#21 Stretch

Two upcoming interviews! Maybe things are on the ups. Gotta iron my clothes for morning and shower off my daily funk. Mr. Morgan has a HORRID, gosh, I don't even know what to call it. Boil? On his inner thigh. Not the first one he's had but maybe the worst. He never comes to me with anything medical lol so when he does my eyebrows peak in interest as this must be a freaked out man. I looked, and he has good reason to be alarmed. You'd think we were kids playing house, he fashioned himself a bit, clamped down on it and instructed me to stab the thing until it produced the puss-fest lingering underneath. I'm totally gross so shrugged and said "alright."

Not to imply I went at him and tossed a needle as if it were a dart, I was as nice as possible when navigating past male genitals and sticking a needle a few millimeters deep into his leg. It's fine to shiver heh. Oddly was NOTHING to me in comparisson to those ticks. Only thing that could have made it compriable is if a tick actually crawled out of the opening, but that did not happen. He's seeing a doctor if it doesnt resolve in a few more days.

Kylee discovered that I own a delicious Fisher Price record player. She forgot she'd seen it before because she was very small. With the same excitement she watched it go round and round and proudly declared herself a Steppenwolf fan.


And Beatles.


#21 - Stretch - Normally I'd use a coin to help explain size, but when I reached into my pocket, all I had was a cig butt to compare how little he is. That and I didn't feel like getting up. Why did I have a smoke in my pocket? Because I like the stench. More accurately, because I don't litter. Smokers have a hard enough time as it is. Stretch is the wee-est of the herd, and shares the coolest hair award only with Rasta Raffe.

Check this new song from Green Day. I'm not a huge GD day fan, but excellent in my opinion. Good lyrics, and we all know where my bleeding heart hippy liberal (name of the day used generally in a negative connotation) mind goes. Ever had anyone call you something like that and you simply say and think.... and? what's your point? I guess I'm supposed to be insulted by those words, me is not, I'm cool with being declared for who I am, I'm pretty aware of what I think about things.


- DM

The Sandman

Catching up a bit. Was connected by static to my bed for a few days there and who really feels like arguing physics when it's warm and Friends reruns are on? I gave into it's sticky ways but have alas emerged back to the world! I posted last night, so there is another entry below.

By way of what I presume to be a guilty conscience, I get to go for a one dayer trip to Marine World in the next month to do THIS again:

And some more of this!

I couldn't be a happier bean. Well an employed bean would be happier, but this proposition from Mr. Morgan isn't hurting. Not too far of a jog and in my car it will take less than a full tank of gas there and back. On that note..... the Raffe of the Day. I don't remember what number we are on and it's not even 7am so fuck it if I'm going to look. Let's go with #19 and hope I'm right.

#19 - Sandman. The Sandman trumps Vincent. It talks crazy Christian shit that even as an adult I think it's the most creepy fucked up toy ever made. I think it landed in the wrong house. Mr. Morgan concurs and won't go near it. He thinks it's out to poison his mind or seduce him into the fold, not entirely sure but he is a man of gut instincts. Listen to it below.

It's like shit out of a movie trailer. If the giver is reading this.... don't feel incensed, extremely creepy gifts are welcome here. Not anticipated, but I doubt it was considered wicked from the buyer. That, or someone gave it to that person and it killed the whole family and had to be passed along.



Don't miss the below, I might get slow again. And comment for me, reminds me I'm alive.

- DM

ps - yeah thats still my Gore poster. Carrying the torch much?

Spare Some Change? (pun intended!)

So what's new! Did everyone do the obligatory Father's Day thing? I don't speak to my Father much, he remembers I'm alive about once every two years and calls when he's got a guilty patch that I'm supposed to heal or something. I imagine he's always sorry that he called, because I'm far from even faking being anyone's conscience for them.

As for my Pop, of.. god he and mom have been together at least 20 years now, his gift from me was Mr. Morgan. I sold my husband to him for 4 hours of golfing.

The Morgan children also gave gifts of golf, courtesy of me doing my non stop scouring for stray coins no matter where I am or who is looking and being inconvenienced. Really, I try to stay out of everyone's way as much as I can - you never know when a stranger is having a shitfuck of a day and you are the final catalyst to send them into frenzy that ends with hospitals and incarceration. BUT by and large my Kitty Pig obsession has always served me well and it paid for "Daddy" to golf this Friday. It was Kylee's idea mostly.

"Whacha doing?" wag wag wag.
"Collecting coins."
"For why?"
"For the Kitty Pig."
"It's no good in that, you should cash it in and get real money for Daddy Day!!!"
"Maybe."
"Mama, I'd do it myself but I don't even have a learners permit yet. You've got to do it."

So I did. My contribution to my husband's bullshit holiday (when he distinctly tells me that I'm off my rocker to think I'm a mother on THAT lame ass day too) was a bottle of Gold Bond. Extra Strength for the extra love!

He exercises and is on the move SO much the man is prone to some crazy thigh chaffing. I've been suggesting talcom powder for months and he finally has relented now that it's in the house.

He found another, sigh, yet another streetside excercise machine that now lives in the aforementioned room of death:

I give that thing two weeks tops before it gasps into oblivion. He has so many now, the garage is no longer an option for storage of the deceased and they are now crawling and limping into the living room. I try to ignore it, but laugh a little thinking about wives I know (Prada) who would be having none of that shit. My selective vision is all I have left on this subject.

#18 - The Sirens - My sister gave me this and I seem to recall she sat and watched the artist pencil it. It's 8x10 and extremely detailed. What looks to be shadow atop the frame is indeed.... dust. But you can call it a shadow or fluke of the camera if you like.


-DM

#15 & #17 Dueling Twigs

TY has played a game of Pimp My Twigs. I never have the heart or, lack of gratitude to tell someone when I already have one. My sister gave me one of those raffes in the cup I had already just this week and Mr. Morgan gulped and simply said OMG she will love it. And I do.

Now before I get to the below disgusting portion.... our kindred Khadra answered one of those questionarres recently and admited she thought Smurfs were much larger than... they are. I asked if she thought Gargamel was a some sort of giant or something, not just a standard human, and promised a true to scale photo of a smurf. Here I am with Brainy Smurf. One of my monikers that I remain very on the fence about how I feel with it. Yes, he id down an arm, but he has been thrown out the window for the last thirty years right? Poor Brainy. So see Khads, they are just lil' guys.

Now let's talk ticks. My level of "not gonna" has esculated to a level of completely refusing to even touch my dogs. That is really hard for me, but I can skip and play hopscotch past 8 hours until Mr. Morgan comes homes and does the check. Where our dogs got the ticks, I don't know but I'm climbing out of my skin finding my spidy-scense to cling to the ceiling. If he finds one, fine, I'll yank it, but it's worse than a two year old about to wet self with how fast I run to get rid of it, screaming VILE, NASTY, WRONG! I am being a large pain in the ass about getting medicine since Mr. Morgan has zero plans to change their activities - i.e. hikes, and trips to the lake. He's saying we'll just "pluck them" I won't get into what I say in return. Let's also note they sleep in the bed. I guess I just NEED lyme disease to add on my resume. It is the most foul thing I've seen since I caught my long gone cats chewing roaches in half in the kitchen during the night, thanks to my neighbors leaving food all fucking over the middle crossing of our apartments. DM does not not not, did I say NOT? handle insects. Gimme blood, vomit, unexplainable wounds.... can dig. Insect? I'm gone man.

I picked one of the Russian's neck. Then two off of Kyles, and a third clearly newborn one from her ear that went on the lam the moment it knew the jig was up. Full body shivers - do you know what tick searching is like? Patting down deep through fur to find something wiggle against your finger, that you know is actively head deep in your pet boozing itself up? Vet has some junk for me but Mister is being stingy and says we'll just keep plucking. He is going to be the only plucker very soon, I can't do it without a strong urge to vomit. Sounds weak, but is what it is. It's also not really healthy for the animal, so I'll be pushing the issue.

So, yeah. Smurf along with me! (repeat for my Khadra... them's are giant mutant smurfs!)



-DM

Raffe-aganza!

My photo of my ward. She can go the fuck home tomorrow.

She really is a nice kid, pretty kid and a ghost just like Kylee is. You turn around and it's just there staring at you. Totally silent, looking all desireable.

Same time.... I wonder if the parents had the forsight to NOT name the animal Juno. In my house her name is Jun-NO!!! She doesnt get it, thinks I'm just excited to say her name and taking a creative interpretation of it. I'd mention that, but I'm on strict punishment if I so much as mention the dog being.... almost completely untrained. Mr. Morgan is giving me a hard time for being hard on her, but I'm really not. Hitting is hard on her, and I don't hit. Is she going to hear me freaking out..... naturally. No one in this house gets a pass from that. She simply has no social graces, she lives as a lone dog in a confined apartment and I'm told she lives almost all day on a balcony. I'd probably shit myself too to come to a free range home with other dogs and twice a day walks, so I am bummed she's going home to boredom. Mr. Morgan took her and Kylee to a fair at the park today, she was ramped that so many people were in one spot staring and wanting to pet her. Kylee got more attention, as it was a Civil War fair and I guess our daughter looks like the poster child for one of the most terrible events in all history. Some people like negros after all. We felt really out of place, because in walking up, we see all these Confederate flags and knew we were not in Kansas and that reinacting it was pretty creepy. Wasn't the first run good enough? Anyway, there were pretzels and pina coladas to... I guess celebrate racism and slavery. We had some of both (not the racism or slavery, just the eats), but we didn't cheer.

She brought in a dead bird about a half hour ago. I am SO unable to ever be barefoot in this house. I flipped and made Mr. Morgan get it. Who really didn't want to. It was gutted and all over my hallway. I screamed that I did the neck tick removal, his turn was bird duty and it was not up for debate.

Now to the Raffes. I have too many to do this every day. It would take a year or more. Seriously. So.

#5, 6 and 7 - Can zoom. On the left is Joey. He came from Art Dogs of Grace. The owner goes to Africa often to hoard these items. He was damaged so I got him for a great price. Center is Gortusk. He's down because of a broken leg. On the mend, he's hand carved from Guatemala, removal tail since his injury. To the right is Sir Stands a Lot. He doesn't have a location other than a yellow dot on his bottom and so far.... he isn't talking.

#8 - Mary and Larry - Awesome tapestry piece.

#9 - Sarah and Michael. Also damaged via dog. Next to a raffe candle to help make up for it.


#10 - RaffeFam. Dad looking at Mom looking at Weeone, who is looking... at clouds I guess. Most excellent.

#11 - Cofay Raffe - What can I say, he likes his java.

#12 - The Shrews. These two don't like eachother at ALL. One is making a lean towards bitching and clearly the other one has already formed a plan to kill her.



#13 - Syrup. I know he looks lynched.... but that's just how he chills.



#14 - Comedy Raffe. He thinks everything is funny, we think he's not all together.

#15 - Legs. Lastly for this entry, I don't even know who this giraffe is. He's been laying down, hooves up for a long time collecting dust like it's a hobby.


So that's all for today!

- DM

#4 Rasta Raffe

My ward has arrived. She's a sweet little girl, decent listener.... but I'm also quite a decent screamer. Kylee is in love.

Three-some!

So far it's...I don't know. The ward is non-agressive but also doesn't speak my native tongue. Her name is Juno (how yank to be named after a knocked up movie persona). I named her Chloe. Mr. Morgan gets very mad at this but as predicted.... bitch answers to no name, so it really doesn't matter. Her father said it was cool to name her JC, making a nice comprimise. Being he is jewish I asked if that was really... ya know... ok? He said he was sure Jesus was chill with it. Fab.

#4 - RASTA RAFFE

Rasta Raffe isn't entirely friendly. He has conditions and questions dependent upon acceptance. Not to say he's rude, he simply likes to know the nature of those who befriend him.





- DM

#3 Melman - the Worry Raffe

We just almost burned the house we don't own. I'm airing it out and blasting some Heart because it was a two person piggy-back fuck up. Why Heart? No good reason, was handy. I left a slice of cooked toast in the toaster oven and Mr. Morgan negleted to see it before cooking his own bounty. The toast.... is done and was actually on fire. I'll be Larry and he can be Moe is sorting it all out. Did you guys know that outside the films Curly was a complete douche? I'm not shocked.

Everyone ready? So here's what is I gone and fucked up on this week. For those of you who I went bee-sting style bothersome on, go ahead and skip ahead to the giraffe of the day. Those who haven't.... oh DO read on. It's classic. Burn your bosses' payroll on me, I'm worth it.

Mr. Morgan and I were sequestered to a graduation arrangement for I believe to be his cousins this last Sunday. It's extended family which is about a mile long but some who I was exceedingly happy to see, as most of them are once a year only at Christmas.

A rumor started that I was knocked up. More interestingly not only was I preggo, I was NOT Mr. Morgan's wife. How am I so forgettable? /baffle I started to greet people with "Hi, nice to see you again, still DM." smoothing my shirt and asking the caught chickens if I looked pregnant. I'm so skinny it was folly.

I rolled in looking proper, as I generally do, least I thought so and my mother in law said I looked nice. Wearing a nice top with jeans, and shoes a bit too large... but not a nice shirt to take a serious headplant in. Shall we just move to that without being surprised that I fell?

Oh .... my readers, I didn't just fall, I think I was close to making news and becoming an obituary. To back step, I was not the only to tumble that day. My lovely mother in law hit the skids carrying a tray of fruit and went face into it, later telling everyone not to eat the grapefruit as that was the location of impact. She's honest like that.

Second fall was some guy with a couple kids in tow and I think he really just lost footing on the gravel and his ass became a familiar friend quite swiftly.

Then me. Sigh. I can't be upstaged or what? Mr. Morgan HAD to be fucking with a bottle of bubbles. His giant sausage fingers could not fish the wand out so he called me over, where I had been sitting nicely with Ounts and Prada. The chairs were closely crowded - again little too big shoes. Also right behind me was our Uncle R who is a narceleptic. I got up, trying to avoid both the chair tangle and Uncle R and BOOM I went down with a sack of bricks attached to my neck. Felt that way. My head hit dead onto a concrete curb. No one even saw it..... they HEARD it. Not a good sign. People scrambled to check my pupils and see if I needed to puke.

All the while my Uncle R didn't skip a single beat, just said "yep, heard that one." Lol, he's fallen a lot.... it'll be funny later and pay back is a bitch.

My mother in law called me the day after to see if I was dead, and to make sure I knew that SHE wasn't dead. We compared fall stories and damn if we aren't at a stalemate. She flew into fruit and had to have rocks surgically removed. I however hit hard enough to give an audible crack of my skull.... which holds in my brains. What's fucked up most.... both of us were completely sober. Just can't take our asses anywhere.

That said, I dont seem to need medical care. People insisted I take aspirin, on account of that actress skier who, lack of words... you guys know. I reminded I smoke and drink and clots were probably not going to happen. I was greeted with ... oh right.

So, everyone seems alive, just.... not able to be allowed out of the fucking house. Here is today's VERY FITTING GIRAFFE.

Meet Melman. From Madagascar.

Not only is Melman a Giraffe, he's a hypochondriac. Color me kindred. He also, as a bonus, yaps.



- DM

#2 FatRaffe

This is FatRaffe.

FatRaffe has nary a leg nor neck. He is everything a raffe is not known to be and he has no shame in that. Here he is mastering a wrestling pin down on the puppy:

He is the most portly of all the herd but doesn't really mind all that much. Kylee stole FatRaffe recently and ate most of his antlers before I caught her. He didn't really mind that either.

In fact FatRaffe's goal is to be sedentary as much as possible.

FatRaffe is roughly Russian sized, and almost as round. He is the newest of the herd and leaves me with many questions, but he's welcomed in all the same. He is from New Jersey and his likes are pizza, cool days, and cotton. His dislikes are slobbery labs who move too fast into a relationship.

I've taken on a new phyiscal fun-ment, so not quite up to a full entry. Have to settle for FatRaffe Monday.

-DM

Raffe 'o de Day

Nothing like a good fight to make a person feel completely stupid and come home with peace offerings. I don't believe details are in order, although should someone had said that I would have demanded every last nasty detail. Let's go with ..... said and done, I deserved these:

And the fucking croisannts.

What are thems? Red daisys? I call them lovely and a start on making peace.


Steal it Wear it.... sigh.... just another weekly addition.....

Ya know, I really liked those sandals. A bunch. More than a bunch because they were highly convenient, inexpensive, and matched almost everything. That may have been her reasoning, she didn't think I' miss them. I do.

The Russian had to sneak in for a photo op. He knows I don't wear shoes unless forced to by some extablishment rules, so when I do.... I pick the easiest to get out of. His understanding of my love for those sandals is very clear. He's sorry his sister is fucking greedy selfish sandal stealing sack of brown.

Alternatively, I've been asked about my Giraffes ... almost to an odd degree lately. How many do I have? Why do you like them? Do they move in the night freakishly like a horror movie? SO. I'm going to run a raffe of the day, as daily as I can. This will take a long time. Not gonna say how many I have and yes.... some of them will look the same, a giraffe really only can look so many ways. but trust me... only one photo each. They all have names and I'll put one on exhibit probably daily for your viewing/laughing pleasure. I have... a..... lot. Also want to point out, I do not buy myself giraffes. People send them to join the herd.

This is Vincent.

Vincent is from Build a Bear, and Vincent talks. All the time. He spouts I LOVE YOU for no reason, and prefers to do it when I'm a naked bird in the middle of the night, sleepishly walking to the kitchen for liquids. For this behavior he is sanctioned to the top of the entertainment center. At 3am, I love very little but water and a ciggarette, but it's cute later... except he only does it at night.

Don't think I'm kidding, by the time I'm done you are going to hate anything with spots and more so anything necky with spots. I've got some good pieces and of course other shit to yap about. so stick it out.

- DM

Doggie Park!

Give your shoulders a bit of a jig, you know you want to. No one is looking.



I'm strutting with a yorkie, wearing a robe and twirling like a fiend, and I don't give a runny shit who might catch us getting our dance on. And he doesn't either.

We are taking in a ward next week. I forget what the hell sort of criminal it is but I remember being very hairy. Husky? Let's go with that. It's parents need to flee, from it? I don't fucking know. Mr. Morgan called actually asking if I was going to take opposition. I said the Russian would not care for it and he agreed that it was also his same concern. We decided that Simon could chill his shit for a few days. I have met this creature and she seems pretty nice, not aggresive. If she turns out to be, she'll find a spare bathroom quite comfortable. Simon, has senority after all, and it only for a few days.

Excited to have her though, I've been BEGGING for a third dog for ages. It's really a shit thing to even consider, but my Russian is old and hasn't been the same since Leedy moved out. He's not at the devils' gate, but he's not what he was and ... I ... falter. I'm not ready.

Boils down to that I bought Kylee for Mister. Heart Weasel? Yes. I do not hate the puppy. Rather fond of her actually. But is she mine mine? Not remotely. Leedy is mine. Simon is mine. I worry that I won't have a mine much longer and I get upset. To be all sad... I'd like my Lilah back.

- DM

Spicey or Hot

I can't lie. No one had the time to comment on the last post? I ATE things. Let's not completely bullshit, I write this blog for attention to an extent, so what the fuck. At least acknowledge it exists. Lie to me, I like it.

So. I hate hate HATE this miserable obstacle course of a fucking fuck fuck of a cunting room. I can point out all the crazy shit going on in there. To the upper left, not photographed, is two top on top televisions. Lower left is another dead machine. Thanks Prads!

Middle is the main TV. The two tier tvs are for constant sports spying. To the right is the pc station, for online poker.... as seen, and actively watching.

In between is a fucking chair and the contraption he found street-side. Why do I hate it? It's a mother fucking purposely designed way to keep me out. I can't go in there without stubbing my toes, falling, or tripping on some bullshit that is really not necessary.

I'm aware I am walkishly declined. So why throw a wet towel into my stride right? That's what that room is. It's a nuisance and it knows it. So does it resident, who acts shocked when I crawl out howling. I'm not going in there anymore, no good comes of it and Mr. Morgan blames my clumsy over his cluttered shitfuck of quarters. I have officially been run off.

Wait until I soak his next ingrown "sock heal wrap" with hot sauce. Let's us play, since my bone toe coming out bloody is funny, well so is Taco Bell.

- DM

ps - annual dedications soon soon. For now something we all know but damn he if he is hard on them eye and earbones!



If one would like an encore... yes please. This is love, this is porn.