Walking home from the morning dog field the other day we came across the Raccoon Boy truck. I love his tagline: When Animals Annoy, call Raccoon Boy! Not sure if you can see the illustration but there are handcuffs involved!
As luck would have it, he was getting out of his truck as we passed. I told him that I loved his name and he came back with a quick: “I take care of annoying husbands, too!”
Gotta love Raccoon Boy.
Then, as with many oddities that come across my path, I was in a store buying new glass doors for the fireplace and on the counter was this article about a rabid raccoon dropping down the chimney, ransacking a woman’s house and then running upstairs and biting her in the face!
Of course this was a marketing piece to reinforce not only the aesthetic advantages of glass doors but the fact that they will actually shield you from facial disfigurement.
Me:(walking into the bathroom where I see both Gary and the Iko looking into the toilet) WAIT, I need to get a camera.
What, you thought I was going to stick my hand in the toilet to get that bone? Yeh, right! Yes, that is what that was, a bone. I have had people guess it was a sock and a condom. Seriously? A condom in my house? With my sans uterus, way past childbearing old arse?
Gary:She needs to get that out of the toilet. Go ahead Iko, you dropped it in there, now you get it out.
Iko: Gives the universal Lab look of ‘are you f’in kidding me’, turns around and walks out of the bathroom.
Me: Guess that leaves you, my sweet. Don’t worry, I just cleaned that toilet… um, when was that again.
He is hard pressed to believe I did not put the dog up to this… perhaps that will make him think next time he leaves the seat up ; )
We came across this piece on the street and I am still wondering why I did not buy it. I am thinking I need to go back next Sunday in the hopes the vendor will be there.
I have read a lot of dog philosophy over the years, but none is quite as perfect as this.
I saw this the other day in the oddest of places… the hardware store. I am still unclear why it was on the shelf next to the Duck Tape (not to be confused with the Duct Tape).
Perhaps this was the animal shelf.
I had a vague memory of this stuff and went back into my archives to find that I had written about the male version back in October 09. Yes, I have been writing that long… much longer actually; about stuff like anti-friction powder, so yes, you could say I have an impressive body of work.
I simply love the hot pink butt on this monkey. The pink bow, the thumbs up, the crazy grin of anti-friction relief, the pearl earrings for G-d’s sake… she is just fabulous.
I think I was drawn to her human stance because I just finished a 582 page book about a talking chimp. I have this odd feeling that all the animals around me can really talk but they are clamming up because they don’t want to make a scene.
No, I don’t think I have snapped.
Back to the powder. Anti-friction? Is it me, or do I just not feel that there is so much butt friction in my daily life that I need something to counter it. Perhaps it is this – my son always complains about a condition he calls swamp ass. So the first thing I thought of when I saw this was how great it would be for lady swamp ass. You know, like the Virginia Slims of ass relief. And then I read that post from a few years ago and I had the same thought (sans the Virginia Slims).
So now I am snapping AND losing my memory.
Who cares. The thing that counts is that I am blogging again. And after a long period of being serious, I feel compelled to be absurd again. That can’t be bad (not as bad as butt friction, anyway).
So, for those of you who missed me and were starting to complain…
As a parent, every few years you are faced with another rite of passage, another adventure your child is about to embark on, another chance for you to show your chops as a parent. Although your heart is hanging on to the hem of their pants as they walk through that door, your head is ready to let them fly…
again.
The last time I wrote one of these my boy was off to college. Seems like yesterday, yet here we, are 3 and half years later and he is off for a semester abroad in Seville, Spain. I thought now would be a good time to give him one of my famous lists of advice. I do this every so often to remind him, or more likely myself, that I am not quite through imparting wisdom just yet. If I write it here instead of tell him all this to his face, I spare myself the humiliation of the sighing and eye-rolling. So here goes, in no particular order.
Don’t be THAT American. This is similar to what I told my kids when they were first starting to experiment with drinking. Don’t be THAT girl/guy, the one that gets wasted and pukes on themselves. Don’t be THAT American simply means respect the local culture.
Try to really SEE Europe, don’t just drink Europe. This is obvious to me and quite ridiculous to him. Hopefully somewhere in between will be his reality.
Keep your eyes open and soak in everything. You never know what might wind up being the answer to what you want to do with your life.
Be Smart. If it feels wrong, it probably is. If it seems unsafe, it probably is.
Eat Everything, within reason. No explanation needed.
Don’t be a dick (not that you ever would be). Again, the international version. This is like number 1 on steroids. Check the ego at the door and you might as well leave the egocentric there to keep it company.
If you have to play beer pong, make sure you win the 100 Euro. Self-explanatory.
Amsterdam – you MUST see the Anne Frank House. As Jana said, as a Jew it is your responsibility. Period.
The rest of your time in Amsterdam. I do not need details, thanks.
Have the time of your life. This one should be easy.
In all seriousness, you are an amazing young man and have always made us proud. We have no real worries about this trip. We are just a more than a little jealous.
I would like to start this post by assuring you that no animals were harmed just for a laugh.
We spent the afternoon on The High Line today. It was a glorious afternoon and there was a claustrophobic mass of humanity nice crowd out there enjoying the day with us. The thing about The High Line is that it was built after many of the apartments that are adjacent to it. I would imagine those who previously had lovely private terraces and windows facing what was an abandoned raised train track are now less than thrilled to have throngs of people strolling past their windows every day. I would also imagine that the window treatment biz picked up in this neighborhood after the completion of this extraordinary public gem.
I digress. One of these very not-so-private apartments facing the walkway had this cat wedged in between the couch and the window. At first a crowd started to gather and point in horror that this poor animal had been neglected and was now in its final resting place for all to see.
Until the little sucker moved. It sort of stretched and repositioned itself and settled back into its big snooze under glass.
This confirms my theory that cats are more than a little messed up in the head.
We have been away a lot this month, and Miss Iko has been a good sport about being in the care of others. But on the day after we return I always try to spend the day with her. Working at home makes that pretty easy.
Today I found myself having to make a last minute trip in the car and was going to be gone for a couple of hours. I just could not bear that little face as I was leaving the house, so…
I invited her for the ride.
The thing is, this puppy is far from a good car dog. Mel? She was the queen of the car ride. She sat in the back when asked and would never consider jumping out the window. Hell, she would sit in the convertible with the top down and never think of bolting. Iko? Not so much.
I know it is not good to compare dogs, and they all have their roles in your life. So I am going to deem Iko my co-pilot. I am sure it is a job she will take very seriously as she gets older. This shot pretty much illustrates her dedication.
As for the title of this post, it was inspired by this book, that I highly recommend.
There are days when everything is funny. These are the days I live for. It could be the people that I know, the fact that they are also Magnets for The Absurd, or perhaps the universe has sympathy on us poor working slobs on a rainy Monday morning. But this. THIS. This one made me laugh so hard.
To the point of tears.
Which, btw, is the tagline for this blog.
So here goes. A big thank you to Wendy for posting this one.
It would seem that Bart Jansen’s poor kitty was killed by a car. So what did he do? Did he spend his days sobbing. Oh no, no, no. In the spirit of turning lemons into lemonade he turned his kitty into a kittycopter!
Um, yes, folks, good old Bart stuffed his deceased feline and converted Orville into a radio-controlled copter. When you think of it, why bury, cremate or toss a perfectly good dead cat when you can fly it around your yard for hours of entertainment? And then post it on YouTube so the whole world could enjoy your pet. I like to think of this as extending the pet value. This has the flavor of a good B. Kliban drawing. (please click that link and note the url for a little more kitty humor).
Is this disrespectful to the pet or the ultimate tribute?
Can you imagine the conversation at the taxidermist’s shop? You want him in WHAT position? Might I ask why? Oh, a kittycopter… that’s a cool idea. I would think that taxidermists are not all that easily shocked; they must have the most disturbing requests. Hmmm… maybe I should start a taxidermist blog and interview them all over the country. Sorry, I digress.
Of course there is video. When I clicked to watch there were only 301 hits. I predict this sucker breaks 100,000 in no time. I am sure I will be good for at least 50 myself. And if you are wondering, yes, I did watch the full 3:34 of this. The landing was the best part outside of his adjusting the little copter propellors.
Oriville the kitty? I heard his dog Wilbur has been crossing the street very carefully in fear of becoming the next victim of radio-controlled absurdity.
i could cry but i don't have time 