Ever since I bought Poetry for Neanderthals from Facebook ( which we still haven’t played because Covid has killed game night with friends ) I’ve been getting ads. Some are interesting, some are ridiculous. I think this one falls into the latter category.
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*Note to self… Google Large Cockchafer*
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And while I’m sure having a handful of Slippery Dicks can be delightful, I think I’m probably going to pass on this one.
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I’d like to think my sense of humor is a tad more advanced.
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Though I am blogging about this… so the point might be moot.
My husband went to breakfast last weekend and met up with his old cronies for the first time in almost a year. They’re a group of men who commandeer a large table at our local restaurant, drink endless cups of coffee and solve the world’s problems. Since he hadn’t seen them in a while, the husband filled them in on our storage barn to man cave transformation. When he got to the part about the pool table, an 85 year old gentleman said he loved to play…. so naturally he received an invitation.
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Husband won the first game and I’m sure he was thinking he should take it easy on the older man.
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Which was about the time this delightful senior citizen began to whip my beloved’s ass.
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85? Maybe so. But he had no problem running the table for the next three games.
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The fifth found my husband in a pickle. Because that sly senior plays a good defensive game as well.
And really, for all the aggravation our resident red bitch causes us …. I think a concert with rodent sized baby grand and vocal accompaniment is the least she can do.
I read an article the other day that made me chuckle.
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The list was long, but here are a few highlights.
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Yikes. I am in no way, shape or form a penny pincher…. ( the jury is still out on arse ) but I always box up my uneaten goodies. This has nothing to do with being cheap and everything to do with not wanting to cook dinner the next day. Of course we’re talking about English food here, so it really isn’t a surprise no one wants to bring that home.
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Okay, I’m doomed. We spent 18 years in the south.. and smothered with sausage gravy is my very favorite way to eat biscuits.
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Fanny means vagina? I had an aunt named Fanny. (crazy, but true) Then again, she was a nasty old biddy who should have embraced her latent homosexuality instead of living alone and miserable all of her bitter loveless life… so, okay.
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Side note… Googling ‘Aunt Fanny’ makes me realize I am woefully out of touch.
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It’s beginning to look like I won’t be able to cross England off my bucket list. I drink fresh brewed unsweetened iced tea every day, winter, spring, summer and fall. Why do Brits have such an aversion to ice?
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Oh good grief. I’ve always used spunky as an adjective. Looks like I’m going to have to rethink that…
Today we can finally say the barn construction is complete. After breaking ground (not to mention our backs) in April 2012, the last pieces were just put into place.
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Said pieces being soffit under the eaves. For years they had been open…
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But now they’re boxed in, vented and painted.
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And also impossible to photograph without massive sun reflections.
If I had my druthers, I’d finish off the porch ceiling as well….
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But for some reason the husband draws the line there.
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I think it’s because people compliment us on the new paint job… the one I wanted and he didn’t. It ticks him off everyone loves it and he has to take his revenge where he can.
The shortest war in history was between Zanzibar and England in 1896? Zanzibar surrendered after 38 minutes.
No?
I did, because….
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Did you know…. Each year, Americans spend more on cat food than baby food?
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Judging by the way Dudley devours his, I’m not at all surprised.
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Well, since you asked….
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The phrase ‘son of a gun’ derives from the days when women were allowed to live on naval ships. Their children were born behind a screen, often near the mid ship gun. If paternity was in doubt, the child was registered in the log as the “son of a gun’.
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Did you know…. Salvador Dali once arrived at an art exhibition in a limousine filled with turnips?
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Did you know…. Ostriches beat the heat by urinating on their legs? It evaporates like sweat.
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Proof positive there’s a YouTube video for everything. Even though sometimes you wish there wasn’t.
Lord Dudley Mountcatten has decided my husband needs help.
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And pays rapt attention to my other half while he’s teleworking. When little paws start swatting the keyboard resulting in lost documents and misspelled words that annoy the human? He hides.
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And he’s very skilled at hiding. You can almost never find him.
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In other news, a friend sent me an ad for a shirt they thought I simply must have.
Lord Dudley Mountcatten has the full run of our house and sleeps on whatever bed, couch or chair strikes his fancy. But even in this personal Catopia there are limits and he is not allowed on the kitchen counters, tables or bedroom bureaus.
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You knew where this was going right?
While I’ve kicked him off our master bedroom bureaus enough times for him to get the message…
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Who, me?
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He seems to think the guest room is fair game.
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And happily parks his butt up there to look out the windows when he thinks I’m not looking.
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Go away human, you’re bothering me.
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Bad cat.
Bad.
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