Merry, Merry and Happy, Happy

Hmpf. Humans. I am Chobie.

Happy Christmas & Merry Holidays to all y'all! 

The husband is working for most of the night this evening. I'll be baking a coconut creme pie. From scratch. Then I'll be DVD'ing it with wine and, if I wish hard enough, maybe someone in a red fuzzy hat with matching suit and a belly that can shake it like a bowl full of jelly will bring me cupcakes!  

The husband will also be working Christmas day. I'll be at the zoo wishing all the critters who are far from home a very merry!  Then I'll be cooking a leetol bit for our Christmas dinner. . . . .

May you and yours find all the holiday cheer you want! 

Love is a Thing That Can Never Go Wrong

The husband & Dixie when we first adopted her

It's times like these that make the week. 

As some of you may have noticed, it's Christmas Holiday time. This week. So, it's all crazy-like around the city, state and nation. The husband has been on a night schedule for the last few shifts. He was home last night and even though I'm sick in the head with the pernicious Rhinovirus, I resisted the urge for much needed heavy doses of Nyquil. I tried to stay awake as long as the husband. This was hard. In fact, this was too difficult for my tired, snotty head. I psuedo fell asleep on the couch. . . . . .

The next thing I know, the husband is waking me at midnight with a bowl of freshly hand-popped popcorn, a couple of beers and a "Dr. No" DVD ready for "play". 

I made it until 1:30 AM. I have yet to finish the end of the very first "James. James Bond." But I fell a sleep with the hugest ear-to-ear grin this side of Tejas.

The Report of My Death Was NOT An Exaggeration

Something happened the other night at 4:03 AM. Something I never, ever, ever thought would happen. Something I definitely did not want to ever, ever, ever happen. Something I hope that will not ever, ever, ever occur again.

And I'm still supremely debilitated over it. Really. I am.

I was lying asleep completely dead to the world in my complete zombie mode. I faintly felt something run across my head. I heard a small thud as that something hit my pillow. I sat up in bed trying to realize if this was something dreamed, imagined or if a killer spider was on the loose. If any of you realize my terror of all things eight legged, then you comprehend that my heart was beating away at 250 beats per minute. This was not good. Trying unproductively to shake the sleep mode from my brain, I began tuning in my bat-ears, pleading to the gods that be to please make this a horrible nightmare; please don't make this be real. Please,please,please,please. . . .

That's when I heard it. A faint flutter. . . .

I screamed and hit the husband who happened to be lying right by me in his own coma induced sleep. I continued my delicate screaming, "OFALLTHINGSTHATAREHOLYTURNONTHELIGHT! TURNONTHELIGHT! TURNONTHELIGHT!" And, calmly without one iota of a question, the husband turned on the light. . . .

There, making freeway-like time towards the husbands head, on my pillow was a 2-inch long cockroach.

Yes. A $&%@'ing cockroach.

So, I did what any sane and very normal human being would do, I screamed bloody frackin' murder and forcefully threw my entire body off the end of our bed. Hitting the floor with a nice little thud. The husband whom had flown off the side of our bed, stood there, looking down at me and ever so serenely instructed me to extricate myself from my own entangled death trap on our floor to go get the toilet paper. I think I was back before he finished his request with the biggest wad of TP you could find this side of the Mason-Dixon Line at 4:04 AM.

Talk about traumatized. I mean, I'll just let all y'all guess as to how well I've been sleeping since then.

Wall-E's roach companion, Hal from Pixar Films. He is not my friend either. Death to all cockroaches. I mean, the thing has been hand squished and flushed down the toilet, but he's probably still alive. These things do pre-date dinosaurs by 70-million years and can live without its head for a MONTH. It's not natural.

Why Cats Are Smarter Than Dogs

I'm preparing for a bomb of different sorts today and it is not due to the fact that it is the husbands birthday. . . . .  Nope.  It is not that.  One of the dogs got into the cupcakes from the kitchen counter during the night.  Chocolate peanut-butter fudge no less.  

So, somehow and in someway one of our four-legged furries will be giving them back.  And not in a good form either. 

Birthdays, dogs and cupcakes.  I'm not sure they entirely go well together.  Thank the gods that be they don't know how to get into the vodka and wine.  

Folly of Oracle Verbiage

I just listened to a Louisiana po-po on TV say, ". . . being investigated for 'homo-side'. . . ."

Not, "hom-uh-sahyd" as it is properly pronounced, but "homo-side."

I have to say, I understand the Cajun/Louisiana accent. I do. I have worked with plenty individuals from the state that, unfortunately, gets hit pretty regularly by some awfully strong hurricanes. It, fortunately, was and still is strongly influence by a mixture of 18th century French, Spanish and African cultures. Hence a strong linguistic accent.

But really, in this day and age, you ought to try and not commit word pronunciation homicide.

I'm just sayin'.