It is my pleasure to introduce you guys to Granny Mae and the residents at Willowbrooke Nursing Home. Reading the adventures of Granny and the gang is the best time I’ve had in ages. If you need a good belly laugh, this is, hands down, the place to find it.


Granny, adventurer and ho in training.











Iris
blind at a bat
with droopy
chesticles
If you find
her guide dog,
Dubbin, please
return him.





Ethel
Granny's nemisis







Granny Mae’s views on newbies to the home are as follows.

1. If you would care to move an oldie of your own into one of the empty rooms at Willowbrooke, you will be greeted with open arms. The more the better.
2. If you wish to visit the folks at the home, as yourself, also cool.
3. If lurking is your thing. Do so knowing that you are 100% welcome to be there reading any time you please.

WILLOWBROOKE RULES
(via Granny. Translated into crabspeak.)

1. No monitoring of any kind. No site meter. No blog roll.
2. Don’t ask. Don’t tell.
Willowbrooke is a what you see is what you got kind of place. Identities are protected for reasons of FUN!

Now without further ado or adon't ........I proudly present to you GRANNY GOT GAME
psssssst. Come back and let me know what you think of it.

If there is any justice the seamonkey people will all burn in hell.
Taking advantage of children and the dim-witted! They should be ashamed of themsleves.

When I was a kid I sent them a dollar expecting to grow these adorable little imps you see here.








What I got, was this. Specks in a plastic bowl with magnifying dots.

When I was 26, I sent them even more money. (They'd developed new growth food.) Still expecting to get what you see in the pic above. What I got, was more specks in another plastic container.
When I was 47 I sent them the biggest check yet. (they came out with colors and an extra packet of growth food) Still more specks, damn it!








Having been rooked numerous times I am pleased to announce, through much research and hours of hard labor...I have developed ......CrabMonkeys.
Never be fooled again. Forget the SeaMonkeys!
CrabMonkeys are guaranteed to please. Each with it's own personality and lively crab like spirit.
Just send $19.99 to
I WANT THOSE CRABMONKEY'S
P.O. Box 69
Crabville, USA 53028

Or call 1-800-IMA-SUKA

Alas, as of this morning, there is no denying it. Lucy is an eataholic.

Oh sure, a part of me knew she had a problem. First it was napkins and paper towels, then she started eating dirt, rocks, twigs, toilet paper rolls. And finally, bugs. But still, I lied to myself. Said, nothing's wrong with her! She just has a curious nature.

When the fat wrinkles began to form under her collar I told myself, it's a muscle. (much like the fat wrinkles over my knees are muscle. right. sure)



But today we saw the vet. It took 3 of us to heft the tail-waggin, drooling lump that is, Lucy, up onto the weight scale. 95 pounds of, "Doh, is it dinner time yet?" sigh.

It is official Lucy and I must go on a diet and exercise program. We are not happy about this. Even now Lucy is lying in her bed, her head buried in the pillow, wallowing in a state of serious depression. She snatched a fallen chip from the floor, and I snatched it back. She lies there looking at me, moaning in dismay because I will not give her a milk bone even though she did tricks.



I was wrong. I should have seen she had a problem the moment I found Bob's missing credit card in her poop. But nay, I turned a blind eye.


It's clear to me now, that Lucy must face some kind of intervention. She has a problem. She may have to start attending D.O.E.A. meetings. Dog Over-eaters Annonymous. Let's face it, it starts with eating dirt, licking dirty dishes, and nabbing up napkins. But eventually, she's going to graduate to ........ doggie porn.


And now, I've shared our dirty little secret.

CITIZEN'S ARREST!!!! CITIZEN'S ARREST!!!!

I smell whacky weed at this blog, up against the wall, all you mudda f*kkas.

Should pot be legalized?

Know what the problem with the internet is? It gives us far too much power. We can be whatever we wish we were. And occasionally ya might even feel a little pressure to be sexier, or smarter, or whatever is called for on any given day.

Well, that's just a drag.

So, I'm outing myself.




For me, nothing is too sacred to laugh at. Sorry, I know it's not politically correct but, we are what we are. I don't doubt a mighty come uppence may await behind the pearly gates for the numerous gags I've video taped at the cemetary and really bad jokes told at funerals but, in my defense, those places were too morbid and needed cheering up.





I am not above getting my good friends drunk and talking them into doing really stupid stuff, which they later regret but I continue to giggle at.












I can't sing worth a crap.

But I will do anything for attention. And have no problem belting out the most horrific tunes in an effort to be noticed.

My dancing is slightly worse than my singing. But only because people tend to get stepped on.








Though I have an extremely low tolerance for alcohol. (one beer and I'm toasted....like, completely) If the drinks are free, I will suck them down, one in each hand, until I am clean outa my mind. Sadly, I have a history of embarrassing moments from this particular weakness. And such nights always end with me bowing obediantly to the toilet bowl whilst the room spins about, round and round.







I will giddily cheat to win a bet and feel absolutely no remorse for my actions.












I am not sexy. My nose is too big. My teeth are crooked. I have freckles and I can't see worth a damn anymore.

I am nothing special.
And I am so cool with that.

Smart? No friggin way. Half the time I don't know what anybody's talking about because while they're talking, I'm thinkin up my next gag.

And now I'm late getting in to take my shower. POOP!

PS. I had margaritas last night. Talked too loud and made several references to, "The Pussy People". Many apologies to the folks there who were celebrating their birthdays. I don't know what came over me. When my Mexican amigos started singing ...... I just went with it. Bygones.

Ok. Now that we've officially done in clowns and the freaky six flags fella. It's time to move on to........ you guessed it ...... Sappy love songs!

































A few snippets from popular love songs. Not to fret here. If your current love interest sounds remotely like any of these lyrics, Crabby's gonna tell ya exactly what to do.

I need you here
I need you here to wipe away my tears
To kiss away my fears (Too needy. Kick 'em to the curb!)


Can't live, if living is without you. (Dude! Teach 'em tie a slip knot.)

I hate myself for losing you
What do you do when you look in the mirror
And staring at you is why he's not here?
(Low self-esteem. High maintenance. RUN.)

You're just to good to be true
can't take my eyes off of you
You'd be like heaven to touch
I want to hold you so much.
(STALKER ALERT! STALKER ALERT! EVACUATE!)

Added side note: I am going out tonight. I DO plan to drink. It's been a good long while. I've darn well earned it. And I don't plan to come back free standing. So if you don't see me first thing in the morning, I'll be in recovery. Or possibly on the floor in front of the toilet.

There are two things in this world that wig me out big time. One is clowns. Clowns give me the heebies. Look at 'em over there. No doubt they have chain saws and body parts locked away in their brightly colored clown closets. I HATE clowns! HATE EM!

The other one, wigs me out so badly that I couldn't even handle googling his pic. NO WAY! He's the spawn of Satan! When they started putting his picture on cereal boxes, I stopped eating that cereal. That's how bad he scares me.

I can't even hardly handle saying his name. It's ....... the six flags guy. The old man in shiny black shoes who dances around like a freak. I bet he smothers people in their sleep and steals their life energy. I had a nightmare about him last night and could NOT go back to sleep cause I kept looking in all the dark corners for him. Then I got the flashlight and looked under the bed.

Bob woke up and asked, "What the hell are you doing now?"

"Looking for the six flags man."

"Oh." That's all he said! Then he just went back to sleep like nothing was wrong!

I wish somebody would put the six flags man and all the clowns on an island and blow it up.

What wigs you out?

Bobby Joe Smallwang of the Toronto Nudist Colony was rushed to the hospital yesterday after hooking"" his own testicles.

"Bobby Joe never could cast worth a damn." His brother, Billy Joe, told reporters.

phewwwwwww!

As you mighta noticed, but probably didn't, the Cowpie Field has been rattling around in cyberspace for the past few days.

It all started when Milky and I tried to get creative. Apparently one of us left the gate open in the back room and the cows got out and took their pies with them.

Then it came back for like 40 minutes. Then it disappeared again.

Oh sure, I know you all think I was pushing buttons again..... Ok... one button. I only tried one.

I have to go now. Milky wants me to write 100 times.... I will not go behind the curtain.

(I'm gonna do 50 and write 'em big. She'll never know the difference)

The Myth.

Skin like spun silk.
Perfect body.
Rarely hungry for anything but a hot man.
Goes to bed and wakes up perfectly blushed and brushed.
Never bitches.
Never whines.
Open mouth kisses. Eager caresses.
Her walk is pure poetry. Every move elegant and graceful.







THE REALITY














Hearty appetite. DO NOT reach into the pizza box when she is going in for her first slice. She may accidentally break your fingers off in her haste to feed.

Prone to unexpected belches.

Wears big furry socks in winter and over-sized cuddle shirts.

Has been known to trip over own feet, possibly due to loose soles on sneakers. Do not clean glass storm door before she arrives at your home. She inevitably will try to walk through it damaging both door and nose.

Guffaws loudly at her own jokes.

Wakes up with bed hair, baggy eyes, and a strong desire to pee and drink coffee.

I'm in the dog house again. sigh.

Last night just as I was drifting off into slumberville, something bounced into my outstreched knee under the covers. MOUSE! I KNEW it had to be a mouse. So I slapped it away.

"OW! SHIT!" Bob says immediately, moaning in obvious misery.

"Did it bite you?" I asked him, beating the living hell outa the covers all around him everywhere I could find to hit. (never occured to me to turn on the light)

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks me, still muttering curses and groaning like moose in heat.

"What do ya think I'm doin? I'm "trying" to kill the mouse. You might wanna help out before we both get bit." Sometimes he can be soooo friggin slow to act.

"You really are crazy. You're not pretending, are you? Not just trying to be cute. You really are nuts."

"exCUSE me?"

I'll spare you the rest of what was said due to blue language and a most surly attitude.

Turns out, apparently, all of Bob wasn't asleep yet. Little Bob was up and still looking around for a good time.

Like ...... I'm suppose to know this? It felt like a mouse to me.

I got Manny html for dummies but I haven't heard from her since.

hmmm.

Sal's blog is no longer on the blog roll. When Sal is back. His blog will be re-added assuming I haven't shut down by then. (is re-added a word? Looks good to me.)

No biggie. Just hi-jackers again. He's alive and well and ornery as ever. But Blogless. (how 'bout that? Is it a word?)

To be honest, if we're just gonna get hi-jacked and screwed with what's the point of doing the blog thing anyway? Not like there aren't other things to do out there, right?

I mean, what did Sal ever do to anybody? Seriously, he flirts and goofs off but he's never been mean or abrasive that I can remember so, why would anybody go after him?

So, if Sal's a target then who isn't and what's the point? Seems like somebody is always getting screwed with on blogger. No idea why. Just seems to be the sport of the day.
PAH! I'm a busy woman. I got floors to grout and a horney bird to hide before the porch man comes. LMAO! ( I really have to hide the little twit cause he won't stop humpin his toy)

Anyhow, good news is, ya don't gotta do the survey below! I don't think I need it anymore. WOOT!

Not to include me doing the chicken dance in any form, getting naked, or eating bugs. In fact, I take it back. Just answer the poll below. That's ever so much safer.

Which type of blog are you most likely to visit on a regular basis?
	Humorous
	Sexy
	Serious topics
Free polls from Pollhost.com

When you come to a long post, do you ....
	move on to the next blog
	speed read, looking for a part you can post to
	read every word
Free polls from Pollhost.com

How often do you browse other blogs?
	maybe 1 or 2 times a week.
	3-4 times a week.
	every day. R U kidding?
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Are you
	male
	female
Free polls from Pollhost.com

I've been looking through all the blogs in our blogroll and I've slated 14 of them to be removed on Monday. I'm hoping to create a new blog roll where you can pretty much always click on a place and know there's a good time to be had.

So, I'm surfing the net, looking for fresh meat. LOL! If you know of a blog that is a "fun" place to play, tell me now and I'll go check it out. In the meantime, I'll be wandering around out here on a quest for blog treasure.

I'm removing several links and adding fresh new ones.

I'll be scouting around for new, fun, places, hoping to make the Field's link list a place where you can always connect to a good time. So if you know of sites I don't have that you think are a lot of fun, give me a heads up. I'll check it out.

Meanwhile, as you know from the below post, not havin such a great day. Lucy continues to appear more and more ill to me. Hoping this will pass.

And the dirty low-life, theiving, asshole that tried to run up an enormous debt on my credit card better hide back under his rock cuz when they find ..... ok....

big breaths. in ........ and out. in ....... and out. Peace, love, and .....

Fuck it. If they find him, he better have a high tolerance for pain cuz I'm gonna run yardsticks up his looser nose and set them on fire. Miserable theiving bastard.

We are waiting for word from the doggie hospital. Lucy is very sick. We suspect she's been poisoned but the doc has not told us anything yet. They're running tests now.

She won't die. I won't allow it. She is my best friend. Oddly she is everyones best friend. Even Bob who firmly said, "No more dogs!" has been won over by this goofy golden clown.

Jake who is constantly devising new and unique ways to rid the world of my animals, managed somehow, as you can see in this picture, to love this one. Sadly he also taught her how to chase her tail which is extremely embarrassing because she goes round and round till she gets


so dizzy she falls over. Making her look even more goofy than she is.

If Lucy died who would Smilin George race around the yard with in their constant chase of imaginary bad guys? Who would help him dig up buried treasures like rocks and sticks and stink bugs?






Who would wait patiently every night for the sound of the tv snapping off to run up and give Bob sloppy dog kisses whilst knocking all manner of things off my coffee table with her forever happy tail?









Who would walk into the room carrying the most unexpected junk?

Who would bring in rock after rock until I had bags and bags of them hidden under my desk?

Who would make me laugh when I least expected to find a laugh in me?










So, you see, Lucy can't leave this world. She simply can't. Because we need her. And I won't have her dying on us.

She's goofy and she drools like mad. Her hair rolls round the house like giant tumbleweeds. She is ALWAYS into something. Just a royal pain in the butt.

I miss her terribly.