Two puppies to be exact. I mentioned how he renames the pups and he finally got around to it this past week. Of course, Easton is Sheena Easton. Martini and Eli I caught on video. Drake and Moose are still Drake and Moose but he elongates their vowels- "Draaaaaaayke!" and "Mooooooooose!" Wah-lah! is still Wah-Lah! but that's because he can't come up with anything more ridiculous to call her. (she hasn't been renamed by her new owners yet).
Also, last night (Thursday night, if you're reading this on a day that isn't Friday), DG had a conversation with himself. Ceej and I left for the orchestra meeting and even said, "Bye" to him as we left. I called him about an hour later to ask if he'd make a swing so we could use it as the prize in the raffle for fundraising. He asked, "What about the birdhouses?" I told him those are for our kid alone and the swing raffle would help lower the overall cost for the parents of every kid. So he said he'd do it. We really don't have much else to offer up in the way of fundraising or volunteering. He can't do it, and I simply don't enjoy sitting in uncomfortable chairs without pain medication for hours on end. But I digress. You didn't come here to read about my whiny little rant about fundraising.
You came to watch these videos.
I don't think an intro is really all that necessary because the videos speak for themselves.
Quite literally...
In this one, though, we reference the movie "Undercover Blues" and the character who called himself "Muerte" which is "death". The Blues (Kathleen Turner and Dennis Quaid) called him "Morty".
This video is supposed to be about the puppy and not DG's chest hair.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
"Y'all clean up your room!" (pics and video!)
As I mentioned, the puppies live in our kitchen till they're old enough to go home. That's because our kitchen is the warmest room in the house and it is also the only room with a tile floor that is easily blocked. And trust me... we need the tile. People think Chihuahuas are small and not very messy. Well, that's true. But when there's six of them, the mess is times-six. So much poo.
Even though the sweet puppies are in the kitchen, we still have to use the kitchen. Most times, that's not an issue, but first thing in the morning, well, let's just say it takes work. During the day we try to keep up. At the point when they go home, people ask me if I miss them. No. I do not. By the time they go home, I'm just so very tired of the poo.
But I digress. DG has conversations with the puppies. As if they're human. As if they're not babies. And as if they can do what he's ordering them to do.
Nearly daily, he says, "Y'all, clean up your room!"
And this is the response the puppies give him:
DG: "Don't look at me like that! You need to clean up your room!"
And the puppies' response:
DG: "Y'all think you're so cute, dontcha? Well, you're not as cute as you think you might be!"
And the puppies say:
DG: "Hey, you're supposed to pay attention to me. Don't ignore me! Oh, sure, just go to sleep. Be that way. You'll be laughing out of your face when you clean up this room."
Puppies? What do you have to say?
Now, as you can see, I took these photos all in a row. And the one absolute consistent was the single puppy sleeping in the center with his head resting on the edge of the bed. That would be Moose. The big white one that keeps moving around, that's Martini. The darker brown one to the left is Easton. There's a white one in the foreground with Moose, also sleeping. That would be little Eli. Eli eventually moved to get away from the flashy thing and was curled with little Wah-Lah!, and the other (larger) brown one in the back is Drake. I'm telling you their names because all but one has been re-named (that would be Wah-Lah! who is having someone come look at her tomorrow).
Of course, DG doesn't call them by their names. We named all the puppies till their owners re-named them. In the last litter Luna had, DG named them all different names- as in: Angel Eyes, Two Socks, Speedy Rodriquez, Brownie, and The Brain. So far, he hasn't named this litter- except Easton.
I promised that there would be video. And, here it is... these are short snippets of video and two of them are actually one long one broken in two parts. In one of those, I sound incredibly annoyed with DG. And I kind of am. More than once a day, he makes the same exact joke when he says, "Which one is this?"
I reply: "That's Easton."
He exclaims: "Sheena Easton!"
And I tell him yet again that her new owner is a coach and a teacher and she had her team name the pup- Easton, after a baseball bat.
Short discussion with the pups.
Part one- (DG spilled some chili he was reheating for lunch, which is what we're telling Luna to leave alone).
Part two-
And because I mentioned it in the above video, here's the video where Drake gets Easton pinned in the playpen.
There you have it... in the next few weeks, before the pups all go to their new homes, there will be more video and quite possibly longer conversations with the puppies. Because we all know how puppies always do what their told. As if they're human. As if they're not babies.
Even though the sweet puppies are in the kitchen, we still have to use the kitchen. Most times, that's not an issue, but first thing in the morning, well, let's just say it takes work. During the day we try to keep up. At the point when they go home, people ask me if I miss them. No. I do not. By the time they go home, I'm just so very tired of the poo.
But I digress. DG has conversations with the puppies. As if they're human. As if they're not babies. And as if they can do what he's ordering them to do.
Nearly daily, he says, "Y'all, clean up your room!"
And this is the response the puppies give him:
DG: "Don't look at me like that! You need to clean up your room!"
And the puppies' response:
DG: "Y'all think you're so cute, dontcha? Well, you're not as cute as you think you might be!"
And the puppies say:
DG: "Hey, you're supposed to pay attention to me. Don't ignore me! Oh, sure, just go to sleep. Be that way. You'll be laughing out of your face when you clean up this room."
Puppies? What do you have to say?
Now, as you can see, I took these photos all in a row. And the one absolute consistent was the single puppy sleeping in the center with his head resting on the edge of the bed. That would be Moose. The big white one that keeps moving around, that's Martini. The darker brown one to the left is Easton. There's a white one in the foreground with Moose, also sleeping. That would be little Eli. Eli eventually moved to get away from the flashy thing and was curled with little Wah-Lah!, and the other (larger) brown one in the back is Drake. I'm telling you their names because all but one has been re-named (that would be Wah-Lah! who is having someone come look at her tomorrow).
Of course, DG doesn't call them by their names. We named all the puppies till their owners re-named them. In the last litter Luna had, DG named them all different names- as in: Angel Eyes, Two Socks, Speedy Rodriquez, Brownie, and The Brain. So far, he hasn't named this litter- except Easton.
I promised that there would be video. And, here it is... these are short snippets of video and two of them are actually one long one broken in two parts. In one of those, I sound incredibly annoyed with DG. And I kind of am. More than once a day, he makes the same exact joke when he says, "Which one is this?"
I reply: "That's Easton."
He exclaims: "Sheena Easton!"
And I tell him yet again that her new owner is a coach and a teacher and she had her team name the pup- Easton, after a baseball bat.
Short discussion with the pups.
Part one- (DG spilled some chili he was reheating for lunch, which is what we're telling Luna to leave alone).
Part two-
And because I mentioned it in the above video, here's the video where Drake gets Easton pinned in the playpen.
There you have it... in the next few weeks, before the pups all go to their new homes, there will be more video and quite possibly longer conversations with the puppies. Because we all know how puppies always do what their told. As if they're human. As if they're not babies.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Conversation with a puppy
So, like I said, Luna had six puppies. All gorgeous, all healthy.
The other day, I was petting Luna because she's not getting much attention what with being the mum to six puppies and stuck in the kitchen till they're old enough to be left alone and she had one pup with her. After I petted and cooed at her, I reached over to pet the puppy, who was nursing.
It growled at me! I've never had a puppy growl at me before! So what did I do? I grabbed my camera and took video.
Today, I was re-telling DG about the growler and how we're not supposed to do that because it can make the pups aggressive. He said: "That puppy. He was telling you to leave him alone."
Me: "I know."
DG: "He said, 'Oooh, if I had teeth, I'd tear you up!'... that's what he said."
Me: "He'd tear me up?"
DG: "He did. 'If I had teeth, she wouldn't do that! grrrrr!', like that."
Me: "I see. He told you this?"
DG: "Yeah, we've talked about it. Had conversations."
Me: "You talked about it? Had conversations? Maybe even a dialog about it? With the puppy? The small dog? The young Chihuahua?"
He called me a smart-ass after that. I don't know why. *blinks innocently*
Here's a video from the other day when I cleaned up the playpen the pups are usually kept in. DG's in the video a little bit, and you really need to ignore my annoying voice. I don't think I sound as nasally as I do in the video, but hey, that's just me. For the record, Gypsy was whining because she couldn't get into the kitchen to play with the puppies.
The other day, I was petting Luna because she's not getting much attention what with being the mum to six puppies and stuck in the kitchen till they're old enough to be left alone and she had one pup with her. After I petted and cooed at her, I reached over to pet the puppy, who was nursing.
It growled at me! I've never had a puppy growl at me before! So what did I do? I grabbed my camera and took video.
Today, I was re-telling DG about the growler and how we're not supposed to do that because it can make the pups aggressive. He said: "That puppy. He was telling you to leave him alone."
Me: "I know."
DG: "He said, 'Oooh, if I had teeth, I'd tear you up!'... that's what he said."
Me: "He'd tear me up?"
DG: "He did. 'If I had teeth, she wouldn't do that! grrrrr!', like that."
Me: "I see. He told you this?"
DG: "Yeah, we've talked about it. Had conversations."
Me: "You talked about it? Had conversations? Maybe even a dialog about it? With the puppy? The small dog? The young Chihuahua?"
He called me a smart-ass after that. I don't know why. *blinks innocently*
Here's a video from the other day when I cleaned up the playpen the pups are usually kept in. DG's in the video a little bit, and you really need to ignore my annoying voice. I don't think I sound as nasally as I do in the video, but hey, that's just me. For the record, Gypsy was whining because she couldn't get into the kitchen to play with the puppies.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Banana Sandwiches and Puppies.
Those two things aren't related. Firstly, our Chihuahuas, Luna and Jasper, had puppies last week. (Wednesday, June 30th). The Disabled Guy was gone on his little useless trip till the previous weekend. I had been sleeping on the sofa just in case Luna had her puppies. The sofa is the one DG built and is nice to sit on, but absolutely horrible to sleep on.
But more on puppies later, because there will be more photos at the end. To hold you over, here's a group shot from yesterday.
Our son got a full time job at Bird's Eye Foods. He's exhausted and has no life now, beyond going to work and coming home. Jase also has a medical problem and can only eat certain foods at times. Its difficult to explain and let's just leave it at that. One of the things Jase takes to work is bananas. This batch of bananas ripened far too quickly and DG decided he would make banana sandwiches for lunch.
I hear you saying, "Oooh, delicious!" No. Don't say that. Not at all. He doesn't make them with peanut butter or even peanut butter and chocolate sauce. No, he makes his banana sandwiches with Miracle Whip. You heard me. "The Bread Spread from Kraft" and sliced bananas. If you think sliced bananas are slimy, try spreading Miracle Whip on the bread first.
And about the slicing, he doesn't slice them in small pieces, like coins. He slices them long-ways, so they cover more bread. Now, you can see where this is going because I'm sure you all remember that DG only has the use of one hand. In this situation, it would make sense to slice them small, like coins. No, he still tries to slice them long-ways. So, being the good wifey that I am, I offer to help- even though I detest the slimy feel of Miracle Whip and bananas. DG doesn't like to ask for help and after 15 years, I just know when he needs it, and sometimes, I wait for him to ask (or, in most cases, he swears a lot and then says, "DEAR! C'mere!"). But he waited till he mangled a banana before saying anything to me. I took the now-slime covered butter knife and sliced the second banana long-ways and fixed the second sandwich.
DG said: "Thanks. I could never slice those got-damned bananas."
Me, slicing easily: "Not even before." (as in, before the stroke).
DG: "Not even. I always tear it up." Then he picked up his two sandwiches and said, "You can tell mine from yours. Mine's like a Whopper and this is like a cheeseburger!"
Me: "Like a Whopper?"
DG: "Like a Whopper."
As he was getting his two little snack-size bags of chips, I stood next to the gate at the kitchen door. We have the gate up to keep the other three dogs away from Luna and the puppies- who are in a playpen in the kitchen (the warmest room in the house). I moved the gate for him to leave the kitchen and Luna was sitting up in the playpen, looking at DG as he walked by.
He said: "Look, Luna knows. Like a Whopper." She wagged her tail. He repeated, "Like a Whopper. She knows."
Once in the living room with his two sandwiches and two snack-size bags of chips, he sighed. I asked what was wrong. He replied, "This isn't going to be enough. I'm really hungry."
He ate half of the first sandwich. And he sighed again.
I asked, "Would you like me to make you another nasty sandwich?"
DG: "Could you make two?"
Now, about the puppies!
I was officially diagnosed with fibromyalgia on Monday, June 28th. For those who don't know, it causes widespread pain through the muscles and it makes the sufferer extremely tired. Since I'd been sleeping on the sofa for over a week, I was not sleeping well. The more tired you are, the more pain you're in. So, when DG would get up in the morning, I would go to bed and tell him to come get me if something happened with Luna. So, you can see how him being gone was bad for me at this time. While he was gone, I had to sleep on the sofa, stay awake instead of napping (because my kids have lives and jobs and aren't always home), and I had to cook dinners and do dishes and just loads of stuff I don't normally do on a daily basis.
But I digress.
On Wednesday, June 30th, I told him, "I'm going to take a nap. Come get me if something happens." This was around 630 AM. I fell asleep quickly, the bed being much more comfortable than the sofa.
Less than an hour later, DG came upstairs and said that Luna was "panting all weird-like." I asked where she was- she'd gotten into the playpen all by herself (there's a hole in the side for her to come and go). I sat up and told him I'd be down in a minute. I sat on the bed for a minute, then went to the bathroom to get my track pants on. In the possibly three minutes since he woke me till I walked out of the bathroom, he was racing back up the stairs.
Before I could say anything he exclaimed, "There's something coming out of her!"
I asked what it looked like.
DG replied: "Disgusting!"
I had to wait on him to go down the stairs because he was blocking me. He got to the kitchen before me, because I paused to call my friend, Vickie- who is a dog breeder (and where we got Luna and Jasper). When I walked into the kitchen, DG was standing next to the playpen with a look of terror and utter disgust on his face. I had to laugh at him.
Luna went on to have six puppies. All healthy. Four boys and two girls. As they grow, there will be many photos and maybe some video footage of DG with the puppies. Till then, here are some photos...
DG isn't good at holding the puppies for photos. He refuses to hold them with any kind of pressure because he thinks he'll hurt them. But I got two shots of two of the puppies with him holding them.
This is Vato- he's been purchased and his new name is Drake.
This is Chica- she's also been purchased and her new name is Easton.
I held the pups pictured below. In order of birth, they are: Wah-Lah!, Vato, Paco, Pedro, Chica, and Huevo. The new owners re-name them most of the time. But DG will also give them weird nicknames (one from the last litter was called "Speedy Rodriquez" because "Speedy Gonzales" is trademarked, so says DG).
Wah-Lah!, a girl.
Paco- he's my favorite right now, because of his coloring.
Pedro.
Huevo. (Pedro, Wah-Lah!, and Huevo all look alike.)
Group shot!
And here's a photo of the sofa. Its pretty... and pretty uncomfortable as a bed.
And that's our son, being his usual self.
But more on puppies later, because there will be more photos at the end. To hold you over, here's a group shot from yesterday.
Our son got a full time job at Bird's Eye Foods. He's exhausted and has no life now, beyond going to work and coming home. Jase also has a medical problem and can only eat certain foods at times. Its difficult to explain and let's just leave it at that. One of the things Jase takes to work is bananas. This batch of bananas ripened far too quickly and DG decided he would make banana sandwiches for lunch.
I hear you saying, "Oooh, delicious!" No. Don't say that. Not at all. He doesn't make them with peanut butter or even peanut butter and chocolate sauce. No, he makes his banana sandwiches with Miracle Whip. You heard me. "The Bread Spread from Kraft" and sliced bananas. If you think sliced bananas are slimy, try spreading Miracle Whip on the bread first.
And about the slicing, he doesn't slice them in small pieces, like coins. He slices them long-ways, so they cover more bread. Now, you can see where this is going because I'm sure you all remember that DG only has the use of one hand. In this situation, it would make sense to slice them small, like coins. No, he still tries to slice them long-ways. So, being the good wifey that I am, I offer to help- even though I detest the slimy feel of Miracle Whip and bananas. DG doesn't like to ask for help and after 15 years, I just know when he needs it, and sometimes, I wait for him to ask (or, in most cases, he swears a lot and then says, "DEAR! C'mere!"). But he waited till he mangled a banana before saying anything to me. I took the now-slime covered butter knife and sliced the second banana long-ways and fixed the second sandwich.
DG said: "Thanks. I could never slice those got-damned bananas."
Me, slicing easily: "Not even before." (as in, before the stroke).
DG: "Not even. I always tear it up." Then he picked up his two sandwiches and said, "You can tell mine from yours. Mine's like a Whopper and this is like a cheeseburger!"
Me: "Like a Whopper?"
DG: "Like a Whopper."
As he was getting his two little snack-size bags of chips, I stood next to the gate at the kitchen door. We have the gate up to keep the other three dogs away from Luna and the puppies- who are in a playpen in the kitchen (the warmest room in the house). I moved the gate for him to leave the kitchen and Luna was sitting up in the playpen, looking at DG as he walked by.
He said: "Look, Luna knows. Like a Whopper." She wagged her tail. He repeated, "Like a Whopper. She knows."
Once in the living room with his two sandwiches and two snack-size bags of chips, he sighed. I asked what was wrong. He replied, "This isn't going to be enough. I'm really hungry."
He ate half of the first sandwich. And he sighed again.
I asked, "Would you like me to make you another nasty sandwich?"
DG: "Could you make two?"
Now, about the puppies!
I was officially diagnosed with fibromyalgia on Monday, June 28th. For those who don't know, it causes widespread pain through the muscles and it makes the sufferer extremely tired. Since I'd been sleeping on the sofa for over a week, I was not sleeping well. The more tired you are, the more pain you're in. So, when DG would get up in the morning, I would go to bed and tell him to come get me if something happened with Luna. So, you can see how him being gone was bad for me at this time. While he was gone, I had to sleep on the sofa, stay awake instead of napping (because my kids have lives and jobs and aren't always home), and I had to cook dinners and do dishes and just loads of stuff I don't normally do on a daily basis.
But I digress.
On Wednesday, June 30th, I told him, "I'm going to take a nap. Come get me if something happens." This was around 630 AM. I fell asleep quickly, the bed being much more comfortable than the sofa.
Less than an hour later, DG came upstairs and said that Luna was "panting all weird-like." I asked where she was- she'd gotten into the playpen all by herself (there's a hole in the side for her to come and go). I sat up and told him I'd be down in a minute. I sat on the bed for a minute, then went to the bathroom to get my track pants on. In the possibly three minutes since he woke me till I walked out of the bathroom, he was racing back up the stairs.
Before I could say anything he exclaimed, "There's something coming out of her!"
I asked what it looked like.
DG replied: "Disgusting!"
I had to wait on him to go down the stairs because he was blocking me. He got to the kitchen before me, because I paused to call my friend, Vickie- who is a dog breeder (and where we got Luna and Jasper). When I walked into the kitchen, DG was standing next to the playpen with a look of terror and utter disgust on his face. I had to laugh at him.
Luna went on to have six puppies. All healthy. Four boys and two girls. As they grow, there will be many photos and maybe some video footage of DG with the puppies. Till then, here are some photos...
DG isn't good at holding the puppies for photos. He refuses to hold them with any kind of pressure because he thinks he'll hurt them. But I got two shots of two of the puppies with him holding them.
This is Vato- he's been purchased and his new name is Drake.
This is Chica- she's also been purchased and her new name is Easton.
I held the pups pictured below. In order of birth, they are: Wah-Lah!, Vato, Paco, Pedro, Chica, and Huevo. The new owners re-name them most of the time. But DG will also give them weird nicknames (one from the last litter was called "Speedy Rodriquez" because "Speedy Gonzales" is trademarked, so says DG).
Wah-Lah!, a girl.
Paco- he's my favorite right now, because of his coloring.
Pedro.
Huevo. (Pedro, Wah-Lah!, and Huevo all look alike.)
Group shot!
And here's a photo of the sofa. Its pretty... and pretty uncomfortable as a bed.
And that's our son, being his usual self.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Textually Speaking Part Two-
So, while DG has been on this trip, I've been receiving random text messages with photos in them. The other day, I received this photo and the words: "All glass".
I texted back, "Cool. What is it?"
DG: "Its made of glass."
Me: "Ok, but WHAT is it?"
DG: "Glass."
Me: "I know its glass, what is made out of glass?"
DG: "That picture I sent. Its all glass."
Me: "I GOT IT! But WHAT is IT!?"
Now, I'd like to say he was just taking the piss (which is a British term for "joking around"). But he wasn't. He was replying to the questions as he saw them. And of course, there was about a ten minute span between my question and his reply because of how long it takes him to text. In my defense, the photo on my phone was quite small and I couldn't really make out what it was- aside from "all glass" and kind of pretty.
What it turned out to be was a light that was made completely out of hand-blown glass at some shop where ever it is that they were when he saw it. He didn't even know aside from: "San Antonio".
I told him that this convo was "going in the blog". He asked: "What convo?"
Me: "The glass convo."
DG: "Why?"
Me: "Because it was ridiculous!"
DG: "How?"
Me: "Because you didn't get it and it was like that old "Who's on first?" joke."
DG: "I don't get it."
Me: "You don't get the joke or that the convo was the joke?"
DG: "What's a convo?"
I texted back, "Cool. What is it?"
DG: "Its made of glass."
Me: "Ok, but WHAT is it?"
DG: "Glass."
Me: "I know its glass, what is made out of glass?"
DG: "That picture I sent. Its all glass."
Me: "I GOT IT! But WHAT is IT!?"
Now, I'd like to say he was just taking the piss (which is a British term for "joking around"). But he wasn't. He was replying to the questions as he saw them. And of course, there was about a ten minute span between my question and his reply because of how long it takes him to text. In my defense, the photo on my phone was quite small and I couldn't really make out what it was- aside from "all glass" and kind of pretty.
What it turned out to be was a light that was made completely out of hand-blown glass at some shop where ever it is that they were when he saw it. He didn't even know aside from: "San Antonio".
I told him that this convo was "going in the blog". He asked: "What convo?"
Me: "The glass convo."
DG: "Why?"
Me: "Because it was ridiculous!"
DG: "How?"
Me: "Because you didn't get it and it was like that old "Who's on first?" joke."
DG: "I don't get it."
Me: "You don't get the joke or that the convo was the joke?"
DG: "What's a convo?"
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Burn, baby, buuurrrnnn!
Saturday, June 12, 2010, our son, Jason, graduated from high school. For a while, we weren't sure he was going to make it. Around 7th grade, he copped an attitude and his line about his lack of doing homework was: "I don't learn that way." Well, too bad, the teachers grade that way. This stayed the norm through middle school and on to high school. Every parent/teacher conference (which DG has never gone to, not one, not ever) I was met with: "Jason is a good kid, but..." and "I like Jason, however..." Always but, always however, always. He had summer school to make up lost credits every year. And he's a smart kid. He's been in martial arts since he was eight years old and a person can't be stupid and achieve the levels he has (second degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do).
Somewhere in 11th grade, something changed. He started getting better grades and conferences became: "Jason is great!" and "I wish I had a whole class full of kids like him!" And I'd ask, "Are you sure? Jason? Tall kid, dark spiky hair? Pineapple-shaped head." Yup, he turned a corner.
And he graduated on June 12th. Fourteen years ago, on June 12th, we arrived in Wisconsin. We moved here a year after DG had the stroke because... well, we came where the help was and it was here. And, twenty-five years ago, on June 12th, DG asked me to be his girlfriend. We'd been friends for over a year and while I chased him like a sick puppy, he didn't act on it till that day.
So, on Saturday, I asked him if he knew what today was and he said, "Saturday."
Me: "Anything else?"
DG: "Jason's graduation?"
Me: "And?"
DG: "Aaaaan-nnnd? And what?"
Me: "Well, twenty-five years ago, you asked me to be your girlfriend."
DG: "I did not. Did I?"
Me: "Of course you did."
DG: "How do you remember these things?"
Me: "Because I'm a chick and chicks remember these things."
DG: "I don't think it was me."
Me: "What? You just think we just woke up one morning and were boyfriend and girlfriend?"
DG: "Didn't we?"
Me: "We just sort of spontaneously had a relationship without any preceding events?"
DG: "Of course we did. Its like having oily rags in the garage. *makes whooshing sounds that are like someone squeezing the air out of a wet bag* POOF! Sponty- spontaneous! WHOOSH! Spontaneous combust! *crackling sound* We spontaneously combusted!" All while he was making those noises, he was waving his hand in the air to simulate fire.
Me: "We spontaneously combusted like oily rags in a garage?"
DG: "You know it."
While he was busy giggling at himself, I asked him about that text message conversation we had (the previous blog post) the other day.
Me: "What the hell were you talking about?"
DG: "I don't know... I musta heard something different."
Me: "You were reading it! How did you 'hear' anything?"
DG: "I don't know! But it was something!"
As for the kid's graduation- here is DG with Jason and DG's father.
Jason walking to the stage.
Somewhere in 11th grade, something changed. He started getting better grades and conferences became: "Jason is great!" and "I wish I had a whole class full of kids like him!" And I'd ask, "Are you sure? Jason? Tall kid, dark spiky hair? Pineapple-shaped head." Yup, he turned a corner.
And he graduated on June 12th. Fourteen years ago, on June 12th, we arrived in Wisconsin. We moved here a year after DG had the stroke because... well, we came where the help was and it was here. And, twenty-five years ago, on June 12th, DG asked me to be his girlfriend. We'd been friends for over a year and while I chased him like a sick puppy, he didn't act on it till that day.
So, on Saturday, I asked him if he knew what today was and he said, "Saturday."
Me: "Anything else?"
DG: "Jason's graduation?"
Me: "And?"
DG: "Aaaaan-nnnd? And what?"
Me: "Well, twenty-five years ago, you asked me to be your girlfriend."
DG: "I did not. Did I?"
Me: "Of course you did."
DG: "How do you remember these things?"
Me: "Because I'm a chick and chicks remember these things."
DG: "I don't think it was me."
Me: "What? You just think we just woke up one morning and were boyfriend and girlfriend?"
DG: "Didn't we?"
Me: "We just sort of spontaneously had a relationship without any preceding events?"
DG: "Of course we did. Its like having oily rags in the garage. *makes whooshing sounds that are like someone squeezing the air out of a wet bag* POOF! Sponty- spontaneous! WHOOSH! Spontaneous combust! *crackling sound* We spontaneously combusted!" All while he was making those noises, he was waving his hand in the air to simulate fire.
Me: "We spontaneously combusted like oily rags in a garage?"
DG: "You know it."
While he was busy giggling at himself, I asked him about that text message conversation we had (the previous blog post) the other day.
Me: "What the hell were you talking about?"
DG: "I don't know... I musta heard something different."
Me: "You were reading it! How did you 'hear' anything?"
DG: "I don't know! But it was something!"
As for the kid's graduation- here is DG with Jason and DG's father.
Jason walking to the stage.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Textually Speaking with the Disabled Guy
I thought for sure with him being gone (long story, really stupid story, lame story even), I wouldn't have a conversation to post. Long story short- he went on a road trip with his father, an uncle and a cousin. The part that's stupid is the fact we discussed it, he said he wasn't going to go because we have too much going on (our son is graduating from high school, our dog is having puppies, our daughter's birthday and such). Then he changed his mind. Then he failed to tell me that upon returning for our son's graduation, he would be leaving again. That caused an argument between us that is a conversation you won't read here. Let's just say he owes me a present. Why? Because I told him he owes me a present.
Now, DG can barely text message. His brain doesn't comprehend the whole text concept- where one has to press a key three times to get to a letter and whatnot. Those familiar with texting know what I'm talking about. Others who don't text, its the letters on the phone digits- 1=ABC, 2=DEF and so on. Jase sat down with him and showed him how to text message. And he seemed to get it. But not always. And when I text TO him, I can't use text-speak because he doesn't understand it.
When Jase asked me a car-related question, I decided to ask DG, because he's with his father and his father would know the answer. This is the text conversation. Any misspellings are because DG doesn't like the text-key thing.
Me: "Show this to your father & text me what he says: In a stick shift car, is 'reverse' always 'to the right & down' or does it change by car make/model/tranny speed? Jase wants to know."
DG: "We can all fit in the minivan."
Me: "What? What about the minivan?"
DG: "The vehiclls." (vehicles)
I called him. "What the hell are you talking about?"
DG: "The car. We can all fit in the minivan."
Me: "What does that have to do with anything?"
DG: "For the thing."
Me: "What thing? Did you even read the text?"
DG: "Yeah. And we can all fit in the minivan."
Me: "I didn't ask about the minivan. I asked if stick shift vehicles all had the same gear set up or if it varies by type of car."
DG: *pause* "Oh... OHHH! Okay. Oh. Yeah, unless its, like an 18-wheeler."
Me: "What about foreign cars?"
DG: "I don't know about those."
Me: "What did you think I was asking you?"
DG: "About driving to Jase's graduation."
Me: "Where in hell did you get "Jase's graduation" from "stick shift car"?"
DG: "I don't know."
Me: "You owe me a present. A big present now."
DG: "Okay."
For the record, I'm not squeezing my fat ass into anyone's minivan. I'm driving my own vehicle so I can park where I want.
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