Monthly Archives: May 2008

They’re everywhere

Shhhh, the alien-cheney creatures have me trapped in my basement.  Yep, the damn havahart trap wasn’t worth a damn. 

I baited the trap with something I knew the alien-cheney thingees couldn’t resist – yep, I put a little container of oil in the trap and covered it with some sand.  Blammo, not 5 minutes later I trapped one of those alien-cheney fuckers in the trap.  Greedy bastard had already siphoned all the oil outta the cup.

So as I stood there looking into the trap, the little bastard looks right at me with those evil, alien-cheney, beady eyes and whips out his alien all-in-one tool and selects some laser beam thing and proceeds to start cutting through the metal mesh of the trap.   The tool had some kind of name on it with a symbol….I think it was Notrubillah.  I am not sure if that was the name of the tool or maybe it’s the name of the alien-cheneys world.  Shit, who knows maybe it’s the little fuckers god. 

I can hear the evil bastards chanting now, “Not-rub-illah.”

Not-rub-illah, all praise to Not-rub-illah.”

The heathen little monsters.

Thinking quick I went to grab the trap with the idea I’d throw it outside and lock the little alien-cheney bastard outside.  Duh, do you have any idea how hot metal gets when it is being melted by a laser?  Hot

In my haste I drop the trap, the door springs open and the alien-cheney turdball runs free into the middle of the kitchen.  With the most evil of looks the beady-eyed bastard looks right at me and fires the laser at me.

Shit, the laser hits me in the shin and hurts like a damn bee sting.  I run towards the little beastie and he jumps from the floor to the top of the refrigerator and lets out what sounds like a maniacal laugh while firing the little laser at my head.  Great, just what I needed these little alien-cheney thingees are bionic.

I duck outta the way while the little bastard scampers up to the top of the kitchen cabinets – outta my reach.  He fires again and the laser hits a Grateful Dead cd on the kitchen island and ricochets off.

Damn.  Just then I feel two more bee bites on the back of my calves and I spin around to see 4 more alien-cheney oil sucker standing in front of the oven firing their little lasers at me.

Ow!  I scream as the leader hits me in the ear with a blast from his laser tool from on top of the cabinet.

Shit, I say to myself as I run for the basement door and slam it shut seconds before getting blasted by the little bastards.

Damn, damn, damn. 

I can hear the alien-cheney thing making weird sounds and then I hear the pitter-patter of more little alien-cheney feet.  Damn, I am screwed now.

I tie the door handle to the railing with a piece of rope.  That should secure the door for a little while and give me time to figure out what to do.

First thing is to have a beer and make a plan.

A plan is always really important.  I am sure the little alien-cheney bastards have a plan.  You’d have to be insane to come to try and take over my kitchen, heck for that matter a planet, without a full proof plan.  Is it full proof or fool proof.  Either way, the little buggers would be idiots to try and take over my kitchen without a plan.

So, I need to get inside the little bastards minds.  Do the alien-cheneys even have minds.  I don’t know. 

So what do I know –

I know they like peanut butter, cat food, oil of all kinds. 

The alien-cheney thingee I caught seemed to be their leader.  He also seemed prone to shoot his weapon off at any time for any reason.

The laser beam harmlessly bounced off the CD.  Hmmm, maybe there’s a way to use the CD.

I started looking around the basement for weapons to use against the little fuckers.  I found a stack of 2 ounce paper cups and a quart of motor oil.  These will make great traps.  I also found my golf clubs.  Perfect.  I can set up the cups with a little motor oil in each and when the alien-cheney fuckers come to get the oil I’ll whack them with my pitching wedge.

See if the little bastards like getting hit with a 90 mile-per-hour pitching wedge. 

Hehehehehehe, splat go the alien-cheney fuckers……

Next time – the plan in action

 

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When Bunnies Go Bad!

Hef, you can relax.  This isn’t a story about Uzi toting, scantily clad, silicon encrusted, well shaved blonde’s.  This is a story about funny bunnies – not that your bunnies can’t be funny too Hef.

Remember a  couple days ago I was whining about being sore from working in my garden?  Well, two days ago, a mere three days after planting the garden, I come home to find these two long eared leaf eaters sitting amongst my parsley.

They are so pre-occupied they don’t even know I am standing there.  It’s quite obvious to me that the male bunny (on the left in the photo) is looking to get lucky.  He seems to be insistent that it’s time to answer natures call to procreate.

Conversely, she is more interested in grooming herself so she looks good for later action and is totally ignoring the poor dude bunnies advances. 

Well as I stood there he makes his move.  I have to tell you, as someone who knows, this poor dude bunny got no game.  He got no bunny tail either. 

As you can see from the last photo, dude bunny is rebuffed in his attempt to further dilute the bunny gene pool – damn I can think of a lot of people who should be so lucky….hehehehe

 So now she’s pissed, his ego is severely bruised and they move over and are sitting on my spinach.

That was the last straw – I couldn’t watch anymore of “When Natures Dates Go Bad.”  I make a noise and the little bastards look at me and take off for the woods.

I am confident that later on when the dude bunny is hanging out at the bunny ranch with his dude bunny friends he’ll brag about getting some bunny tail and will tell a bunny tale of how he stood his ground to this evil human to protect his bunny love.  He’ll also probably tell them where to find some sweet young romaine and spinach and I will come home to find my garden empty. 

While he’s busy spinning tales his bunny love will probably be out with some other bunny, doing the bunny mambo in my garden.

Damn bunnies.

  

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Dildosytters of Nantucket Part 4 or something like that

“Well sonny, that’s quite an unbelievable story you just spun,” said Dick.  He told me to call him Dick after about the first hour of my story and a couple 10 ounces of rum.

“If I understand you correctly, you’re from like, 150 years in the future and I am your great, great, great, great grandpa,” Dick summarized.

“Yep, that’s about right,” I said.

“I look forward to hearing more about these dildo’s powered by batteries you say they have in the future that are made out of rubber and plastic, fascinating,” said Dick sort of looking out into space. 

“Are there shops like mine in the future?” Dick asked.

“Sort of, however, there’s not the hands on customer service that you offer,” I said. 

“Well now, until you get this contraption of your fixed your gonna have to help me in the shop, you know be my apprentice,” said Dick with growing confidence.

“Dick, I’ll try but you need to know I am not the most handy of people when it comes to working with wood.  Heck you might even say I don’t know dick about making Dicks.” I said, feeling the full effect of the rum we had consumed.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Dick laughed.  “Maybe I’ll change my motto and make it, Johnson’s Dildosytters of Nantucket – We know Dick about Dick’s,” he said almost falling outta his chair laughing.

“Well, let’s get your contraption covered up from prying eyes and well start your first lesson on dildo making the “johnson way,” dick said.

So we covered the time machine in an old oil soaked sail and headed into the shop.  Dick put me in front of some lathe like machine with a chisel and told me to practice rounding the edges of the foot long piece of wood in front of me.

As I started working on the wood a younger lady walked into the shop and began talking to Grandpa Dick.  She suddenly stopped talking as she spied me in the work shop. 

“Who’s that out back Richard?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s my nephew from the mainland.  He’s going to apprentice with me for a while,” Dick said with clarity and confidence.

“Oh,” she said, “he’s kinda cute.”

“Paddy,” called Dick, “come out and say hello to widow Macy.”

I walked out and there stood widow Macy.  She couldn’t have been more than 30 years old.  “Damn, for a whale wife she’s looked pretty hot,” I thought to myself.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am,” I said as politely as possible.

“Likewise,” she said.

“Good luck in learning your Uncle’s craft, he’s made many a happy women on this island,” she said with a smile and I thought a little gleam in her eye and then added, “maybe you could even make one for me  when you get the hang of it”.

“I will do my best ma’am, thank you,” I said retreating to the shop.

Widow Macy left the shop and Dick came back to where I was working and said in his most serious tone, “Paddy, you need to watch out for that one, she’s already buried two husbands and there’s word that she uses opium.”

“Hmmm opium,”  I thought to myself.

I got back to my practice wood.  If this was morning I’d say I was working with my morning wood.  Hehehehe.  I have to admit I thought I was doing a pretty good at removing the wood and turning this long rectangle into a long tube shaped thing.

“Hey, grandpa I called, what do you think of this,” I said proudly as I held up my new creation.

Dick looked at it and began laughing his ass off.

“Paddy, that’s beautiful if your gonna have a store that makes dildo’s for a duck’s ass.  My god, if that was any thinner I think I could use it as a toothpick,” he continued trying to catch his breath from laughing so much.

“Lookie here,” he said, holding up something that looked more like a Louisville slugger than anything else.  “This is my best seller, this is the size and shape we’re looking for,”  said Dick, still laughing about my first attempt to make a dildo.

“Here’s another piece of wood,” he said as he threw me a piece from in front of him.  “Use this as a model and give it go in the morning,” he laughed as he handed me the Wonder Wood dildo that per his instruction, was his best seller.

“Thanks grandpa, thanks alot,” I said with a laugh as I sit back down and got back to whittling the wood in front of me.

 

 

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YA WHO!

I had to be careful with the title.  I didn’t want anyone to confuse it with the company that Microsoft had made an offer for but was subsequently spurned.  I would encourage Mr. Gates that any financial contribution to this Ya Who would be welcomed with open arms (and open wallet).

It is a pozitoodinally righteous day.

I am sore as hell and loving every minute of it today.  It is a SPECTACULARLY BEAUTIFUL day here in the Happy Valley.  Sun is out turning the landscape different colors by the second and I feel great, albeit very sore.  It’s a good sore, it’s a good sore in that I managed to survive my personal form of torture.

Raking.

I mean this with no disrespect to anyone or any government – I am convinced that raking is the worst form of torture.

I spent the past few days raking out my garden and lawn and am paying the price today. 

I have muscles that are sore that I didn’t even know I have.  It’s not like you can go to the gym and jump on the raking machine to build up those raking muscles.  Raking sucks.

Of course I have the scars of raking.  You know, the blister on the lower part of your thumb closest to your index finger.  AND I HAD GLOVES ON !  Never mind the blister issue, half-way through raking I snapped the handle of the rake.  Talk about insult to injury – now I had to go buy another torture device.  Ughh

Next time we capture a few evil doers – let’s put them on a farm somewhere (other than Cuba) and make them rake for a few hours.  You know, make them rake a pile of gravel from one side of the yard to the other.  Once they completed that, make them rake it back to where it was in the beginning.  Shit,  from a physical and psychological perspective they’d be broken in a day and they’d be telling us all their secrets.  Plus if it’s done correctly we might even get a clean yard outta the deal.

So I raked and then I rototilled the garden.  Borrowed a little beast of a machine from J&D.  They said, I could use it, I just had to get it running.  Took out the spark plug, cleaned it up and corrected the gap, put it back in the little monster and the bastard fired right up.  All this machine wants to do is tear up the dirt.  

With the little monster running I attacked my garden.  I am not sure what it’s like trying to hold back an animal, like a goat, from charging, however, I can only imagine it’s similar to trying to use this nasty little bastard of a machine.

I got the garden turned over while my bro was raking out some of the crap and then we added some manure and peat moss and turned that into the existing soil.  Came out pretty damn good….at least I think that now.  If nothing grows I’ll now that I fucked something up.

My bro and I planted a bunch of perennials, some herbs (no not those kind you druggie), a few veggies and now all we have to do is sit back and wait.  That’s good, cuz the way my hammies and back feel, sitting back is the only thing I want to do.

Did I mention that the black flies are out again.  For those of you who need more info on black flies or want to read yet another post in which I whine about being sore from doing some labor check out a post from a year ago …..post 27.  https://paddymac.wordpress.com/2007/05/14/monday-monday-monday/ 

Sometimes we forget how lucky we are to have a garden to tend or a lawn to rake.  Sometimes we forget how luck we are about a lot of stuff.  Shit, sometimes we forget how lucky we are just to be.

I think you can see it coming – yep, time to fire up that light and let it shine.  Shine the damn thing in every corner you can find.  Shine it bright and shine it often.  Most importantly – shine!

Off to conquer myself.  Cheers

 

 

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