Monday Mid Day Haiku (a day late)

Some of my regular readers know I like using everyday experiences and stupid shit I think about as material for haiku. ¬†Enjoy. ūüėČ

Driving in the rain

Hey Dumbass, slow Down.
It’s raining, the roads are wet,
You drive a box truck.


Lemon piece of shit
I’ve only made three payments
Don’t you know I’m poor?

Dopey Dog

Slurping your water
I’ve never met a dog¬†who
Chokes on his water



The Dog and I Tackle “Big” Issues

Dog, we need to talk…

I know what you’re thinking. ¬†We talk all the time. ¬†I talk, you talk, mostly¬†neither of us listen.

But this is serious.

I know, we talk about serious stuff all the time… politics, religion, sexuality, human rights, ¬†and refugees…well, I talk, and you lick yourself, or whatever.

…which in this case lends itself quite nicely to our discussion. ¬†The little struggles in life. ¬†They are little, but they are important.

We don’t talk about this stuff. ¬†It’s not always pretty, but these things need to be talked about, dragged out in the light, kicking and screaming, if necessary, so people understand they don’t need to feel ashamed.


Not nice? √ā¬†Like... no walkies?? √ā¬†Or belly scratchin's?

Um. . . I have no idea what…

Well, for example, the struggle of finding just the right position to sleep in when all of a sudden the hair between your buttcheeks starts poking you… ¬†What do you do? ¬†You want to scratch the itch, but you don’t want to touch your buttcrack…

Marriage licenses-es? √ā¬†What's that? √ā¬†It sounds tasty.

Oh, ha!, that’s easy! I have tons of hair on my butt. I just lick it until it’s flat.

Buddy, even if I wanted to do that I couldn’t. ¬†Us humans aren’t as flexible as you dogs are. ¬†But if we were able to reach our heads down there, I still wouldn’t because… ugh, no. ¬†Just, no.

Geez...fiiiine. You don't have to be all testy about it.

Prude… Fine, what’s next?

Well, like this morning, I was trying to sleep and the cat had worked his way under the covers…


Oh! Well, there’s your problem right ther-

No, I’m not finished. ¬†He sleeps under there a lot…


Yeeeah…we need to talk about that. You never let me on the bed, let alone under the covers.

Stay on topic, dog, we’re not talking about you. ¬†Anyway, for some reason the cat kept wanting to¬†groom¬†me. ¬†He’d lick my hand and I’d kinda push him away.


Well, that doesn't sound good. √ā¬†No walkies...

Go on…

Geez, this is sort of weird…


. . .um

Hey, you started this…

Well, I rolled over on my side and was just falling asleep when he started licking my nipple…


Aw! What?! That’s gross! You let the cat-

I didn’t let him! It woke me right back up and I tossed his furry little butt out of bed!

Geez...fiiiine. You don't have to be all testy about it.

Serves you right. *I’d* never lick your nipple…

Uggh… ¬†You know what? ¬†I think we’ve talked enough for today. ¬†Too much reality and truth can be… too much.

Happy Thanksgiving, Dog.  I love you.

Saturday Observation (or… How Young Children are Like Politicians)


Young children, particularly preschool and kindergarten aged children, are a lot like fanatical Conservatives. ¬†It doesn’t matter how much science or logic you hit ’em with; they are determined to keep believing whatever is their current chosen reality.¬† My daughter will not be swayed by the “facts,” and is determined that someday she will “grow little again” and once again be able to use her training potty.

Much like politicians, the apologies of young children mean nothing. ¬†They¬†should basically all have little paper signs taped on their backs that read “hashtag #sorrynotsorry”, because the only time you will get an apology out of them is when they have been caught doing something wrong, and they only apologize to mitigate consequences. ¬†In other words…they totally don’t mean it.

Likewise, try getting a direct answer about even the simplest thing.¬†If you try to get a young child to admit to anything that could even maybe, possibly, conceivably¬†be interpretted as something that could get them in trouble, suddenly, you get complete silence… and maybe this face:


And no matter what you say, they just stare¬†at you with that patient deadpan look that says, I can do this longer than you…


Or, maybe you get that look that’s one part stubborness and one part vacancy, all parts¬†infuriating… that look says they don’t know shit, they ain’t saying¬†shit!


If you can tease an answer out of them at all, young child doublespeak is about as confusing as a Lark Voorhies interview. You end up feeling baffled, and like you’ve been conned,¬†but you’re not quite sure how.
The fact is, my five year old could probably drive me to drink the way she talks circles around me, and not with actual logic or anything, but just good old fashioned¬†gaslighting. ¬†Or, to¬†use another¬†geometric-shaped metaphor, her explanations tend to be extremely¬†elliptical. ¬†A conversation will go something like this…

ME:  You know you spilled juice on the floor?

J:  Hmm?

ME: You spilled juice on the floor.

J:  I spilled juice on the floor (a statement.)

ME: ¬†Then why didn’t you clean it up?

J:  Because I spilled the juice on the floor.

ME: (trying to keep my voice even) ¬†I know you spilled the juice, cuz I just stepped in it. ¬†But if you knew you spilled it, ¬†why didn’t you tell me so I could clean it up?

J: (matter of fact) I didn’t know I spilled it.

ME: (face is probably getting red…) ¬†You just told me you knew you spilled it. ¬†Did you know or didn’t you?

J: ¬†I didn’t know.

ME:  Then why did you tell me you knew?

J: ¬†I didn’t know.

We can go round and round like this, and the end result is usually her deciding on an answer and sticking to it, and me giving up in frustration and feeling like a bully for trying to badger the truth out of her.

As is often also the case with politicans, you can end up leaving a conversation with a young child, unsure whether or not even they know just what the hell is really going on.

Tonight I asked the five year old if she wanted to share the last piece of chocolate cake with me. ¬†She said, no, and she asked her Daddy to make her some chocolate milk. ¬†But he told her we were out of chocolate syrup…so she turned to me and said, “Can I have some chocolate mi- [ me giving her the look that says ‘ask me, I dare you’…]”

And she says …”cake?”

Related: Conversations with My Two Year Old

House to Sue the Prez…(We the People, Still Ignored)

Talking Points Memo Headline: 

House Votes To Sue President For The First Time In History

Here’s a purely rhetorical question, because it¬†makes¬†too much common sense for¬†the government to actually acknowledge the hypocrisy and give us a direct, non-convoluted¬†answer:

WE the people–¬†the constituents– can’t sue the government:

“Sovereign immunity has carried over to modern times in the form of a general rule that you cannot sue the government — unless the government says you can.” (source)

In the United States, the federal government has sovereign immunity and may not be sued unless it has waived its immunity or consented to suit. See Gray v. Bell, 712 F.2d 490, 507 (D.C. Cir. 1983). The United States as a sovereign is immune from suit unless it unequivocally consents to being sued.  (Wikipedia)

Well, these douchebags would never consent to us suing the collective pants off of them, (I mean, these are the same guys who get to vote on their own paychecks) ¬†but they¬†can sue the President? Doesn’t he get “sovereign immunity?” ¬†Well, Congress, especially the Republican party, has¬†done their best to block his every move in regards to this healthcare debacle anyway. ¬†But regardless of whether or not you support the healthcare bill, these jokers in Congress do not have best interests of the majority of their constituents in mind. ¬†(Those interests were already bought and paid for by the lobbyists and 1%.)

I call bullshit.  I think the whole lot of them should be kicked out on their overpaid keisters.  Or maybe the President can counter-sue for Treason.  The whole congressional process is a is a fucking joke now anyhow.

*grumble grumble* ¬†I’m going to go eat some damn ice cream now.


“This is Life.”

I was talking to a friend today about some recent changes in her life. ¬†She told me she still had some sad days but was overall doing well. ¬†She said much with a few words; she said, “This is life.”

It reminded me of something I was contemplating on the day before…

We, as humans, are not meant to be “happy” always. Just as we are not meant to be “sad” always. We are meant to be content with our lives, and moments of happiness and sadness, like anything else, come and go.

But I think Denis Leary said it best:

‚ÄúHappiness comes in small doses folks. It’s a cigarette butt, or a chocolate chip cookie or a five second orgasm… You come, you smoke the butt you eat the cookie you go to bed, get up in¬†next and go to fucking work… ¬†That is it. End of fucking list! ‚ÄĚ


Personally, for me, Denis Leary in a dress is a happy moment.

Personally, for me, Denis Leary in a dress is a happy moment.

Yeah, me and Denis got this life thing nailed!

Things said in homes with children

Sometimes, as a parent, you say things you never thought you’d say. ¬†You say them without thought…and then you pause… ¬†Did I just say that? ¬†Did that just come out of my mouth?

Sometimes it’s pretty straight forward, something that is common sense for most adults, but needs to be spelled out for a child. ¬†That doesn’t mean it’s not still hilarious that you actually have to utter the words:

“Please don’t shoot peepee all over the floor…”¬†

…to a girl…

And then there are the offhand remarks that, upon a moment’s consideration, sound horrifically inappropriate without a frame of reference.

J* got a Mr Potatohead for Christmas from my dad and stepmother. (Yes, I know it’s early yet; ¬†Gifts came in the mail, we opened ’em!) ¬†If you haven’t seen the “new and improved” version of Mr. P, he has pants now, and a nifty little trap door in the back to hold some of his spare parts. It opens up kinda like the button downbutt-flap in those weird, old skool pajamas. It’s that dang little compartment that led to my ¬†ruination¬†¬†moment of pause today, as I told my three year old,

Here, put the tongue back here in his butt so you know where it is the next time you want it.

For those of you who still feel you need an explanation, how about a pictorial?

What I was thinking when I said it...

What I was thinking when I said it…

What it sounded like...

What it sounded like…

Parents, hit me up with some of your best “Things said in homes with children…”

You Can’t Make This Stuff Up

J* (my daughter): Milk? Milk?

Hubby:  You want milk???

Me: We don’t have any milk

Hubby: (rolls eyes)

Me: I told you we needed to go to the store!

Hubby:¬†(turns and points at me):¬†Make it so, number one…

Me: Uh… I’m the Captain up in this Bitch!

J* pipes up:  bitch! bitch!

Yes, this conversation just happened.

Our family...full of WIN!

Our family…full of WIN!

A Few One Liners About Social Media, To Sing You Off To Sweet Sleep

Just a few random thoughts that have been poking at my consciousness like splinters, presented in a passive-aggressive way for your entertainment…

All of your “selfies” look exactly the same. ¬†Stop it.

Maybe it’s not your opinion that people object to; maybe it’s the combative and assholish way you present it that pisses them off.

That pic of you fresh from the gym/car dealership/proctologist/whatever–¬†you know, the one where you’re staring into space, or looking sideways and making duck lips at the camera…it¬†was very unique and illuminating.

You’re so vain…you probably think this post is about you.

This post is about you.

Dear close friend or family member,¬†I have to be more understanding and try not to get my feelings hurt when I know you’ve been online, but you’ve ignored something I posted specifically for you; you must just have your hands full “sharing” all those played out memes and “inspirational” photos.

I love watching grown ass adults act like adolescents on a social media site, don’t you?

And speaking of “grown adults,” watching some of the older crowd navigate Facebook is like watching two monkeys try to fuck a football.

I’m just here for the Scrabble.