Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer’s Eve?

Let’s see if any of you are a little more on the ball than I was last night…

I was super tired from being awesome all day (if “awesome” is a synonym for “hungover”). When we were ready to head up to bed, Chaos Boy stood in front of me and pulled me up off of the couch (because he is a freaking hero). Once I was up, I was a little wobbly. While keeping hold of both of my hands to steady me, CB walked all the way around the coffee table so that he could lead me through The Lair and up the stair. (Okay. There are multiple stairs, but I was enjoying my little rhyme.) This led to…

DP: Damn! That was magical. I mean. Some straight up David Copperfield shit.

CB: <laughing> David Copperfield? Do you smell vinegar?

Get it? Because I didn’t. I’m gonna blame that on my pickled liver.

Paranoia Will Destroy Ya…Or Will It?

Danger Puppy here. I just started writing a post about my being diagnosed (by myself) as a sociopup. It was all about how my my lack of conscience is tempered by my fear of prison. In writing about that I discovered something about myself: I am extremely paranoid. So I was all erase, erase, erase.

That leads me to something that has come up again and again at our house in recent months regarding what the media deems newsworthy. Whether you’re someone well known (I’m looking at you, Paula Deen!) or a nobody, I don’t really care what your beliefs are or where you’re dipping your wick. What I care about is that you were stupid enough to actually tell/show the world. Keep your skeletons in your closet and your dick in your pants (I’m looking at you–without really wanting to–Anthony Wiener!). And for God’s sake, never take a picture you wouldn’t want your grandma to see. Feel free to be a dumbass in the privacy of your home where your bullshit is only inflicted upon your like-minded family. 

In the spirit of my own advice, I will not discuss Chaos Boy’s schmex schmife and how much I’l like to redrum that beezatch. See, people. A little restraint.

Left To My Own Devices

Chaos Boy has an alter ego: Professor Awesome. When Professor Awesome is out doing his nocturnal knowledge spewing thing I, Danger Puppy, am free to get into trouble. Tonight “trouble” means “wine.” And when I get boozy, I tend to get muse-y. Here are some tidbits to improve your life:

1) If your kid is an asshole, it’s your duty as a parent to tell him/her. You can only model so much for your kids: some kids are thick. Showing is best, but telling is okay too.

2) If you’re angry with your significant other (because he put his umbrella in his t-shirt drawer?) and feel a fight brewing, take off your clothes. I dare you to see how long you can argue naked.

3) Pay close attention to the way your friends talk to you about other people. That’s exactly how they talk about you when you’re not around. 

4) Family is important, but so is your sanity. If someone is literally more trouble to you than he/she is worth, ask yourself whether he/she would be in your life at all if it weren’t for the blood your share. You’ll know what to do from there.

5) Turn your freaking headlights on when it’s rainy, foggy, or just not freaking light enough out for me to see your damn grey car.

6) Never take a chatty person hiking. 

7) There’s no shame in binge watching a show. In fact, lying on the couch like broccoli for two days watching an entire season of Bones is good for the soul.

8) Wine is like sex: it’s usually best when shared with someone…usually.

9) Not all lists have to have ten items.

🙂

Ya Think Ya Know A Guy

Last night, prompted by a situation involving his kuntly (DP-ism) ex-wife, Chaos Boy drank over half a fifth of Bitch-Be-Gone, aka “Bulleit Rye and shame.” Not surprisingly, chaos ensued. (I should mention now that I, Danger Puppy, was in full possession of my faculties as I had consumed only water and self-righteousness.)

First I’d like to let it be known that I’m a hero. I literally saved CB’s life. There was a spider having a bit of a frolic above a bookcase in The Lair. CB is the designated “Spider Slayer” because I am a tremendous titbag. When I pointed out the spider, CB started to get up to kill it (meaning flush it while saying “go see Jesus”). I did a quick calculation involving the height the spider was at, the angle at which CB would have to reach, and how much liquor was left in the decanter (in my head y’all = amazeballs) and arrived at a frightening conclusion: STEP LADDER! In spite of my love of life insurance, I pulled CB back onto the couch. You see? HERO! (Also, I took that bitch ass spider out myself when he started drifting toward my Dooneys.)

It wasn’t until we were getting ready to head up to bed that I realized CB was the drunkest I’d ever seen him. He came out of the downstairs bathroom and ran into the wall. I made an executive decision at that point: he should go up the stairs ahead of me in case he lost his tenuous control over gravity. This was a great idea until I told him I wouldn’t have to do these things if he hadn’t “gone Irish,” at which point I called him “Drunky O’Shitfaced.” He was laughing so hard he had to stop halfway up the stairs. In keeping with the Irish theme, he danced a naked jig when we got to our room. (Not a result of drunkenness. He has done this many times. Far. Too. Many.)

The final straw came when he started laughing so hard while trying to take an allergy pill that I thought he might choke. That was my cue to shut down the antics. Again, I’m a fan of life insurance, but I don’t really want to be collecting any time soon. 

This morning he wouldn’t cop to having a hangover, but he did say that was the last time I’d be seeing him that drunk. 😉

=========

Update on the umbrella: it was in his t-shirt drawer. Yeah, honey. Cuz that’s where it goes.

Still Kicking

We haven’t been here in a very long time. It’s been a stressful year, but you’re a smart audience. You got that from the fact that one of us has “Chaos” in his name.

We’ve been told that our wit has been missed. In the spirit of, well, brightening your spirit, we present an actual email exchange we had this morning:

Danger Puppy to Chaos Boy (and Winky the House Elf)

“Looked in car, trunk, bags, boxes, bins, garment bag: no sign of black umbrella. Please check your bags and brains.”

Chaos Boy to Danger Puppy

“Did you look in the shelf boxes in our room?”

Danger Puppy to Chaos Boy

“No, because I know I’m not a dumbass, and I trust that you aren’t either. ;-)”

Chaos Boy to Danger Puppy

“I think I may disappoint you.”

—————–

Hehehe! We crack me up.

We’re back, bitches!