Watching Porn with Granny

I had an interesting weekend and saw some things that I thought you might need to read about on Monday morning. Screw the newspaper. It sucks.

  • A Mexican guy cooked my Japanese hibachi meal on Saturday. There were lots of authentic Japanese peeps running around but they weren’t doing the cooking. I wondered if the Mexican guys had been kidnapped from the El Foodo restaurant next door. Seemed suspicious to me. It was also very strange that one of the few beer choices at the Japanese hibachi place was Corona. Hmmm…
  • Went to the movies on Friday and saw the To Do List. If you will remember, my Thursday post was a to do list… Coincidence? I think not. Anyway the movie was lame and awkward. It’s about a girl that sets out to do all sorts of sexual deeds before she goes to college. I have girls that are going to college in a few short weeks. I really didn’t need to see that shit. My disappointment in choosing this movie caused me to eat the entire large popcorn and bucket of diet coke. The even weirder part was that there weren’t many people in the movie and what ones were, were old ladies. I mean nursing home, iron lung, turn up your hearing aide, hover-around riding old ladies. The To Do list is raunchy. It was like watching porn with your granny. I wanted to go put my hands over their wrinkly eyes. Very disconcerting to say the least.
  • I have a friend that had a cochlear implant put in this last week. I’m glad she got it because I’ve exhausted my store of Helen Keller and various other jokes about being deaf. I’m also tired of typing in all caps so that she can “hear” me when we PM. I ask her everyday to try and find the magnet in her head by sticking metal objects on her skull. She wanted to start with a paper clip. I suggested a tuna can. Neither stuck. I think she might have gotten ripped off by her doctor and he just drilled a hole in her head to fuck with her. If that implant doesn’t work, he is gonna find a tuna can someplace really uncomfortable and it won’t be in his head.
  • I thought Shakey was dead on Friday. He was lying on the welcome door mat outside. He was very still for several minutes. Then he flapped his ear and I had to go back to just wishing he would go away and play with Mr. Owl and/or Mr. Snake.
  • Some dumbass that lives around here obviously thinks it’s 1860 are we are in the wild, wild west. They started shooting guns around 10 am. Every now and then you’d hear a big boom like he has a rocket launcher or something. My dogs wouldn’t shut up and I couldn’t put them outside for fear a stray bullet would find it’s way into my yard. I called the cops. They told me that they had already been out and that the people were shooting “in a safe manner.” I felt so much better after I learned that! Gee wilikers, thanks, Barney Fife! I’m sure that the crazy guys who shot up movie houses and gunned down school kids were also operating their military grade weapons in a “safe manner”. Safety only counts for the shooter.. that’s cool.
  • Remember my weedy flower beds? I weeded some yesterday. I googled marijuana leaf to see if I was growing some. Nope. I also googled poison ivy. I am growing that. It’s a good thing that I googled it and didn’t try to smoke the poison ivy. That might have had a really messy outcome.

Hope your Monday goes by swiftly and painlessly. As for me, I’m headed out to trim the bushes and try not to cut off a finger. I’m also going to go to our one local Mexican restaurant for lunch and investigate whether or not they have an Japanese guy wearing a sombrero and cooking fajitas back in the kitchen. I will report back with my findings.


Not dead yet. Just sleeping

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Julio-San, the Japanese Hibachi Cook.

To-do List = Screw it

There is a lot of shit I need to do today. I thought it might help me be “organized” and “productive” by making a list.

  1. The hole in my wall that my dog made needs fixed. I’m wondering if I can avoid fixing it right by filling it with unpaid bills and peanut butter.
  2. I found out that those bumpy things that African Americans can do with their hair is called Buntu knots. I want those but as a person of non-color, it is doubtful I can grow AA hair. Wig? Are there wigs like that? Google that for at least four hours.
  3. My loosely defined flower beds need weeded and the bushes trimmed. I hate yard work and there is poison ivy in with the actual ivy. I’m thinking about pouring gasoline on the whole damn thing and starting a new trend called Scorched Earth Gardening. Better call Southern Living and Better Homes and Gardens to book a photo shoot.
  4. Need to put baseboards back on the walls in the basement where I remodeled. I don’t like math or saws and figuring out how to miter the corners. Nevermind… this one is off the list.
  5. My eyebrows need grooming. They are growing all over my face. I saw an infomercial this morning for a home laser system. This sounds both dangerous and interesting. I would use it on the dog first. Rottweilers have eyebrows that I can practice on, and I have two rotties so that is 57 eyebrows. I’ll reiterate, I hate math.
  6. Need to look into changing my name so I’ll know what to do after I rob a bank. I’m thinking of Hugh Jaynus. That name changes my gender too so no one will find me.
  7. I got an email yesterday that my kid had better get on the ball and buy her textbooks for college. The listed books are quite expensive and I’m wondering if my kid can just “share” with some other kid. My kid has an iPhone and she can just take pictures of the pages to read later. It’s more eco-friendly and all that tree hugger bullshit, right?
  8. Laundry needs done. Hubs is wearing my underwear today. I’m not wearing any. I don’t mind going commando but he says his suit pants chaff the free range parts. We can’t have that, now can we?

Hope your to-do list is shorter today. I’m off to look at the shit that needs done and then go to the movies. Hey, at least I thought about doing productive stuff today. It’s a start.


This is the hole my dog created by making the blinds swing into the wall because a vicious jogger was in the street outside.

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My planter with weeds and I think the other picture is marijuana in my flower bed. God, I hope so. I think I’ll leave it alone to see if there might be something to roll up and smoke later.


The next time you see a picture of this dog, he will look like he got drunk at a party and someone creative shaved his eyebrow. There might be burn marks too. Then again, he might eat the laser thing before I get into the room with it.

Shakey and the Three Horseman of the Apocalypse

Man, it’s a beautiful day today. I’m out here on my porch enjoying the breeze and cool temperatures. This is one of those days weather-wise that just knocks your damn socks off. That is, if you have any on, which I currently do not.


Everything is right in the world. Birds chirping, while next door one of the kids is yelling at another kid down the street and the other one is singing out of key at the top of her lungs. Okay, that singing part is annoying. She can shut up anytime now. I’ll take the singing over the stupid recorders that they drag out some days and toot on FOR HOURS and really destroy the peace and quiet. There is a silver lining in that their mom is pretty old school. That woman, I swear, throws their asses out of the house by 8 am everyday. They get plenty of vitamin D and road rash on their knees from crashing bikes and scooters. I like seeing bruised and battered kids. It seems natural. Shit, my mom threw us out everyday and we were forbidden to set foot in the house until 6 pm. If we were lucky, mom would make us a pb&j with the cursts most definitely intact, and leave it in the milk door (it was a very old house) for lunch. If she had taken her meds, we might even get a Ho Ho. We got our snacks right out of our garden. No peeled or cut into pretty shapes for us. We are raising a bunch of pansies these days, I tell ya.

Shakey is wandering around here giving me his retarded looks and shaking. We think he has doggie tourettes. If he had the ability to speak, I’m sure all he would do would be curse. Bark, bark motherfuckerassbagshitholes, bark, bark. Just let that dog swear at me once and he’ll never walk in a straight line again. I like to put clothes on Shakey and take pictures of him standing there pathetically. He feels about clothes about the same way I do; extreme dislike. I guess we have that in common anyway. He gets the clothes punishment occasionally because it’s 1) funny, and 2) you just can’t put clothes on a Rottweiler. They tend to object and then want to eat your couch in retaliation so I don’t even try. Plus you can’t hardly find dog clothes that big. I’ve settled on hats for Moose. He has a hat for every holiday. He wears them because he gets a cookie for looking stupid. Good boy.

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I went to the opening of Legally Blonde last night. Twin A is in the ensemble (couldn’t compete for a principal role because of vacation and college orientation conflicts) and of course, she is the best one in the ensemble. Because I say so, and I’m a damn expert after sitting through shows these past almost 10 years. I would have enjoyed the show more if there weren’t The Three Tiny Horsemen from The Apocalypse sitting behind me. Yes, there used to be a fourth horsemen, but these three ate her.

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These three little creatures from the hell would not STFU. I shushed them three times with increasingly murderous looks. Nothing. They didn’t give a shit. They were Satan’s henchmen and nobody tells them to shut up except Beelzebub himself. I finally I spun my head around a few times like Linda Blair in the exorcist and reached back and put my hand on the closest ones’ knee and said loud enough for mom and anyone else around to hear me, “You CAN NOT talk during the show. If you can’t be quiet, GET OUT!” I think the Linda Blair impression worked because they finally shut up.

The dogs that they used in the show were so lame. The chihuahua they used couldn’t even be trained to bark or go out on stage on his own. They used a labradoodle for Rufus instead of a bulldog. Those dogs combined had an IQ of 12, but I still think they are smarter than those spawn sitting behind me.

No Horse Fences and How to Build Them

My dad is coming for a visit today. My mom throws him out of the house for a week or so every summer about this time. I guess she needs him out of the way to throw her wild bunco and red hat parties. All her friends are groovy cats with a freaky senior citizen side. They like to get all liquored up and raise hell on their Hov-a-rounds at happy hour at Applebee’s. I’ve partied with those bitches before and they make Lindsey Lohan look like amateur hour. The men are usually the DDs so after their raucous 3 pm dinners there is somebody to get them home semi-safely. My dad is the WORST driver in the world though, so ride at your own risk.

When my dad visits, we usually do some sort of project. One year we built a fence. In our neighborhood you are only allowed to have horse fences or decorative iron fences if you have a pool. The HOA wants to keep up the illusion of living in the kuntry by insisting we have horse fences but no horses. I wonder what they would do if I bought a bunch of life sized cardboard horses doing horsey things and put them in my yard. Eating, pooping, maybe even makin some sweet horsey love. Wonder how many phone calls I’d get about THAT.

Speaking of HOA’s, ours is pretty lax. Some of the neighbor’s are pretty uptight though. I was thinking about building my fence with dog crap instead of wood just to see what might happen with ole bitchy pants neighbor. That would have been hilarious. Instead I do passive aggressive things like make sure when I mow that all the grass clippings go into their yard which is tight and mown like a golf course.

That part of my yard looks like World Wars I and II and the Korean conflict simultaneously went on back there. I don’t care what it looks like. That acreage came with the house and I seriously pondered just spraying round-up on the whole damn thing and calling it a day. But there is some god damn creek that runs through my yard and I might kill a beaver or something with all those pesticides. I like beavers. Save the beavers! lol

Anyway, I’m not sure what project we’ll do this year. Whatever we end up doing, it will start as something small and manageable and turn into something you see on the DIY channel. Like hey dad, let’s change the faucet in the bathroom…. Next thing you know we’re ripping out walls. Maybe this year we’ll just concentrate on boxing up the kids crap to send to college. There is a room in my house dedicated to holding all of the junk that two girls think they need for dorm life. Back when we went off to college, you packed up your shit sometime in August, your parents handed you a check and off you went. No fuss no muss. I’ll talk about this college racket tomorrow. It makes me tired just thinking about it.

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This is a picture of the fence when it was brand new before we stained it black. Like my heart.IMG_1766

This is my mom performing the rarely seen Bowl of Cheetos on my Head dance.

Shakey in Love

First you may ask, who and what is a Shakey? Shakey is a mutt. A neighbor’s daughter adopted him at a shelter for her kids. Surprise, surprise, she couldn’t take care of the kids let alone a dog. Anyway, he ended up at our house, full of worms and looking like he barely made it out of doggie concentration camp.

Shakey is an unfortunate mix of Chihuahua and most likely some sort of terrier. He looks like Marty Feldman had a baby with the Taco Bell dog. God also decided to give his brains a good scramble while he was at it. The only thing he has going for him is 1) me, and 2) he is too dumb to realize he’s dumb and ugly. You may be asking “well, you gave him a stupid name, what did you expect?” We didn’t name him; he came with that name. I wanted to rename him Bonehead or Shitbox but my kids weren’t going for it.

Mostly Shakey just lays around except when a potato chip bag is opened or a blade of grass falls in the front yard and he feels the need to bark at said grass for fifteen minutes. He is really good at giving me the stink-eye whenever I’m in the room. I say stink-eye but I seriously doubt that he has enough gray matter to intentionally shoot me a look let alone have a reason for doing so.

Regardless of Shakey’s lack of brains or looks, he has fallen in love. Not with another dog or even someone’s leg; it’s way more serious. Shakey is in love with his butthole. He can’t stop showing it the love all. day. long. It’s nasty. I’m over there in the kitchen cooking and I look over and he is givin the ole bungholio all the love and attention that one would give to an infant. It’s disgusting. I yell at him to stop. He slides his eyes up while never taking his tongue off of his obviously steak flavored anus. He stops mid-lick when I yell. Then he carefully resumes his antics with his lover.

I have no idea how to stop him from his illicit affair with his rectum. The other dogs are also repulsed by his relationship. The shunning from the other dogs is constant. Even so, Shakey continues with his love affair. I guess I should be happy that he has found a mutually satisfying relationship but it’s hard to be happy for him when I’m making meatloaf 20 ft away.