"Hhhuuuwaaaaaaaaa!"

The Disabled Guy has been working in the shop a lot. Normally, he doesn't work out there this time of year. Its cold and without rewiring the entire shop and possibly the house, there's no way to heat it efficiently. I've suggested many times that he use a wood stove. I've been in a few garages where a wood stove in the corner warmed a room much larger than his shop.

He just finished building a plant stand for an orchestra parent we know. And now he's working on a new sofa for our living room. I know, you're thinking to yourself that he just built one. He did, very recently. But he thinks its uncomfortable to sit on and wants one that is "squishier". I'm fairly sure he's trying to get it done before NASCAR season takes off.

He came into the house today, inquired as to what I'm watching on TV ("NCIS" marathon, in case you're wondering- I don't usually watch this show, but its not bad) and went to the basement (through the kitchen). Moments later he comes back upstairs. "What the hell?" and he walked into the dining room (where I am, with the computer and I can see the TV in the living room) asking, "Do you see any blood- oh, there it is..."

He was dripping blood from a scrape on the knuckles of his paralyzed hand. His hand is quite cold (because he doesn't wear gloves or mittens, even while shoveling snow), so the blood wasn't streaming as it would have been because of his blood thinners. Some heavy stuff was going down on the show and I told him to wash it up and come back in here so I could finish the job.

I told him to "hold up" his arm, so I could reach his hand. He swept up his paralyzed arm with his good arm and made a noise- something like: "Hhhuuuwaaaaaaaaaa!" and it ended all breathe-y, almost asthmatic. I asked, "What are you doing?"

He made more noises, as if in a bad martial arts movie, again, ending in the asthmatic wheeze-y sound. "You okay?" I ask.

DG: "Of course I am." He started giggling maniacally. I asked how he fell down. "I dunno. I was walking and then my feet got caught up and I went down. Like that Tom Petty song."

Me: "You mean 'Free Falling'?"

DG: "Yeah, I was just going down, and the garbage can fell on me." (its plastic, don't worry).

Me: "That doesn't sound much like a free-fall." I had to tell him again to raise his arm up so I could get to it and he made that breathe-y martial arts noise again. "What the hell are you doing?!"

DG: "Humming!"

Me: "That's not humming."

DG: "I didn't say I was humming! Where do you get that?"

I repeated what we just said to each other. "Humming!"

*Just now, he came in and had me pop a blister- "Or a splinter, I'm not sure what it is."- it was a blister*

Anyway, while I put a band-aid on his knuckle, he argued with me as to the fact that he exclaimed "Humming!" in reply to my question. And now I have to change the channel because I've seen this episode of "NCIS" and I didn't like it the first time around.

Spoiled dogs and a baked potato

The Disabled Guy spoils the little dogs. We all know of his special baby-talk that he has for them and the conversations he has with them. And I've shared photos of the Chis with him and without him. This is about one Chi in particular- Bruno. Bruno is the first offspring from Luna and Jasper. That whole incident took place while I was in the hospital recovering from a total knee replacement. Had I been home, I would have noticed the signs and been able to separate them (as in, sending one of them to my friend's house). But at the time, I'd been in the hospital for almost two weeks. Also, we stupidly assumed that Jasper wasn't old enough at the time (he was barely nine months old). Anyway, the result is Bruno. Bruno is a beast. He was the only puppy in the litter. A litter of one. And he was normal Chihuahua puppy-sized when he was born.



We decided to keep him because he was the only pup in the litter and he's a tri-color merle. He grew.



And grew.



And grew.



Yeah.



This conversation has happened before and I thought I had shared it, but it doesn't seem that I did.

Bruno ended up not only large in comparison to his parents, he ended up large by general Chihuahua standards. The last time he was weighed, he was around fourteen pounds. He's not just fat, he's all-around BIG!

I was informed today that the reason Bruno is so big is that he ate his siblings. That's right, he ate the other puppies in his litter while he was inside Luna. And in eating those other puppies, he gained their power. An unwanted side-effect of gaining their power was the overall largeness of Bruno's physical body.

DG: "Its not his fault. He ate them and got big and strong. Too big. Poor guy. He didn't know eating his brothers and sisters would be such a bad thing and now here he is, Giant Bruno with no brothers and sisters." (he has siblings, they're just not from his litter- the litter of one).

Me: "Why did he eat the other puppies?"

DG: "So he could be- to be- so he could have power! Super Chihuahua power! To fly! And fight crime! But now he's just too damn big and can't fly. So he stays with us because he's safe. Safe from the bad guys!" Of course, when he spoke of flying, he did the hand gesture and made the "schwoooosh" sound effect.

On another note altogether, DG was rambling on about something and walked away from me while he was speaking. I called out, "What'd you say?"

DG replied, "NOTHING!"

Me: "SOMETHING! What'd you say, I can't hear you from in there." (the kitchen, on my deaf ear side).

DG: *sing-song* "If you can't HEAR it, you can't WRITE about it! AND its ALLLLLLLL MIIIIINE!"

Me: "I'm putting that in the blog."

DG: "Dammit! Foiled! Like a baked potato!"

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.