Ailing fur baby, truly hysterical "article" on birds

For starters, because the world really feels awfully grim on the regular these days, it is important to laugh. As such, I beseech you to read this Field Guide to Dumb Birds of North America. Now, I actually love birds and enjoy watching them every day. But this is HILARIOUS. It's like the Williams-Sonoma Hater's Guide but for birders. It took me about five tries and more than twenty minutes to make it the whole way through because I was laughing so hard I was wheezing and crying. I am not kidding! It really picks up on bird 3, the white-breasted Butt Nugget, so don't sell yourself short by quitting early. 

It is also important to share love and peace in all ways possible as often as possible, because doing so is a helpful counter to wanting to make targets from approximately twenty politician's photographs each day and then play many rounds of darts. I present my love and peace pie. We ate it in less than a day which says something both about how much we needed such positivity and also about how good pie pretty much always is.

Nutmeg came home with a bloody paw earlier this week, and after a limp emerged a couple days later, I made an appointment with the vet. Poor love got his paw stuck somewhere and ripped a nail clean off in getting free. Because cat nails grow directly from the bone, the trauma of the nail loss broke or fractured his toe. You would never have known by how composed and wonderful he continued to be. I swear he feels this cast is worse than the limp. :(

Look at his whiskers shooting forth from the cone of shame. Sad.

Fortunately, he hasn't even tried to sniff his bandage so he does not have to wear his cone anymore. It's really the saddest, most pitiful accessory. He could not access his food with it on and obviously felt his balance was terribly off.

We have taken to calling him Peg Leg Nut, and I have carried him like a baby pretty much exclusively since the cast was put on because his hobble is too depressing to watch. I even slept downstairs with him last night as I didn't want to worry about him trying to get upstairs to find us. And what if he needed anything? 

I have taken to calling myself CAT LADY.

My heart just breaks for him. I'm thankful we have good veterinary care, can afford to access it, and that Nutmeg will be ok. Poor babe.

When you teach your child to call you

As Oliver approaches the age of staying home alone for brief periods of time, I realized, yesterday, that I've not yet taught him how to call me should he need. He knows our numbers but was not versed on picking up the phone and using it properly.

He had no school yesterday and so we tackled tying shoes and making calls. 

A couple hours after mastering both, my cell phone rang. 

"Hello?"

"Hello," said a vaguely disguised child's voice. "This is Officer Penis. There is a thief going around town stealing everything. Have you seen him?"

"No," I said, "But I'll keep my eyes open."

"Thank you!"
****

Shortly thereafter, my phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Hello. This is Major Asshole* calling. Are you on Spaceball 1?"

"I am not."

"OK."
***

Shortly thereafter, my phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Hello," said the vaguely disguised child's voice. "This is Anus Poobanus 1. I have identified the thief as Silent and Swift Jack. He is wearing a black suit, that he stole, and a gray hat, a spy hat. He has brown hair. He goes into people's homes and steals everything and brings it all back to his lab and destroys it, or takes it for his own use, or analyzes it. Do you have any clues?"

"No, Anus Poobanus, I do not, but I will keep my eyes peeled."

"Why would you do that?"

"I mean open."

"OK, thank you."
***

This went on and on and on and culminated in our drawing a wanted poster for Silent and Swift Jack with this note: "If you see this man detain him for questioning and call Officer Anus Poobanus 1 at 1-800-Druidia."

I laughed all day but, as I prepped for my Dinner Club's arrival, ultimately forgot about Ol's antics.

Fast forward a few hours and my phone rings. Without thinking, I picked up and asked, "Anus Poobanus, is this you?"

"Um, what?"

"Oh, hi honey." It was actually Tom. The friend nearest me cracked up. I mean, who answers the phone with "Anus Poobanus, is this you?" and then it's NOT AP but one's spouse. 

When I told Oliver this story today, he fell out. Seriously, if he'd been driving, we'd have gone off the road. And then he told Jack and then laughed until they cried. 

My little one can now tie his shoes, make phone calls, AND reference movies within them. I'm proud.

*We are Spaceballs aficionados. If you don't know the Major Asshole scene, you should acquaint yourself with it! 

In which Kim Trump-mugabe baby leads the country

Today, I am furious. I am furious squared infinity times which makes me what? What is beyond furious? Vehemently furious? Rabid? Wrathful? 

Come to think of it, wrathful might just hit the mark. It sounds straight up, "Bitch, don't even mess with me. I'm positively stabby right now." Which is rather accurate. 

I am very tired. I'm still not 100% well, and darling Oliver has been sick since Sunday which is, incidentally, when Tom left for a four day business trip. Today I stepped in a pile of puke. There were four piles, two of the feline persuasion and two of the human kind. I stepped in the latter. It wasn't nice. Despite that...

My wrath is wholly directed at the Vulgar Yam and the fact that he seems to think we are a satanic hybrid of North Korea and any other given dictatorship. Let's say Russia. It's like a le Carré novel met an Atwood novelless and they had a baby in a hospital run by Kim Jong-un and then adopted the baby to Robert Mugabe. 

Legit, we now seem to live in a country run by that baby. Who is, by the way, still a baby. A mad, spoiled, uneducated baby stamping his feet and fists about how many people attended his birthday party. He has no friends so there weren't many, but I'ma tell you what, that is an unacceptable fact and so it's a lie. 

You may think you attended that party and witnessed the non-existent crowd. You might have even snapped a few pics, just for shits and giggles. But those are actually fake because millions of illegal aliens voted and said they are.

Averred Kim Trump-mugabe baby.

Kim Trump-mugabe baby then told everyone who could have possibly taken a picture at his (poorly-attended) party, and everyone who might have been texted a picture of the empty musical chairs, and anyone they might even know that they better shut.it.down. Right now. Meanwhile, Kim Trump-mugabe baby declared the day a National Day of Patriotic Devotion.

Meanwhile, Kim Trump-mugabe baby tried to color a picture, but no one could tell what his subject was. Are those trees? Is it an abstract? Is it derivative Pop Art? Kim Trump-mugabe baby was so enraged that no one knew he'd drawn a gilded mansion that he tore his picture up and abolished anything supporting the arts and humanities.

"If these bigly idiots can't see my UGE gilded manshun for what it is -UNPRESIDENTED genius work, by the way- then they're done. They're over."

Kim Trump-mugabe baby sprayed his bouffant comb over back into turban-in-the-wind place and thought. Well, he sat and watched TV. He watched a reality show of his creation and told his inflatable plastic friend how honered he was that someone wrote a show about his greatness.

In his "mind" something about women marching and not wanting him to grab their pussies without asking starts to swirl. He becomes incensed again, but having already torn his drawing to shreds, he instead calls two acquaintances: Carlsbad, NM, City Councilor, JR Doporto, and Mississippi Senator, Chris McDaniel.

JR says, "Donnie," those women "have a right to be slapped" if they protest you. 

"Oh, OK, JR," blabs Kim Trump-mugabe baby. "That's good."

Chris says, "Trumpy baby, those are just unhappy liberal bitches. Answer me this: 'if they can afford all those piercings, tattoos, body paintings, signs, and plane tickets, then why do they want us to pay for their birth control?'"*

"There are so many words in your question, Chris. I just don't know the answer or the words or what it all means." replies Donnie.

"That's OK, Donnie, you don't need to." Just say that your inauguration was bigger and also illegal alien voters.

"Ok, Chris. I'm gonna go nominate someone for something now. I heard something about how we don't have any ambassadors in place, and I need some connections overseas. I wanna build a new Trump Tower. It's gonna be the best ever. UGE. Maybe in GINA. Chris? Chris? Are you there?"

*MS senator, Chris McDaniel, actually wrote that sentence (and many other fine gems) on his Facebook page two days after the Women's March. Classy guy.