The Jesus Poop

Tonight Mely took a particularly nasty poop. About 15 minutes later, he surpassed that one with another even nastier one.

ME: "Mely, do you have poop?"

Mel: "Noooooo"

Me: "Let me check" then inserting my thumb into the top of the diaper to pull it away from his backside to inspect for poop as is the usual SOP for a poop check.

Me: "JESUS CHRIST!!!!! Oh my God that's nasty! Freakin' butt pudding!" I now have a thumb covered in poop. Kind of like a poopcicle, or more like I had just scraped the cake batter bowl with my thumb. Good thing I had already eaten supper, the Mexican hamburger pie would not have gone down so well after that!

Losing a Testicle, and the other one is useless

If you don't know, I now live in the mountains. Today was cold. Not just cold, but the kind of cold that makes your nose hurt when you open the door. Today, I decided to PT in the cold in shorts and a T shirt in order to be the hard Ranger that I am. I think I left a testicle on one of the trails I decided to run. A frost bitten nut cleverly now disguised as a pebble. Tomorrow promises to be colder. I guess I will then be nutless. At least not much is lost. I think I am going to invent some ball warmers.

So, in the middle of this of this blog the song "Afternoon Delight" came on. I particularly like this song because, well, it fits our lifestyle. So, I thought I would be cool and turn up the music and get frisky. It failed. I jumped on the bed trying to be all cool and shit, and ended up elbowing Trish in the ankle causing an injury that was impossible to overcome for interest in sex. Then I used my rationale that it was "Afternoon" in that it was past noon and not yet midnight. Yeah, I got about as far as Amelia Earhart did across the ocean, not very. So as a result I am typing about it on this blog. Ole One Nut did not do so well. I guess I had better start a search and rescue mission in the morning. Can they re-attach a nut if it has been frozen the whole time?

Vans, Fish, and A Trip Home

So, last week, I became a married man in a minivan. Damn. The one cool point I had, just got revoked. I am now actually a minus 10 cool points because I LIKE the minivan! So, Trish decided she wanted a Honda Odyssey. So we got one. I will admit that due to all of her hard work and research, we got one hell of a deal. One of the primary reasons we got the van was to separate the kids so no one could touch each other. Yeah, that worked. Trish installed the portable DVD player to where the girls had to share a screen that is about 4x5 inches at best, and Mely got his own. Immediately, SJ scoots her ass over so she can see the screen. Yep, you guessed it, touching. Mely is with in foot reach of the back of my seat. Yep, touching. So not only do we have the touching drama still going on, now I can't even rock my Fergie "Big Girls Don't Cry" (hey, it comes with the minivan territory, back off!) because I am competing with that bitch assed Barbie and her "Prince and the Pauper" movie. Basically, some prince gives some poor bitch some money and he gets ass happily ever afer, fairy tale whore story. Now turn the movie off! I've some Fergie to listen to.

So, we cruzing down I-85, well, ok, we are sitting still in ATL traffic, and the kids are going ape shit because we are going to the grandparents house. But Trish and I got somthin' for dat ass! After numerous warnings, Trish undoes her seatbelt, moves to the back between the quad seats, administers ass beatings to all of the children, moves back to her seat and re-buckles before the kids even know they had ther asses beaten! The look on their face was priceless! It was like "Oh, shit! I didn't see that coming with this new van! I don't like this thing anymore! Damn, I didn't know Mom could move like that, I swear Flash just whooped my ass!"

The kids, and me, somehow survive this ordeal called a drive home. The next morning we strike out on a fishing trip that Fletch has been begging to go on for about two months now. She is all happy, until she has to walk throught the tall grass to get to the pond. Motivation begins to decline. I catch the first fish in less than five minutes. The girls scream and yell, jump up and down, and are so excited that we caught a fish. Then I pull the fish out of the water and they both run like I had just extracted Jaws from the deep and he had legs! They both refuse to touch the fish and Fletch begins to cry because she thinks I am going to make her touch the fish, and it has a hook in it's mouth. So much for the hopes of my princesses being outdoor queens. I only caught two fish, but I was asked "Did you get one Daddy?" about 1,000 times. I don't know how many times SJ thought my plastic worm was fish. "Daddy! Daddy! You got one! Oh, it's just the worm." God bless her. Fletcher just played in the dirt the rest of the time. But she had fun. Mely just broke shit and threw rocks at the fish. Cool.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Watched LSU beat Bama, went to church, came back to Dahlonega. Fortunately, no beatings on the way home.