Three videos from today...

Its difficult to explain how this started. It had something to do with someone complaining about their "disability" which no one actually thinks is real. Kind of like someone who has seen combat- they rarely talk about it; but the person who is lying about having seen combat will go on and on to try and garner attention. You get it...

This particular video was the first of five I took today. I only kept three because the other two were really long with very long parts of nothing going on (he was being uncooperative a bit), so I just kept these three. Before this video, DG picked up that large wooden circle (its the seat for a stool he's making to go with the desk he made for our daughter, Ceej), but he picked it up in a slow-motion, exaggerated fashion, as if it were extremely heavy. He made a face, groaned... he did it all. And then he said, "Oh... I pooped myself."

I told him to do it again, but this time for the camera. And he seemed all for it, till I picked up the camera.



A few minutes later, I went out to his shop and started "puppet-ing" his paralyzed arm. And he let me. As was commented when I showed this on Facebook- "He's a very patient man..."

Yes, he can be.

The irony about the paralyzed hand "attacking" me is that if I wasn't holding the camera in my right hand, I would have been able to get his hand off my left hand without a problem.



And here, I told him if he showed us his gimp arm, I'd leave him alone. (he turns the saw on, so its kind of noisy).



Also, I realized that its almost been a year since I started doing this blog. I hope you all have enjoyed it and I will continue to keep track of his ridiculousness to share.

Super-Wonder-Twins-Woman-Evil-Criminals

I don't even know what DG was watching on TV to spurn this story out of him. He was sitting on the sofa with Luna in his lap. She was facing him with that sad face that she does when she hasn't been petted for forty minutes of every hour. And DG started talking to her.

Oh, that's right... he was watching some movie and I'd just come in with the dogs (we don't have a fenced yard, so a human goes outside with the dogs). She jumped into his lap and being that it was about 19 degrees Fahrenheit, she was cold. Where I use the ellipsis (...), that's where DG paused to let Luna reply. Except that she never does.

DG: "Aww, you're so cold! We should get you a poncho... we should... because you don't like wearing a sweater. A poncho would keep you warm... like a sweater, but its like a cape. You'd like that, wouldn't you? ... Wearing a cape. Yes, you would. You could be like Wonder Woman. She has that thing... its gold. HEY! Dear, what's that thing Wonder Woman has?"

Me: "A corset?"

DG: "Its gold."

Me: "Her lasso?"

DG: "That's right. Her lasso. You could [makes swishy noises] and make people tell the truth... yes you could."

I stopped listening for a few minutes and then I heard him say something about having golden hair.

Me: "Wonder Woman didn't have golden hair. Lynda Carter didn't have golden hair."

DG: "DETAILS! We don't need your details!"

Moments later, he said, "Wonder Twins power... ACTIVATE! Form of... CHIHUAHUA!"

Me: "Why is she taking on a form of something she already is?"

DG: "She's my partner! [baby-talk] Do you wanna be my partner?... My little partner?... Partners in CRIME!"

Me: "Don't you mean 'Partners in Crime Fighting'?"

DG: "No. We could be evil! EEEEVILE!... Are we e-VILE? We could defend the German Shepherd. Because he needs help."

Me: "I think Gypsy can handle HERself."

DG: "You're small, but you have a MIGHTY... rawr!"

He completely ignored me, of course, going on about how Luna and he had crime to create and something from the movie "Beverly Hills Chihuahua" ("small but mighty").

Also today, we hooked up our old computer to the old monitor. A few weeks ago, ol' Delly up and died. Well, he didn't actually DIE, but he stopped connecting to the Internet. The amount of money it would take to get it fixed, only to have it needing a fix again in a few months, my parents smiled upon us and bought me a new computer tower. (my monitor, keyboard, and mouse are fairly new). Anyway, we decided to hook up the old computer to its old monitor, delete a bunch of stuff on in and reinstall his NASCAR games. He can't work in the shop in the coldest part of Winter because of his paralyzed side. So, he needs something to pass the time.

It worked. And here are some photos...

At the start of the endeavor, he found some 3-D glasses.



And we have success. (that's a really, really old keyboard)

A Hoarse is a Hoarse, of coarse, of coarse.

Over the weekend, I met up with an old friend from another lifetime. And anyone who knows me will tell you that I talk. A lot. I talked myself a little hoarse by Sunday, but I woke up Monday seemingly fine. Today is Tuesday and as my day drags on, I'm losing more and more of my voice. If I have to raise my voice, I sound like a pre-teen boy. If I speak normally I sound like a chain-smoker.

That said... this is today's conversation...

I go through phases where I don't like to eat breakfast cereal. So I end up having non-traditional foods for breakfast and it doesn't matter to me, I just have to eat something when I take my stay-alive pills. This morning, I decided to have some hot dogs.

Like all old people (I'm older than you, you dang whippersnapper! Get off my lawn!), I have a certain way of doing things and I prefer to have those things done MY way! The Disabled Guy opened up a package of hot dogs. He cut a strip in the side all the way down! So, I had to ask him why.

DG: "They were giving me trouble. I had to teach them a lesson."

Me: "A lesson in what? That you abuse your power with a pair of scissors?"

DG: "Exactly! I showed them who is boss. They came out of that package just like I told them to..."

Me: "You did it wrong!" My voice cracked on "wrong"

DG: "Why does your voice sound like that?"

Me: "I told you, I talked myself hoarse this weekend."

DG: "Its Tuesday."

Me: "I know. I was fine yesterday, but when I woke up today, I was hoarse."

DG: "Ohhh, I know why."

And he stopped. I waited. So finally I had to ask, "Why?"

DG: "Because you- you talk so fast and the hoarse couldn't keep up. It couldn't run fast enough to keep up with you and today, it just finally caught up and said, 'HEE-EEEEY!'... yeah. You know it."

So, there you have it- I'm hoarse two days later because the "hoarse/horse" couldn't run fast enough to keep up with my talking.

Also- since I knew I wouldn't be home on Saturday till way later, I made chili in the crock pot. Before I left, I said to Ceej (the 17 year old), "Tell Dad that the cheese for the chili is in the drawer in the fridge!"

DG said, loudly, "I'M RIGHT HERE! I CAN HEAR YOU!"

Me: "Then where's the cheese for the chili?"

DG proudly declared: "The food is in the closet!"

Now he denies ever having said that, but he giggles maniacally when he does.

The Disabled Guy has RETURNED!

He's been home less than 48 hours and we've already had a conversation "about that guy who looks like that guy but it isn't him." But more on that later.

We all know the story of the "Rats with Little Nike Shoes", right? If you don't, you should. Its a part of history, according to DG. We also know that DG and the boy (who is over six feet tall and almost nineteen years old) went to North Carolina for five weeks. Yes, five weeks...

This is a story told to me by the boy:

While they were in NC, they went to the Outer Banks. Now, I don't know for sure if its the Outer Banks or just Outer Banks. At any rate, while on the way there, they crossed a bridge. If you're familiar with bridges over water that lead to or are near the ocean, you're aware that they're high bridges to accommodate boats and waves and such. Along this particular bridge, there were dozens of dead seagulls. They were apparently hit by vehicles or felled by a storm or whatever- they were dead. The boy referred to them as being "piles of feathers and blood" at times.

DG said: "They were hit by cars because they're young. They don't know no better to fly higher."

The Boy: "What about those, Dad? Those are adult seagulls."

DG: "They're old. They committed suicide because they couldn't take it anymore."

So, I asked why the story wasn't longer. I mean, look at the Rats story, right? DG toned it down because his parents were there and he was either embarrassed to be himself (because, come on, this is absolutely him, you can't fake this kind of hilarity) or he didn't think they'd "get it".

Me: "What about Nike shoes? Didn't they have little Nike shoes?"

DG: "No, of course not! Don't be redikkalus! *ridiculous* They're birds, they can fly. Except when they get hit by a vehicle."

The daughter, Ceej, exclaimed, "They can't wear Nike shoes, they've got weird-shaped feet!"

Good point. Hopefully, we can coax the story out of him as the days go on...

Earlier this week, Regretsy decided a pumpkin carving contest was in order. Oh, I do love Regretsy. But, I also knew that my attempt at pumpkin carving would be no match for the awesome artisans who submit to Regretsy contests. But, I tried anyway. I didn't submit my pumpkin, but I completed it and showed to the Regretsians (of which I am one).

So, after I carved our pumpkin, I was looking for something to make fake blood out of since my Sharpie marker wasn't giving me the effect I wanted. So, I used honey mixed with red food coloring. I had to get DG to reach the honey for me, because I'm short. He watched me squeeze a generous amount into a glass bowl.

He asked, "What are you doing?"

I replied, as I mixed in copious amounts of red food coloring, "I'm making blood for the pumpkin."

DG: "Why are you using honey?"

Me: "Because we don't have any Karo syrup. Why, what do you do to make blood?"

DG, "I'd just punch someone in the face."

And you know how he is by now... he waited several long moments and then added, "Maybe I'd cut myself shaving."

Here's a photo of my non-submitted-but-still-loved-by-Regrestians pumpkin.



About an hour before I started this blog, DG decided to see what new movies were "on Demand". He found one called "Legion" with Dennis Quaid and Paul Bettany. Now, I didn't argue, because I loves me some Paul Bettany and Dennis Quaid is a bonus... and it turns out, its pretty star-filled in general.

Now, I'm not out to spoil anything for anyone, so don't worry. The actor we had the conversation about is named Lucas Black. Most would remember him from such fine films as "Sling Blade" and "Ghosts of Mississippi"... but here's how we got to how DG knows him.

DG: "That kid, right there. He's not River Phoenix. I know he's not because he's dead."

Me: "You're right. Acting is difficult to do once you've passed away."

DG: "So who is he? He's that guy. That guy who looks like River Phoenix."

Really, at this point, I'm pretty surprised that DG even knows who the hell River Phoenix is, but, since I do know how he thinks, I said, "Are you talking about his brother, Joaquin Phoenix?"

DG: "That's not him."

Me: "I know that's not him. That's not Joaquin Phoenix or anyone who looks like any of the Phoenixes... what are you talking about?"

DG: *rubbing his fingers together, like that helps me* "He's that guy who was in that movie."

Me: "Which movie?"

DG: *sighing* "The one where they rode horses through the desert."

I can hear you all now. "What the hell? How many movies are out there with horses and the desert!? How do you know these things!?"

Well, I'll tell you... I have an astounding memory for useless trivia. It comes in quite handy at times. I'm fairly fun, pretty informed and I can fake my way through almost any conversational situation (except sports, but I'm also a chick, so no one expects me to know anything about sports. Sexist, but true).

So, when DG said, "The one where they rode horses through the desert..." I said, "Yes! That's him! That's Lucas Black and he was in "All the Pretty Horses" directed by Billy Bob Thornton."

After that, I felt like bowing. Like a Shakespearean actor receiving a standing ovation. I damn near jumped to my feet and bowed. "That guy who looks like River Phoenix but isn't his brother and doesn't really look like the Phoenix family at all and was in that movie where they rode horses through the desert." That's right. I knew what he was talking about.

On a completely unrelated note, there are still plenty of birdhouses available through the Disabled Guy Family etsy shop. I even added some Autumnal photos to the mix.

Part textually speaking, part other stuff...

The Disabled Guy and the boy (who is almost 19 years old, but he'll always be "the boy" to me) went on a trip down to North Carolina. I'm sure you remember, there was at least one blog about it. DG has been texting me daily. No kidding. Daily.

As you recall, he's had a stroke. I know! Sometimes you forget! And when he text-messages, it takes a lot of time to get a reply from him. A few times, he's replied faster, so he's either getting better at it or he's getting help.

Last night, the boy texted me about some stuff and ended with: "Tell Dad we need to get some Gummy Bears."

So I did. I texted to him: "Hey, you should go get some Gummy Bears."

DG replied: "Did Jason tell you to say that?"

Me: "No. Why?"

DG: "Yes way!"

Me: "I said 'why', not 'way'."

DG: "What the hell are you talking about?"

Me: "I said to get gummies. You asked if Jase told me to say that. I said 'No. WHY?' and you said 'Yes WAY'. I was just telling you what I said."

DG: "I don't even know what's going on."

Me: "You never do."

DG: "Sometimes I do."

Me: "Really? What's going on right now?"

DG: "I don't know.".

Me: "There you go."

DG: "Where am I going?"

So there you have it. I don't know if they ever did go get the Gummy Bears.

Other stuff...

Last week, the Regretsy lady put our etsy shop on the Facebook page (our linky-link to the shop). She was talking about disabled people in general- it started from a book she found called "Crafts for Retarded" from 1964. She immediately got anger-mail about it. My response to the anger-mail (which was hilarious, I swear, I almost busted something important laughing at it) was to explain, in expletive form, that DG does not embrace his disability, he hates it. He mocks it. And shortly after that, she put our shop up with: "Speaking of disabled people..." We made several sales and will now be able to make the semi-regular scheduled payments for our daughter's orchestra trip. The big payment is due in February, so we're okay as long as people will buy stuff over the next few months.

Here's the link to the Regretsy post that started it all.

And the angry mail (which turned out to be a ruse, but it was hilarious nonetheless).

This is April's entire intro to posting our shop link:

"Speaking of disabled people, here's a link I've been meaning to post for a long time. This is the Disabled Guy's shop. He's the husband of Regretsy regular Patty, who has been a huge supporter of our God given right to mock. Patty says he makes these birdhouses with one hand, which I can only assume means he's masturbating. In any case, I just bought one of these birdhouses to help them raise money for their daughter's school trip. Take a look at their lovely store and see if there's anything you like."

I love her so much. And even DG got the masturbating joke. "I wouldn't have been able to make those birdhouses if I was masturbating, so I had to stop till I finished the houses."

DG and the boy are due back in about two weeks. I don't know how much more of the texting I can take.

Animal conversations... mostly one-sided, of course.

As you know- and if you don't, why aren't you taking notes?- we have four dogs. A German Shepherd and three Chihuahuas. Luna was our first and we refer to her as his girlfriend.

For your enjoyment- a photo!



After years of being a good dog and listening to us when we tell her what to do, she's gotten it into her head to run to the front yard and across the street at people. She barks like a psycho, but she's a good dog and wouldn't bite anyone. The problem is the whole "across the street" thing because our street is fairly busy. In the old days, we used to leash all our dogs and walk all the way out to the backyard with them and wait on them... because we don't have a fenced yard.

Then all my health issues started and I can trust Gypsy off-leash. The Chis were a little testier because they don't listen quite as well as she does. Its all DG's fault too, because I train them and he un-trains them. Normally, I stand on the deck, overlooking the rather large backyard. There's a large pine tree on one side, blocking fast access to the front and then the driveway and our vehicles to the other side. Normally, that's enough blockage for anyone to react... except DG and his un-training.

Back when we had a Rottweiler (Kodiak, best dog EVER!), I trained him to simple, one word commands. "Sit", "Stay", "Down", "up", "come", "no", "Kisses", and "bang" for "play dead". And I did this for DG's benefit. Multi-word phrases confuse him more than long division. And what does he do to poor, yet genius-smart Kodiak?

"Sit down!"

"Stay there!"

"Get up!"

"Lay down!"

Kodiak took about fifteen seconds to process each command from DG, but he did figure it out. Not so with the Chis. They simply don't listen to him. When I say "NO!" or "STOP!" or even: "DON'T YOU DARE!", they stop what they're doing. All the dogs and sometimes people walking down the street.

In the last couple weeks, Luna decided to dart to the front of the house- with a rather small yard and a far-too-busy street. The other day, I was upstairs in a half-dressed mode (as I had just showered) when Luna took it upon herself to chase some religious door-to-door people. All the way across the street. One of our down-the-street neighbors was walking by on another day and she took off after him. She's not attacking anyone, just barking and wagging her tail so hard it has an effect on her running.

So I said, "That's it- she's going to be leashed! Its a pain in the ass, but its better than a Dead Luna."

Last night, DG had this conversation with Luna. Where I put in the ellipsis (the "..."), that's where he pauses as if waiting for her to answer.

"Why do you do that? Hmmm? ... Why do you run? ... You're going to have to get a leash... I know! You'll wear a leash and then the other dogs will laugh at you... because... because you'll be the only one on a leash and they'll think its funny. ... Yes they will! .... Yes they will! They'll think its funny! You'll have a leash..."

Then he disintegrated into a weird baby talk that sounded like: "Oh-boo-boo-doo-boo!"

Luna had puppies on June 30th and one of my online friends bought one of the pups. All the other pups went home two weeks ago. Hers is still here because she lives down south and we had it all worked out that my parents would take the pup to her, like they've done for us before. Even though DG is perfectly capable of taking the pup himself. Now, my parents would be leaving in two days. Today, DG says he can take the pup. Well, that's just great.

For the last week, I've told him to get one of our cat carriers out so I could clean it up for the pup (dusty, has cat hair in it). He finally got it out today while I was out running errands. He assembled it and cleaned it up. On the side is written: "Millennium Falcon" because when we got it, we had two kittens that he'd named Han Solo and Chewbacca. Har-har, right? About six months later, Han Solo became sick and passed away. We ended up with more cats, but that's a story for another time. The point is, it says "Millennium Falcon" and Han Solo is no longer with us.

After he got done wiping all the dust off the outside of the carrier, he said: "Jabba the Hutt has Han Solo. Get it? Get it!?" then he picked up the carrier and moved it around making "schwooosh-schhwoooosh" noises.

Oh, and for your pleasure, a photo of Martini. Because who doesn't love cute puppy photos?



and another one, because I think its cute.



So, DG is going on a trip. Now, I'm not going to blast all over the Internet where he's going, exactly, but obviously, he's going to North Carolina. It just so happens that the new owner is in NC right now, visiting some family. She was going to drive back home- to where my parents are actually ending up on their trip- to pick up the pup and then back to NC. But now its all worked out that since DG is literally driving past where she is now, he'll be taking the pup. Because I'm not telling you where they all are, these town names are made up. These may or may not be actual town names, but these are NOT the towns where she is, where he'll end up.

I sent her a message to ask where she was in NC and I told DG (again, NOT the real town).

Me: "She's in Jackboro."

DG: "Smackboro?"

Me: "JACKboro!"

DG: "Markboro?"

Me: "JACK-BORE-OHH!"

DG: "Jackville?"

Me: louder, more enunciation, then less enunciation: "JACK... BORE... OHHH! JACKBORO!!!"

DG: "Is that near Townville?"

Me: "YES! YES, it is NEAR TOWNVILLE!"

He breaks out a nineteen year old road atlas. Nineteen years old! And he shows me the route he takes- going over Jackboro and near Townville to get to his destination which is near Fayetteville (real town name, actually). Obviously, in nineteen years, things have changed. I'm up on Google maps and he's holding that nineteen year old atlas.

Me: "Where do you go? Through Ohio, into the Virginias?"

DG: "Yeah, right here." *points at the old atlas map*

Me: "So, just take Highway [whatever number] to Greensboro and then down to Jackboro, then cut over to Townville and you'll be fine."

DG: "No, I won't, I need to be on Highway [different number] to get to [parents' house] from here."

Me: "That's not what you said-"

DG: "I go through Knoxville, you know, Knoxville, Tennessee!" (he was trying to match my level of frustration).

Me: "Fine! Do you go through Ashville?" I even pointed on his two-decade old map.

DG: "No, I go through KNOXVILLE!"

Me: "But, to get to [parents' house] you have to go through Ashville, then up to here [pointing at a town] then here and then past Townville!"

DG: "No, I go through ASHVILLE after Knoxville then up to here [pointing at same town]..."

Me: "WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST SAY?"

Let's just say it was a long and frustrating day. So its all worked out. DG will meet up with my friend in Townville- which is just a bit out of his way, but wouldn't be if he took another highway instead of insisting on taking the original highway... Its all worked out and I don't feel like smothering him with a pillow anymore.

By the way, I got my very first hate-mail. I was told that I'm a sociopath and that they feel sorry for my son (I'd mentioned my son in a Regretsy comment) because his mother is obviously a schizophrenic. *waves at lurker* Also, upon reading this blog, I've also got my head so far up my ass that it warrants public exposure.

I don't really know what that means- because how much more public can I get? This is public blog, its open to public comments, and I've linked to it through my signature on several message boards, the Regretsy site (my screen name is the link) and there's a Facebook group. But apparently, this person (who has some issues with punctuation and spaces between sentences) is going to submit this blog to "fail blog" (which is a pretty funny website, if you need to waste some time, go on a read it- its one of those time-killer sites). I did reply to one of the emails (there were two- one calling me a mental patient and the other telling me I had some cranial-rectal issues) and said: "You'll have to be more specific, I do several blogs and I say a lot of things on Regretsy."

But, I'm still confused as to how I have my head so far up my ass because I post ridiculous conversations with my disabled husband, with his knowledge and permission. But hey, more readers are more readers and I can't complain about that, now can I?

A few conversations from today... (swear words inside)

I post on Regretsy as one of those smart-mouthed snark-bitches. That is, if you believe what other people say when someone else is wittier than they are and they can't come up with anything clever as a retort.

Today, Regretsy featured this post. I was the first comment. Now, over on Regretsy, we don't tolerate that whole "FIRST!!" bullshit that some other sites seem to either enjoy or ignore. Either way, no one who has ever posted there will post "FIRST!!" unless they're being ironic or it happens to play into the original post. That particular subject is about some kind of fetish involving heavy-duty knit sweaters. And since its Regretsy, my post was filled with snark and attitude. I didn't think I'd be first, but that doesn't matter either way.

This is what I said:

"I want to get that orange fuzzy thing for the disabled guy. He’s always bitching about being cold. No kink involved here, I just want to stifle the urge to smother him during the winter.

With that, I could have the best of both worlds- he’d shut the fuck up and I would feel like I was actually smothering him."

In less than a minute, I received THREE "thumbs down" clicks! I thought, "Damn, it wasn't THAT bad!" When I refreshed the page, I had more thumbs down clicks. I posted it on my Facebook- how I was thumbs-downed so quickly for such a silly comment. I don't care, I mean it doesn't hurt my feelings. Usually the thumbs-downers are a bunch of whiny, self-righteous people who swear by their "art" no matter how bad it is. But hey, being on Regretsy brings sales and if something sells, who cares how they found your link?

Some of my friends commented on my status with much hilarity because most of them were also of the Regretsy ilk. I read their comments out to DG and would check back on my "thumbs down" count. The highest I saw was fifteen.

DG said: "That's mah Fan Club."

On the other extreme, I posted this comment:

"Holy shit! I’ve never had a comment “hidden due to low rating” before! A banner day for me! Huzzah!

The disabled guy just said, “That’s my fan club.”

*high five* with asterisks!"

That one received (at last check) forty-four thumbs up clicks! So my fan club is doubly strong to his. (thumbs up and thumbs down cancel each other out so if you get fifteen thumbs down and sixteen thumbs up, it shows as +1).

Later in the afternoon, DG convinced me to join him at Wal-Mart. Not my favorite place to be. Too much walking, too little gratification. In the middle of our excursion, he asked which tulips I liked. I like all tulips. Tulips are tulips. He half-mumbled something about different kinds of tulips and that was all. About twenty minutes passed as we continued our shopping and then left.

As we were driving away, he said: "There were all colors. Orange, and purple. Not orange, that would be ridiculous." and he rattled off a few more colors.

Me: "How is orange ridiculous?"

DG: "For a flower its ridiculous."

Me: "Orange is a color found in nature. We have orange flowers in our backyard. We planted them." (which are not tulips, but still orange flowers)

**Proof**


DG: "Tulips aren't orange!" (except when they are)

And he left it at that.

For the rest of the drive home, he alternately "sang" and bopped his head to whatever imaginary music was in his head. If I looked over at him, he would stop (bopping his head, that is). If I continued to look he'd giggle almost maniacally. I had to swing by the grocery store to pick up some photos I had printed and he said, "I'm gonna let you go in without me."

I replied: "Thank the gods, because people can see you head-bopping."

He started to bop his head and sing: "Look at me! You can see me!" followed by more maniacal laughter.

Just now, as I was typing this, I was telling Ceej about it. He shook his head and said, "I don't think it was me. I was possessed!"

And he thinks orange tulips are ridiculous.