Who's Your Favorite?

Parents aren't supposed to have favorites right? But I do.

After 21 years of parenting (22 if you include the ex who was the first fledgeling to get booted from leave the nest) I have decided my dog is my favorite.

I know it isn't right or fair, but after all of that prior practice he's the one who really took all of my parenting experience and applied it - instead of totally ignoring me and learning everything the hard way.

He always gets along with others and is careful to entertain any doggy or people guests. He never goes in his crate and plays video games leaving his guests bored and uncomfortable. He is sure to spend time with each and every guest and has no problem letting them know he loves them all. 

When I walk into the house after a hard day of working to keep kibble on the table, he lavishes me with affection instead of asking if I went 20 minutes out of my way to stand in line for half an hour at Walmart and buy him a new set of headphones.

He self taught himself that vomiting on the carpet is unacceptable before he was one. That's right - my dog asks to go outside if he's gonna spew. I've had an eight year old two legged child stare at their own vomit on the carpet in total disbelief.  Like you didn't know your stomach was upset? Come on, even the dog knows when he's gonna spew.

He feels no need to leave his poo on display for the next visitor to the facilities. He is always discreet about these things and uses the back yard where nobody else really goes. (Sorry neighbors, I'll get out there and clean that up as soon as it gets a little warmer.)

He never hogs the bathroom nor does he drain my hot water tank taking endless showers. If he happens to be catching a drink at that giant doggy dish and I want to use it to pee, he's more than willing to step aside. The Asshats just lock the door and pretend they can't hear me.

He never bitches about which kibble I buy, instead grateful just to have some. I'm pretty sure the Asshats have never shown half the excitement over a meal that the dog does. The dog also never stands in front of the fridge waiting for the fridge genie to magically supply whatever vague something he wants. I have never once heard the dog say There's never anything good to eat in this house!

Can anyone really blame me for having a favorite?

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This post is a part of Theme Thursday - stop by and check it out!

Mother Effing Hump Day

Mother effing Hump Day - with nary a hump in sight.

Asshat #2 missed the bus - for the second time this week. Yep, that's right - twice in three days.

We're getting uniforms at work. Awesome - I don't have to see another effing pair of jeggings. For real, I like anything that makes it so I won't see camel-toe and asscrack. Except they're mother effing scrubs.

I hate scrubs. I can turn a tailored suit into an unmade bed in 30 minutes flat. Do you have any idea how much of a slob I'll look like by the end of a 14 hour shift wearing scrubs?

Oh and Mr. Recycle Man, with your itsy bitsy bladder? I am so glad that construction site had a conveniently placed porta-potty for your use. I didn't mind at all waiting behind your truck for you to hang a leak. I've got all the time in the world to eat lunch.

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Bling, Buttons And Memes

I'm sorry, I haven't got any new fresh veggie porn to share today. I didn't really mean that pun, but it's good isn't it?

I can tell you my high spirited ladies were quite tickled with tomato man. They've upped their phallic tomato offerings. So the fresh ones were there, just ahem - undersized.

Today's post will be brief - as I seem to have a lot of irons in the fire tonight.

I am over at Yeah Write this week and the rules for participating are you read every blog that links - I'm halfway there. If you haven't visited - you totally should. Really, it's the best community out there for bloggers. Erica is pretty strict on the quality, so what is there is great and there's something for everyone.

I have a half launched Facebook page that needs some serious bling added to it. I really want to thank the people that have already stroked my like button - I like it. For the pages that have liked, I'll be stroking back so I can share your awesomeness.

I want to create a badge so all of you can share the natural wonder of a Cocktail Tomato in Assless Chaps - I've never done it before so the learning curve is steep! But I will push on through and sooner or later you all will be able to have your own Tomato Man, well I guess that's if you actually want to have a Tomato Man.

Speaking of Tomato Man - don't you think he's just begging to be made into some memes? I do so I've been busily thinking up punchy little slogans I can print across his awesome hiney. If you've got one, feel free to post it in the comments.

So far my best is Does This Romaine Make My Ass Look Fat?, Hey There Cowboy, Keep Your Horse Away From My Junk and Should I Wax?

Plus I'm already looking for Cocktail Tomato boobs - we'll use some wilted celery hearts with the leaves for arms and lettuce for a robe and dammit I've got to build a lounge of some sort for her to recline on. Maybe a divan?

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A Box Of Twine And A Game Of Hoarders

I used to have a not so secret addiction to the show Hoarders. It lost it's appeal when the cast started sleeping in the Hoarder's home. Seriously, you cannot pay me enough to sleep in some Crazy Cat Lady's house. It was kind of a freaky show - or at least it freaked The Boyfriend right out.

The best thing about Hoarders was it aired on garbage night. I could throw away a lot of shit after watching back to back episodes of Hoarders.

Lately though I haven't been watching and I'm starting to worry that I may be sliding down that slippery bannister to full on hoarding. I especially started to wonder when I brought a box of twine home from work.

That's right, it's a box of used twine. I bet you wish you could get such awesome stuff where you work. Twine is some useful shit. I just don't know that I need an entire box of useful.

Since hoarders isn't on, to keep my ass motivated I did a little Am I A Hoarder? Nah I'm Not A Hoarder quiz in my head.

Hoarders don't do laundry, most of them can't even find their washer and dryer. Instead they buy new clothes.

I do have a couple of loads of laundry piled up, but I do it every damn day and the Asshats make me two new ones - every dann day, sometimes three. I can still find my washer and dryer even if I do have to kick through a bit of dirty clothing to get to it.

I never buy clothes because I suffer from Mall Rage. It's just like Road Rage, only it happens in the mall. Usually after some passive aggressive bitch race walks to get in front of me so she can walk exactly half a step slower than I want to walk.

Hoarders have nightmare kitchens that nobody has been able to prepare a meal in for the past 10 years. 

My kitchen is a nightmare. I did have to clean out all of the casserole dishes in the fridge tonight so I could have one clean to use for dinner, but all of them contained recognizable food I could remember preparing. Nothing there for Matt Paxton to taste. I did also manage to prepare a big family dinner in there a couple of weeks ago and nobody has reported any instances of food poisoning.

Hoarders often end up only living in a tiny little portion of their homes. 

I do spend a lot of time in my bedroom, but that's mostly to avoid being aggravated by the Asshats. My computer is in there, where the hell else would I hang out?  My bed even gets made once a week - right after I take the clean sheets out of the dryer.

Hoarders always have animals and piles of petrified poop in their houses. 

I have animals, but only one of each. I'm pretty sure there's no petrified poop anywhere to be found, unless we're talking in the lawn, but that's outside and damn it's cold out there.

I've come to the conclusion that I'm not a hoarder. I am a slob suffering from an internet addiction who realizes that twine is some useful shit.

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Hanging out at Yeah Write again, the coolest community on the Innerwebz. 

Try it.

You'll love it! - I promise.