Holy Catshit Batman

So there has been a lot of changes in the last few years... maybe I was a little optimistic about that statement in my last post. We've added a few chillens to the farm and stuff, but occupation wise, I'm still doing virtually what I was doing before. My work still drags my ass away from home to odd and unusual places.

So tonight I found myself checking into a motel that required sign language to check in. The only thing worse than my verbal communication skills would be my sign language. The desk clerk and I spent a titillating 5 mins exchanging hand gestures and looks of horror. Some day I will stay in a town that has a real hotel. Obviously that won't be today. I left the foreign front desk clerk emotionally scarred. Now he knows how everyone else feels that I come into contact with.

After finishing our session of Charades, I pulled around the gravel parking lot, let Kiley out, and started dragging my endless amount of shit into my new very used motel room. I was just in the process of dragging my second load of shit out of the pickup when I heard Kiley bark and kick gravel all over. She was chasing a cat/leopard. Did I mention I left the fucking door open on the motel room?

So... Yes. The leopard made a frantic leap to get away from Kiley and decided our room would be a nice place to hole up. Kiley didn't chase the cat inside because she's not allowed to go through doors without being told... more than I can say for the cat that was holed up in our room.

So I carefully approached the door. The cat was perched on the sink at the far end of the room and obviously not very happy. It was making a sound sort of like a very sick John Deere garden tractor (that's the best I can do). Kiley was perched at the door waiting for a second chance. I was mostly hoping I could just die.

Having had some bad experiences with wild cats in the past, I decided I should approach this situation very carefully. Slowly, I crept into the room and over the single bed hugging the wall as I went. I started feeling pretty proud of my stalking ability until the tiger noticed I was gaining ground on it. Immediately it hissed, backed into the corner and spit at me. At this point I decided some protective gear would be good. It just so happened there was a bedspread/ashtray next to me. I completely cloaked myself in this covering most of my head only leaving my eyes exposed. If God hates a coward - He would despise me.

I only took about two steps towards the psycho cat when it decided to vacate the room. I'm not sure if it was the sight of the KKK cat guy, or the thought of having to spend a night in the filth that Kiley and were going to have to endure but at any rate - the cat left and in a hurry.

Feeling victorious, I chased the cat to the door. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the killer cat as it ran for it's life was quickly replaced with a feeling of horror as I seen the front desk clerk outside my room holding his ice cooler. I would like to say that I felt completely ridiculous standing in my doorway with a bedspread wrapped around all my face and most of my body but that would be an understatement.

I gave him a very weak sign language sign that basically said "Yep - I'm almost settled in and I've been chasing wild fucking cats in my room".

It was a wave and a smile. He returned the same sign as he shuffled back to the office.

This is only the first day.

Farming Kids

Yes... As of July 15, 2009 wifey and I are officially farming children. Just like a real 'farm', we are carefully and strategically raising our crop for sale in the very near future. Currently we have no children for sale, but our oldest is starting to show signs of being ready... we'll keep you posted. Right now it appears that there won't be a shortage of kids. Obviously the conditions must have been ideal for production. I'm guessing it must have been in the water?

We just added a new addition to our already new crop from last year. Boe Ryan unwillingly joined us on July 15, 2009 at 9:00 am. Unlike the scenerio from last year - no state laws were broken (or broken badley) in the process of delivering wifey to the hospital. In fact, the entire process went extremely well. No one was cussed, beaten, or verbally abused in anyway. I call that a successful a delivery.

On a different note, wifey has decided that we are officially done producing stock for our newly formed children farm. The bright side of that is the price should go up on remaining stock... god bless our market economy. The downside is, she has decided that the best route to deter any more production is to have me 'snipped'.

I've opted to just quit drinking the water around here - both wifey and myself. I think that would be a good place to start... whatever. 'Snip' - ummm I think not.

I've been a terrible blogger for so many reasons, I can't and won't list them here. So much has happened and changed over the last two years that I'm not even sure I'm the same person I was. One thing is for sure. If wifey has her way, I'll be almost about the same person but minus some important man parts in the future. Anyways... enough about that.

I plan on keeping a little more on top of my blogging. Everyone that visits here has been extremely patient and I thank you for that. Luckily, everyone that comes here also has to deal with life. Life first - and then blogging. Keep your eyes open for me... I'll be around shortly!!

New Curtain Crawler

The people that come by here are probably some of the most patient people in the world. I thank you for that.

Most importantly - we do have a new member of the family. Bradley Shaw showed up healthy, happy, and completely intact. We couldn't, and probably wouldn't ask for more than that.

It was a process getting him here. Wifey decided that at Midnight, it was time to have him. We are about 30 mins from the hospital so it isn't much of drive. I started off driving mostly normal, but after 15 mins of emotionally scarring language coming from my beautiful wifey - I decided that hyperdrive may be the more appropriate speed for hospital travel. I broke most every law in Texas, and probably a few laws that haven't been instated yet. I pulled up the emergency door where wifey quickly departed the vehicle in a cloud of dust and sonic wrappers... the last words I heard as she was loping through the door was "... You will need to find me... *cuss cuss cuss*". It took awhile to park so when I finally got to the main entrance I was met by a very amused security guard. Through his laughing, he handed me a piece of paper and pointed to the elevator and told me "Good luck... you are going to need it".

It sort of went from bad to even worse at that point. I did finally find wifey. She was in the middle of getting her epidural. Little did she know she wasn't going to react well to this. She spent the rest of the delivery throwing up and didn't even recall having the baby. It was pretty horrible.

Everything else went pretty well. Bradley seemed happy to join us in the outside world. He hasn't acted like he wants to go back anyways... but then again - his life isn't over yet either.

There will be more. I must get my ass back to work.

Kids and Misc Shit

Ya'll are way too good. Thank you for checking up on me.

I haven't been killed in a fiery car crash, or rabid dog attack... no - just life I guess. I caught wifey in a moment of weakness and next thing I know - we are having a baby.

I'm not sure how it all happened, but I can say that it was consensual and somewhat planned. I was just surprised when it happened. I guess all the practice paid off in the end.

His name is going to be Bradley with a middle name of Shaw. For all of you that are gagging, we named him after my great grandfather Max Bradshaw. Hence the 'Brad' and 'Shaw'.

My worst fear is that he might take after is father and mother... this is a genuine concern. He'll need a lot of beatings. I'm not totally religious, but I've found myself praying lately that he isn't at all like me as a child. I don't deserve that... in fact - no one deserves that.

All I know for sure is that along with having a new curtain crawler comes this desire to work a little harder. Not to brag or anything, but I was sort of a worker before. Now I'm working double time because... well - I don't have a clue why. It just seems like the right thing to. That, and wifey is so goddamn cranky, I'm not really allowed to live in the house anymore.

I'm told this is hormones... Maybe wifey has been pregnant all along and I just didn't know it.

Speaking of partially religious - I'm praying she never reads this.

I'll be back sooner than later. I miss all of you.

Dangerous Kids

I received some interesting emails regarding my last post. Unfortunately, I've been away and wasn't able to reply back. I'll do my best to reply in what will hopefully be a short post.

It's funny how when people have something good to say - they generally post it. Those that have some nerve and balls will post negative, or just plain rude things (Yes - BBC, I'm looking at you). There are a few people that slide in to this blog with none of the afore mentioned traits - they leave emails. That's cool. It's all good. I try to reply back - normally in the form of post rather than a reply email.

Apparently there were a few readers that were concerned for the safety of our children. What these readers don't know is that it wasn't just 'our' children - we also involve the cousins in this crazy game too. Wifey and I wouldn't be satisfied with endangering just our kids..... no - we have to bring in outside children for our own satisfaction. When you have something this dangerous - why not share a little?

In the good 'ol days, before we were equipped to wage paintball wars, we used to send the kids out in busy traffic with sticks and let them have at each other. Depending on the time of day, traffic was the determining factor for the level of difficulty - not the speed of the stick or how hard it was swung at another child.... However, the 'chasing with sticks in busy traffic' eventually lost it's luster as it became 'boring' to them. With all the shotgunning we (the kids and I) do around here, our neighbors moved away which resulted in a significant decrease in traffic thus, removing the difficulty from the game. Wifey and thought long and hard for something that would be a step up. We settled on painball stuff because I knew for a fact that it hurt like hell to get shot with a paintball. I won't get into how I know this - not now anyways

Paintballing is dangerous. I won't argue that fact at all. In fact, my entire left side looks like a purple leopard after our last game. Luckily we all wear face masks, or I would probably be missing an eye, nostril, and most definitely would have lost my left ear. All the kids seem to be very intrigued with shooting me in the head... I'm not sure if this has something to with the times that I have yelled at them in the past. In any sense - it is dangerous.

Perhaps the most dangerous part of the entire paintball massacre is where the kids all gang up and go after me. It's normally 'them' against me. They have learned (and learned quickly) how to think, make a plan, execute the plan, and change the plan on the fly if they need to. In short - they have become very crafty. They have learned how to communicate with each other, but more importantly - they have learned how to understand each other and accomplish all this under some very severe pressures. They have also learned that with every wrong move, slow thought, and stumble - there are some consequences. Nothing says "Whoops" like a paintball in the ass.

I can't in all honesty deny that paintballing is dangerous. However, it should also be put into perspective. Last time I checked, it was more dangerous to drive, traverse stairs, go to school, or be married. In short, per capita - our children have a higher chance of dying if they participate in any of the above. No, we haven't removed the stairs from our house, quit driving, or got a divorce on the grounds that my wife tried to kill me (Ok, this happened before, but whatever). I'm assuming the two concerned readers have eliminated these these things from their lives - along with the other billion things I didn't mention. They would be hyprocrites if they had not done so.

I'm on the verge of going into a 19 page rant/essay on raising children - but beyond the fact that I'm most likely not qualified (at least in the eyes of two concerned readers), I'm not exactly sure the world is ready for my take on raising kids... so I'll just tell a few stories here and there and let you make your own judgments. In the future I'll try harder to not defend my methods.

In the meantime, I need to wash the paint of my mask and get the guns ready because we are about to start our weekly "Dangerous Day" activities. Wish us luck.

Southern Boy

Last holiday weekend I was shopping with my father in law - an avid hunter. He would really like me to be a hunter also. I never will be.... I guess I lack the instinct or something. Those that have read previous posts know that I like guns. I just don't particularly like to kill animals. Maybe this is because I've been hunted myself a time or two...??? Mostly I'm just lazy and hate cleaning wild game when I can buy a really good steak at the supermarket. Anyways, my father in law and myself were at our local store picking up some paintballs and CO2 so the kids and I could do a little paintballing over the holiday weekend. While strolling around we wandered into the camo clothes section of the store. My father in law didn't start drooling... but he was nearing that point. We came to a rack of shirts that was my size and on sale. The only thing I've done to be a good son in law was I didn't burn down his house when I accidentally started his BBQ grill on fire.... I haven't been the best son in law. I decided I should give a little. I bought the camo shirt as a simple gesture of "give me a chance... I might make a son in law yet".

I've always thought it was a little stupid wearing camo for hunting, and beyond stupid for wearing camo the other 300 days of the year when you aren't hunting. I can understand wearing realtree camo when in the deep jungles of Montana stalking Big Foot or something - but realtree camo in McDonalds isn't hiding you from anything... It just says you're not too smart. Or so I thought.

Upon arriving home, I slipped into my paint ball attire, but decided to wear my fancy new camo shirt to impress my father in law.... We both got a surprise.

Immediately I wanted my wife to fetch me a beer. I wanted to rod my pickup through a mud hole, and most definitely wanted to shoot something and strap it to the hood of my pickup and drive through town so everyone could see what I 'hunted' down and killed. The camo shirt had given me more than super powers - it gave me a giant ego and more confidence than Super Man. I was immediatly ten foot tall and bullet proof.... I gathered up my paintball stuff and went to the front yard to wage a war with the kids.

I no sooner stepped out and started firing when I felt 4 closely grouped shots smash into my ribs.... apparently I wasn't camouflaged or bullet proof. No - I'm mostly just really bruised and pissed off. To make matters even worse... I sort of acted on my first impulse to yell at wifey to fetch me a beer. Wifey doesn't 'fetch' well. In fact - wifey doesn't like to be told what to do.... besides being bruised and pissed off - I also learned that it's much better to get the beer myself and drink it rather than try to absorb it through osmosis. I'm pretty sure the camo shirt filtered out the best parts.

I won't be wearing my camo shirt anytime soon....