Yah.  I’m back home and totally enjoying the comforts of my OG and my happy little office.  It’s always nice to get to travel far and wide, but even nicer to come home… especially since I had only been married a scant week when I had to leave on that jetplane.  But that’s another story all together ain’t it?

So, OG and I have been known to have some pretty interesting conversations in the last 7 years that we have worked together.  No holds barred.  Really.  We talk about anything and everything.  Which brings me to what we are talking about here.

At lunch, we generally find some kind of magazine full of gossip or short, yet hilarious ditties.  The conversation turned interesting when I found a short article about an ape who doesn’t dig girl apes….  Read this… you’ll love it.

AMSTERDAM (Reuters) – Sibu the Orangutan has miffed his Dutch keepers by refusing to mate with females and showing sexual interest only in tattooed human blondes.

Apenheul Primate Park hoped Sibu would become its breeding male when he arrived two years ago, but orangutans aren’t his type.

“He chases them, or ignores them, but he doesn’t do what he should do,” said a spokeswoman for the park.

Instead, Sibu fancies his female keepers, especially blondes. That, the spokeswoman said, was common for orangutans but Sibu has a fetish for tattoos, harking back to a heavily tattooed keeper who reared him.

“Orangutans have special interests in special subjects. Sibu happens to like tattoos,” she said.

So, this brought up the question of whether orangutans have a penis bone like most other mammals or if their penis gets hard like a human penis does.  Yah, I know what you must be thinking…  perfectly acceptable, lady-like lunchtime conversation.  So, we finished up our lunch and google’d it, as we google every sick and twisted thing we can think of.  And we found out that an orangutan does, in fact, have a penis bone.

OG has decided that I, being the blonde and tattoo’d chippie that I am, should stay the hell out of Amsterdam.

Just thought I’d share that tid-bit with you kids.  Cheers!

(Article Copyright 2007 Reuters)

Dear Sweet Holy Mother of Jesus. The things I hear come out of my teenage daughter’s domocile. My house was infested with her and her little teenage friends last night.

So, I’m painting last night in the hallway between my bedroom and hers when I here, “Oh my God, he’s raping her!”

Being somewhat alarmed that they were watching something questionable on the boob-tube, I put down my paint roller and wander in there to find out who’s raping who.
As it turns out, it was her latest acquisition of animal friend. Rats.

Not long ago, we lost our dear bearded lizzard to a firefly. Well, she didn’t waste any time finding a new pet. Actually, she got one, her boyfriend got one, her friend Jesse got one, her friend Cody got one, and Aaron got one.
They were supposed to reside at her Josh’s house. But, Monday night, here come the teenagers with this huge tank of rodent friends.
Not to mention that Amanda’s rat just gave birth to 9 babies, that will be full grown soon enough. I’ve already demanded that they be sold or released.

Turns out that one of the boy rats was horny as hell and he was chasing this girl rat around and around and around the cage. Apparently he got lucky for a split second and caught up with her. Which is who was raping who.

Other things I heard come out of that room last night whilst rolling paint on the walls:

– Damn, if that was me, I’d have done given up, lit me a cigarrette and counted my losses. (In reponse to the chase for ass)

– Well, those two ate him because he had a big package and they were sick of it. (In response to why the one albino rat was missing).

So, after the boy’s football game Friday night, I’m tired and I feel just nasty. I was full of Italian Ice, as I had engulfed like 5 during the game trying to cool of. I’d had sweat running from my neck, down my back, directly down my butt crack.

That, my friends, is not a nice feeling.

Even with feeling grody and tired, I still hoped to go home and get a little lovin’ after a nice cold shower. Know what I mean? I think ya do.

But, no.

Why is it that I can never seem to get rid of both of teen-aged-mutants at the same time?

Amanda, my girl, was spending the weekend at Jessie’s (the child that claims me as her other mother).  But, the boy couldn’t stand it; he had to stay home.  Worse yet, he had to stay awake.  So, we get home, I go take a shower and I go to bed…. to sleep.

Hell if I didn’t wake up early, before the boy.  So, I poke Anthony and told him wake up and GET ‘R DUN!!!

Door was closed and I was under the blanket.  I got too hot, so I go and throw/kick/pitch/toss the blanket in the floor.

Well, Anthony’s cell phone was in the livingroom.  His phone rang.  Matthew decided to answer it.  Matthew decided that he would just bust into MY bedroom to tell his dad that Mario was on the phone.

BUSTED!

Sweet Jesus.  Now up until that point in life, I don’t believe anything has ever both made me absolutely furious and at the same time nearly given me a heart attack.

This non-knocking problem we are having is getting a little bit on my nerves.
Admittedly, I am most likely the most sexually natured person I know. I dig it.  I want it.  I just can’t help it.

But even my horns are nipped in the bud, knowing that kid is in the house lurking.  There have been numerous times I’ve just decided to forego play time just because I’d hate to think about anybody else in the house knowing.

GRRR!!!!  Can we say frustrated???

I mean, I swear, I think he has a sixth sense when it comes to knowing if and when we may be even considering having sex.  It’s like he goes that extra mile to keep trying to drive a wedge of any kind between me and Anthony.

Makes me nervous to have anything in my room, let alone my happy drawer.

Then this happened:

So, I get started to get over getting busted by the boy.  And I go outside to start working on the cleaning out of the shed.  This shed is barely a shanty.  It is missing the bottom boards on the walls, so it’s wide open to anything and everything that wants in.

Ok, now there is a reason that shed was in the shape it was in.  I don’t dig going in it and flat refused to go in it for three years.  Not to mention the fact that I’d seen various critters and rodents zipping in and out of there.  *shiver*.

But, the time had come.  We have a week to be getting all of my crap up and out of the house, which means the shed had to be cleaned too.  I get the broom (yes, I wish I had something like the iRobot Roomba vacuums but alas I will have to cope with just a broom for today) , the hair spray and my lighter and head out back where the shed stands.

I stand outside, looking to see what sort of arachnid may be lurking up above my head or down below my feet.  Ewwww!  Dark, scary and spider infested.

So, I finally take the broom, poke it inside the shed and start swingin like a wild woman at whatever might be in my path.  When I didn’t feel that was enough, I took the hairspray and lighter and started blow torching anything that appeared to be an insect of any sort.  The smell of sizzling spiderwebs is a lovely one.

My spider problem apparently taken care of, I forged ahead.  Looking at the piles of shit that were tossed into this shed nearly three years ago when I moved into the house, I decided that if it had been there for damn near three years and not missed, that it wasn’t ever going to be missed.  Rahter than digging through the boxes, I hauled them right out to the bed of the truck.  Locked and loaded for the Knox County dump.

I had gotten most of the crap out, when I thought I heard something.  It was a rustling around sound.  I stopped and assessed what it might be.  I didn’t see anything.  So, I turned around to get another box and IT ran over my foot.

Well, I’ll swear I thought it was a two-foot rat.  After nearly having the second heart attack of the day and hearing IT run into a window thinking it was a way out of the shed, I saw it.  A baby rabbit.

Still when I’m confined in an icky space where I’m already paranoid, I don’t even want the cutest of furry woodland creatures hippity-hopping over my foot.

My household is short one member this morning.  My daughter is super sad. 

I woke up around 1-ish this morning and the livingroom lights were on.  I rounded the corner to find my child, her boyfriend and my new son sitting around looking extremely sad.

My first instinct was to be pissy because the boyfriend was still here.  Then I figured by the solemn expression on each face that something indeed was troubling them.

(taking a diaper the grandson break…. DEAR LORD the smell)

The next thing I noticed was the lizard’s habitat was not in the girl’s bedroom, but in the livingroom with the depressed looking children.  I was told the lizard was passing into the next life.  Immediately, I was transported into late night depression too.

FLASHBACK:  “Mom, we’re goin out to catch lightnin bugs,” my daughter said.

They came in and went to the bedroom, where the lizard habitat is housed, lightning bug contraption in tow.  Out of the bedroom I hear them giggle as the lizard must have been performing tricks to get the treat.

Lizards eat bugs, that’s nature.  So, they figured since it would jump across its home to get a cricket, it would jump in the air to get a flying critter. 

They finish feeding it 3 of the luminescent delicacies. And put in a movie.  That’s when I went off to bed.

BACK TO THE NOW:  So, whilst Diva slept, the lizard was becoming very ill.  By the time I woke up, it was too late.  They had looked it up on teh internets.  Fireflies are TOXIC and not to be ingested by any other living creature. 

We will be burying Joey today.  Out back.  Next to the rat that didn’t make it through baby rat birth.

I suppose in order to ease her sadness, I’ll wait a day or two and go get her another reptilian playmate.  We’ll try a snake this time I think.