Friday, December 30, 2005
If you were here over the past couple hours or whatever it's been, you know I deleted a post. I changed my mind. But I stand by the "bite my ass" portion.

I am not kissin ass for anybody. Bite me. You don't like what I have to say, how 'bout you kiss my ass? Once on each cheek.
 
posted by Crabby at 8:07 PM | 22 moos from the field
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Ahhhhhhh. The good ole days. Look how calm she is. How little. How normal seeming.

sigh.

That was then.

Dog man came today. He's a big guy. Well over 6 feet, carries a fair amount of poundage, you might even consider him formidable should you meet up with him in an alley some night. Dog man is a mobile groomer. The two smaller dogs are never particularly happy to see him. My dogs prefer to smell like roadkill and have a strong aversion to soap.

Today is Lucy's turn for a bath. (Dog man dreads Lucy's turn with a passion. Something about her knocking over everything in the van when he pulls out the blow dryer.) Now after puppy school (Lucy and I had to cheat to pass that course and get our diploma. But that's another story) the trainer at Petsmart recommended strongly that I get what is called a "gentle leader". The gentle leader is guaranteed to keep any dog healing nicely. Even the most robust of lungers are said to remain under control once the gentle leader is attached. I immediately fetched the thing so dog man could get her to the van and keep both his arms in the sockets. Seeing what I was up to, Lucy decided it was a good time for a game of chase the big retarded, slobbering, tail wagging, dog around the house. Round and round we went living room, dining room, kitchen, over and over. I flipped course and tried to catch her off guard but she took evasive action like a freakin pro. I finally caught her and straddling her like a pony began the lengthy process of getting the gentle leader around her snout and clipped to the back of her neck. I got it on pretty quickly and was patting myself on the back when I realized I only had the top have of her mouth in the damned thing. "Damn it to hell Lucy, keep your big mouth shut will you," I mumbled, straddling her again and struggling to get the thing on right.

I got it on just as dog man came to the door. Hearing the knock at the back door Lucy ran to answer all four feet sliding on the wood floor like a first time skater on the ice. She finally got her sea legs back and bolted just as I opened the door. Damned if she didn't end up plowing right into the poor guy knocking him backwards into the trash can.

They're out there now. In the van. She's happy as a clam and he looks worried.
 
posted by Crabby at 9:13 AM | 40 moos from the field
Wednesday, December 28, 2005

I've been thinking about it. I've thought of the old standards like, "Hey asshole! You're standing on my face." "I could have sworn the light was green." "I just knew I shouldn't have gone out with that ax murderer." yadda yadda yadda. on and on. I must come up with something before I die. Otherwise I'll be stuck with one of those boring born this time, died this time, beloved wife, mother, things. I hate those. No style. After all this this is the very last thing you have to represent you when you can't speak for yourself anymore. We're more than that people! Think about it now. what do you want written there? Do you really want to be one of the millions of beloved born and died dead people? Or do you wanna stand out in a crowd. I personally intend to be a lively dead person. So how about it? What do you want written on your tombstone?
 
posted by Crabby at 12:31 PM | 17 moos from the field
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
I must admit. This commercialized Christmas stuff wasn't all bad this year. For instance there was the annual sister's day out. That's the day that my sister's and I go out for the day and let our hair down. (we're supposed to be Christmas shopping)

This year was particularly nice because we found this lovely specimen to play with. Little sister says he has nice tight muscles in his buttock region. I have no idea how she knows. And wouldn't tell if I did.

The lunch conversation centered around orgasms, much to the middle sister's (also known as "the squirrel") dismay. She gets a little embarrassed occasionally because little sister and I project really well when we speak. Which of course is a nice way of saying we are very loud. But at one point the older lady in the booth behind us leaned over and asked, "Does that really work?" We assured her that the method we were discussing most certainly did work and she said she was going to give it a try. So we actually performed a public service!

During our day out we ran into a lovely gay couple and got some helpful fashion tips. But then little sister had to go and show her ignorance by asking that age old overasked question, which one of you is the, you know, girl partner? Gay guys hate that question. That cost us some valuable time we could have used at the pub. But ..... whatEVER! Ya can't hardly shut her up once she gets started.

I accidentally dropped a valuable ornament in one of those, "you break it. You buy it." La tee da shops. But ....... IT DIDN'T BREAK! Ugly little balled thing for $120 bucks. I don't get it. Who buys that crap? The ladies working in there were very rude and haughty. So we made a point to tell them after they lectured us, "You ladies do realize, don't you, that you are clerks in an over-priced junk shop? Right? I mean, you're not seriously letting this shit go to your head are you?"

After that we hit Harry and David's where they know me cause I always come in for free candy and coffee. They give samples. They always know why I'm there and they don't care. They just hand the stuff over and we have a nice visit. Then the sister's and I moved on to Sharper Image to sit in the massage chairs and get relaxed before we found more food.

Overall it was a good day. We're going again next week.
 
posted by Crabby at 9:36 AM | 5 moos from the field
Thursday, December 22, 2005
This is the waterfall behind our house. Looks inviting, doesn't it. Makes you want to run and get your swimsuit and your blue floaty.

Last year I got so weary of the loooooong gray days in Ohio I was actually sap enough to go buy those light bulbs that are supposed to look like sunshine. They don't. Save your money.

Now I have two buzzards sitting in a tree outside my house. They've been hanging out there for over a week. I gotta tell ya, they're makin me paranoid. Am I sick and somebody forgot to tell me?

And that owl that used to try to fly through the window to get this nasty-mouthed parrot of mine has come back too And yet again he's flying full force into the glass till he knocks himself senseless and just sits there with his head wobbling all around. Then when he gets his feet back under him, he flys back up to the tree, lines himself up, and flys head first into the glass again. Webster (the nasty-mouthed, mean as crap, parrot) just sits on his perch laughing his ass off.
 
posted by Crabby at 9:06 AM | 18 moos from the field
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Unfortunate incident today. Lucy, my dog and best friend has been banned from the bedroom and bathroom forever by the man of the house. Personally I think this was a little harsh.

Here's what happened.

Lucy came in to visit just as big man climbed out of the shower. Now, Lucy had never seen big man without britches on. And as he walked across the bathroom to get to his shaver a certain part of his anatomy began to bounce to and fro. Lucy, being an innocent, fun lovingly canine, found this extremely enticing and decided (I guess) that she'd found a new pull toy. And quick as a bunny she went for it. Well, the high-pitched squeals coming out of that bathroom were just, frankly, embarassing. Big man hollered like a little girl. "Get her! Get her! Get her outa here!" whilst holding both hands protectively over his manhood. I did what anyone would do. I stood there laughing so hard my belly hurt. Somehow this seemed to encourage Lucy to be even more enthusiastic in her pursuit of the new toy. Needles to say, big man was not amused.

Sadly, now Lucy and I are both in the dog house. Some people have no sense of humor. sigh.
 
posted by Crabby at 9:07 AM | 13 moos from the field
Friday, December 16, 2005

Sit down. Cause this is gonna shock you. I actually do go to church. Luckily I have a pastor who is kinda crazy like me. Invite him to football party and he'll bring the beer. Once an older parishoner saw him drinking scotch at a pub and she asked, "Are Pastors allowed to drink?" He responded, "Even Jesus loved his wine." I like the guy. He lets me be me and doesn't try to change anything. But he's still a really good mentor. He studied in Jerusalem and he takes his faith seriously but says, "Hey, we're humans. We get angry. We get crazy. It's ok." Last year for Christmas I gave Pastor Will the Susie Snowflake video I made with my buddy fred. We drank a box of wine, dressed up like snowflakes (fred wore a lovely blonde wig) and got creative. Even threw in a couple of "boom shacka lacka lackas). My better half said, "I don't know if it's appropriate to give Will a movie of you and Fred drunk. (that video also contained a movie of my dog Smilin George humpin his bunny to the tune of "gimme good lovin". But Will loved it. He's still talking about it this year and wants another movie. Like I said, cool guy. That's why he's my pastor. Occasionly though I have driven him to swear. He gets frustrated with me sometimes. (big argument over Angelina Jolie's lips once) I'm not any different in church than I am any where else. So we get into debates about stuff. That whole ark story for instance. I'm sorry, but where'd they put all that poop?

Once at Communion whoever had filled up the wine cups had only filled them like maybe half way. So I tried to go back for seconds on the wine but, see, we're Lutherans. A Lutheran is basically a rebel Catholic. We do a Catholic service but threw out all the stuff we didn't like, no sex for the Pastor, and no women pastors, yadda yadda yadda. Anyway, people get squirrely if they think you're going to do anything at all that will make that service last longer than 55 minutes. It's basically, get in, get your forgiveness, hear the sermon, say your prayers, and get to lunch. So before I could even get back out of the pew a guy grabbed the neck of my collar and said, "Oh no you don't. You're gonna stay out of trouble today so I can get out of here and eat." sigh.

Anyway, last week was the first week for me to don the ho coat, leopard fur hat and red sneakers. (My winter gear) And my better, wiser, half and my smart-assed son start giving me a really hard time about going to church in hooker clothes. But guess what? The women there LOVED IT! That's right, they even want to get one of their own. SO THERE!

The point is, ya don't have to be all proper po po to go to church. Be what you are for crying out loud. You'd be surprised how welcome it can be. Will thinks I liven things up. ahhhhhhhhhh ha ha ha ha hahaha! My better half just shakes his head and mutters, "Please don't encourage her. You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

Next thing on my list is to pick up the pace on that church music. Egads! That stuff will put you right to sleep. We need to pick up the pace. Will agrees. Sadly, we have to dicker with the old folks but I think I could wear them down. They tire out real easy.
 
posted by Crabby at 8:58 AM | 8 moos from the field
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Our conversation down below brought to mind a list I've been meaning to send out to all men who enjoy sharing naked photos of themselves.

A. If your belly even partially hangs down over your, er ....... equipment. Don't snap that pic!

B. If you are so hairy nobody has been able to find your equipment for years execpt maybe for you. Don't snap that pic!

C. On the other side of the coin if you shave that area shiny clean, for the love of Pete and the well being of all women-kind ...... Don't snap that pic! The fact that you take the time to do that .... well, honestly, you're a freak.

D. If your skin tends to be the color of a dead chicken just before it's tossed into the boiling pot...... Don't snap that pic!

It's ok to be proud of your little friend. You can even go home and pet him and everything. Just ..... don't share, K? If we didn't ask to see it, good bet, we don't wanna.

Did I leave anything out, ladies? If I did, feel free.
 
posted by Crabby at 1:47 PM | 5 moos from the field
Monday, December 12, 2005

I have 3 sweet but awfully dumb dogs. And then sadly a bird that came straight out of the bowels of hell. He is meaner than crap! Every day when he gets table scraps, he calls the dogs in by name. "c'mere. here. come on girl. here ya go." Then he slides down to the floor of the cage with a chunk of whatever he had in his dish. Every single time, they come. They press their nose into the bars of the cage and the bird takes a chunk out of it. Every day! For the older two dogs this has gone on for years. And still they haven't figured out, he's evil. Just evil to the bone.

Now I had some hope for Lunk. The dog you see pictured here. She's bigger than the other two and therefore it would be logical to expect that she might have a bigger and better working brain, right? Nope. Not only does she have pieces missing from the tip of her nose but he also manages to catch her tail as she walks by all dumb and wagging. And then he refuses to let it go. I have to literally pull her tail out of his beak. Then he starts laughing. Ahhhh ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Other times, he calls them in, then he yells at them, "Get! Get outta here! Go on. Get! Stop it! Stop it! Get over there."

It's making me nuts! He never shuts up. And they just keep doing what he tells them to do.

Oh and I don't dare slip up and swear in front the little rat. Because he'll repeat every curse I ever uttered. Only he waits until I have company to do it, imitating my voice.

And he remembers things. I pissed him off once. I was eating something that had chocolate in it. (chocolate is poison for birds. Thinking back, I should have given him a bite, the nasty little feathered punk) Anyway he starts begging, "Here. Here. Gimme." To which I responded politely, "Yeah, bite me. It's mine and I'm eating all of it."

Two days later when I was reaching into his cage to change his perch, the damn thing bit a triangle shaped hole right into the knuckle of my index finger. Then he started up with that maniacal laughing he likes to do just after he's commited yet another misdead.

Anybody else out there have weird pets? Is it me?
 
posted by Crabby at 4:58 PM | 6 moos from the field
Sunday, December 11, 2005

It's true you know. Life is just exactly like a giant cowpie field. Ya never know what you're gonna step in. And some of it gets pretty deep. For instance I have a sister who is single and looking. In one month's time she's been set up twice for blind dates. Both times I was supposed to call her at a set time to get her out of it if things weren't going well. Both times, Survivor was on and I forgot to call. Second time around she calls me the following day bitching about how she had to spend the whole evening with a pasta bellied guy who sucks air through his teeth while trying to lay his hand on her knee because I didn't make the stupid phone call. So I gave her the best advice I could come up with. Stop blind dating and buy yourself a vibrator for the two minute thrill and dog for companionship. Ba da bing! Ba da boom! No more problems. I think she might be irritated with me. She called me a name that I never heard before, grunted, and hung up.

That's gonna be it for my first entry. Survivor is on. Not just Survivor but Survivor finals. Now you know I have to see that. Yeah, yeah. I know. Only geeks watch Survivor. WhatEVER! I gettin the chips and I'm in there under my blankie in about 30 seconds.

Nice to meet you guys by the way.
 
posted by Crabby at 8:18 PM | 12 moos from the field