Now when we move into The Keys the girls can have some fun!
Moving is a bitch though. Seven years is a long time to live in one place. Sure had some good times in this house. Onwards!
Now when we move into The Keys the girls can have some fun!
Peewee I haven’t eaten 6 Taco Bell tacos since I was a stoner in high school. Then I’d wash them down with a dozen glazed donuts. No wonder I graduated high school with a healthy crop of cellulite sprouting on my thighs!
I haven’t eaten 6 Taco Bell tacos since I was a stoner in high school. Then I’d wash them down with a dozen glazed donuts. No wonder I graduated high school with a healthy crop of cellulite sprouting on my thighs!
Hah, Lissa — at least I only ate 5! The Kid ate his first taco – and he liked it! Mikey likes it! Maybe he’ll evolve beyond peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Lucky Charms after all…
Seriously, on the cellulite, I attribute that to your mayonnaise years. Don’t you remember that giant jar of mayo that my first hubby bought you once? He meant it as a joke but you dug right in. You used to burn a steak until it was charcoal and then smother it in mayonnaise. I think you must have been suffering from some sort of mineral deficiency or something.
I certainly was suffering some type of deficiencies! I worked out an extra 30 minutes today to pay for those tacos!
When we are arguing about things( (frequently) I
thank god we are family. We get mad we get loud we get past we carry on! Do we resolve things? Nah But we get things out! Like gas! Hot air pass it around.
So Peewee, I am a decent dog parent. Definitely not a good child parent. I just ain’t got that lovin feeling as the song goes. So please take good care of yourself because if you -godforbid- and The Lump can’t finish raising The Kid then … I shudder to think of what the kid might endure without you! Some species eat their young…. Lis
I am a decent dog parent. Definitely not a good child parent. I just ain’t got that lovin feeling as the song goes. So please take good care of yourself because if you -godforbid- and The Lump can’t finish raising The Kid then … I shudder to think of what the kid might endure without you! Some species eat their young….
The same goes for you and your dogs, Lissa. One dog is a pet. Four dogs is a pack. Life is too short to spend it cleaning up dog poop. At least the Kid is house-trained…
You weren’t kidding The Miscreants are out of control. Maybe the rabbit and potatoe diet isn’t working for them. I’ve been home 24 hours and haven’t picked up a solid poop yet.
You say potato, I say potahto, either way there’s no E on the end of it, Mr. Quayle…
Welcome to MY world. You haven’t cleaned up any diarrhea, either, Ms. Delicate Constitution. (I take pity on Lissa and clean it up, because I don’t want to have to clean up her barf as well.) You just have to keep telling yourself it’s chocolate pudding.
Oh my God, Lissa’s motley crew of large canine malefactors is driving me absolutely insane! Never have I cleaned up so much urine, vomit, God-awful diarrhea and steaming piles of dog poop in my life!
Since she left for a (mercifully) brief sojourn in Key West, they seem to have abandoned all sense of decorum and are determined to make my life a living hell.
It’s been raining constantly, so they refuse to go outside and get their dainty (meaty) paws wet, and would rather just cop a squat wherever they feel like it. It was bad enough when it was just “Miss Piss,” so named because she apparently spent the first 6 months of her life on the street, just letting loose whenever the urge struck her. For this reason she spends a lot of time locked in a crate, but she seems to have figured out how to manipulate the latches, perhaps with a little help from “The Felon”…
“The Felon” makes a habit of standing on her hind legs to steal things from kitchen counters, sideboards, tall tables and anywhere else you might innocently leave something so innocuous as say, a clean paper plate or Lissa’s designer purse. It will then be turned into confetti all over the living room. People think Lissa’s anal-retentive because she keeps her counters, shelves and tables completely bare, but its really because of this absolute hooligan of a hound dog. (Actually she’s a boxer mix, and quite tall). These dogs will chew up virtually ANYTHING!
“Conehead Jones” spends most of his time at the vet – several different ones, actually, due to allergies and various other complaints, and when he’s home he insists on bashing me mercilessly with his cone, just to get even with me for making him wear it. At a svelte 72 pounds (down from 80), he thinks he’s a lap dog, and insists on lumbering up onto the couch, blocking everybody’s view of the television with his giant plastic cone.
Finally, “The Accomplice” is probably the least trouble of all. If it weren’t for the others he’d probably be just fine, but he’s a follower. Whatever “The Felon” drags off the counter, he’s right there to help her shred it, and I’m quite sure some of those steaming piles around the house have his name on them…
Of course, right before Lissa left, “Miss Piss” developed a parasite-related case of diarrhea, and started leaving huge puddles of dark red-brown, partially translucent, gelatinous diarrhea everywhere. So while I was at the vet with her, the rest of the crew decided to do a number on her patio furniture.
And it’s been downhill ever since. Every time I turn my back or God forbid, leave the house to take “Conehead” to the vet, (like, every other day), they find a way to get into absolutely everything, and I come back to find a huge mess, and steaming piles and puddles everywhere. The only ones who don’t seem to be contributing to the melee are the two little dogs. One day we couldn’t find the chihuahua, and for a while we wondered if they had hidden his mangled corpse under a bed or something… He turned up, but I think from now on I’ll start locking him in his crate if I have to leave.
Fortunately, Lissa’s on her way home and hopefully her wrathful ruffians will regain their senses and put an end to their malicious crime spree!
Thank God it’s not me there Peewee!
The runny gelatinous puddles literally gag me. I call the felonious four The Terrorists.
No pun intended but I sure wish TCB would take some Imodium and quit dumping on me. TCB ‘Mr. What If’ can sure work up froth from the possibilities.
He is angry about possible problems not actual problems. I wish he could take emotional stool softeners because he’s sure Sweating the Small Shit hard!
Ahhh Peewee, you know how he handles change.