Ruh-Roh (or roscoe scares me into getting him a babe)

I woke last night to the sound of voices.  I didn’t recognize either of them, but will remember them to my dying day.   Or maybe I didn’t awaken.  All I know is one of them was male, gruff, and had that two pack a day habit sound to it.  The other was feminine, almost giggly.  A drug induced euphoria cadence, and content.

gruff: what do you think?

euphoric.  I don’t know, but I know I’m sick to death of kibbles and chunks.

gruff: quit your whining.  I get dried oats and ground up hay.  Try living on that.

euphoric:  We don’t know how to work the grill.

gruff:  So what?  We’ll figure it out, or go with steak tartar.

euphoric:  What’s that?

gruff:  Raw meat.  I learned it watching emeril.

euphoric:  i only watch the purina commercials.

gruff:  So i’ll lay over his blowhole, and you bite him on the nuts.  When he opens his mouth to scream, I’ll stuff my ass puff down his throat.

euphoric: what if he wakes up before we get in position?

gruff:  Then you sit there smiling,  and i’ll hump his ankle.  It worked last time.

euphoric: Okay (giggle) lets do it.

I rolled over then, and coughed.  I heard the rapid thump of a retreating rabbit, and the sound of Mollie trying to crawl under the night stand.

then there were all these women, naked, and feeding me all sorts of fatty foods. there was music, and dancing midgets, and a herd of sheep walking through a meadow with lust in their eyes…

gruff(voiceoverish):  He’s not sleeping real sound.  We’re going to have to wait for another night.

euphoric (also voiceoverish):  If i have to follow him around with this stupid smile on my face for one more day I might just eat myself.

gruff:  You can do it.  Just think, 175 pounds of meat.

euphoric (All giddy): and no more getting my nails clipped, haircut, and living with a stupid rabbit.

gruff (lasciviously): exactly, but remember..i get dibs.

   I woke up late for work, and virtually fled out the door.  On the way home I stopped at a friends house and asked if she would loan me her rabbit.  For what she said.  Roscoe needs a woman says I.  she got all euphoric and said giddily..oh boy, puppies.  I don’t think they call baby rabbits puppies says I.  She said I’m the girl..i can call them whatever I want.   Fair deal.  Give me the damn rabbit…know anyone wants a dog?

 authors note: when i got home i tried to open the frontt door and it was stuck.  I could get it just far enough open to  see roscoe and mollie lying in a ball together.  I think they may have been laying in wait, but whatever the case, they wouldn’t move.   I had to climb in the bedroom window to get in my house.  There will be no sleep tonight.  I fear roscoe has ill intent.  poor little fluffy.  Who in their right mind names a vicious rodent fluffy?

Sunday is for random Roscoe

fine, you want the wonder bunny, you got the wonder bunny.  Just so you know, I paid in blood to get you rabbit pictures.  Roscoe needs a trim, and doesn’t like having his picture taken.  I don’t like getting blood transfusions, so todays random thoughts could be a little vindictive.

pic one…sneaking away loofa bunny

pic two demonic possession bunny

pic three yeah, now you know why i live in terror…how would you like to have that lusting after your ankle?

the term is blithering idiots

  and i have spent my day inundated with them.  A veritable cornucopia of nitwits, knaves, and thieves is what I have spent my day with.

so I came here.  It should be so much better.

What did Uncle Sam do for you this week?  Well, for whatever reason he thinks he did $427.00 worth for me.  I’m trying to calculate what that is.  There wasn’t a quarter pound of decent bud in the mailbox from congress, and I know those burnouts get the good stuff.  George didn’t send me tickets to see cirque du soleil and a gift card for Ruth chris.  The roads suck, the schools suck, the health care sucks, and anything the government touches sucks so what the hell are they doing with my money?  I didn’t include the state, the medicare, the local, or any of the other gimmee your moneys, just the federal.  It’s hard not to want Ron Paul for president to be honest.  Just for the alleged tax decrease.

then I went to the bank.  What is in the mind of young women?  Do they really think flirting with someone old enough to be their dad is professional behaviour?  And why the hell do they try to count when they lack a talent for the art, and the damn number comes right up on their little cash register anyway?  Here’s a tip to CSR’s.  Be polite.  Do your job.  Shut the hell up.  I’m not interested in anything you have to say.  If I want conversation I’ll wander over to O’malley’s and buy a round.

   Bills bills  bills.  I really don’t mind this.  I do it every couple of months whether they send a reminder or not. I don’t have any truly extraneous ones, except of course  from rentasasquatch.com.  As sex toys go they aren’t bad, and they make a decent maid if you don’t want fine detail work accomplished. 

The dumb kid question of the day: Dad, can I have $200.00?  the dumb dad question of the day “for what?”   “I need some shoes”     “No”  The reason my question was dumb is because unless he found a way to stop world hunger with $200.00 he wasn’t getting it.  He has set a new standard in lazy this summer, and I’m a little worn with it.  Hookers and politicians show more ambition to work than this child that thinks he’s a man.  His excuse is a good one.  “I don’t want to work. I’m 17.  It’s my last summer off.”  I’d fall for it, but if i do he’ll end up saying “I’m 27, it’s my last summer off” someday.

    Roscoe pulled an okie doke on me.  I couldn’t find him when I got home.  My first thought was “oh no, my porn.”  Er, erotica.  Then I remembered its online, and i went phew.  Then I started looking.  I checked the places I hoped he’d be first.  He wasn’t on a plate on the table with greens, he wasn’t in the freezer, and he wasn’t in a pan on the stove.  Hopes dashed, I continued to seek the furbag for about 20 minutes.  When I left this morning I hung the towel on the hook on the bathroom door as always.  Gravity, as always dashed my wishes, and Roscoe decided under that towel was a great place for a nice quiet nap.  He has to nap during the day.  If he doesn’t he will fail to wake me up every hour on the hour just to see what’s up.  At least I hope thats why he slams his head into my resting place.  He could be testing the structural integrity.  One of these days it will collapse and i will become a love toy for a lagomorph.

The neighbor.  I despise him like I despise sweaty testicles, pauliacs, and chihuahua’s.  His ignorant bald  lazy ass has something to say everytime I drive up.  Today it was your dog was barking with a scowl on his face, and an insolent tone in his voice.  I finally decided to hell with it.  I walked around the fence and I proceeded to beat the holy living shit out of him.  Once I finally beat him onto the ground I commenced kicking him in every vital organ i could think of…ok, I didn’t, but while he yammered on about the trauma caused by my dogs five minutes of barking I did visualize that scenario.

I ended up just ignoring his dumb ass and walked into the house.  I haven’t mentioned work.  The reason for that is i might not maintain anything that resembles sanity if i write about it.

so how was your day?

this bugs me

A lot of things do.  Mostly I ignore them, but every now and again I like to take the time to express it to you, my loyal readers…yeah, yeah, both of you…I’ve heard that one before.

Pakistan-  Maybe I just haven’t noticed, but it seems to me the worst part of our little war on terror is the destabilization of Pakistan.  It’s not a great leap for me to imagine the place in Muslim control.  no big deal, but they do have nukes.

New words-  I don’t mind them so much as it all seems to be a popularity contest.  Some person will say something like ginormous, and everyone will say “oh wow, they said ginormous.  Lets put it in the dictionary.”  You know who I’m talking about.  Red Hot something something.  I forget the name.  In case you’re curious, merriam webster released its new words…i’m sure you can find it.

 If stanley and livingston had been bloggers.  “Dr. Livingston…I have pinged you.”  we’ll never know that sort of intrepid fellow again.  Unless the whoremongers of Vitalicus send a spaceship.

okay, i just have to…it’s eating its way through my frontal lobe, and is headed toward the medulla oblongata.  If I don’t get rid of it now, it’s bound to leave me at best dull normal, at worst, vegetative.  Ron Paul is a quasi-libertarian, right?  Ok, I know he isn’t, and my readers generally seem to know he isn’t, but for the sake of this blurb we’re just going to go along with the program.  So, that being true it makes sense that his followers are likewise libertarians?  I think.  Anyway.  That generally means they are constitutionalists, right?  Meaning they support a government run according to the constitution.  I’m getting there, christ you are so impatient.  This means freedom of speech is a big thing to them.  Except, it would appear if you speak against Ron Paul.  Let me change that.  If you point out the real Ron Paul’s flaws.  It seems if you do that you are to be breaded, dipped in boiling animal fat,  and fed to the faithful. 

Semi-literate athletes that speak in the third person.  I should probably give them credit for knowing what that is, but I’m sort of inclined to think they don’t.  Call me cynical.

Irascible men.  I hate them.  i think they should be deported to someplace warm like Jamaica and be forced to imbibe in the flowering and seeding plants of that island with nubile young Jamaican harlots.

Political bumper stickers.  I don’t know why, but it seems every time I get some asswit doing 40 on the freeway in front of me he has an Elect Hillary sticker or some such.  Tell you what, turdburglar, you get that damn yugo up to 90 like your supposed to and I’ll consider it. 

Hyper- sexual rabbit day –  it seems to occur every couple of weeks.  I have finally figured out a way to fix mr. roscoe the wonder bunnies wagon.  I’ve purchased shin guards.  You know, like the field hockey (chick sport plug) ones.  He is going to bruise his tumescent ankle banger next time it happens

ok, I’m not particularly bugged by much of this, but I had a theme going.  I’m going to keep writing bug posts till the swelling disappears.  No, not roscoe’s swelling.