We’re riding in the truck and looking at the sleeping Bean. I pipe up with…

I wonder what she’s going to sound like.

What do you mean?

Her voice. I wonder what kind of voice she’ll have. I hope it’s not annoying.

Oh, no. She’ll sound musical. Not all whiny and shit. God, no. Not whiny.

Hell, no! I’d have to give her a tracheotomy and a voice box buzzer thingy. I need to go to medical school!

At this point I put my hand up to my throat and robotically said, “Hello, daddy!”. Sweety spit his soda out and said that I won at being disturbing for the day.

Go, me.

16 Comments | In: bean, conversation, my brain needs bleach | | #

I was busy brushing my teeth this weekend, when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sweety come into the bathroom with Bean. He’s telling me to hurry and look at them but it takes me a minute to turn around.

As you may (or may not) know, we like to give things voices around here. The dogs all have their own voices and talk to us regularly. Even Chi Chi. Due to her freeze-dried nature, her voice is rather raspy. Like she’s been smoking for 50 years. Having a voice naturally extends to Bean. We talk for her and sometimes even wobble her bottom jaw to enhance her “speaking” abilities.

Now people, we are some sick fuckers here. Most humor is highly inappropriate and totally tasteless. This was no exception.

I swing around to see Bean sitting in the crook of Sweety’s arm and she is grasping in her right hand an untwisted coathanger.

Hey, baby! What are you doing?!

I wanted to show you this.

What is that?

When I was inside of you there was a sister with me but I evicted her with this coathanger.

At that point, all I could do was turn around and carefully inspect the sink faucet because sometimes I run out of words and this was one of those times. Sweety is cackling his ass off because if one of us can render the other speechless then something has been accomplished.

I finally found some words.

Dude. The first time I really see my baby hold something? It’s a fucking twisted coathanger and she’s making a joke about aborting her roommate? Damn. Just…damn.

And then I couldn’t help it – I laughed.

12 Comments | In: bean, conversation, my brain needs bleach | | #

Oh, holy hell, people.

We went to a birthday party today. For a seven year old.

It morphed into the adults playing cornhole in the backyard.

When is a good time to leave the party? When you see that points in the cornhole game are being celebrated with shots of Jagermeister.

Who is conked out on the sofa right now? If you guessed Sweety – you win!

I drove home and by the time I got the car parked he was passed out in an unglorious heap asleep on the living room floor. I went to bed. I woke up awhile later to what sounded like a hippopotamus dying. It was just Sweety. Puking all over the floor. It looks like someone was murdered in the living room.

Yes. I’m looking at puke splashes as I type. All of this carpet is going to be ripped up and replaced within the next few weeks so I’m not cleaning it. I fought the dogs over it as I scraped up the chunky stuff (how weird is it that Oliver won’t taste alcohol out of a cup but he will tear up some Jagermeister and M&M infused upchuck?) and I’m just going to make Sweety cut out the soiled spots when he won’t cut off his finger because he’s drunk wakes up.

FYI – If you have an iPhone? A Ballistic case protects against submersion in puke! Sure, it was gross as hell to clean up for him (as he told me what a good woman I am. heh.) but at least the phone didn’t get fried.

I told him (during a brief conscious moment a bit ago) that he needs to get out of the house with his friends more. I think he was suffering from cabin fever and totally overdid it when he had the chance.

The best part? I get to wake him up at 3:30 a.m. to go to work. I fully expect to see a grown man cry.

10 Comments | In: bwahahahahaha!, husband, my brain needs bleach | | #

We have a new entertainment system and had to move some furniture around. We’re butting heads over what to put on that table. Sweety want to put a fake plant there. Not a live plant because it seems that my presence is enough to kill even the hardiest plant. I want to put Chi Chi 2.0 there. I think it would be hilarious to come home every day and see her little face there. Isn’t home one place you should be able to laugh? I agree with Sweety that it would be weird, but so what? It’s my house and my dog and my table.

I think if you’re nutty enough to freeze dry your dog that putting her on display is only natural.

18 Comments | In: Chi Chi, my brain needs bleach | | #