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Another Warning?

Posted on January 19, 2010 at 12:01 am

by Richard

Yes. Another warning. Just because I feel like being nice to you all.

Here it is. Valentine’s Day is coming and coming fast. Get working on your gift and right now.

True story, dudes. I’ve been together with my wife, known to me as She Who Might Be Reading So I’ll Speak Nicely Of Her, for more than two decades and she still has harsh words to say about our first Valentine’s Day.

“Our first Valentine’s Day, he got me absolutely nothing,” she sneers to her friends, her relatives, my relatives, my friends, strangers passing on the street if the mood strikes her. “But he learned. The next one he got me a nice Claddagh ring. He won’t let me down again.”

The last is said in a menacing whisper, with a significant glance shot toward me.

Yes. I’ve learned. I have the scars to prove it.

Don’t let this happen to you.

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Bad Ideas In History

Posted on January 12, 2010 at 12:01 am

by Richard

The ’80s have a lot to answer for. Flock of Seagulls hair. Parachute pants. M.C. Hammer. The A Team.

Okay, yeah. I’ll admit I did have a pair of parachute pants and did watch The A Team on television, but still I’m glad to leave it in the past. Far, far in the past.

But now Hollywood is digging up the corpse of the ’80s, shocking it with cheap, second-hand lightning and resurrecting zombified versions of already teetering properties.

To whit: They’re actually remaking The A Team as a feature-length movie released in theaters. I kid you not.

I shudder to think what’s coming next. Rainbow Pony: The Revenge: This Time It’s Personal?

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Dog Training

Posted on January 11, 2010 at 12:01 am

by Richard

Now that we have a dog, I’m able to do a little compare and contrast and I’ve come to a conclusion. To wit: It is much easier to train a dog than it is to train a little dude. Much, much easier.

In the probably less than five months that we’ve had our Labrador/pit bull mix, Buzz, we’ve been able to teach him not to poop on the floor, how to roll over, sit, not to beg at the table, how to tell which hand has the treat and how to choose that hand.

In the sixteen years we’ve had the little dudes, we’ve managed to teach them how not to poop on the floor. Most times.

Buzz has his own little area and he doesn’t mess in it.

I’m afraid to walk into the bedrooms of m three little dudes for fear the mess will have gained sentience and will attack just on general principles.

Buzz has his own bowl and will eat from it, making sure not to spill on the floor. If he does, he’ll clean it up. (With his tongue, but still the principle stands.)

After a meal with my little dudes, I’m tempted to rent the place out as a rest stop to a horde of migrating cockroaches moving south to escape the growing threat of the arctic boot heel.

Buzz actually likes to get in the shower. True story: we’ve got a shower without a door or curtain (on purpose, I assure you) and, whenever one of us is in the shower, Buzz will wander into the shower, get wet and happily start licking up the water on the ground.

Sometimes the funk surrounding the older little dudes, George of the Jungle and Zippy the Monkey Boy, is so fierce it’s almost a dose of concentrated evil. Eeeeeevvviiilllllll!

The point of all this. Not much. I’m just sitting here watching the dog lie quiet on the floor while Zippy chases Speed Racer around the kitchen and living room and dining room screaming something about death and dismemberment.

You know, there’s something to be said for a household of pets and no kids.

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