"What the f*ck?" Wednesday

I recently reconnected with a friend from high school on Facebook, who had the interesting idea of telling people two things he remembered about them.

One of the things he recalled about me was my extreme resistance to putting stickers on my car. Apparently, I had my senior parking sticker on an acrylic picture frame that I would stand up in the window. (I have completely blocked out this memory, but it does sound like something I would do.) So obviously the OCD/car obsession thing started early, but it also explains why I find most bumper stickers really annoying. (But I still love you if you have them on your car!)

My biggest offenders are the "honor roll" kids, Calvin & Hobbs urinating on company logos and these -- the "look at my cute family" stickers that keep getting weirder and weirder.

For example, WTF is this?

A pirate family? Why doesn't daddy have a hat too? Where's the parrot? Doesn't this creep your kids out just a little bit?

"What's that mommy?"

"That's what you look like when you die."

But this one is even better. I know I am confused, so I can only imagine how the kids must be feeling. Let's see -- there's a daddy, a mommy ... another daddy ... four kids and two dogs.

I don't know about anyone else, but I am NOT signing up for the two spouse program.

P.S. Wondering what "WTF? Cat" Deucebag has been up to? Well, he has decided that it is too hard to just hang his head in the bowl to eat (while laying down), so now he knocks the bowl over and leisurely eats off the counter top.

"What the f*ck?" Wednesday

(Note: This would have been posted on Wednesday if I had pushed "publish" instead of "save" - argh.)

WTF is up with my cat? Deuce (or Deucebag, as Scarlett calls him) isn't even a year old, and he has already become a complete lazy ass. I took two photos so you would believe me when I tell you that this cat can't be bothered to stand or even sit up to eat. He just lays on the counter and throws his head into the bowl.

Granted, this harsh judgement is coming from the woman who eats while watching The Biggest Loser, but still. I'm almost 40. Deucebag is in the prime of his life. By the time he's 10, we will have to get the fire department to cut down a wall, so he can visit the vet.

What will cause Rhonda to drink heavily this week?

Here's the lowdown on the warfare against me over the past few days.

• Crohn's in full flare-up. Spent most of the weekend in bed.
• Waiting for layoffs at work ... which feels like waiting for the Grim Reaper to arrive.
• Deuce, curled up on my chest sleeping, looks up and takes a bite out of my NECK. The really sensitive part of my neck half way between my chin and collar bone. A-hole.
• Anabella is pushing all of my buttons at every opportunity. Telling me "no" and being quite the PITA.
• Scarlett runs up behind me, hugs my leg ... and then BITES me on the ass. Hard. Then laughs.
• Deuce knocks my bedside lamp onto my head in the middle of the night, almost giving me a complete heart attack.
• Scarlett continues to manhandle Deuce and requires constant supervision. But now she runs, with Deuce still in her grips, if I reprimand her.
• Put Deuce in my bedroom for a few minutes to give Scarlett a "time out." He crawls into my bra/panty drawer and PEES.
• Did I mention Dan is out of town?

So, what will it be?

Kitty!

We have a new family member! He's an absolute sweetheart, but he's also a kick ass ninja kitty who put both dogs in line within 24 hours. Apparently he also has no nerve endings, because he's been brutalized by Scarlett and has yet to bite or scratch her. He's a keeper.

We've been running through names, but are having a hard time deciding on something. So take the poll below ... I'm giving the power to the people!

I tend to lean toward people names for animals, but we have a three year old participating in the process. See if you can tell which two suggestions are Anabella's.

A Story from My Checkered Past

Long gone for me are the days of funny dating tales, but today I was reminded of a particularly funny story from my single days. I was at Target (of course) and my checkout person was named "Marcello"...a name I haven't come across in a long time.

The last time I met a Marcello was in my early 20's. He was a very cute Italian guy that hung out in a bar my dad was spending a lot of time in (dad was going through a very nasty mid-life thing). Marcello was funny and charismatic and sexy and my dad hated him, so he was perfect. We spent an entire evening at that dive bar talking, much to the chagrin of my father, and he finally asked me out on a date. I agreed to meet him out the next night and we had a wonderful evening...he was really easy to talk to and he was one of those guys who makes you feel like the center of the universe. So when he asked me out again, I was really excited. (My dad called twice to tell me what a tool Marcello was before our second date.)

He picked me up, we went out to dinner and a movie, and then we went back to my place. I went into the kitchen to make us a drink and Marcello hung his coat on a chair in the dining room. We sat down and started talking. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice my cat Eddie is playing with something on the floor. I didn't give it a second thought until a total look of panic crossed Marcello's face.

Eddie had pulled a very long strand of condoms out of Marcello's jacket and into the living room, practically throwing them at my feet. I don't know how many were there, but it was at least 15 or 20 condoms. How ridiculous is that?

Of course I almost died from laughter, and while Marcello was laughing, I could tell he was really worried about what my next reaction was going to be. I let him know that it wasn't a big deal, but then after more awkward conversation, I sent him on his way. I mean, geesh, it's one thing to hope you are getting "lucky," and then there are preposterous expectations.

So that is how my cat Eddie saved me from Marcello. (But not the Marcello at Target. He still nailed me for $175. HA!)

Fall is here!

Yes, it has happened. Today finally feels like fall (or winter - they are pretty much the same here in Texas)...the temp was well below 70 degrees, the leaves on the trees in the back yard are finally turning colors, and the "big story" on the news was that everyone was out buying winter coats. Anyway, I was rounding up the summer stuff for storage and noticed that this little family of lizards has moved into our umbrella. Aren't they cute?



Don't worry...I decided to leave it out all winter. I can't evict them.















And look at the gorgeous sunset we had this evening.














Ok, that's enough of Mother Nature. More of my usual silliness tomorrow.

P.S. I told my friend Kim that I was going to post this joke to my blog. She spammed me with it today and it actually made me laugh.

A woman scanned the guests at a party and spotted an attractive man standing alone. She approached him. "My name is Carmen," she told him.

"That's a beautiful name," he said. "Is it a family name?"

"No," she replied. "I gave it to myself. It reflects the things I like most - cars and men. What's your name?"

"Beerboobies," he said.

Is it wrong to...

...let my dog eat baby puke? I know this is gross, but I need to get a consensus. First, let me say that it wasn't really puke in the true sense of the word. It was more like regurgitated food. :) Everything was still as it had been on the plate, and quite frankly I was more interested in cleaning up the baby...and me. So my hubby said "who cares? he's a dog...he's eaten a lot worse." And while I know that to be true, it still felt wrong. I've kept him from eating disgusting things whenever possible...I broke him from licking Winston's a**hole (our English bulldog)...so now I'm going to let him do as he pleases just to help me out with a little mess?

P.S. Yes, I did "look the other way" and let Frankie dog enjoy his little snack. He even licked the carpet pretty clean.

I am a bad, bad dog-mommy.





Hard to believe this sweet face would like the taste of puke.