Bizarre Love Triangle

Daddy recently had a computer client that was a little, uh...different.  Meet Marge.  Apparently Marge is being hacked by Cathy-May Sullivan, a nefariously clever super-genius, who happens to have ninja-grade hacking skills and is after her man.  It is unclear whether the man, Big John, is a hapless victim of her feminine wiles or somehow in on the conspiracy but that is just one of the things she is hoping my husband will find out.


You see, part of Daddy's problem is that 1) he never lies to customers and 2) Marge was offering to pay him too much money.  He strongly suspected (and was right) that there were perfectly ordinary explanations for all the weird things going on with her computer.  He also suspected that she would not accept any explanation other than her hacker conspiracy.  He was trying to cover his ass by getting a recording of him giving her a disclaimer that made no absolute promise that he would be able to find any "evidence".  


Poor Daddy.  All he wanted was a couple of minutes to explain to her his limits.  Unfortunately for him (but awesome for us!) he could not get a word in edgewise.  She kept driving the conversation back to her drama, trapping him into politely listening to every sordid detail.  And so, after making enough little changes to protect identities and keep things ethical, I present to you "The Hacker's Love Triangle" written in the voice of Marge:

"I wrote him a note and I said, 'Listen, I don't know what the fuck happened between us, for me to be getting what I'm getting, but I'm gonna make it real simple for ya.  Go.'  Y'know?  'She can have ya.  I've had enough, I'm not fightin' like this.  She thinks I sent her an email over bullshit and that wasn't even threatening, there's no names on it and everything else, and that's enough for you to say we're through?  If you wanna believe someone else after ten years then you fuckin' take 'em, you go with 'em'.  'No, I need time to think.  I need to straighten it out. You won't leave me alone.'  Oh, I'll leave you alone.  And I have.  But then, when she started gettin' things, a few things, I had to contact him."

"So I said to him in the last email, I said 'My blackberry's hacked.'  'Cause he accused me, see he started askin' me a few months ago about his blackberry.  I don't know shit about blackberries.  But after having to deal with Roger's, they told me to go online and I saw spyware and I read up on it.  And all these questions he's askin' me were, were spyware questions.  And I'm thinkin' 'He got fuckin' spyware on my phone and he's wonderin' if I've noticed!'  But what it is, is she said I put spyware on his phone and that he should get it checked.  But they're fucked because I cut it off.  And I'm not the one who installed it."

"So she had spyware on his phone.  She got pissed off because he couldn't talk me into re-enacting it.  And I said, 'You got one phone and if you're meeting up with her, you make sure your bluetooth is not on' and I said 'As a matter of fact you make sure your fuckin' phone is off, period. 'Cause I don't need to be blamed for any fuckin' thing else.'  And with that, the next night, well that was on  a Friday night-"

"Mmmhm."

"The next night was when my ah, fuckin' cell got attacked. And I mean he doesn't have to have his phone on or the bluetooth, or he hasn't gotta be sittin' next to me.  'I'll getcha wherever the fuck you are-'"

"Hmm."

"That was her way of sayin' that.  The other one was when that I made the mistake of sayin' 'Listen, I have no other way of gettin' to you so, this is the last you'll hear of me.  I sent this on my son's computer, like here's the way it is.'-"

"Yeah."

(At this point she starts to get worked up.  At first I was confused but then I realized she was having an imaginary conversation with her husband.)

"And I just - fuck - gave- Look.. You know what?  You make up your mind.  Like, you need time to think?  Just remember, I'm not a storage warehouse.  And not everything is your fuckin' decision.  But this is when she got-

(Daddy butts in here, in an attempt to get to the point.  It fails.  She gets back to her story.)

"Now, with someone with the intelligence she has, the weekend that he came home two nights before he got here, we had a really good weekend, we were doin' great, and even when he left we were happy and everything else.  He never spoke to her for a week.  She started for the first time in a couple a months, which I  noticed a change in him and all these questions?  Gettin' mad and writin' stuff on the wall.  For someone so intelligent, what she wrote on the wall, 'Just cuz (c-u-z), Just cuz you got there, don't mean you got to stay.'  And I said "Oh gee, well then Big John, you don't got to stay if you don't wanna."

(Desperate attempt to bring convo back to computers.  I can hear her agreeing with what he is saying but then suddenly remembers some new anecdotal "evidence")

"I think that I have pushed her boundaries because she..she...I...I noticed she was never cooling down.  She never ever had a lev-  level head.  Now some geniuses are just like that.  They're psychotic, they're like a...ah...fuckin', y'know a polar, polar...bi-polar-"

"Bipolar, yeah-"

"-and shit like that?  And I got a lot of friends like, that are geniuses, and they have like one defect in one way or another.  And she has one.  And what kills her is that she's 43 and looks over 50, I'm 50 I look 43.  That's fuckin' killing her.  She's got me on every date site you wanna name and she's on."

"Weird."

"Oh yeah.  I told her, I says, "Hey, don't bother puttin' me on date sites, Big John changed his status two minutes and I got asked out.  I've never had to look for a man in my life, you desperate bitch.  Heh.  Y'know, how desperate are you that you have to do this to me to try and get a man?  If he wanted you would he not have been there long ago?  And yet here I am telling him to fuckin' go.  If he's not there yet, why are you still attackin' me?  I'm not holdin' him back.  You're welcome to him at this fuckin' point.  I told him that from the beginning-"

"Yeah but for people, that won't, that won't cool anybody down, hearing that, right?" (Careful, Daddy.  Don't upset her reality.)

"No, but I told her, y'know like I don't believe in mak- trying to make someone stay with you who doesn't want to be with you.  You can't do that.  So, why bother trying?  It's a waste of fuckin' time, effort and life.  Life is too short."

"Yeah, but sometimes it's hard to let go."

"Not for me.  Nooo, no, no."

"So, what we're going to do is-"

"I'm not- I- y'know what?  It's not that I'm cold.  It's that I'm very, very sensitive but I've had so much happen in my life, I'm programmed.  So, impact:  I can take impact.  And I'll just move on."

(Daddy bravely goes forward with his disclaimer that he may not find any evidence.  Her response?)  

"I think I made her fuck up a few times by makin' her mad because that's when instant changes took place and when someone's mad and they're not thinkin' to coverin' their ass right away.  They fuck up.  Which is why I was doing what I was doing.  And like the police officer said, 'Y'know you're only damaging your computer more.'  I said, 'What's more important?  Y'know? Come on.  We're talkin' about a fuckin' insignificant piece of machinery here.  This is my entire life has been invaded, trashed, relationships, everything!'  He didn't give a fuck."

"Well on the down side..." (more bullshit disclaimer)

"Now my son's all, he uses his facebook, email, youtube and all of that no problem.  So she hasn't touched him. And then I got his camera covered and I got it taped, so as soon as that comes in the door it doesn't get turned on when that goes out the fuckin' door.

"It doesn't work like that-"

"And that's what he's gotta grasp."

"-because the settings on the router, blah blah blah (technical explanation of why what she's talking about is impossible)-

"Oh yeah, I'll change the router.  Right.  Exactly,  Yeah, I mean I'll get everything changed   ...start phonin' me when you get to ---- (This is her talking about how much money she is pretty much demanding that he charge her) I mean, I 'm not fuckin' around.  I wanna.  I mean I could have had this "looked after" a long time ago, but that's not what I wanted."  (Daddy explains to me that by "looked after" she means she could have had Cathy May bumped off.)

Shortly after that the recording ends because he has to go.  He says goodbye and promises to come back in a few days after he's looked into the matter.


Next visit...

"You're saying that you're not finding anything?  Because on my gmail account, the last night I was in there, when I got really pissed off, right?  Because I put a fatitious (fictitious) email-"

"When was this?"

"Uh, before you took it, I put a fatitious email on a sticky note, it took him a long time to get to it.  But when I went into it the night after I was talkin' to you, I got so pissed off that I entered the password 'hacked by CMS'.  The thing is, when I entered 'hacked by CMS' I didn't write a hint to who hacked me or something like that, I put in who was my pet.  I had not touched my computer until Monday, when I decided to go print off some paperwork for the police.  And that's when I opened it up and accessed my computer.  The password was changed, and the hint wasn't the same.  That's, that's not from my gmail!  I didn't write it.  That's not anything I wrote.  So they turned on their wireless and changed my password!"

"Well I went and changed that password, whatever it was-

"Did you figure out what the password was?"

"No I just erased it."

"Did you?  Damn, I wish I had known what it was."

"Well, I could still retrieve that for you."

"I'd like to know, who was hacked by who, according to this person that's doin' this."

"Of course, it depends on how complicated the password is-"

"The only thing I can guess is that, like I said, I'm being accused of hacking my husband's email.  So, it's either "John Boyd", which I tried.  Didn't work."

"Well, they wouldn't put in something that obvious-"

"Yes, they would!"

"Rhanr?"  (This is the sound Scooby Doo makes when he is trying to convey a simultaneous feeling of confusion and incredulity )

"Yes, yes, she would."

(Unable to take it anymore) "So then, she's smart enough to get in your shit but dumb enough to put in their own name?  Just-"

"No, they're not.  Rude enough to try get me to admit that I hacked my husband.  That's the intent of it."

(He decides it's easier to just concede her point.  She then goes on to list a whole bunch of possible variations on any of Big John's internet handles as potential passwords including "PapaBear007" "BigBadJohn_69" and "johnjohn".)

"Basically, what it come down to at that point, I didn't give a fuck.  I didn't want to try, I'd had enough.  I tried my own name.  Once that was in, I closed the fuckin' lid on it.  Because my intent was just to copy offline for the police.  All my paperwork that I had.  I couldn't get in there to do that.  So, the password could possibly be a good hint, because the gmail I opened was her initials, with '66', and like mine ends in '666', hers ended with '66'.  And it was a fatitious email.  But yet they were her initials!"

Daddy now makes excuses to leave.  They discuss their next moves etc.  And then this is what she says as he is leaving:

"Tomorrow morning when I wake up, soon as they open I'll be online.  I'm gonna set the password to 'Fuck you too'-"  (Here she apparently gestures to him to write this down)

"Okay-"

"Capital 'F'-"

"Yeah-"

"Lower case 'u'-"

"Uh huh-"

"And the number '2'.  Heh heh.  That's what it's going to be put.  Heh heh heh."

And with that witty little joke Marge's tale ends, because that's when Daddy stopped recording.  Ah Marge, you are a truly special woman.  I hope Big John comes home to your lovin' arms.  Please be nice to my husband.

Because You Asked For It: One Gal's Used Underwear is Another Gal's Goldmine

Source:  Baby Center

Ridiculously inappropriate gift from MIL...how do I tell her NEVER offer ANYONE used underwear?

"SO GROSS!"  ...or is it?

My MIL sent me a box full of clothes, a couple of skirts (only one of which was in my size) a bunch of shirts (none of which i would ever be caught dead in.  freaking hideous not to mention oversized) and, to my horror, a dozen or so bra and panty sets (not one piece in my size, but i guess it's far from necessary for a bra to fit right? yeah...)  They all looked terribly old, high waisted and shapeless.  I thought, well, she probably picked it all up on sale years ago, forgot about it, and though "OH! she'd like this stuff!" when she found it.  WRONG.  When I spoke to her, "most" of it had never been worn, and the white undergarment set she'd "only" worn once.  ON HER WEDDING NIGHT.  How do I tell her this is all seriously inappropriate?  I've fought with eating disorders in my younger years, so being sent "large" clothes is terrifying (I'm a small in most clothes , extra when shopping in old-lady sizes) and USED PANTIES?  That is SO GROSS!  SO says I'm being stuck-up, bit OMG! *gag*



Dear Recipient of Used Underwear,

OMG!  Do you have any idea how lucky you are?  I wish my MIL would send me used underwear!  Your average pair of used panties will fetch you about $20-$40 a pop.  Which means you are sitting on a minimum of about $240-$480.   That is assuming this underwear is typical run of the mill sexy stuff.  But the fact that you are disgusted by the fashion, size and age of the underwear means that you are sitting on a goldmine of high-grade fetish gear.

$$$Ka-ching!$$$

If I were you I would auction that shit off to the highest bidder.  That WEDDING NIGHT underwear will probably fetch an extremely handsome price on eBay.  And you don't even have to wear them, you lucky bitch!  I looked this up and you can make a career out of it.  There's even a social networking site called MyPantyStore.com that helps put you together with your buyers.  They say "It's like eBay meets MySpace only the focus is on used panties."  It's so big in Japan they have vending machines!  (Shit, I think I'm going to get into this.  I've gotta go get Daddy on board.)

Have fun with your box-full of money and be sure to kiss your MIL next time you see her.  If you still really don't want the underwear contact me at mommyrotten@hotmail.ca and hook a bitch up!

                                                                                         Mommy Rotten

(You've really got to get over this size thing.  Seriously,  you're an old-lady extra small.  Extra-small old-ladies are the smallest people ever.  You're tiny.  Just take a deep breath and think about that money.)

Mommy's Magic Mirror

Oh, oh, oh!  Can't you see me?  Say my F-ing name already!

"Romper, bomper, stomper, boo,
Tell me, tell me, tell me, do.
Magic Mirror, tell me today,
Have all my friends had fun at play?"


-Miss Mary Ann, Romper Room
(picture from "Nowhere With Me")

Oh man, how me and my brothers used to sit in front of the TV, waving our hands like fools hoping she would see us through that '70's-fabulous, magic mirror of hers.  And that bitch never once said my name, not even some other kid with the same name as me.  I always walked away from that show feeling slightly disappointed.  Way to alienate your viewers PBS.  See if I hang around during pledge week.  Assholes.

Fuck PBS.   This is Mommy Rotten's magic mirror, where people get recognized on basis of merit.  I want to share with you the blogs that I think are just totally awesome.  These are the writers who I'm willing to spend what little spare time I have to go back and read all their older posts.  I like them so much that I want other people to enjoy them too, but I'm a lazy ass when it comes to updating my blogroll.  Much better to dedicate a post to it.

The first friend I see in my mirror is my friend Jen.  Yes, I know that all my friends are named "Jen" (my cute way of changing names to protect the innocent) but this Jen is a real Jen.  Jen is one of those people who generates laughter everywhere she goes.  She could have made a career of it.  Instead she offers her sense of funny to the world for free via The Welfare Store, a photo caption blog displaying an eclectic collection of WTF mixed up with genitals.  Holy crap, are there a lot of genitals!  (Seriously Jen, what is up with all the genitals?)   I love The Welfare Store, particularly the less-genitally oriented facebook page (Go! Like it now!), but recently she launched a new blog and I am hopelessly addicted.

If you are a fan of the freakshow that is Courtney Stodden, but you can't be bothered following her on Twitter, welcome to Stoddenverse, where Jen shares with you Mrs. Stodden's outstanding skills with adverbs, adjectives and alliteration.  Doug, Jen and I agree that Courtney is a gift to us from heaven, and ought to be shared generously with the world.  Some examples:

"Tastefully trotted through such a delicious day as the sun sweetly shined upon my body & kissed it like a piece of chocolate coated candy! ;-)"


"Sensually standing under the showers scalding hot stream of spice as it slowly starts to melt me into sweet sugar! Mmm It's Savoury Saturday!"

"Dripping with dazzling diamonds --Bikini Style--as I get ready to crawl into the pool for a morning dip... Meow! ;-)"

And at such a tender young age (17) I have a feeling that Mrs. Stodden will be fuelling Jen's blog for a long time to come.

The next friend that I see is Yvonne who writes Attracted to Shiny Things.  I think I stumbled across Yvonne here in Blogspot when I clicked "next blog" and she randomly appeared.  I was immediately sucked in by the title.  I too, am attracted to shiny things and love to joke about it

Yvonne writes about her life as a mother with ADHD, among many, many, many other things.  But I think all those other things are ultimately ADHD related.  I love hearing the voices of adults with ADHD because they can articulate the experience in a way that my son, being a child, cannot.  She has a unique and funny way of looking at the world and she tells great stories.  I wish I could get drunk with her.  Some of her posts include "Sorry I killed your chickens Grandma but you really should have given me more information", "Plant Rape. It's Out There." and "Cross-Dressing Stalker or Paleontologist? You Tell Me."

Go read her.  You won't be sorry.  If you like her then let her know.

And finally I see Bitches in the Burbs.  I've mentioned them before but they are worth mentioning again, they are awesome.  No one could out-bitch them and still be worth listening to.  They own and celebrate the bitch and they do it with style.  I am down with that.  The Bitches in the Burbs are a three woman team (Bitch 1, Bitch 2 and Bitch 3) who collaborate by writing about all the things that frustrate and annoy them in the most unapologetically, hilarious, bitchy voice they can.  Reading their posts is cathartic.  When I'm done I feel like I've unloaded my bitch angst and can go on with my day, renewed and refreshed.

And damn!  I just love what they do with Barbies!  Kind of makes me wish I still had my old dolls to play with.  Some of my favourite posts include "Meet the Cockers", "A Bitch Out of Water" and "Bitches on Lockdown".  Definitely go and like their facebook page but if you happen to be on Twitter it is worth it to follow Bitch 1 and Bitch 2 (sadly, Bitch 3 doesn't do Twitter).  These bitches are a great resource for finding other funny, snarkastic, writers just like them.

I have encountered so many great blogs that it was hard to choose which ones to feature. I'll be peeking into my Magic Mirror every once in a while and spread the funny around.  Happy reading!

Because You Asked For It: Vacay From the Bay-bay

Source: The Essential Infant Resource for Moms

My daughter wants to go on vacation for a whole week and her son will only be 3 months old.  I am sad to see she is even considering this, as I still won't leave my 6 year old for more than a day.  I can't understand her with this decision, and my question is, will he forget her?  Will their bond be broken and need to be rebonded?  What are the affects it will have on my grandson, who will be with me?


She sees absolutely nothing wrong with it, and has already spent a fair amount of time away from him, daily with so many people here to care for him.  Please help me to advise her of the potential harm with their relationship and bond.


                                                                                          -Robin
                                                                                           (California)



Well Robin, it pains me to tell you this but it is clear for everyone to see.  Your daughter is a lousy mother.  She really, really is.  She just sees absolutely nothing wrong with doing that kind of damage to her bond with her son.  That is, if she even has a bond.  I mean she already spends a fair amount of time away from him.  Daily.  This is the kind of trauma that will haunt a child for his whole life!

It really is a shame that she couldn't have learned about being a better mother from you.  After all, you wouldn't dream of leaving your child for more than one day!  I'm quite surprised that your superior clinging bonding skills didn't rub off on her, given the airtight bond you two must have had.  It's really just unnatural!  What kind of a mother wants to get away from her screaming shit factory  precious little baby for a whole week?

I'm afraid there is just no advising people like that about the terrible parenting mistakes they are making.  It's much easier to just talk about what assholes they are to anyone who will listen, perhaps under the guise of asking for advice.

                                                                                             -Mommy Rotten

Because You Asked For It: Quickies

Due to my extended PMS I just don't have the patience this week.  Sometimes short and not-so-sweet is all it really takes.

Source: The Natural Child Project

Dear Jan,


My 3-year-old son, soon to be 4, is obsessed with wearing dresses.  He has been interested in dresses since he could talk.  We are an open-minded family.  We do not spank and have a family bed.  At first, I thought he just wanted to be like his older sister and I.  but now he wants to wear them all the time.  It is very painful for him to be denied this.  His crying when refused his wish to where a dress is sincere and breaks my heart.  I am a stay at home Mom.  I would like to hear from you.  I do not want to hurt, or interfere with my son's true identity.  Please help.


                                                                              Name Withheld.


Dear Name Withheld,

It has been my experience that Jan is long-winded and full of shit.  So here it is: your son is gay.  And that's great!  You just let him wear all the damn dresses he wants and stop worrying about it.  Although, you may want to enroll him in some self-defense classes.  Because there's a lot of assholes out there and no amount of forcing him to wear pants is going to keep them at bay.

(Oh and Jan, fuck you for implying that having a gay son is something to fear or something that can be caused by Name Withheld's anxiety.)

                                                                               Mommy Rotten

Source: Child Central

my 2-year old son is quite a bit advanced for his age, he can tell you all the animals and there sounds his ABC's and numbers 1-30.  He is starting to say quite big words now and I would like to know how can I help him bring it all in to a proper sentence?  He can say a good few sentences already but they are short ones!


                                                                                Danielle
                                                                                (Ireland)

Dear Danielle,

Here are a good few, short sentences.  Nobody likes a show off.  Shut the fuck up.

                                                                                Mommy Rotten

P.S. (Your grammar sucks.)

Source: Parents.com

My almost 3-year-old has a foot fetish.  He has had this since he has recognized feet.  He wants to see and touch everyone's feet.  He even wants to see and touch mannequin's feet at the stores.  This is both perplexing and a bit alarming to us.  Is this a sign that he will have deeper issues later and how do we handle this?  He is advanced in all of his developments and gets along fine with other kids.  This is really his only issue currently.  Please help.


                                                                                  recordskeeper


Dear recordskeeper,

Boys are weird.  Seriously.  It's like you're trying to find something wrong with him.  Relax.  I mean, foot fetish?  Really?  What, is he sucking toes and moaning?  Get your head out of the gutter.  And that means something coming from me.   Because I have a dirty mind.

                                                                                  Mommy Rotten

Barnyard Pageantry

My in-laws, the Rottens, have a small sheep farm out in dairy country and are active in the local chapter of the 4-H Club.  How awesome is that?  When I was a kid, I would have loved to have regular access to a farm.  Every spring there are opportunities for bottle feeding newborns and watching them play with each other in the fields.  Sooo delicious cute!  When my mother in-law called and told me the boys could participate in the Sheep Show in this year's fall fair I thought it was a great idea.

Now, I'm not so sure.

(Oh Dear God, let this be a good idea.)

It is only my complete faith in my in-laws' animal husbandry skills and their extreme caution when the safety of their grandchildren is concerned that is giving me the fortitude to allow this to go on because, holy shit! this totally looks like a very bad idea.  The idea, basically, is this:  to get each of my children, and their lambs, to parade around for a few minutes in front of some judges wearing matching costumes.  Should be a breeze, right?

Day One:  Wet. Lather. Rinse. And hell yeah, repeat that shit.

We thought it might be fun to put the boys into the lamb pen and let them pick which lamb they wanted.  The object of the game was to try and choose a female.  I believe the reasoning behind this apparent sexism is that Grandpa was much more likely to keep a female rather than the male and they maybe didn't want the kids developing an emotional attachment to a future meal.  Grim realities aside, I'm sure the picture you have in your head is one of my sweet boys wading in amongst a crowd of fuzzy little creatures that look something like this:

Awww!

But by the time the fall fair comes around these cute little babies have gained about 100+ pounds, and have been rolling around in sheep shit for about 6 months.  So what you end up with is something that more closely resembles this:

Man, that is one Rasta looking sheep.

They are big, filthy, smelly animals that have a thick oil to their coat (lanolin, I presume) that only makes all the dirt and shit stick to them like glue.  There are golf-ball sized clinkers hanging around their rears and they are just...well...I will again refer you to the picture above.  Really, it is amazing to me that anyone ever conceived of making clothes and blankets out of this stuff.

Also, they are not very used to people.  As soon as Grandpa and my kids were in the pen they nearly trampled each other in their efforts to get away.  After several failed attempts at trying to get one specific lamb I'm pretty sure Grandpa just settled for whatever female he could catch and pretended like it was the very one the boys had chosen.  They didn't seem to notice.

Once the lambs were caught, Grandpa slipped a home-made halter over their muzzles in order to guide them where we wanted them to go.  The lamb that was chosen for Frack, who I named "Bucky", went all kinds of rodeo trying to get that thing off of her.  I have no idea how they expected this beast to agree to wearing a costume.  I have no idea how they expected my three year old to stand next to this beast, help from Grandpa or no.

How was this going to end in anything other than disaster?  Because my in-laws know what they're doing, right?  Because they've been doing this kind of stuff for a long time, right?

We forced the very uncooperative lambs over to the old picnic table and tied them to it.  Our contestants were quite clearly in need a bath if they were going to be Sheep Show ready.  We thought it might be fun if the boys would help out with the washing so that the lambs could get accustomed to their presence and hopefully calm the fuck down.  Predictably enough, this "bonding experience" between my boys and their lambs ended up with us three adults scrubbing sheep while the kids played nearby.

By the end of the job we were fairly wet (my in-laws more than myself, I admit) and the lambs had gone from the dingy greyish-brown to more of a yellowish-brown-off-white.  It was getting dark and the lambs had been traumatized enough, so we called it a day.  We would finish the job tomorrow.

Day Two:  The Shearing of the Lambs

One of the tricks of Barnyard Pageantry is, when you can't get your lambs to look completely clean (and believe me you can't) you just shear off the yucky stuff.  That same lanolin that got all the shit and dirt stuck to them also protected the wool closest to their skin, leaving it soft and white.  We thought it would be good if the boys helped out with the shearing as another attempt at "bonding".  Grandpa said that ideally they would have been playing with these lambs all summer to tame them, but we didn't know about this category in the Sheep Show until a few days ago.  This was not very reassuring.

I had never really seen a sheep get sheared in person before.  I had seen some of those record-speed shearers on the Discovery channel I think, but that is nothing like the real thing. The initial part of the shearing, Grandpa did alone because it involved wrestling the lamb into a sitting position and shearing the underside.  Like so:

The buzz of the clippers and our efforts to stay still and quiet were rather hypnotizing.  Watching the gradual progress of the clippers as they methodically sheared away dirty wool leaving behind clean, white wool, going lower and lower to the belly and oh gosh, I hope he doesn't cut her nipples!  And then you realize suddenly that you have been silently staring at the nether regions of a lamb as she sits there helplessly, getting the barnyard equivalent of a Brazilian....there just isn't a word to describe that moment. (Dear Germany, Please invent a clever word to accurately describe that moment.)

I have the maturity of a 12-year old.  I couldn't stop thinking about the ridiculous look on the lamb's face which seemed to be begging for her dignity back, or the realization that my father in-law had probably sheared the lady gardens of hundred of ewes before this, or knowing that he could probably relate with a lot of women about the difficulties of hedge-trimming etc.  I started to smirk and snicker and look the other way in an effort to hide my amusement but it was too late.  Frick noticed and asked loudly what was so funny?  Mother Rotten gave me a look that I am pretty sure meant she knew exactly what I was laughing about and I hope to God the reason she knew this was because she was thinking it, too.  Because now she knows I have a very childish and very dirty mind.  Sheep-dirty, in fact.

Don't look at me!

When Grandpa was finished, the lamb was tied to this special table which is meant to restrain the lamb while she gets sheared.  Bucky wasn't having it.  Once we got her in place she freaked right out, broke the table to splinters and ran off.  Once she got in with the rest of the adult herd they were reluctant to let her go and surrounded her.  I thought for sure she would run into the barnyard to roll in some sheep shit just to be spiteful but, after a bit of a chase, Grandpa managed to catch her before she got the chance.  When they were finished the shearing all they needed to become the iconic pastoral image of fluffy white sheep was a perfunctory mani-pedi (i.e. Grandpa scraped the shit our from their hoofs and then trimmed the ends) and voila!  Straight from the pages of Mother-freaking-Goose.

Now that's more like it. (Not actual lamb)

Now all I had to do was close my eyes and pray that my kids had the same number of teeth they started with.  What the hell is wrong with me?  Am I crazy for allowing this?  If anyone other than my in-laws were proposing this insanity there would be no way.  (Deep breath) I'm sure everything will be just fine.

Epilogue

Everything was just fine.  Apparently the lambs became all kinds of gentle overnight.  They willingly wore their costumes.  No one got kicked in the face and the boys got trophies and money.  I think if the judges had seen what I had seen they would have demanded that the lambs take a drug test.

Thanks, One Million Moms!

A couple of weeks ago I found out about a lovely little group called "One Million Moms" (No way am I linking to their nasty little site).  They were brought to my attention because of the controversy generated over their objections to Dancing With the Stars inviting Chaz Bono to dance on their show with (gasp!) a female.  Of course this really pissed me off.  Something you should know about me is that 1) I can't stand a bully and 2) I'm a total hypocrite, which basically means that I have no problem being a bully to someone who I think really deserves it (i.e. other bullies).  So good for you, One Million Moms!  Now you have my attention.   And as you well know, there is nothing better than spreading awareness to help make the world a better place.  For the children.

This morning I stumbled on this article about how One Million Moms are outraged by Ben and Jerry's new ice cream flavour, "Schweddy Balls"  which, I think, is a touching tribute to the delightful humour stylings of Mr. Alec Baldwin.  This article tickled me in a few ways.  The fact that they are silly enough to protest over ice cream.  (Ice cream!) The fact that the Schweddy Balls skit is one of my all-time favourites.  The fact that One Million Moms had unwittingly placed a craving for Schweddy Balls in my mouth and how that double entendre is just a gift that keeps on giving.  Oh, I just can't help myself.  Here you go:

Man, that was funny!  Thanks, One Million Moms!  Anyway, something occurred to me.  I wonder what other awesome stuff I could learn about from my new-found friends at OMM?

Turns out that ice cream is not the only sinful treat under attack.

We don't have cable in our house.  We just kind of get by watching movies and stuff and that means I don't get to see commercials anymore. (It's amazing how not having a TV can protect you from such "dangerous" advertising.  Look into it, ladies.) Which must be the reason I missed this little gem:

Yes, it's kind of cheesy but I thought it was cute and damn! if I don't want those cookies now!  Thanks, One Million Moms!

(Not actually for sale at Walgreen's.  It was just really cute.)

What other products are out there that I didn't know about, ladies?  Like the fact that now I don't have to walk into some fetish store to buy myself my friend a sex toy?  Yup!  From now on it's as easy as going to my local Walgreens or Rite Aid website.  And you wouldn't believe the selection!  They have everything from various flavours of lubricant to dildos and butt plugs in every size and colour of the rainbow. Everything but this Hello Kitty I'm-not-totally-sure-exactly-how-this-works-as-a-sex-toy-but-they-kinda-look-like-nunchuks thing I've got going on over here.  Thanks, One Million Moms!

And speaking of sex, did you see any of that new show "The Playboy Club"?  I didn't.  But I will now.  One Million Moms are hilariously surprised-but-not-surprised that a show called "The Playboy Club" (airing at 10pm/9pm Central) has sex in it.  Here is OMM's description of what we can expect to see (spoiler alert!):

   -A short clip of an intense, graphic sex scene of a man with a Playboy bunny in one of the club's bathrooms.
   -A man attempting to rape a bunny whom she ended up murdering during the struggle.
   -Disposing of the body to later find out the man murdered was head of the mob.
   -Discussion of male genitalia size
   -A new diet in the '60s called "bulimia"
   -No swimsuits allowed in the pool during a party at the Playboy mansion
   -A husband having a difficult time with the idea of his wife working there but the stress on their marriage is dismissed by her because of the great money she is making.
   -A bunny making her money to help a homosexual group that she is a member of
   -Two half-dressed men who are secretly in a homosexual relationship.

Now, I don't know about you but that is a show I want to watch!  And all of that happens in the first episode!  Thanks, One Million Moms!

Yes, One Million Moms, I think I will be keeping up with you from now on so I can be sure to let my readers know what new, diabolical show or product you are crusading against.  I just know it will be sinfully good.