"Why?" he asks SO reasonably.
"Because nobody is going to believe me," I explain.
"But why are you taking pictures of a turkey bum?"
Boy, you'd think I was creepy or something.
"Who doesn't love a turkey bum?" I reply, after all - who can argue with that?
Turns out - nobody can.
Also turns out I realize THAT must be the line they use to convince some idiot to take the job of jamming these things up turkey cooters all-the-live-long-day.
So now I'm back to yanking on this plastic IUD-from-Hell and my son is watching me (which is SO WRONG by the way, I felt judged). It is SEVERELY stuck.
"What is that?" he asks.
"I honestly don't know," is all I can tell him as I'm giggling away. Something is SO wrong with me that I find this hilarious.
Finally it pops out and Reece is AMAZED.
"Is that a bone?" he asks.
"No, it's not a bone."
"It's got to be a rib," he tells me.
"No! It's plastic," I tell him as I snap a picture.
"Why are you taking pictures of it? It's a weird bone, isn't it?" and he looks concerned.
"It's definitely not a bone. Don't you have to go play?" I beg and laugh at the same time.
"You're going to stuff it now. You're laughing, it must be fun."
"Well, like I said - who doesn't like stuffing things in a turkey bum," I tell him (and totally another PR Turkey line).
Oh my God...what the Hell is wrong with me? Anyways, here's the hard earned evidence:

How Annoying did You Say?

Kaelan has always had an interesting way of naming things. We went through some fish named Fish and Little Fish. Stuffed bats named Black Bat... What's in a name? EXACTLY what you are.
Kaelan's sister recently went to the Fair where she won him a nice, flappy bee. He was very excited (Kaelan...not the bee) and all set to name him.
"Guess what my stuffies name is," Kaelan says to me.
"Mister Bee?" I guess.
"It's Annoying Bee," he informs me.
Wow, how appropriate on TWO levels. One: he screams like a Banshee at bees. Two: this very second I was getting a flap-attack from Annoying Bee in the face.
"Mister Bee is his middle name," he tells me.

Ass Floss is Not a Food Group

There are so many things in my life I did not think I would ever say. This is one of them.

"I can't believe you're chewing on that lion's ass," I say to the dog.
"She's chewed a hole in it," my Mom tells me (probably also something SHE never thought she'd say).
"That's disturbing... There's a hole in your aaa-SSS dear Lizaaa!" I sing (as opposed to There's a Hole in Your Bucket for any of you old enough to remember that one).
"She uses it like dental floss," my Mom explains.
"I wouldn't want to use ass floss."
At this point my Mother almost sprayed me with coffee, looks me in the eye and says "Well, you wear ass floss."
"At least I don't eat it."

Just Call me Frieda

I just might be the most oblivious person on the entire planet. How's that for an intro?
Both of my son's have the same senior Behavioral Therapist. She left a voicemail on my cell phone today. On the drive home from the city I realized I have been calling her by the WRONG freaking name...for quite some time. And by saying I "realized it" I should actually say her secretary corrected me when I called her back today to return her call.
And it FINALLY sank in.
THEN I realized the Behavioral Therapist has been using her voodoo powers on me, not-so-effectively. Let me explain. Behavior Therapists help with social skills and guide subtly with PROMPTS.
She sends me e-mails:
To Terry:
This is Deena, blah blah...
Thanks so much, see you soon!
Then I respond:
To Dianne:
That'd be great! Thanks!
Or she phones: "Hi Terry, this is Deena..." And I respond: "Thanks Dianne!"
She stops by to see my sons and I INTRODUCE her to everyone around! So she keeps leaving me her business card (and I just thought she was all remindy with her number) "In case you need to get a hold of me."
Holy shit am I slow. Maybe she should've done it back to me. When I called her Dianne she could've called me Frieda. It could've been fun! And less subtle.
It could even be like a social skill game of pretend - we could even dress up. But since she has the nicer hair and tan - I get the crown. Especially since I'm the Queen of Oblivious.

Friday, 21 December 2012

Digging for Brains... - Doggie Dealership

Digging for Brains...

Coming up Short

Sooo, I went for my haircut. Yay!
I arrive at the hairdresser's and I wait...and wait...and wait...
I have been seeing the same hairdresser since there were VHS tapes (WOW - I totally just dated myself...age-wise, not like I really want to take myself for a candle-lit dinner).
Apparently she didn't recognize me: "I didn't realize you were here! I didn't recognize you with all that hair!" (And I picture in my head I became some freakish Cousin It, FRIGHTENING!)
I'm led to the chair (not the electric one - even if it is nearing the "End of Days: Mayan Style") and we decide to get rid of my hair cloak.
"If we're going to color, we won't need this!" She gathers my hair in a bunch in the back and WHACK - off a bundle goes on the floor. I start to laugh - a bit hysterically.
Then it's color time! I'm going Kick Your Ass Red (that's not the official name, but it should be). My hairdresser is teaching another girl as she works on my hair.
"Normally we add something to tone down the color when the hair is light like this so it doesn't go bright, but we're not going to do that here," she explains.
"That's right," I say. "Because we're not about subtle."
The girl looks a little surprised...not to mention nervous. I suppose she's not used to unstable customers being sassy.
The color goes on and starts to look like bloody red goop ALL OVER my head. I can't help it, I'm laughing. The stylists look at me - understandably concerned.
"You look like zombies on a hunt for brains with blood all over your hands," I explain as I'm giggling away. A little inappropriate I suppose considering it's MY head I'm imagining they're digging in.
They look down at their gooey, red gloves and my messy scalp with raised eyebrows.
"And I'm a little concerned you're going to be terribly disappointed."

If You're Going to Hate Me, Dog...

I have the best behaved dog in the world, and she hates me.
Daisy hardly ever barks, doesn't whiz in the house, you can literally eat with food in your lap and she'll lay beside you and turn her head away...
But there is NO FUN in her world! Oh, I've tried to get her to play - but I think it's against her religion. She's a Nofunitarian. And she takes it VERY seriously. I've tried to lead her into temptation with balls, ropes, chewies, stuffed toys... I even tried to BRIBE her into playing with CHEESE.
WOW... Sounds like the old "had to tie a pork chop around your neck to get the dog to play with you" story...
I'm pretty sure she's not really a dog. She might be a stuffie...or a robot. Or maybe I wrecked her.
I tell her I'm going to trade up. Maybe there's a dog dealership somewhere.
"One Chihuahua, slightly used, excellent condition, small mental issues..."

On a Side Note...

My oldest son says he wants false teeth so he can bounce them on the deck... I have QUESTIONS.
1. Do they make them out of rubber?
2. Do you use the 5-second rule?
3. Can the Tooth Fairy afford this?
4. What do you EAT when you have rubber teeth?
5. What kind of sound does your mouth make when you HAVE rubber teeth? Like squeaky shoes in the hallway? Or boing boing?
...And I have officially considered it WAY too long.