I Blame Twitter


Once again, I find myself going weeks at a time without posting. I think part of it is being crazy busy all the time, but I’ve come to another conclusion: It’s Twitter’s and Facebook’s fault. No really – I have something to say, I condense it down to 140 characters, I put it out there, and then it’s gone. I knew no good could come of me jumping on those bandwagons.

Anyway, what’s going on in my life? Let’s see…nothing there…not much about that…not really anything there. Fuck – my life is boring. I still ride everyone’s ass to practices and parties and games. I still don’t get enough sleep. I still have 183,472,965 stink bugs in my house. I still pray for lots of snow every day so I can legitimately stay home (which may not be worse, since if it’s that bad, my kids can’t go to school, either, and then we’re all cooped up in the house while I try to work – that’s a barrel of monkeys.

You know – who ever came up with that term and decided it meant fun: A barrel of monkeys? Meanwhile, a barrel of mokeys is nothing but trouble and pain and destruction. Because monkeys are badass motherfuckers. And if you shove a bunch of them into a barrel? You’re going to end up with a barrel full of pissed off, stinky, badass motherfuckers And those pissed off badass motherfuckers are not going to be happy when you finally let them out of the barrel. They are going to come flying out and tear your face off. Then they’ll destroy everything they can get their little foot-hands on. Then they’ll finish it off with a big poop-fight. I don’t know, but that doens’t sound like fun to me.

Personally, I can think of a ton of things that would be more fun than a barrel of monkeys. Like a barrel of money. Or a barrel of rum. Or a barrel of My Kids Are Sleeping At Grandma’s Tonight. I almost said a barrel of puppies, but then I rememberewd that I have a puppy and despite the fact that puppies are cute and soft and (seemingly) fun, it turns out that puppies are dicks. They poop on your floor. They pee on your carpet. They eat your coffee table. And your shoes. And entire rolls of paper towels. And cat litter. And cat poop. And the cat.

And the particular puppy that I am referring to also stinks. He gets baths more frequently than the adult dog, and yet he stinks more. At first I couldn’t figure out how something so sweet and (previously) tiny, and cute could stink so bad. But then I remembered that his day goes pretty much like this:

I’m a puppy! YAY! Hey – there’s a cat! YAY! I’m gonna chase him! YAY! Now I have to pee! I think I’ll pee here on the carpet! YAY! And now I’ll run and slide through it for fun! Wheee! YAY! A dog! His BUTT!! YAY! Stinkbug! YAY! Poop! YAY! Dead thing! YAY! Rotten leaves! YAY! Someone peed here! YAY! Snow! YAY! The toilet! YAY! Garbage! OMGYAY!

Hmmm…now that I think about it, maybe a barrel of monkeys isn’t so bad.


Don’t let the cuteness fool you



About sugarmag

Forty-sdjhfkjsdhfkjsdh year old mom of 2 - a 18 year old boy and a 11 year old girl. I love them very much, but they drive me crazy. I'm married and work full-time. I'm not sure which of these is the most exhausting, but probably the husband. I'm opinionated. I'm outspoken. I'm loud. I'm an over-sharer. I think Tom Cruise is a jackass. I like to say jackass. I like to swear, period. Fuckers. I love to read. I struggle with my weight. I love my job. I dress my pets up and ridicule them regularly. I am not afraid to cut my hair and I don't understand people who are. I hate getting old. I love to laugh. Make me laugh, OK?

5 responses »

  1. He's lucky he's cute… mine ate my sock and ate into my bank account when I had to take him to the vet hospital for an overnight stay. My $300 boxer is now full price. And, I have to buy a new pair of socks.

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