Do you suppose I’m ever going to get my ass in gear and make a new banner for Bitchypoo? (Don’t hold your breath.)
This week on Dinosaurs Can’t Eat Pizza, Nance and I made Strawberry Meyer Lemonade Spritzer. It should not be that difficult to find a damn ingredient.
“We should get some ducks,” said Fred.
“We don’t need ducks,” I said.
We got four ducks. They cost $16.
(There was an old Fredster who bought four ducks.
I don’t know why he bought four ducks.
What the fuck?)
“We should have a pond dug,” said Fred.
“We don’t need a pond,” I said.
“We do need a pond,” Fred said. “The ducks won’t be happy with a kiddie pool forever. And they’re swimming in the dogs’ water bowls.”
We had the pond dug. It cost a lot.
“We have a pond,” Fred said. “Now we need catfish!”
“We should wait a year,” I said. “And see how the pond does during the summer before we get catfish.”
“I don’t WANT to wait,” Fred said.
We got 200 catfish.
“The pond is drying up,” Fred said. “It’s been so dry, I don’t remember the last time it rained. Look! I put this rock at the edge of the water yesterday and the water level has dropped by, like, an inch. If not more!”
“It’s too bad we didn’t wait a year to get those catfish,” I said.
He continued as though I’d said nothing. “We should have a well dug. If we had a well, we could use the water to keep the pond full! I’m going to call the guys who dug the pond and see if they know anyone who can drill a well for us.”
The guy’s coming next Tuesday to start on the well.
(Yes, we have a well under the house. It’s a hand-dug well that doesn’t go down deep enough to provide any decent amount of water and would only provide surface water, which is probably contaminated. I suspect that a human body would fit nicely in it, though. JUST SAYING.)
Previously
2011: Really, I’m pretty sure they only invented weekends so everyone could take Saturday and Sunday afternoon naps.
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: I always forget what bitey little brats they are at this age. They’re so MEAN.
2007: “I’m so happy,” he said. “That if this were a movie, in the next scene you’d be raped or killed.”
2006: No entry.
2005: Every time I type in “u” instead of “you”, I die a little inside.
2004: No entry.
2003: What happens if you put a box on the floor?
2002: “Where was it, Bessie?” he asked, trying to draw me into the trap with him, so he could perhaps trip me and then run away, leaving me there for her to latch onto.
2001: What do you s’pose a realtor’s house looks like? I always assumed it’d be a real showplace, with everything just so, all appliances gleaming and so on.
2000: Every time I blow-dry my hair, it sounds like the phone is ringing.