Potty Humor

As the curtain opens on today's peek into Norman Rockwell life, 

we find the Griffis Family gathered in the master bedroom. 

Howard has just gotten out of the shower, and is grumpy from a 

long, hot days work, Amanda is sitting in one recliner, on her 

phone, & I am in the other recliner, reading emails on my laptop. 

Tyler & Coles are downstairs yelling at the Xbox, and the clearly

biased refereeing of whatever game they are playing against eachother.  

The older two dogs have gotten over the daddy's home euphoria, 

but Max is still milling anxious to help Howard put his shoes on. 

Carson enters the room and asks when are we going to get Max 

neutered.  Thus starting a far too serious & lengthy conversation
regarding "can you get a dogs testicles stuffed or bronzed." 

As the group reaches an agreement that Carson will ask Mr. 

Morello for a price to stuff Max's testicles, Coles bursts on the 

scene headed towards the master bathroom, with a roll of toilet

paper, yelling:  I gotta Poop.

Captain Grumpy, who apparently has lived in a world without 

children for the past 23 years, yells  DON'T USE MY BATHROOM. 

Coles stops, sighs, and says fine I'll use Amanda's
   and walks towards her room.

Howard, undeterred, continues on his "it's my bathroom tirade", 

as Amanda catapults out of the chair, chasing after the future
bathroom wrecker, yelling NO you are NOT using my BATHROOM. 

Coles:  I GOTTA poop.

Amanda: use YOUR bathroom on the 3rd floor

Carson (from somewhere in the house): 

      He doesn't wipe anyway what's it matter.

Coles:  Shut up.  I'll just use dads and starts towards the
      master bath again

(this is really just a suicide mission as Captain Grumpy is still
  peddling his one man one bathroom story and plotting
  against all who cross his path)

Howard:  COLES  You are not using my #%^%# bathroom.
           Go use your own and
           IS THAT MY ROLL OF TOILET PAPER ?!?! 

Coles:(mildly annoyed at the stupidity of this question)
     No its mine I keep it in my room for emergency use.

Me:  (Ignoring the fact that my husband has an apparent
deep seeded aversion to sharing anything related to
personal hygiene & the fact that my son feels the need 

to keep a roll of toilet paper in his bedroom for
emergency use):

     If you went upstairs to get your emergency roll of
     toilet paper, why didn't you just use the bathroom
     next to your bedroom.

Coles:  (beginning to feel like a potty orphan, sighs,
            & heads back to Amanda's room)

           "fine I'll just use Amanda's then"

Amanda:  COLES I MEAN IT you are NOT using my bathroom

Captain Grumpy, muttering to himself, exists room to go downstairs

Coles:  Now standing with very odd posture and clenched
butt cheeks, holding onto his emergency roll of toilet says
"I gotta poop" as he makes his way towards my bathroom door.

He makes a break for our bathroom and Amanda asks

"why doesn't he just use the downstairs bathroom right next to the Xbox?"

Tyler, who has just entered the bedroom says matter of factly:  

"Oh there is a spricket in there, or occasionally in there "

as if every 12 year old runs from bathroom to bathroom with an 

emergency roll of toilet paper, on a quest for a guaranteed spricket 

free zone.

Carson (from somewhere in the house) OH BIG SISSY afraid of a bug

Coles:  SHUT UP CARSON

Captain Grumpy from downstairs with good hearing; 
        GET OUT OF MY %^&$$ BATHROOM

Amanda & I at the same time:    He's Not in your bathroom

Captain Grumpy:  Why does it sound like he is in my bathroom

Amanda: You're just losing it

FADE TO BLACK 

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knock knock

Around lunch time Saturday afternoon, the door bell rings. Resplendent from spending the morning cleaning, I go downstairs to open the door in my boxers, sweaty t-shirt, and with hair that looks like the cats played in it.

I push my way past the log jam of psycho  dogs, who are convinced the doorbell is code for attack, yelling at them to get back like a Neanderthal, and  open the door.  It appears to be some schmuck selling something, so I talk through the screen door and let the dogs continue their we are ferocious routine. ( I have found employing this tactic really helps the door to door salesman get to the point quickly.  )

Today's schmuck takes a step back and introduces himself.  He is some realtor from somewhere, who has a client, who wants to move into our town, really likes our house,  & he was wondering if we were considering putting the house back on the market.

Oh.                                                                                                                                                                             

WTF - not even an hour ago, I had just submitted today's answer for "should we stay or should we go" and it was "revisit this question in the fall."  Now clean cut go-getter real estate boy, has a client who really likes our house. 

Annoyed that I have to put this life changing decision back on the table, I confess all to captain real estate.  We plan to move, we are pretty sure we know where we want to move to, we can move, but with that being said, we are doing nothing to prepare the house to be listed again.  At that point Max, the special needs Great Dane, jumps up on the screen door, ripping the screen out, and hangs halfway out the door. 

"Allow me to introduce the puppy" I say to Mr. Real Estate Man, who has taken a giant step backwards and is now sporting wet pants.  He is just one of the reasons why we aren't ready to list the house, I lament, as I continue to unburden my soul onto this unfortunate poor man, now trapped on my front porch.

Do you have children Mr. Real Estate man?  Oh one sweet 6 year old girl who reads books all day. That's swell ... Teenagers live here - do you know what teenagers and their kind, do during the summer when they aren't working at their part time job, Mr. Real Estate Man ? Nothing.  Absofreakinglutely nothing.  Teenagers and their kind, sleep till noon, and then roam in and out of your house and mess it up, while on their cell phones making plans to mess up your house even more, later in the day.

Three dogs live here - do you know what dogs do during the summer while teenagers and their kind, roam  in and out of your house and mess it up Mr. Real Estate Man ?  Dogs get crazy and run amuck throughout  your house, spewing their little hairs everywhere.  And then, then, when crazy, hair spewing, running amuck dogs get tired and need a rest , they chew things up.

I went back to work full time - does your wife work outside the home Mr. Real Estate Man ?  Oh she stays at home, and you are a special education teacher.  Well I dislike her already, but you would love it here because this is a special education house, full of special education needing children, with a husband who is gone from sun up to sun down, but could use some special education, if he was here, awake, for more than a  few more minutes of the day.

But yes.  Of course your clients can come look at the house. Would you mind providing a  signed statement that they have spent a half hour looking at the pictures on line, that they acknowledge the house is on a corner,  and that they concede the back yard has a pool, yet doesn't have a garage.  If you can obtain the affidavit, then I'll just need a few weeks' notice to clean, spackle 5-18 holes in the wall, have a couple of rooms carpeted, make sure there are no stray children in the weeds outback, defrog the pool, and buy stock in fabreeze so I can cover up the last lingering smell of Spike the incredible pole vaulting dog vs. skunk

Wait, what do you mean you'll call me later .....

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A bump in the road

My journey continues ….

 but, I think I just fell off a cliff.

Carson came from his 2 day stint with
the marine recruiter.  He got an 85 on
his ASVAB test.  

That is a good score, and means just about
every job is now available to him . 

Alright, so he can have a good job, that will 

carry over to a good job in the private sector, 

when he gets out.  That's good. 

So he'll go in, get his training, become a man,
hoorah,  Semper Fi, then he's out. Alright.
4 years active, 4 years reserve, ok, ok,

Yea I got this.

And we're moving forward.

He comes home and hands me his
bio metrically signed contract,bindinghim to the armed forces for the next 8 years.

As I read over the straight forward contract
that screams YOU CAN BE IN BATTLE on
every line, I start to feel a bit of nausea
creeping in.

In an effort to refocus, stay positive, and
move onward, I say so what job        
do you think you want to sign up for?

Special Forces he says

WHAT  THE   F***

I’ll be in the bathroom throwing up.

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GOOOOD MOOOORNING MOM

So I am awakened this morning at 4:58 am, by the sound of the front door closing.  

(yes devil spawn - your mom is that good). 

I quietly go downstairs, and see Coles sleeping on the couch.  Ok #4 check.  

Amanda was sleeping out so #1 accounted for. 

Tyler was last seen in his room watching TV at 11:30 last night, and I am sure he 

is still in that exact spot.  So that leaves # 3 .......CARSON !

I am standing in the front hall lamenting the fact, that now I have to walk all the 

way up to the 3rd floor, to start a room by room search, when the front door opens again.

It is tonight's player. Hailing from Moorestown NJ, we welcome Carson 

He quietly shuts the door, and goes to lie down on the couch. 

Um Hello ?!?    

                                                                         

Yo what's up  (first clue - greetings are typically just a grunt)

What were you doing outside?

I had to get my phone.

Oh why was your phone outside ?

Yea  XXXX is out front, we were talking 

(second clue - you don't talk out front - you just are out front)

Oh   XXXX is here ? ... at 5 in the morning

Yea he didn't come in.   (and in Carson-ville, this somehow gives him extra credit)

So you were out front talking to XXXX, and getting your phone, in your underwear at 5 am ?

Ok that's lie. XXXX was not here.

So who's out front?

No one is out front (getting annoyed) why would anyone be here?

Oh ..I thought you said  XXXX was here.

(really annoyed) NO... No one has been here.  I haven't seen XXXX since I got dropped off.

Oh what time ?

12:30

Have you been drinking ? (this is always a fun question)

No not since I got home (another extra credit point in his world)

Oh.  Which was when ?

I don't know.

So why were you out front in your underwear at 5 in the morning.

I had to pee

Oh.  You know we have a bathroom inside the house

Then I don't know why I said that.

Did  you  only wear underwear out tonight ?

No I took my shorts off when I got home (as he looks at himself to confirm underwear is present)

Oh ..what time was that ?

12:15

Was  XXXX out with you tonight  (same person of front porch fame)

What ?!? (getting annoyed again) Why would he be there ?  I was with XYXY.

5:05 AM   GAME CALLED

( due to early hour, and one parties lack of desire to continuing messing with
inebriated kid, in favor of going back to sleep for another hour).

Final Score   Carson - 2 invisible points that do not exist

                      Mom -  1 point because he didn't pee on the couch.   WINNER 

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ALERT CODE RED

So last night Amanda & I are in the back yard just hanging out with the dogs.

2 siblings are walking down the street that runs alongside our back yard, and as they pass by, their talking escalates into arguing. 

"you ain't telling me what to do"
"oh yes I am"
"well I’m gonna tell ..." etc.

The dogs hear the unidentified voices, initiate code Red, sound the alarm, and race to the fence.

Max and Seamus run to the fence you can see through, to assure the borders have not been compromised, but Spike the incredible pole vaulting dog (who is chained up), has another tactic. He jumps up, reaches the top of the 6ft fence and balances atop it.

The kids start screeching like the apocalypse is upon them.

"OHMYGOD HES COMING OVER DA FENCE"
"$%^ THAT DOG CRAZY"
“HES COMING OVER DA FENCE”

Spike, following the shock & awe rules of engagement, pauses at the top for 5 seconds, then jumps down, goes as far as the chain allows (the curb), and keeps barking.

The kids continue with their apocalyptic shrieks.

Amanda races out of the yard to unchain Spike and return him to base.

The girl (maybe 8 or 9 yrs.) standing with her hand on her hip, keeps yelling at Amanda, "you needs to put that dog in da house".

Amanda, choking back laughter, brings Spike to the gate and waits for me to open it. I can't even move because I am laughing so hard.

Max unable to see anything from his vantage point goes to Spikes last known coordinates, and jumps up on the fence.

Imagine our little friend’s horror, as the Loch Ness monster of dogs slowly appears above the fence; with a large head, neck and 2 paws, fully visible, and starts barking at them.

Boy - OHMYGOT THERES A BIGGER ONE
GIRL - no words just screeching
BOY - DAT ONES COMIN OVER DA FENCE TOO?!?!
GIRL - more screeching
BOY - YOU GOT CRAZY DOGS WE GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE
GIRL - hand back on hip, "You need to put DAT dog in da house"
GIRL – “You just need to put DAT dog in da house”

Max stops barking at them but remains in his position, and continues to observe.
The girl is getting more demanding and waving her finger -
"you NEED to put DAT dog in da house"

Amanda tries to speak "he is ....." and she can't utter any more words without laughing, so she waves her hand in a circle two times followed by a wave towards the back yard, which may, in some cultures, be the universal sign for "stop you’re screeching, that dog can't jump the fence".

The little girl just keeps repeating her order, and as always the case in war, there are no winners, so I pulled Max down from his command post and drug him in the back door. Amanda took Spike in the front door, where we discovered Howard, Tyler & Carson in hysterics, who had all been watching the melee from different levels in the house.

Just another day.

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One leather neck jar head - coming up ?

So I finally let the marine recruiters in the door tonight.   In typical fashion, there was much commotion & yelling as Howard and Coles wrangled the 3 barking dogs into the back yard, while trying to assure them, we were not under attack. 

The words "oh there are two of you - just swell" tumbled out of my mouth, while I walked down the stairs to greet the Sergeants, whom we shall call; Care Bear, & Napoleon.  Amanda, who had provided a moving "thou shalt not kill" lecture earlier, yet pledged her undying support, pinched my arm. 

As the shouts from the back yard grew intelligible, it became apparent that someone had once-a-freaking-gain, left the gate open, and Seamus was on the lam. Amanda sprang into action, blocking my potential escape route, and insisted SHE would go chase down the disobedient, one eyed, hobbling hound.  (she had trouble catching him - but that is another day's story)

She politely dodged the recruiters, dashed out the front door, & promptly fell down the front porch stairs, in an exceptional display of unskilled grace and bungling magnificence. I, however, was left stranded in the hallway, to choke down laughter, therefore shattering my "I'm from the dark side - fear me" demeanor (said in a Darth Vader voice), that I had put on, especially for the occasion. 

I led our villains into the dining room, through the tumbleweeds of dog hair, over the dirty floor, and offered them a seat at the table.  I almost felt a little something, as I watched them set their pristine white hats down, on my table full of dog hair and various dirt marks. 

I  sat down with my hands folded, mouth closed, staring at their leader, Sergeant Napoleon, and waited to be sold my used car.   Napoleon pressed his hands together, puffed out his chest, and asked "well mam, what questions do you have for us?"   I leaned forward slightly and said,  "I'd like to know exactly what it is you want from me tonight?"  And yes there is a tiny honor a 47 year old woman receives, when she makes a 27 year old pale at her dining room table.

Sergeant Care Bear took the lead and started explaining what the recruitment process was. I had done my own research, didn't really have questions, but was anxious to see what was in the "Now Get The Mom To Sign" hand book, so I just listened.  I think Napoleon took my silence as it not going well, and commandeered the conversation. 

As he gave me the "sign now - you'll get better choice of the jobs" propaganda, I started to lose interest.   But when he used the  "I am a recruiter, but I don't care about the numbers" line, my car salesman hating - alter ego took over, and I said in a polite Sybil voice "well if you don't care about the numbers,  then you aren't doing your job". 

I swear I saw the Care Bear hold back a smirk, as Napoleon got a little hot under the collar and replied, "Well I AM doing my job mam, and blah blah blah".  And since NO WHERE in the mommy rule book it says you need to fight fair, - I pretended to listen intently, as I got up, went over to the door, and let Max the giant Great Dane inside, to sniff his slobbery jowls all over them.

I told my dining room jar heads, that I respected what they did, believed they would make an independent, successful man out of my devil spawn, thought all their bureaucratic BS was nuts, that I have grave concerns about their superiors ability to make good decisions, and that they will never have my permission to talk to #4. I signed the necessary paper, and my son is now an official US Marine Recruit

(who has the option to change his mind up until 30 days before deployment .... just saying .....)

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Oh dog balls

Dear Gentle Reader, today's story may be a bit uncomfortable for some, but in the name of science, I feel I am duty bound to proceed.

We are the proud owner of an, I believe 8 month old, special needs Great Dane puppy.  (Do not let the fact that he has only been here 7 months & I have already lost track of how old he is, and am calling him Clyde (the last great Dane's name) 75% of the time, lead you to believe, that he is not, a more or less, cherished  member of our family.)

Yes he has chewed up to 5 holes in various walls for unknown reasons, yes we have bid adieu to a room or two of carpet, yes he takes stupid to a whole new level, yes all residents and several used to be frequent guests, have needed a bath towel to take care of unfortunate drool incidents, and  yes he does have a 12 inch long tongue that somehow always seems to fall out of his mouth, and  flop on your arm when you pet him.... But in our happy twisted little circle,  he is probably most widely recognized, for his ever growing, soon to require their own zip code, no no special place, future puppy holders. 

While we have always had large breed male dogs, we have also always done our part to stop the leg humping epidemic, by promptly neutering Fido on his 6 month birthday.  But when we got Max, the breeders, who have been raising Danes for 15 years said, they believe it is better for the pups
to get a full years worth of testosterone to help keep them healthy.  It sounded reasonable, so we agreed to hold off until his first birthday - with the clear understanding that one wrong move and it
would be under the knife!

We now spends bits of our time observing, with frightened awe, Max, as all of him, continues to grow, and grow. Several family members have been known, on occasion, to take a picture or two, of the aforementioned subjects, and throw them into the family group text, and yes maybe once I did send a close up, with no identifiable extra features to a certain offspring, who got on my nerves that morning before school, but this is all uncharted territory, done in the name of scientific research.

So as we watch, and wait to see what will happen next, we debate which fruit, the aforementioned objects closest resemble, (we have been at Kiwi for almost a week now, for those of you playing along at home).  Oh and rest assured, there is no need for stolen glances, sneaking a peek, or awkward invasive maneuvers, good ole Max loves nothing more than to spend his non chewing, drooling, down time, sleeping on his back with his legs spread wide open for all the world to see. 

Be careful if you ask me how the new dog is, you may get more of an answer than you bargained for.

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