Tres Bizarre

Ohhhh Say Can You See?

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 17:46:00 +0000

I don't particularly like 'splosions.

I am recovering from the baldness.

Snappy Fourth O July to yah, Sillies!

If I wasn't so tired of being bald, I would actually shave my head into an actual mohawk because I am going to WAKotron's house today and he always shaves his head into a mohawk for the Fourth and I feel like that would be an effective way to mess with him. *Sigh* Alas, I must grow my locks.

So I'm settling for a fauxhawk. Do you like it?

Of course you do.

Iloveyoulikeaseamlovesacameltoe.

PS: My knee is bleeding.
PPS: I shaved today. And you know when I shave, I do it right.

Hey you caught me in a coma

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Sat, 23 May 2009 21:29:00 +0000

Right now, this blog is sleeping the sound sleep, only a coma can bring. It can hear you. It knows what you and Uncle Ralph are saying about it while it slumbers peacefully. Your singing is therapuetic, believe it or not. The poetry readings are a bit of an overkill, but appreciated nonetheless.

Your constant vigil is most appreciated.

Remember, many blogs recover 100% from comas.

Time will tell.

No one on the corner has swagger like us Hit me on my Burner prepaid wireless

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 16:20:00 +0000

I Am A Raging Ball of Hormonal Wonder Right Now

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 13:34:00 +0000

I am crying because I missed the Diego Rivera exhibit.

So I Ran Faster But It Caught Me Here

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 03:34:00 +0000

This is how I feel sometimes:

Discuss.

I'm Sick Of Your Mouth And Your 2 Percent Milk

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 02:55:00 +0000

Wish I Was Ocean Size, They Cannot Move You, No One Tries

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Sun, 11 Jan 2009 06:22:00 +0000

Here's the deal:I've decided that, once again, you Sillies, are going to help me.

So, thank you in advance.

In just a few moments, or days, or perhaps a week or two, I am going to publish an excerpt from an early draft of my book.

I am doing this, of course, because if I don't set a deadline for myself, and have someone outside myself holding me accountable, I will not finish my goal.

And ... if I don't finish my book by the end of my leave of absence, I will punch myself in the face.

As you well know, I am a very delicate flower, and a punch to the face, even by a sally like me, could lead to withering ... which could lead to death, by withering, or, even worse, an unsightly black eye.

I don't plan on punching myself in the face just once either.

It will be repeatedly and perhaps with brass knuckles or at the very least with the giant ring my grandma gave me for Christmas.

Thank you for saving me from this fate by tuning in.

By being there.

By being silly enough, dear Sillies, to pay attention to this tomfoolery.

PS: YES. The pics ARE backwards.

Meow

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 16:31:00 +0000

I got my hairs cut.

I decided that I wanted to stop dying my hair after nearly 15 years of it and the smartest, most efficient way to do that is to hack it off and start over.

I went to this place by my house and told her, "I want a bob with layers." She did that. She followed my instructions. I went home and said, "This is not me. I look like a housewife." When Hubbetron got home, he said, "You look good -- like a housewife." So later, when I took Thirteen-O-Matic to get her hair trimmed, I took a pick of an even shorter 'do.

This is it. I will have to maintain this hairstyle while it grows out.

Hubbo and I just watched "Tipping The Velvet" which was a mini-series about crossdressing female performers of the 1890s in England. The main characters were Nan and Kitty.

He calls me Kitty now.

A Little Laugh

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 16:06:00 +0000

LMAO at the geese.

There Goes My Hero, Watch Him As He Goes

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 00:55:00 +0000

Dear Jesus,

I'm so sorry that I referred to your birthday as "x-mas" when I emailed my friend to ask him for his address so I could send him an ~~x-mas~~ Christmas card.

I realize that the least I can do is to, when making reference to the day of your birth, take the extra time to spell out C-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s and taking care to press the "shift" and "c" keys simultaneously as to ensure the capitalization of the first letter of your holiday.

As you know, I am a horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad sinner, and I don't deserve your love. Thank you for loving me despite my long list of shortcomings.

Love always,
Jodie

PS: If you're wondering why I wrote this, it's because of the following series of emails. You're not wondering though, are you Jesus? You know everything. I mostly am just including this postscript for the benefit of those of my readers who are less-than-omnipotent.

--
Email 1:
--
Hey XXX,

May I have your mailing address so I can send you an X-mas card?

-Jodie

--
jodiferous consuela maria conchita francesca minerva octavian morgetron

Read, read, read to your babies.

When you have time, check these out:
http://morgetron.blogspot.com/
http://www.helium.com/user/show/91091

--
Email 2
--

Hey J,

[Address provided]

Better give yours too so I can reciprocate.

Take care my friend. And have a merry Christmas. :)

XXX

--
NOTE: Oops. I just realized I forgot to send him my. I'll get on that XXX!
--
Email 3
--
Got the card, Jodie. Thank you - nice gesture.

But -

screaming materialism aside, you, of all people with your new-found belief, should really be calling it by it's legitimate moniker, Christmas, not xmas (xmas doesn't even deserve a capital!)

For it IS actually the Man's birthday (actually, I hear recently it's rumoured to be September the 21st...however, that's not the point).

You take it easy now, J.

Warm thoughts.

XXX

--
Email 4
--

XXX,

Thank you for sharing your opinion and for judging me on how I handle my beliefs. I will take your opinion into consideration, but cannot guarantee that you will change my evil ways.

Blessed be.

Jodie

--
Email 5
--

Ahh, you say you will, but really...you know...you won't. This is a matter at the core of your (and one-time mine) belief. Hey, I'm not knocking it - but this most precious of dates has been fucking hijacked. (Why won't you talk about it?)

And I won't stand for it.

And now for the piece de resistance...

Don't let your self assurance and memories of our one-time prolonged difference of opinion blind you to this. You never have, nor ever will it seems, conceded anything. That's why you're great.

That's why I'm fond of you.

But in this you must. Trust me, I know.
(He shoots! He scores!)

It's a Christian celebration of ...God (I know - Jesus; the three are one - the paradox that demands faith - in turn the essence of all belief).

So...bloody xmas out!

Don't make me call you woman...my polyester princess! Hoho.
.
Best wishes to you and yours.

God (speaking through XXX and preparing to bring famine and pestilence to you if you don't do as you're bloody told, woman).

--
Wait for it ...
--
Another Note: Jesus understands me.

Still My Guitar Gently Weeps

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 03:29:00 +0000

Let the January 2007 Archives begin:

This is the one I made and I gave to BFF H-Tar as a sort of Christmas-New-Year-I-Love-You present.

Editorial Note from the Present: Good thing I didn't call it a "tradition" because as it turns out -- it isn't.

That's is, after all, every woman's dream -- to look like Kevin Bacon.

I would also like to tell you that I will be voting for Hillary in the primaries. I will tell you why later.

I was drawing the karaoke singers. They were not naked, but I was imagining they were.

Vanity is a nefarious mistress.

My package from Mr. Fabulous arrived a few days ago.

For instance, according to the above linked site, you must be a genius to understand the Nebraska Humane Society's website, the Barbie website, PostSecret, and the Ebay website.

Just Because You Can, Doesn't Mean You Should.

For those who couldn't make it past my manifesto from yesterday...

Welcome to America! Land of the free!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then one of the dogs peed on the floor in a really strange swirly pattern as if he was twirling around like a ballerina as he peed.

Eighteen Rules on How To Have A Sure-Fire Rip-Snorter of a Party

This lady is hauntin g my dreams.

R-botron forced us to make pipe cleaner animals. She said we weren't allowed to leave until everyone made one.

Please Note: Arbotrons party was the inspiration for the party Hubbo and I threw on Friday. Since Arbo is far far away she couldn't throw it.

Let the BART begin.

Oh yah. I got a new job.

I will be posting pics of The Albatross Gift Exchange tomorrow or maybe never. We'll see.

Iloveyoulikemydogslovetochewonthingsthatdon'tbelongtothem.

100% Polyester Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Tue, 23 Dec 2008 04:15:00 +0000

All photos by Amandotron

Snazzy Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 17:37:00 +0000

The Seasonal Morgetron Photo Shoot is done. Amandetron was the photog, and Mometron and Dadetron's Christmas tree was the quaint backdrop. If you want a seasonal postcard, send me your mailing address: morgetron@gmail.com -- or else I can send it to your email address if you don't like sharing your physical address with people you meet on the internerts.

Update: Draft one of the book will be done by the end of 08! Even if it kills me and someone else has to do the revisions.

I love you. Thank you for your patience. Amen.

Merry Christmletoe Sillies!

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 18:31:00 +0000

Archives: Check My Flow -- Uuuuyh

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 04:21:00 +0000

Here's a little walk down MorgyMemoryLane (December 2007 Archives):

Morgy and Hubbo ditch the tab.

Choose your own adventure.

Sad Omaha.

Get on your Silly Horse and ride. (I'm happy to say that the art sold.)

Strangely, it's G's berfday today!

If You Were Morgetron, your life would be different.

I wrote a poem about this one time, but I don't feel like posting it because SOME WEIRDO MIGHT STEAL IT! Just kidding. It's because I'm too shy.

I wanted to give you an example of exactly how much control I have over my dogs.

Remember: You too can own a Morgetron original, by going to CHAMELEON in the OLD MARKET in OMAHA."

So Fabo finally got his smack together and has been making attempts at a Phyllis Diller sculpey (which is another one of his specialties -- along with offending as many people as possible at all times, while still remaining a nice guy).

And now for a regrettably brief pictorial: (Read) HolyFatMan and Aaronichi! Hi doooods!

The most amazing thing I ever gave away on Freecycle was a broken vacuum cleaner.

Do you approve of this green eye make-up? This night turned out ... um ... wowzies!

I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 12:50:00 +0000

I'm taking another break. It hurts, but this book isn't going to write itself.

Stay Tuned.
I'll be posting archives later.

Keep in touch. morgetron@gmail.com

Turkey for me, turkey for you; let's eat the turkey in my big brown shoe

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 06:01:00 +0000

Tonight Sixer and I were pretending to be pilgrims who came to America to escape religious persecution.

This was her idea, I swear.

We had to speak with English accents and complain about The Queen. (Yes, yes, yes, I realize it was mainly Kings who were doing the persecuting, but I was just enjoying Sixer's take on history.)

She made Hubbetron dress like "an England person" the other day too. This consisted of wrapping her winter scarf around his neck, tying it tightly ... sort of like an ascot, except ... NOT ... and smoothing his hair. (I know! He's bald! I guess "England people" have smooth smooth smooth heads -- I don't know. She wanted him to cross his legs too, incidentally.)

She kept saying things like, "That certainly was a long voyage over here. Too bad so many of our people died on that ship," and "Tomorrow we will return to England to see grandmum and celebrate Thanksgiving!" Awww, the irony of being six. Love it.

I asked her what would happen if we returned to England and The Queen wouldn't allow us to come back to the Americas. Her solution, "Perhaps she wouldn't notice if we sailed away on a new voyage. She can't watch us all the time."

So ... anyway ... I know that our play session wasn't exactly historically accurate ... however, it was fun listening to her use a British accent all night, and living in a "cottage" and fluctuating between being "peasants" and "pilgrims" and hopping in a ship every damn time we needed any old thing from England.

Peasant 1: "We seemed to have forgotten our dog."

Peasant 2: "No worries. Let us return to England at once to fetch him."

Peasant 2: "Oh no! I've forgotten my tea cup!"

Peasant 1: "I will go grab it from England. No problem!"

Peasant 1: "Dear me! Where is that bonnet that you sewed for me when I turned 11?"

Peasant 2: "I'll grab it presently when I return to England to gather firewood, since we can't seem to find any here on this ... rock. What's it called? Oh yes ... Plymouth Rock. No wood. No wood indeed."

I hope you get to play Peasant Pilgrims and England people today too, unless you are an England person. In that case ... maybe you could play Native American Disaster of 1492? In any case, OD on tryptophan, will yah?

IamthankfulforyouALLdearSillies.

She Says She Has No Time For You Now

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 01:41:00 +0000

You need one of these. It's your lucky day. You can buy mine.

The earth looked like it was lit from within like a poorly assembled electrical ball

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 20:23:00 +0000

Every once in a while I set little goals for myself. Not very often though, because blaaah ... goals = work, and who likes to do that?

Today I quietly set a goal for myself without really thinking about it. Afterwards, I was like daaaamn! Now I have some work to do.

The goal? To make eye contact with people.

I am really really really really really painfully shy with people that I don't know very well. Most people don't believe when I say that because they either know me well enough that I'm not shy with them, or they know me from the internerts where I don't have to make eye contact with them, thus ... shyness averted. Also, I'm a teacher, so people are like, "How can you walk into a room of kids if you're shy?" and to be honest, that first week after I meet my new students, is excruciating. Once I have a week of interaction with the kids, I'm cool, but ouchy! That first week tastes like burning.

I also LIKE meeting new people, but it takes me a long time to be able to look them in the eyes.

Frequently, people think I don't like them, because of my lack of eye contact paired with my whole face issue. So, that typically translates into me not having very many in-person friends. However, I will say that those who stick around and work through my social awkwardness, are the true kind.

Once I get to know you, then eye contact is no longer an issue and you get to know that my face is what it is and does what it does and you know that even though I look grumpy, I really do like you.

So, next time I see you, if I don't look you in the eye, make sure to remind me of my goal.

---

Yesterday, Thirteener and I were brainstorming for her six senses assignment (the sixth one is emotion -- not seeing dead people) and we were both struck by a fit of ADHD, which was really fun, but made it ... um ... difficult ... to concentrate on the assignment! Mutual ADHD does not happen very often in our house. Usually one of us has it and the rest of us are annoyed, but when we cycle in together ... watch out world! We's ca-ray-zahhhh!

Thirteen-O-Matic, at one point, said, "I wish I could carry around a camera with me to take your photo because you make the weirdest faces and I want you to see yourself. You are so weird," she emphasized in case I hadn't caught the phrase "weirdest faces" in the preceding sentence. "For instance," she continued, "right now, you have a double chin and buck teeth."

---

Whenever we have a planned event, like Thirteen-O-Matic's graduation from the gang resistance program the county sheriff sponsors the other day, (Huh? I know ... Weird! I think it's so she can resist the children of the corn, or maybe it's because there was a grant and someone was like ... if we don't use this money it will disappear, so let's teach small town kids about resisting gangs, and we can use some of the money for t-shirts too!) I always threaten to walk in with a hunchback limp, speak with a pronounced lisp that involves much spittling, or with the classically twitchy eye.

When I was getting ready to go to the graduation I told her I was going to walk in and announce that "Thirteener's mommy's here ... stand back y'all! I forgot my cam-ra an I need to take a picture with ma mind. SNAP!" She always reacts as though I'm actually going to go through with it.

I would no sooner do that, than eat a glass onion. Okay, so I've eaten a glass onion ... who cares? I was only 8 and it was shiny! But I'm shy. I'm all talk. She forgets this because I always make eye contact with her.

I forget sometimes too.

I Can't Stop Thinking About ...

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 14:09:00 +0000

... one of the PostSecret postcards from yesterday. I am not posting a link because it's soooooooo gross that I don't want to be responsible for this postcard haunting your every waking thought like it has mine. It's gross and apparently it's fake, but I still can't stop thinking about it. Sick sick sick.

I was packing myself a cold lunch today because I know I'm going to be out and about and don't want to waste money on restaurant food and I had to choose a new apple because the apple I originally chose reminded me of that postcard just slightly -- enough that I knew I wouldn't be able to bring it to my lips without getting gaggy.

---

THEN ... yesterday at church, this guy told us this metaphorical story about hot chocolate and how it doesn't matter what cup you use to drink it and la la la, but during his little presentation, which was totally jacked from the internerts, he had this horrible instrumental version of "We've Only Just Begun" by the Carpenters accompanying him. All I could think about was that Stephen King movie, with John Cusack in the hotel room ... 1409 ... and that's on my top ten list of things I should not being thinking about at church.

---

AND ... I keep getting stuck in the twilight sleep between being awake and being asleep and I can't breathe. I am aware that I am not breathing, but I can't wake myself up enough to start breathing. It's scary and panicky and I don't know what to do about it. Sixer was in my bed the other morning when it happened and I kept trying to say her name because I thought it would help me wake up and it didn't, or maybe it would've had I actually been able to see her name. I couldn't say her name and I couldn't breathe and I felt very scared indeed. I'm not sure if I passed out or what, but eventually I woke up breathing. Does this happen to anyone else?

---

OH, and today, I locked my keys in my car at Sixer's school. Luckily Rodnetron was driving by with his O-Matics and he gave me a ride to he and Paigetron's house, so I could wait out of the cold until the locksmith arrived. The car was running and there were Barbies on my dashboard. I wanted to go downtown to write my book in a coffee shop and the Joslyn and so I was late. I took out my membership card to the Joslyn when I finally got my car unlocked and what do you know ... they're closed on Monday. Tomorrow I'm subbing. Wednesday I'm tutoring. Thursday is Thanksgiving YAYZ ... and Friday is who knows ... not a writing day. So, I'm at Bruegger's writing today. Goodbye I HAVE TO GO!

I'm out of sorts. All out of sorts folks.

This is simply a vent for my sally frustrations.

Thank you for listening.

When You Grow Up More ...

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 15:23:00 +0000

Yesterday, Six-O-Matic said after a day filled with artistic endeavours, "When you grow up more, I bet you'll be an artist." That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long time. :)

Here are the fruits of our labor:

We kicked it off with some watercolor.

Sixer likes to take my cast-offs and alter them. This one is eerily entitled, "Ghost Mommy."

This is a Sixer Original ... It's me.

I returned the favor by painting her portrait.

This was how my mom's birthday present began. (Her birthday was is October. Heheheh.) But if you know me, you know that nothing ever ends how it begins in this house.

Phase 2
Phase 50.

This was the end result. She gave me mag clippings and I made a mosaic of most of 'em on the right and cut out actual shapes on the left. When I gave it to my mom she said, "Ahhh. Interesting."
Sixer worked on an alien for the better part of the afternoon. She gave it to my mom too. All of the finished product photos have her face in them ... and you know how I feel about that.

Here's another beginning that barely suggests the end. The end has not arrived yet.

Sharpie Town.
Unfinished.

The beginning?
Once the collage hits, she won't be the same.

This deco will be sanded and altered. I love me some religious icons

This will be something. I promise.

Have You Seen My Wig Around? I Feel Nay-Ked Without It.

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 20:20:00 +0000

I went threeft store shopping for some weenter goods the other day.

I brought you along because I know how much you like threeft stores.

This gem came home with me and was the star of this show. $2. Calvin Klein. Who cares if it's from the early '90s? Shut up.

Despite the boobieness of this shirt, it stayed at the threeft store because ...

... in addition to being boobariffic, it was also showcased the Buddha.

This one, on the other hand, came home in the recycled grocery sack.

It is a nice mix of hubba-hubba and belly-camo. $1. Limited Express circa 1991.

Not really sure why I only have one boob in this pic. Not really sure why I'm talking about boobs so much at all, particularly mine.

Oh well

...

you like it.

I'm sorry to say I could not resist the homemadeness of this dress and it is now MINE. It's ugly. It's unflattering. And you CAN'T have it, 'cause I'm the one that forked over 48 cents for it.

I think that I've been researching polygamy too much. This is how they all dress. I think that's why I was drawn to this dress. (Not even kidding doods.) Next thing you know I'll be cutting my hair into a mullet and giving myself a crusty home-perm. When you notice this happening, please pull the plug.

At the end of my threeft store adventure, I said to myself, "I'm going to do something special for the Sillies of the World." And when I say "the World" I mean ... this blog.

Guess what that special thing was?

You guessed it: I scoured the entire store for the single-most stunning piece of attire I could find, and I modeled it for you in the mirror of the dusty-bunny-ridden threeft store fitting room.

Here you go:

I even crafted the perfect face to accompany this dress. Anyone who wears this dress, must use this same exact face. That's the rule.

You should try to hold this pose as often as possible, unless you are in transit (delivering caramel brownies to the church bake sale or training tea cup poodles to dance). Don't forget to wear your seasonal sweater, if you are chilly!

Now, darling Sillies ... I left this one for you. You can own this beauty for a mere $2. Hurry! I can't imagine it will last long.

Iloveyoulikehemroidsloveswelling.

PS: I had to google "hemroid" to get the correct spelling for the above sentence.
PPS: Darjeeling Limited and I Heart Huckabees came in the mail today. Yayz for Hubbo and me, mostly for me though.
PPPS: I am posted at Burt's Stache tomorrow (11-20-08) so be sure to visit me and comment me since you love me as much as I love you too.

Oh Snap!

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 14:37:00 +0000

Oh Snap!

The Single Most Important Post I Ever Posted In My Entire Blogging Life

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 17:56:00 +0000

I'm writing a book ... In case you haven't been following my every move for the past few months.

I'm ready for your help now.

In the comments, please give me some ideas for things teachers can do that might be considered shocking by the general public ... aside from the painfully obvious like having affairs with students, or beating students with rulers and pointer sticks. What are some things that teachers might do outside of their professional life that could get them in trouble -- either with the law, or morally, or anything that might surprise you if you found out that your teacher did this _______(fill in the blank with your own shocking idee-er here)________?

And please don't say "leads a secret life as a bloggging robot." I have obviously, already thought of that.

I need stuff that I can't think of on my own.

Also, I need good character names. I tend to overcharacter from the beginning, so I may or may not use your suggestions. I may even start out using them, and then I may end up morphing two characters into one, or even like six characters into one, so don't be sad if I don't use your suggestion, or even if I say I'm going to then I don't because "it's for the greater good", to quote one of the best movies of all times. (Trivia ... Call it.)

You can also make special requests here, if you want to. I already have about 80 students (okay 8 ... okay 2) who have asked specifically to BE characters in my book. My dentist has requested that at some point I write, "Then, she went to the dentist" and he'd prefer it if the main characters all flossed. I'll see what I can do, but no promises. (I already told him no-can-do on the flossing bit as many of my characters will be lacking in hygiene.)

Just know that if you suggest something, I might scoop it up and use it in my book. Fair game.

Also, I'd like to know how many copies of my book you each plan to buy, so I know how to price them. I want to make at least a million dollars so, the more you are willing to buy the less they will cost you per book. For example, if I can get four of you to each buy one copy, they will each only cost a quarter of a million dollars. However, if I can get 10 of you to buy a copy, then they will each only cost $100,000. See? Work with me here people.

Comments below. PLEASE.

Heeeellllllp me.

A Dog Puke Story: Not For The Faint of Heart or Weak of Stomach

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 16:28:00 +0000

This morning, Thirteen-O-Matic and I were at the breakfast table eating ... okay who I am trying to fool. She was eating, and I was checking my classrooms and ... maybe email and consequently Facebook, and Hubbo came walking in right as Six-O-Matic started screaming, and I don't use this term lightly, screaming, "GET OUT! GET OUT! DO NOT PUKE ON ME! GET OUT! HELP! HE'S PUKING! EMERGENCY! EVERYONE! PUKE! DOG! AHHHHHHHYEEEEEEEE"

We knew she was referring to Brockley who has had a little case of the pukes lately, most likely as a result of his favorite hobby -- eating inanimate objects.

Hubbetron flashed outta the kitchen faster than light itself and withing moments returned with Brockley in tow. He was, more calmly than Sixer, urging Brock out by the collar while pleading, "Please don't puke on the carpet."

They made it to the linoleum flooring of the kitchen when the contents of Brock's stomach began to emerge. But Brockley was in transit and so we had a perfect line of dog puke and Hubbo, whose lightning reflexes served him well enough to get the dog off the carpet pre-hurl, did not react fast enough to realize that Brock had begun his vomitfest and his stockinged feet slid through the puke, he let out some sort of awkward man battle cry, and somehow managed a windmill effect, propelling the dog-ralph 360 degrees throughout our kitchen.

I, in the meantime, had opened the back door and Brock and Edgar both ended up back there, post-chunk-blow. Then they both sat there with their innocent "What? Nothing happened," puppy eyes and whined to be let back in immediately, probably because they both wanted a crack at the upchuck. As you may or may not know, DOGS LOVE TO EAT VOMIT, their own or their friends'.

Now I know what Aaronichi and The HolyFatMan are probably thinking, and just to head off any cat-love-propaganda ... I'd still take these two toilet drinkers over a cat any day! Don't ask me why though, because I just can't think of one damn rational reason at this given moment. However, ask me later when they greet me at the door as if my homecoming is the most blessed event to have occurred since the resurrection of Christ. Then I'll give you some reasons. For the time being, you'll just have to take my word for it.

Dogs. Love 'em.

As we were cleaning up the puke together, as a family, Hubbo said that all he wants for Christmas is some new socks.