Hello,
I feel certain it won’t take all of you super-intelligent readers to figure out this blog is not by my best servant, heee, heee, who I will refer to simply as “Mr.” No, that is not a type-o. I for one cannot understand a dang word Mr. or his woman servant, Mrs., says unless the word ends in “–ingo,” or something else that rhymes with Supreme Owner, Manager, Executive Ringo.
Anyway, enough of the introductions; I am the master, and that is all you need to know! But, I do let my servants use the new-fangled device they refer to as a computer-ingo. Fortunately, tonight Mr. did not bother to take the time to cancel his session, and I get to tell you all how everything really works!
First, I run this domain, and what I say goes. For example, here are my top 10 rules:
1. I am the owner of Mr. and Mrs., and it is NOT the other way around!
2. Whenever I want to go outside, I just have to say it once (or twice, or three times, but they always get the picture) and they come right down and let me out (because why should I have to open the door for myself?!?)
3. If it touches the floor, it belongs to me!
4. If the object fits in my mouth, it will be in my mouth, ASAP!
5. If something is in my mouth, these fools should recognize I ain’t lettin’ it go.
6. If my foot is in my bowl, then Mr. or Mrs. best fill up that bowl with the appropriate snack pretty darn quickly, or my foot will stamp that bowl again!
7. Just because I lost my cajones (through no fault of my own) does not mean I won’t hump your leg !
8. If you have a crotch or arse, then I am entitled to smell it; I WILL smell it; and only then will I decide if you are friend or foe!
9. Who am I kidding? If you let me smell your crotch, I’ll help you carry out the unnecessaries (furniture, televisions … or anything else not related to Mr. and/or Mrs. feeding me upon request) if you rob Mr. and Mrs. … heck, I might even accompany you!
10. I am always faithful to my pack (unless a new pack comes along).
Once you simple bipeds recognize who runs things, you and I will get along much better. For example, if you don’t do as I command, I might just conveniently stop forgetting to bark before you have to rent a steam cleaner.
But still, you all do need to learn to realize talent! It seems like every time I try to provide Mr. and Mrs. with a beautiful serenade (which they refer to as a bowel, or fowl, or howl … yeah, it must be howl), they yell at me! I am not sure exactly what they are saying, but the tone, well its just plain cruel! When am I ever so harsh with them?!? All I give is love.
ANYWAY, I have faith that they will learn my language soon enough; after all, I have put a lot of effort into learning theirs! I mean really, who else gives a stupid high-five just to get a simple treat which I obviously cannot reach on my own.
Maroons!
Friday, January 9, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
The Perils of Sleeping Together
No this is not some preachy entry to warn all the horn-dogs out there about the obvious hazards of private (and public in some cases – I imagine only of course) relations, such as increased risk of STDs, unplanned little pitter-patters around the house, having your partner fall in love when you just thought you were rehearsing for something better, etc. No, this is not that type of entry at all. This blog is to provide everyone out there fair warning about the more dangerous aspects of sharing a bed!
If you find yourself new to sharing a bed, one of your prime concerns may likely be hypothermia. Why? Well, from personal experience, I find women like to cover up while sleeping …. regardless of the detriment to their bed-mate. Countless times I used to awaken to find only the big toe on my right foot still under any type of cover. As I would glance over my shoulder, teeth chattering uncontrollably, I would see what appeared to be a giant cocoon, emitting waffs of steam; oddly enough, I had ice cycles dangling from my nose. But, luckily I live in Texas, so the ice cycles and corresponding sense of impending death by exposure were only present during the two-week cold front that blows through here once a year (what we South-Texans commonly refer to as Winter).
Now, for the more experienced partners, I would like to enumerate some of the less frequent, but equally exciting ways to be roused from a sweet dream or deep sleep:
1) The Karate Chop – lying peacefully, with my back to Tiffany, I began to feel something akin to a light message that grew exponentially in force and repetition. Soon, I had the sensation of lying in bed with a black belt, and I was the training post. After 2 operations to repair my spine, Tiffany vowed to be more careful.
2) The Running Man – this particular event is not quite so hazardous, unless you consider the potential of falling out of bed laughing and cracking your skull on the night stand. One cold night (while desperately trying to avoid the freezing hazard previously mentioned), my wife and I were “spooning.” Well, just as I am about to doze off, Tiffany suddenly gets the urge to run a full marathon in her sleep. Her little legs and arms start pumping furiously, just as if she were sprinting, only lying on her side. My words fail to sufficiently describe the hilarity of the situation, but suffice it say, whenever I feel sad, I just think of that evening, and it still brings a smile to my face!
3) T-Ball – before we got married, Tiff and I went to the batting cages a few times. Tiff would probably be the first to tell you she is not much of an athlete, but she swings a pretty mean bat. Unfortunately, on that fateful evening, my head must have resembled a soft-ball. Not once, not twice, but three freaking times, in rapid succession, I was struck in the skull by Tiff’s “bat,” which luckily for me was only her arms in this case. I only suffered a mild concussion, so recovery was not TOO strenuous.
4) The Freight Train – I think most people, even those who have not slept in the same bed with another human being, may be able to identify with this event. Almost nightly, I find myself dreaming, then the dream turns from one of pleasant thoughts to one of irritation (for example, an old man complaining loudly, someone chopping wood, someone banging loud drums, maybe even a freight train rolling by?). Well, of course, when I awaken, I find the real sound is nothing other than the snores of someone lying close to me. I wonder if that is what Eurythmics meant by Sweet Dreams?
I could probably go on, but I feel this sampling should provide sufficient edification to anyone considering taking up mutual sleeping arrangements. By the way, if you do feel the need for protection, I found this website VERY helpful: http://www.footballequipmentinfo.com/
No this is not some preachy entry to warn all the horn-dogs out there about the obvious hazards of private (and public in some cases – I imagine only of course) relations, such as increased risk of STDs, unplanned little pitter-patters around the house, having your partner fall in love when you just thought you were rehearsing for something better, etc. No, this is not that type of entry at all. This blog is to provide everyone out there fair warning about the more dangerous aspects of sharing a bed!
If you find yourself new to sharing a bed, one of your prime concerns may likely be hypothermia. Why? Well, from personal experience, I find women like to cover up while sleeping …. regardless of the detriment to their bed-mate. Countless times I used to awaken to find only the big toe on my right foot still under any type of cover. As I would glance over my shoulder, teeth chattering uncontrollably, I would see what appeared to be a giant cocoon, emitting waffs of steam; oddly enough, I had ice cycles dangling from my nose. But, luckily I live in Texas, so the ice cycles and corresponding sense of impending death by exposure were only present during the two-week cold front that blows through here once a year (what we South-Texans commonly refer to as Winter).
Now, for the more experienced partners, I would like to enumerate some of the less frequent, but equally exciting ways to be roused from a sweet dream or deep sleep:
1) The Karate Chop – lying peacefully, with my back to Tiffany, I began to feel something akin to a light message that grew exponentially in force and repetition. Soon, I had the sensation of lying in bed with a black belt, and I was the training post. After 2 operations to repair my spine, Tiffany vowed to be more careful.
2) The Running Man – this particular event is not quite so hazardous, unless you consider the potential of falling out of bed laughing and cracking your skull on the night stand. One cold night (while desperately trying to avoid the freezing hazard previously mentioned), my wife and I were “spooning.” Well, just as I am about to doze off, Tiffany suddenly gets the urge to run a full marathon in her sleep. Her little legs and arms start pumping furiously, just as if she were sprinting, only lying on her side. My words fail to sufficiently describe the hilarity of the situation, but suffice it say, whenever I feel sad, I just think of that evening, and it still brings a smile to my face!
3) T-Ball – before we got married, Tiff and I went to the batting cages a few times. Tiff would probably be the first to tell you she is not much of an athlete, but she swings a pretty mean bat. Unfortunately, on that fateful evening, my head must have resembled a soft-ball. Not once, not twice, but three freaking times, in rapid succession, I was struck in the skull by Tiff’s “bat,” which luckily for me was only her arms in this case. I only suffered a mild concussion, so recovery was not TOO strenuous.
4) The Freight Train – I think most people, even those who have not slept in the same bed with another human being, may be able to identify with this event. Almost nightly, I find myself dreaming, then the dream turns from one of pleasant thoughts to one of irritation (for example, an old man complaining loudly, someone chopping wood, someone banging loud drums, maybe even a freight train rolling by?). Well, of course, when I awaken, I find the real sound is nothing other than the snores of someone lying close to me. I wonder if that is what Eurythmics meant by Sweet Dreams?
I could probably go on, but I feel this sampling should provide sufficient edification to anyone considering taking up mutual sleeping arrangements. By the way, if you do feel the need for protection, I found this website VERY helpful: http://www.footballequipmentinfo.com/
Saturday, January 3, 2009
It is About Time
Well, as part of my many New Year’s resolutions, I am going to try and maintain some sort of blog. I figure “Why not? Blogging is the new narcissism.” Then again, I do think I am supremely important, and obviously do not possess the disposable time to maintain such a time-intensive effort just to keep the naïve masses informed. HA! Just kidding! Really, I think I am just too lazy to update this regularly, but I’ll give it a try.
So, I will title this entry: It is About Time
Not to disappoint my numerous fans, but this title actually has nothing to do with your ubiquitous requests for me to begin blogging. Rather, this entry refers to a much anticipated, if not long overdue event my wife and I encountered this evening … and it is about time!
After experiencing far too many encounters with MALE video store clerks, movie ticket-takers, and rent-a-cops of ambiguous sexual-orientation (not that there is anything wrong with that!) pursuing far more than our casual customer / service representative relationship would suggest, I finally got a welcome reprieve.
By the way, for those of you who are curious, no, the presence of my wife has absolutely no adverse impact on the advances perpetrated on my person by these inappropriately intimate epicenes. Quite to the contrary in fact, apparently my wife’s presence seems to inspire even more coy smiles, inquiries about my plans for the evening, etc., as if her presence represents some sort of challenge to them, or is some sort of ruse. While, if I were otherwise inclined, I might find the attention flattering, to borrow a phrase from the Urban Dictionary: “Hommie don’t roll like that!” But I digress, so back to the story at hand…
My wife and I went to a local movie theater (careful to avoid one of my “admirers” at a different theater), and purchased our tickets without incident. However, once we had our tickets in hand and approached the employee endowed with the power to admit us to our particular theater, things took and all too familiar turn … fortunately, I was not the victim of this particular inappropriate familiarity.
As we approached the nice young gentleman, he bashfully smiled at my wife, and without hesitation, began inquiring about the nature of her injury (Tiffany has a stress fracture from running, and is wearing an air cast on her left leg). Now, I think most people would agree one or two questions along this line does not necessarily constitute anything particularly out of the ordinary. Nevertheless, the inquisition continued for a good 2 to 3 minutes, and the young man seemed to become more and more enamored with each response. I was just waiting for him to ask for her (our!) phone number. Eventually, Tiffany was finally able to excuse us as we were going to be late for our show … a good excuse, since introducing me as her husband would likely have had little effect on the conversation.
Now alone, as we walked to Theater 17 and just barely made our show on time, I quietly laughed to myself, and thought “It is about time!” At least my wife can rest comfortably in the knowledge that she and I seem to have the same luck with men.
So, I will title this entry: It is About Time
Not to disappoint my numerous fans, but this title actually has nothing to do with your ubiquitous requests for me to begin blogging. Rather, this entry refers to a much anticipated, if not long overdue event my wife and I encountered this evening … and it is about time!
After experiencing far too many encounters with MALE video store clerks, movie ticket-takers, and rent-a-cops of ambiguous sexual-orientation (not that there is anything wrong with that!) pursuing far more than our casual customer / service representative relationship would suggest, I finally got a welcome reprieve.
By the way, for those of you who are curious, no, the presence of my wife has absolutely no adverse impact on the advances perpetrated on my person by these inappropriately intimate epicenes. Quite to the contrary in fact, apparently my wife’s presence seems to inspire even more coy smiles, inquiries about my plans for the evening, etc., as if her presence represents some sort of challenge to them, or is some sort of ruse. While, if I were otherwise inclined, I might find the attention flattering, to borrow a phrase from the Urban Dictionary: “Hommie don’t roll like that!” But I digress, so back to the story at hand…
My wife and I went to a local movie theater (careful to avoid one of my “admirers” at a different theater), and purchased our tickets without incident. However, once we had our tickets in hand and approached the employee endowed with the power to admit us to our particular theater, things took and all too familiar turn … fortunately, I was not the victim of this particular inappropriate familiarity.
As we approached the nice young gentleman, he bashfully smiled at my wife, and without hesitation, began inquiring about the nature of her injury (Tiffany has a stress fracture from running, and is wearing an air cast on her left leg). Now, I think most people would agree one or two questions along this line does not necessarily constitute anything particularly out of the ordinary. Nevertheless, the inquisition continued for a good 2 to 3 minutes, and the young man seemed to become more and more enamored with each response. I was just waiting for him to ask for her (our!) phone number. Eventually, Tiffany was finally able to excuse us as we were going to be late for our show … a good excuse, since introducing me as her husband would likely have had little effect on the conversation.
Now alone, as we walked to Theater 17 and just barely made our show on time, I quietly laughed to myself, and thought “It is about time!” At least my wife can rest comfortably in the knowledge that she and I seem to have the same luck with men.
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