Black seals... look better in the shade.

I saw a pure black seal on the beach yesterday! It was wearing a harness. Speaking of harnessesesss, when I pulled up to the beach on my bicycle with Hunter in the lead, a fellow was standing nearby. Hunter went over to say hi and the man said 'so, is this a service dog?' - indicating the harness. In my head I was kept saying over and over,

'please please don't say yes, he's a service dog for the sexually perverted - every time I have a naughty thought, he bites me in the crotch'.

Ignoring that strong urge, I politely told him 'yes, he's a service dog - for the CRIMINALLY INSANE!' and then gave a rictus grin. He scurried away and I had the beach ALL TO MYSELF!

Except for that black seal.


They're ba-aaack!

There are 4 different kinds of wasps that make my outbuildings home. Mud-daubers, yellow jackets, little underground wasps that look quite adorable but are very territorial. And last year, these giant, mostly black with thin yellow stripes, wasps that I hadn't seen before. They were holding the whole front porch and half the front yard captive, so I started on a regular 3 a.m. raid armed with my spray bomb, all to no avail.

After them attacking my poor little puppy when he was just laying on the grass 10 feet from their nest, I knew they had to go. There were half a dozen buried into Hunter's fur, riding him like rodeo cowboys as he howled and the only way I could get them off of him was to SMACK the poor dog with my leather work gloved hand. So not only was he being stung repeatedly, he was being smacked by his human.

I decided to man up and deal with this in a more forceful manner and waiting till the middle of the night, I grabbed my broom, marched out to the porch and thwacked that 10 inch ball of doom good. The ball didn't even budge. What DID happen is within a second, I had been stung 8 times and I exited stage left, screaming like a little girl. Now I was mad. I had never felt such horridly painful stings. So, for the next 5 loooong nights, I sprayed, thwacked and water bombed the nest till I had eradicated them.


Random Act of Silliness

I made a bunch of bird friendly ornaments and except for the stocking, ribbons and the star, everything can be eaten by our fine feathered friends. This tree is just growing wild on the side of the highway in a ditch and every time I passed it, I thought what a perfect tree! I am going to decorate it at Christmas time. And I DID! Not that great of a job I see, now that I endangered myself by standing on the HIGHWAY to take a pic of it. Oh well. Hopefully, some little kid is going to look at that and think that it's a magical tree. Maybe.

tree2 photo tree2.jpg

yes THAT dog

It's been 2 1/2 years since little Jemma passed away and I felt it was time.
Come on in and meet my new little buddy.Collapse )


The original Wolverine. Hugh Jackman's got nothing on him.

Corn on the cob

I have been eating a LOT of corn on the cob. Every day for weeks now. Strangely enough, it usually takes me a WEEK or two to expel the corn that apparently I eat like a typewriter *ding!* and then next couple rows *ding!* and don't actually chew my corn *ding! rimshot* So now every day I get to see uneaten corn in my poop. You're welcome.

I fell into some blackberry bushes walking down my road whistling tunelessly and I have bloody scratches up and down one side of me - my leg, arm, neck, face! and even behind my ear. Climbing out of a thicket of sharp pointy things is something that should have involved a map but alas, I had none. By the time I peel the scabs off, they will be nice and bright against my tanned/burned skin.

I just bought a 32" tv and while putting it waaaay up above the bed like a hospital tv, on top of the closet, it slipped and fell and now its screen is brokeded. I am upset. Ow. Heads are quite resilient. This is a good thing.

So I have two new folding chairs I bought at WallyWorld for 9 bucks each and I am going to customize them so that if any rat bastard steals them while I am taking a ~thquirt~ in the bushes like a homeless person with my scrawny white ass hanging out, the chairs in question will be easily recognized by me further down the beach. One is to be used and degraded by a guybuddy and one is for ME ME ME! Here are my ideas and I want you to vote on which one is best. I would make this a poll but I am too cheap to get an upgrade so that I can.

Scenario 1: One will have 'DIRECTOR' on the back and one will have "FLUFFER' on the back.
Scenario 2: They both will have 'FLUFFER 1' and 'FLUFFER 2' on the back.

Keep in mind that these two chairs will be used at a public beach all the time. The guybuddy in question doesn't want anything written on the back of any chairs that he is sitting on, with me or anyone else. In fact, I think that he hates the idea that if I go with Scenario 1, I am planning on have the 'DIRECTOR' chair as my own.

Take a walk with me.

Get your shoes on, grab a cold one and walk around the yard with me.
Here is my yard in the merry, merry month of May. We will start with the front, shall we?

This bench (which you can hardly see beez of all the bluebells) is right by the gate where I hide so that I can jump out and scare people. Well, to be honest, I scare people anyway, without the jumping out of bushes.

bluebell bench

I said grab a cold one!Collapse )
Thanks for coming to my house.

Looking back on the last ten years of my lj

... as far as schemes went this may have been my crowning glory.

Hi! My name is Mort and I am a pothead.

Image hosted by

Please don"t tell anyone.Collapse )

This is my chicken

There are many out there like him but this one is mine. His name is Chicken.

He is one week old here and the size of a fuzzy feathered golf ball. He follows me everywhere.and I quite like him. See his feet? They are like my delicate size 9 feet minus the webbing. And perhaps the sharp toe nails. Every day I go out into the garden and fetch him worms like a good chicken looker afterer. In the beginning, I would slide the dirt off the worms for him with my long slender fingers and then RIP them into bite sized pieces for him because I am a kind mother fucker like that. The worms would wiggle and squiggle on the ground and like the true chicken he was, he would eagle eye them and gobble them up. Soon I was flicking them about the yard miles away so that it was a little game with him and I.
When he got to 3 weeks, I decided fuck this, slimy shit all over my long delicate fingers all the ding dang time; now I was flicking the worms long and dirty juuust like my fingers. I trained him to crawl up my leg as I sat in the yard in my ratty bathrobe drinking and he would sit on my lap. One day the chicken and I are communing together, him sitting on my finger and me sitting on my rather plump bum and I was telling him what a great chicken he was and he was eyeing my bloodshot eyes intently as I talked to him. There was much chirping going on as I have his chirps down to a science.

All asudden he LUNGED at my eye, people, with his sharp beak and all and because of severe inebriation, I did not blink. He had just pecked me in the eye. In my NAKED eye. I did not choke the chicken as I wanted to do because I figured it was partially my fault. He thought my eye was a worm or some such and went for it. But really? I think he was just being a dink. I forgave him right away though. So then I had big plans to take him on my bike in a basket on the front. Can you picture me riding around with a chicken on my bike? Yeah, sure you can. Here's my new circa 80's bike. A fine looking specimen, isn't it? Minus the shitty cell phone pic.

But before I got the chance to do this, I was hanging out in the yard with my chicken, free range style with me and my saggy balls hanging out of my ratty bathrobe and him just being, you know, a chicken. I was smiling because how can you not smile when a featherball is running about at your feet. Chicken was about 10 feet away from me when a large falcon swept into the yard and CARRIED HIM AWAY!

Hey, wouldn't that be neat if it really happened? And I had my camera at the ready? No, it didn't happen - he just ran away from home, the ingrate. I kept him in a cage at night but apparently, the grass is greener on the other side of the fence during the day. If you see my chicken, let me know. His name is Chicken.

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May 2014


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