Tag Archives: humor

Can I get an oohrah?

 

As most of you know, my husband is a Marine. (And as I learned many moons ago, once a Marine always a Marine…. hence the is, even though he retired from the Corps years ago)

Being a Marine means being inundated with Marine Corps stuff. Newsletters, fliers, reunion notices, junk mail and catalogs… like this:

 

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Sgt. Grit appears in our mailbox on a regular basis because I made the mistake of ordering something for the husband from them online. I usually chuck it, but was bored the other day and started flipping through it.

 

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OOHRAH!!

The beloved Marine Corps grunt that I’ve never managed to perform to my husband’s satisfaction. This may have something to do with the fact that I sound more like Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman than Chesty Puller…..

 

 

And that’s Army. A big no no in this house.

(A little history below for those who care…. though my husband would tell you he’s not doing it correctly either)

 

 

The catalog has all the usual USMC geegaws and gifts…

 

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As well as those oh so subtle tee shirts young men love to wear….

 

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Thankfully my husband hates those.

He lived it, and doesn’t feel the need to advertise.

There are knives…

 

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And Ka Bar sporks.

 

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For those days at Kentucky Fried Chicken when plastic just won’t do.

 

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And now you can, for a mere $12.99

You’re welcome.

There are items for children…

 

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And good God, there are even Marine Corps gnomes.

 

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But it was the ladies section that made me choke.

Because even when I had the figure (way back when) to wear these?

No.

Just no…

 

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Babies can be annoying.

 

Let’s face it, there’s going to be a weekly baby barn update for the duration of the deconstruction/construction.

Which, at this point…. I figure will end sometime between  Jesus, isn’t it done yet?  and   If I have to pry one more splinter out of my hand, I’ll shoot myself in the head and call it good.

Walls.

 

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If you’re an immigrant during this administration? Not Good.

 

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If you’re a rotting baby barn circa 1974?  Very good.

 

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Here’s a pic of the husband using his vintage (what feels like 50lb) saw.

You’ll notice he’s hunched over and applying pressure. That’s because the damn thing shimmies like a tilt a whirl on crack and might fly apart if you don’t.

 

 

Walls.

 

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They’re a good thing. But sometimes…

 

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You see where I’m going with this?

 

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From the outside all looks well.

 

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From the inside, things went a little squirrelly on the right.

Crooked?

 

little bit

 

Do we care?

We do not.

 

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Do we wait for the wife to bring the dust pan during clean up?

 

 

So, another weekend done.

Another section framed and ready for siding.

 

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Did I mention that the husband’s plan of starting at the halfway point on the front and working his way around makes it look a bit odd?

 

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Rather like a schizophrenic.

Perhaps I shall name her Sybil….

Well, that’s a new one.

 

As you know…. my husband has a habit of coming home from the dump with more than he went with.

But this week?

I think he even surprised himself.

We’d been working on the baby barn and the truck was full of rotted wood.

 

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Our local recycling center won’t take it because it was painted, which means a 40 minute trip to a solid waste disposal site. He came back with an empty truck….

And this:

 

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Yeah.

A 2005 BMW.

Did we need another one? No.

 

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And come on, you know owning two BMW’s is twice as obnoxious as owning one.

Why did he buy another one?

Because it was clean…

 

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Had low mileage for it’s age…

And the little old lady that owned it treated it like a child.

 

 

I really have to stop letting him go to the dump alone.

 

*Disclaimer – technically he didn’t get this at the dump, just found it at a house along the way.  Hell, if he’d found it for free at the dump… I wouldn’t be complaining.*

 

 

 

 

 

More random critters.

 

The photo files need purging again so…

 

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Mother woodchuck and her last baby.

The other 3 have taken off for parts unknown.

 

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And I get the feeling this final child isn’t the brightest bulb in the pack.

 

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Someone needs to tell him we eat from the bowl, not sit in it.

 

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Or lie in it for that matter.

 

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Our beautiful buck is back.

 

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Which makes me nervous as it’s hunting season.

 

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Fingers crossed no one breaks up his family.

 

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This little devil was perched on the feeder bar waiting for an unsuspecting meal the other morning…

 

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I saw feathers on the lawn later in the day, so mission accomplished.

 

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The flies have been thick for the past few days and target the deer mercilessly.

 

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It’s my opinion this doe was sticking her tongue out at the flies…

And not the photographer.

Finally, who needs video games….

 

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When you’ve got real live angry birds right on the back lawn?

 

 

Do you Duluth?

 

For those not familiar with Duluth Trading Post…. it’s a clothing store with rather humorous commercials.

 

 

I say rather, because men usually get a bigger kick out of them than women.

 

 

Seeing that the subject matter is somewhat….. gender exclusive.

I’ve never had reason or opportunity to shop at Duluth, but recently a store opened in South Portland and my girlfriend wanted to go see what all the fuss was about.

Aside from some overpriced  ( $38 for a plain t shirt? I think not ) and under-styled clothes?

There were these:

 

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An entire section of stupid products.

 

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With a decided bent toward what you do in the bathroom.

 

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Color me unimpressed.

Although I did chortle at these…

 

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Because they reminded me of that horrible gynecologist I had who always asked me how things were “down there”.

Thankfully she lost her license to practice.

But who knows?

She might work for Duluth now….

 

 

Do you need one of these?

 

Stupid products. They’re everywhere…

Even here.

 

 

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I heard you. You think gas filters aren’t stupid?

Well, this one is for your butt.

 

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The bad part of a fart?

Pray tell, what exactly is the good part…

 

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For those of you who were looking for the perfect stocking stuffer for Xmas this year?

 

 

Next… no tie shoelaces.

 

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Because yes, apparently we really are that lazy.

 

 

 

On first glance this looked promising….

 

 

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Until I remembered the best thing about making S’mores on a campfire is that you don’t have to clean up anything.

Can you imagine the mess that contraption would make in your oven? Melted chocolate and gooey marshmallow crystallizing and baking onto the racks?

 

 

 

Finally, I admit this last stupid product has infinite potential.

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Now call me crazy, but a gentle reminder to change the toilet paper is not the first thing that came to mind when I thought of recording a message.

No…

I want more bang for my buck and was thinking more along the lines of the Tidy Bowl Man yelling  “Incoming!”….. or an upper class British accent begging you not to make a second trip to the buffet at Taco Loco.

 

 

As I said, infinite possibilities.

 

This is not what you want to find when rebuilding….

 

Our old baby barn/shed has a dirt floor with heavy duty rubber mats on top. Due to numerous woodchuck holes and tunnels, we had to drag all the mats out. That sounded easy enough until I realized each one of them weighed the equivalent of an African elephant…

 

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Seriously.

A pregnant, morbidly obese African elephant carrying a suitcase I packed for an overnight trip.

 

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Did I mention they were all covered in pounds of dirt as well?

 

 

So as we’re moving the next to last mat…..

 

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This.

 

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A chipmunk burrow with tiny scraps of paper, plastic and leaves.

Upon further examination…

 

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A maze of tunnels, which I thought was pretty cool, until… it moved.

 

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Do you see the leg?

 

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Yeah.

 

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Not a tunnel.

A nursery…

 

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Which means we had to find the other end of the tunnel and relocate them. Not an easy task.

Five minutes after we found them?

Momma found us.

 

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And she wasn’t happy.

She ran around squawking and chirping and looking for her babies.

 

 

After a while I think she found them, because she stopped searching and started stuffing.

Stuffing her little cheek pouches full of all those little scraps of paper….

 

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And scurrying back for more.

Within minutes she’d cleaned up the whole lot.

Watch her cram a dried leaf that’s almost bigger than she is below.

(And please pardon my husband’s cursing. Things were not going well with the rebuild at this point…)

 

 

After we wasted time relocating chipmunks, we realized we had to relocate a bird’s nest as well.

 

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So many evictions.

I felt like an evil slumlord.

 

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Back to work…. and things did not go well.

Which was completely the husband’s fault.

 

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He had the crazy idea he could square the building properly  (After 40 plus years of Maine frost heaves? Madness!)  and changed the original footprint….. which in turn threw everything off kilter.

More good times.

 

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Did I mention he uses tools from the 1950’s picked up at a yard sale or the dump?

This little jewel feels like it weighs 50 lbs.

 

But he has the original box… and vintage lube.

So it’s special.

 

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P.S.  For those of you who pay attention, this post is actually out of sequence. That back wall is gone now. Apparently my blog scheduling has run amok.