The ONE FREAKING WEEK I’m in front of a high def flat screen and NO NEW COPS last night. GUH!!!! (See? Told ya I wouldn’t talk about them.)
When I want something, I build it up in my mind as being fantastic and wonderful and just the best thing that’s ever happened to me, to the point I‘m fairly well delusional about it. For instance, in my mind, my offspring are just like those kids in the Ovaltine commercial. They’re outside all happy, building a snowman as a team, and the one kid comes rushing outside and says, “Come on, everybody! Mom’s making rich, chocolate Ovaltine!“ and they all go rushing into Mom’s warm kitchen for a mug of hot cocoa with a dollop of whipped cream and love. In reality, my family is like having to deal with 16 Ozzy Osbournes at the height of his stupidity.
Well, we visited the pig farm today, and this is what I *thought* the pig would look like.
Say “hello” to *reality*.
Oddly, this is the exact same feeling I had when I saw each of my newborn offspring for the first time.
Luckily, I’ve never been one to let reality get in my way. Sooooo, congratulate me, kids! I am a new Mommy! Say hello to my lil sweetie, Lassie.
[I think South’s neighbor, Ray got a little too close to that snout when he snapped the pic.]
In the pic, the farmer was graciously showing me how to apply suntan lotion to my piglet. Apparently they burn very easily and have to wear suntan lotion all the time. This Northern girl did not know that. However, between you and me, if I find out that farmer was dicking with me, and I could just as easily use SPF 15 instead of paying for the more expensive SPF 30, I’m gonna be PISSED. The farmer dude was a bit snippy right from the start. I think it bugged the hell out of him that I was a Yankee. Sigh. I deal with this every time I come here. Must I be persecuted because I'm from the good side of the Mason Dixon line? Anywho, he objected because I kept calling the baby pigs “piglets” and after rolling his eyes several times, he said, “Ma’am, we prefer to call them ‘shoats’. Piglet is Pooh’s friend.” I said, “Well thank you very much for the education….and for tossing all that sarcasm in for free.” But I do appreciate him telling me about the suntan lotion and he even suggested that the Gerber brand of car seat was the best for Lassie to ride in for the drive home.
Male Offspring #8 loved those piglets--screw Old MacDonald, I‘ll call ‘em what I want!!--and I’m thinking he confused them with his brothers and sisters. We had to pry him out of the pig pen kicking and screaming. Consequently, he wasn‘t exactly smelling like a rose when we left the farm. I had to drive through the car wash and hang him out the window, then Fabreeze him from head to toe.
Lassie is a hell of a lot of fun though. South has this one room with hard wood floors, and we turned on the stereo to dance. We blasted “I Wanna Put On My Boogie Shoes”--although in Lassie’s case it was more like “boogie hooves”--and Male Offspring #1, Lassie and myself danced for over an hour. BTW, Nick, you’re gonna need to email Mike and tell him what will take the scuff marks and scratch marks out of hardwood floors. Thanks. You’re a doll.
BTW, I talked to South late yesterday afternoon, and--no lie--guess what that wild man was doing? Picture it--he’s in Vegas, sin capitol of the country, surrounded by hot porn chicks
and South is………*drum roll please* …sitting in his room eating peanut butter crackers.
Oh, the life of a stud.
Ok, I have to zip out and buy some baby bonnets for Lassie. The farmer suggested them to protect her against ear infections in the colder Northern climes. Cya!