Sunday, November 30, 2008


I went to install the new wireless mouse on our peecee tonight, and I noticed that the peecee had recently rebooted. That's odd.

Well, suddenly I start getting all kinds of warnings from Windows Firewall about spyware attacks. But wait, Windows Firewall is disabled! Oh shit. Spoof warnings - a virus or somesuch. I try to google it, but both IE and Firefox both take me to a warning screen that says I am browsing unsafely, and do I want to continue on unsafely or try to remedy the situation?

I say to continue on unsafely. Then IE hangs and Firefox crashes. Shit. If I click that I'd like to remedy the situation, I get taken to, where they try to sell me some anti-spyware software.

So I start googling on my laptop and I quickly learn that is a hijacker that intercepts your internet and tries to sell you something to undo that. However, supposedly all the major anti-spy programs can remove it.

I run my Ad-Aware, top-rated freeware anti-spy program. It comes up empty.

The directions to remove it manually tell me all kinds of files and registry entries to delete - but none of those are there.

And I can't download a new anti-spy program cuz my internet has been hijacked. So I started downloading them on my laptop and burning them to CDs.

The first one that was suggested (Spyware Doctor) immediately tried to download the virus definition files, discovered that the internet was hosed, and then said, "No virus definition files have been loaded. It is not possible to scan."


The second one installed (SpyHunter). It was really big and came with its own virus definition already as part of the install. As soon as it ran, it said, "A Rootkit trojan has been detected. It can only be disabled with a reboot. Do you wish to proceed with the reboot?"

Hell yes.

But just then, my Avast! anti-virus popped up a window saying, "Avast! has detected a trojan infecting svchost.exe. As this is a system file, it is unsafe to use this computer until a reboot and a scan is run before starting windows. Do you wish to schedule a scan to run after the reboot?"

Yes. OK, hopefully those two guys will both do their thingee.

The reboot scan ran for a little over an hour and found 8 infected files with 3 or 4 different trojans.

When it finally restarted windows, things were improved but not better. The internet worked, but the spoof firewall window was still popping up.

So I ran SpyHunter again, since it was the first one to report an error. It ran a bit, found a bunch of spyware, and then crashed.


So Spyware Doctor gets another shot. It found 13 infections, most "low" risk, but three it deemed "medium". I clicked "Fix" and it said, "The free version of Spyware Doctor can only be used to locate infections. If you would like to remove them, you must purchase a license."

$29.99 for 6 months with an automatic renewal clause. Farq that.

Poked around a bit more, and found a guy with a very similar problem who was cured after using MalwareBytes' Anti-Malware. I got that installed, ran the "quick" scan, and it found 13 infections, 2 of which required a reboot. I rebooted, no more popup.

Now, I'm running the full system scan. We are 57 minutes into it, and has found 3 more infections. Good god, will this ever end?

[update: it seems to have ended. The official name of the thing that infected me was TDSSserv.sys. You can google it. It appears to be just a little over a month old.]

Choo Choo

Today, we decided to put up the HO train around the base of the Christmas tree. Last year, I had laid it out on some leftover rigid foam insulation that was blue because it kept derailing when running on the carpet. The Mrs. didn't like looking at blue foam, even though we covered it almost completely with presents. So, this year we did it a little differently.

We made a trip to HobbyTown USA and a trip to Lowe's. Then, I got to use my circular saw, my jig saw, my belt sander, my router, my electric drill, all three saw horses, the circular saw rip guide, the staple gun, a hammer, and really cool 3M 77 spray adhesive.

Tomorrow, we may get the train out of the box.

Friday, November 28, 2008

A Touching Holiday Story

MaxieC's globe base had broken off again, and on Thanksgiving, he and I were in the garage kneading up some epoxy clay to repair it. I had just shown him how we had to scuff up the surfaces with coarse sandpaper in order to make sure the epoxy clay had something to stick to - it doesn't stick so well to shiny plastic - and the following transpired:
MaxieC: "Boy, you sure are a good fixer, Daddy."

Me, CherkyB: "I'm pretty good. I do what I can."

MaxieC: "How did you learn how to fix everything?"

Me, CherkyB: "Oh, a lot of the stuff my dad taught me."

MaxieC: "Wow. And now you're teaching me, and when I have a son, I can teach him."

Me, CherkyB: "Yup. That's pretty much how it works."

Later, The Childrens and I were down in the basement watching the marathon of Plastic Surgery: Before & After on Discovery Health. Being that it was on Discovery Health, I deemed it educational as opposed to trash TV like Dr. 90210.
HannahC: "Daddy? What's a 'full C-cup'?"

Me, CherkyB: "Well, it's the minimum acceptable breast size."

Me, CherkyB: [doh!]

Me, CherkyB: "I mean, like, uhhh, women who have smaller than C always think of themselves as having small breasts. Not that that's unacceptable. But C is where people start to think they're not small."

HannahC: "No. I mean why is it called a 'cup' size?"
MaxieC: "Dah? Why would someone want their nipple moved up?"

Me, CherkyB: "Well, son, a lot of women like their nipples to point forward."

HannahC: "Yeah. Nipples are supposed to point forward, not down at the ground! Duuhhhh!"

MaxieC: "But [redacted]."

Me, CherkyB: "I blame you for that."
Finally, HannahC was going to "camp out" in the basement overnight, and she had snuggled in to the sofa bed and flipped on the tube to catch a little more of the marathon.
Announcer: "...And, after three children, Tracy was ready to do something for herself."

Tracy: "I've chased after three little kids, and now I think it's time for me to do something for myself."

Announcer: "She's decided to get a 'mommy makeover,' an increasingly popular treatment that includes a tummy tuck to get rid of the sagging abdomen and stretch marks, a breast lift to reverse the damage from years of breast feeding, liposuction in the thighs, and fat grafting into the lips."

Tracy: "I want my body back!"

The Mrs.: "WHAT are you watching?"

HannahC: "Plastic Surgery: Before & After."

The Mrs.: "That is not an appropriate show for you."

HannahC: "But it's my favorite shooooowwww!!!!"

The Mrs.: "No. You cannot watch this. It's just all about stupid women getting bigger breasts."

Me, CherkyB: [sigh]

HannahC: "Daddy said I could watch it!"

The Mrs.: [glare]

Me, CherkyB: "It's Discover Health. It's educational."

The Mrs.: [rolls her eyes] "I'm turning it off!"

HannahC: "Nooo!!!! All you ever want to do is be mean to me! I hate you!"
And then it kinda went downhill from there.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Observations from Afar

First, let me open with an apology to Granny MooMoo for my last post. It was intended to be a humor piece illustrating how HannahC was blaming her for being required to behave, but I have heard it was instead received as more of a criticism of the Moo herself. Perhaps titling the piece "The Devil Named Moo" had something to do with that, but damn that's a funny title.

As for being "not wanted," I'm not really all that annoyed by constant nit-picking criticism. If I were, I wouldn't have married The Mrs.

(Watch this space for the upcoming apology for that remark...)

Second, I would like to say I am really quite tickled at how, as Obama started naming his cabinet, first people starting saying that this "Hopey Change" looks an awful like a third Clinton term, as he just kept naming Clinton cronies to his cabinet, capped with the pièce de résistance of naming Hillary herself as Secretary of State (an appointment that, without some quick action by Congress is unconstitutional due to an esoteric clause in the constitution called Emoluments, and is likely still unconstitutional even with quick action by Congress - though probably in a way that no one will care to enforce). And I am amused at how the one and only thing that Ms. Hillary and the Obamessiah disagreed upon even a teeny little bit was foreign policy, and NOW HE PUT HER IN CHARGE OF IT! HAA HAA HAA HAA!!!!

Change we need! Change we can believe in! Hillary!

And now, it gets even better. He's keeping Bush's Secretary of Defense on, and he's naming cronies of the Bush financial team to head up the financial side of the cabinet. And, oh god I can barely type this because I'm laughing so hard, now people are saying it looks like a third term of Bush!

So, dearest Hopey Change cult followers, I offer you this word of condolence:


Tuesday, November 25, 2008

The Devil Named Moo

In just a few short weeks, The Mrs.'s mother, Granny MooMoo (AKA Fat Moother AKA Flatulent Granny) will visit us for Christmas. You would think that this would be a joyous occasion, but of course, you'd be wrong. It will most likely be an occasion that will allow me to add to the ever-increasing list of posts tagged as "barf blogging."

However, something other than the non-stop barfing is on our minds today. It is MooMoo's propensity towards non-stop criticism of the parenting skills of the parents of unruly childrens. Now, you might say to yourself, "Why would this be an issue? After all, The Childrens are perfect little angels."

Perhaps. But many of you saying that have never spent a full day with them. Plus, one of The Childrens, the one we often refer to as "Darling Daughter," has some over-excitability issues that cause her to go absolutely bat-shit insane when there are visitors. Now we are all aware of her inability to contain herself around company, but it puts everyone a bit on edge. If we couple that with day upon day of intense criticism from her mother about the behavior of her child, this is a recipe for The Mrs. to go absolutely insane as well.

But, ever the gracious hostess, she of course takes this frustration out on me. After all, what are husbands for if not to blame all of life's shortcomings upon?

I am not saying this as a criticism, as I know that 'Billy gets irate when he senses I am criticising his sister in public, but I am saying this merely to lay out some indisputable facts in order to establish the background for the story I am about to tell.

Which brings us to something I like to call The Rule of Ones. (A takeoff from the medical term "the rule of nines," hence the plurality of the otherwise singular phrase.)

The Rule of Ones is very simple: I tell you what to do once. If I have to repeat it, it is an automatic Naughty Corner. Keeping with the official "rules" of naughty corner, I have to punctuate it with, "Now I've told you once. That's as many times as I'm going to tell you," in order to provide the required warning before invoking a naughty corner, but I plan to phase this out as The Childrens catch on.

I've explained to The Childrens that their behaviour is unacceptable, and that they need to be much better disciplined in general, and that this needs to improve a lot before Granny MooMoo visits or The Mrs. will go insane. And nobody wants an insane The Mrs. on Christmas.

So, last night HannahC was acting up at the dinner table after dinner. The Mrs. was telling her to go do something - I forget exactly what - and HannahC was arguing. The Mrs. was doing her standard, repetitive, "this is the last time I'm telling you, or it's naughty corner," that for some reason never ends in HannahC ever doing what she is told nor ever actually being sent to naughty corner. So I had to step in, pick up HannahC, and deposit her with a pretty loud thump into naughty corner.

I said, "OK. Momma told you once, and you didn't do it. Naughty corner," as I picked her up.

Perceptive little manipulator that she is, she yelled, "Noooo!!!! That's not our rule! That's MooMoo's rule!"

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Happy Holiday

While the merry bells keep ringing
May your every wish come true

Don't worry, we'll suffer through

Accepting help from your wife is always a dicey proposition. In general, your wife is a woman, so that means that the quality of help you get will drop off precipitously with the difficulty of the task. And so it was with great trepidation that I accepted my wife's offer to help me put up the Christmas lights outside today.

It went a little something like this:

Me, CherkyB: "I'm going outside to put up the lights."

The Mrs.: "OK."


Me, CherkyB: "Why are you following me?"

The Mrs.: "Well, I was going to help."

Me, CherkyB: "How?"

The Mrs.: "You know, putting up the lights."

Me, CherkyB: "Are you going to help-help or make-things-harder-help?"

The Mrs.: "Fine. If you don't want help, maybe I'll just stay inside."

Me, CherkyB: "Great. You know what you can do? You can go into the storage room in the basement and get out the boxes that have the outside lights and timers in them."

The Mrs.: "But you're the one who packed those boxes. I mean, I know where the boxes are, but I didn't pack them, so you're the one who knows what's in the boxes."

Me, CherkyB: "They're labeled."

The Mrs.: "Yeah, but there are a lot of boxes labeled 'outside lights,' and anyways I can't be lifting boxes what with my bad back and all."

Me, CherkyB: "Fine. I know what kind of help I'm going to get now. I'm going to get the, 'I'll do all the really easy, fun tasks, and then you do everything that is hard or frustrating or time consuming,' help. Why don't you just not help?"

The Mrs.: "No. I'm going to help."

Down to the storage room I go. Right in the front in the Christmas box area, I find two boxes: one says, "Xmas - Outdoor lights," and the other says, "Xmas - Outdoor light timers and extension cords." I point this out to The Mrs., and she says, "How am I supposed to know what's in those boxes?" and then mutters something about her back. Then, she stands in the way to block my path as I try to remove the boxes from the shelves.

Yup. That kind of help.

Outside, I grab the big spool of LED lights we picked up from Ace yesterday to light the blue spruce by the pond and head to the back yard with a cigar that I'm having a devil of a time lighting because there is 30mph wind, and despite Zippo claiming to be "windproof," it isn't. The Mrs. is all, "I'm not going to help you if you're smoking a cigar," like this is some kind of revelation. That is precisely why I am smoking the cigar.

So I walk her to the front of the garage, where I place the box of outdoor lights, and I say,

Me, CherkyB: "Why don't you plug these in and see if they work?"

The Mrs.: "Which ones?"

Me, CherkyB: "The lights in this box. Plug them in to see if they work."

The Mrs.: "Where should I plug them in?"

Me, CherkyB: "In the outlet."

The Mrs.: "Which one?"

Me, CherkyB: "I don't care! There's one here [points], there's one around there [points]. Just plug them in and see if they work."

The Mrs.: "In which plug?"

Me, CherkyB: "Fine. Don't help."
I go off around back and start to string up the lights. About two minutes later, The Mrs. is standing on the back deck.
The Mrs.: "Some of them don't work."

Me, CherkyB: "OK."

The Mrs.: "Can you fix them?"

Me, CherkyB: "I'm hanging up these lights right now."

The Mrs.: "But some of the lights don't work."
Then she stands around looking lost.

Yup. That kind of help.

I ran out of lights about halfway up the tree, which is par for the course. This string was $40 [LEDs are cheaper than they used to be, but not cheap], so I decided to get just one spool to start. I headed out to the front.

There were 12 strings of lights in the box. The Mrs. had found that half of the third string she tried didn't light, so she had stopped. Just stopped. Didn't try any of the next nine strings. Nope. Ground to a halt on the very first string that has any issue.

Yup. That kind of help.

We worked our way through all the remaining light strings, and strung them all up largely without incident. We ended up retiring 3 strings because there were too many bulbs burned out to be worth the effort. I'm trying not to replace incandescents anymore, but instead upgrade to LEDs as stuff burns out, but I did break that rule with one string of lights on a front tree. That tree is about 30' tall, and I had such a devil of a time putting the lights on there when we first moved in that I just left them. But one of them got the wires severed, and I didn't want to replace just one string of about 8 with LEDs cuz it'd look funny.

After getting everything wired up, I ran off to Ace to get a second spool of LEDs for the blue spruce. Upon my return, The Mrs. was sitting on the back porch glider. I began installing the lights, but it got high enough on the tree that I needed the extension pole with a hook (fashioned from a bent coathanger and attached with duct tape to a paint roller extension pole). The pole is a two-handed thing, so it helps to have someone to hold the light spool while you're using the hook.

The Mrs., sensing work, had disappeared. I had to go chase her down.

We got the lights up, despite it all, and now one of MaxieC's friends is over, and they're tearing the house apart.


Saturday, November 22, 2008

An Exceedingly Manly Post

Yesterday was Kid's Night Out again, so we dropped the rugrats off at the museum and hit the town for some serious Par-taying. We decided to hit a little hole-in-the-wall sushi joint because The Mrs. just can't get enough of the taste of raw fish and me, well, I appreciate the Japanese culture known world-wide for the startling depths of their perversion (vending machine with used schoolgirl panties?), plus the beer comes in double-sized bottled, so you don't have to keep odering another every five minutes.

Anything worth drinking is worth over-drinking, you know?

We chowed down a big platter of dead fish while the woman prattled on about all the great deals she got on used toys, and I searched around confusedly for the co-eds that should have been packing a place just one block from a major university but were nowhere to be found. Finally I said, "Look, Babe, lemme grab one more big, giant beer, and then let's blow this joint. Why don't you get the check?"

We hopped in the Love Van and hauled ass over to Sears, where they were having a pre-Christmas sale on table saws. The little woman only wanted to shop for clothes, so I ditched her in the shoe department for a while.

She picked up some Sarah Palin-style go-go boots, which I made her wear to bed later.

Release the Hounds!

Friday, November 21, 2008

A crock you say?

It pops up every now and then, but I'm kinda bored tonight, so here you go:

The Gender Analyzer.

We think is written by a man (87%).
We think is written by a man (79%).
There you have it. CherkyB, 8% more manly than Ellie. Just imagine if I did more reps on the erg!
We have strong indicators that is written by a man (96%).
Oh, but 9% less manly than Cavitation. What the hell? I demand a rematch!
We have strong indicators that is written by a man (96%).
Nothing manlier than talking about the weather, apparently. What's that? Cavitation wants a rematch?
We think is written by a man (79%).
Ha! CherkyB, 4% more manly than Cavitation, on average.
We guess is written by a woman (57%), however it's quite gender neutral.
We guess is written by a woman (57%), however it's quite gender neutral.
Well, that's quite a pat on the back for Blargauthor and Nava. Too much Obama propaganda, I imagine. Women aren't supposed to talk about politics, you know.
We think is written by a woman (62%).
But Rhonda outdoes them. I wonder what it takes to be a 96% woman? Rio gets closer:
We think is written by a woman (66%).
But Flatulent Granny has them all beat.
We think is written by a woman (70%).
Didn't see that one coming, did we? Of course, there is one standout champion in all of this.
We think is written by a woman (77%).
Way to go, Carl, Jr.

CherkyB, Manipulator

Me, CherkyB: "Now, I want you to spend the whole night in your bed tonight. Santa won't bring you as many presents if you don't stay in your bed."

MaxieC: "Oh."

Me, CherkyB: "Yup. See HannahC stays in her bed all night, so she's going to get more presents than you are. You don't want Santa to bring more presents for HannahC than for you, do you?"

MaxieC: "That's OK if HannahC gets more presents."

MaxieC: "Yeah. Or if I get coal and coal and coal and coal."

Me, CherkyB: "Really? You wouldn't mind getting nothing but a stocking full of coal for Christmas?"

MaxieC: "No. Cuz I could toss it up in the air and then catch it."
Apparently, I suck at this.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

The Bad Dad

As noted in yesterday's post, MaxieC barfed a couple days ago. This happened during a time when he had rather suddenly developed a fever. That is to say, he barfed because he was sick, not because he was over-excited or because of a rapid change in altitude on the way to the Continental Divide.

Well, he felt lousy all Tuesday night, and because when he barfed, he had done it all over his bed, and it had soaked through to the mattress, he had to sleep on the couch Tuesday night. The Mrs. made him a cozy bed there with sheets and blankets, and then she slept on the floor next to him on an old couch cushion from a sofa that was too large to fit up the staircase in our very first apartment. We had thrown out the sofa (it was old when I got it in college), but kept the cushion, which The Mrs. affectionately refers to as "little bed".

She attended to him all night, getting him cold water to drink every time he awakened. This was reported to be at least as frequently as every hour during the night.

Tonight little MaxieC is feeling much better, and he is sleeping quite soundly. Except he has decided to move into our bed in the middle of the night. And his nose is gurgling when he breathes.

I poked at him, and he lifted his head up, turned over and went right back to sleep. But then the nose started up the gurgling moments later. Now, I am contemplating putting him back in his own bed, which will surely wake him up and cause a great deal of anger in The Mrs. towards me.

And I know how I should hear his rhythmic and relaxed, though, loud breathing as a comforting sound signaling that a previously-distressed child is recovering from a sudden illness, instead IT IS DRIVING ME INSANE!!! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!! AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!! AAAAAHHHHHH!!

I am The Bad Dad.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

A Visitor

The Mrs.'s brother, 'Billy, is visiting us today.

It took MaxieC three hours before he barfed.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

MaxieC: The Man, The Mystery

The Mrs.: [first, turning down the music because she thinks she's my mother] "MaxieC has a little boy problem."

Me, CherkyB: "Oh? What's that?"

The Mrs.: "He zipped up his penis in his zipper."

Me, CherkyB: [crossing legs] "Oh. That hurts."

The Mrs.: "Yeah. I need you to go check on it. He won't let me anywhere near it."

Me, CherkyB: "Oh."


Me, CherkyB: "Hey MaxieC, I hear you got your junk stuck in your zipper."

MaxieC: "Yeah. It really hurts."

Me, CherkyB: "Are you unstuck now, or are you still attached to the zipper."

MaxieC: "I'm unstuck."

Me, CherkyB: "OK good. You'll be fine. You just gotta remember to keep your junk out of the zipper."

MaxieC: "OK Dah."
A half hour later...
The Mrs.: "Mumble mumble mumble your help."

Me, CherkyB: "Huh?"

The Mrs.: "Mumble mumble."

Me, CherkyB: "What do you need?"

The Mrs.: "Your help."

Me, CherkyB: "My help what?"

The Mrs.: "Your help."

Me, CherkyB: "'Your help' isn't a complete thought."

The Mrs.: "I need your help in here." [points to the floor in MaxieC's room]

Me, CherkyB: "That's a turd!"

The Mrs.: "Yes. And it's been stepped on."

MaxieC: "No it hasn't!"

Me, CherkyB: "Then why is it all squished flat?"

The Mrs.: "Is there any more poop hiding in here, MaxieC? Like in your pajamas? In the closet?"

MaxieC: "No, that's it."

The Mrs.: "AAAaaaaa!!!! It's all down your leg!"

MaxieC: "No! That's chocolate!"
Oh, the joys of footed pajamas.

Friday, November 14, 2008


As a general rule, I don't like to blog about Fat Camp, but last night one thing in particular was just too hysterical to let slide without comment. There were 7 of us sitting there drinking our very reasonably-priced $2.50 draft beers, plus Carl, Jr. sipping on a less reasonably-priced vodka tonic made with bottom-shelf Popov, and the nice lady who used to be our regular waitress a couple years ago but has since moved up to being a bartender happened by. She was not working but was instead just passing through as a customer with some friends. She stopped at our table to say, "Hi." Then, a little while later, our waitress came over with three free drinks, one for Rico, one for Ice Man, and one for Me, CherkyB, saying that our old waitress/bartender had sent them over.

Now, before The Mrs. gets all upset, the point here isn't that some woman bought us free drinks, cuz she's one of the bartenders and she comp'd them to us without having to pay for them herself. No, the point is that she got only free drinks for 3 of us despite there being 8.

And that, my friends, was a total burn.

Sure, there was a lot of discussion about how some of the guys are relatively new, and so they were never her regular customers. But El Torito and Carl, Jr. have been there from the very start.


Tuesday, November 11, 2008

A question

It's the morning, you're at work, you've just finished your first cup of coffee, and your first cup of coffee has just finished you.

Which is worse?
The bowel-locking shock of a frigid toilet seat.
The soothing warmth of an unexpectedly hot seat.
Free polls from

Monday, November 10, 2008


Blah dee blah blah blah, new leaf blower. Blah blah blah converts to vacuum. Blah blah junk blah blah blah. Blah choke lever blah blah broke off already blah.

Blah blah blah snowblower on tractor. Blah chains blah blah fall off tires blah blah. Chains blah blah never stay blah on blah blah.

Blah blah dee blah blah Mrs. insane blah blah blah. Blah blamed medication blah blah. Blah says better now blah blah blah. Blah dee don't see blah any difference blah blah. Blah blah still insane blah blah blah blah.

Blah blah gun store blah all sold out blah blah high end AR's blah. Obama! blah.

Christmas blah blah 5 liter beer cooler blah blah. Blah blah bad reviews blah blah Amazon blah blah. Blah don't like blah blah blah Heineken blah blah.

Blah blah zombie frog. Blah blah feed brains blah blah blah. Blah blah fly brains very small blah blah. Always hungry blah.

Blah blah lost back of cellphone blah blah airplane blah. Blah blah eBay blah replacement blah blah, matching blue blah $9 blah blah chrome $4.95 blah blah includes shipping blah. Phone blah very shiny blah blah.

Saturday, November 01, 2008

CherkyB, The Father

Last night, HannahC and I were ripping CDs. It seems to be a never-ending task, as every time I think I have finished it, someone finds some drawer or shelf or box that has more CDs in it. But we made great progress yesterday, as we sat waiting for childrens to ring the doorbell for trick-or-treats. We got a whole three groups all night.

We had gotten most of the way through my collection, up to the W's. HannahC installed a new CD into the drive, as is her job, and then watched for the cover art to appear on Windows Media Player in order to assure it identified the CD correctly.

The CD is question was Whitesnake's Lovehunter.

HannahC looked at the tiny picture on the screen, and asked:
HannahC: "Dah, what is that kid doing with that snake?"

Me, CherkyB: "Uh, it's not a kid. It's a woman. And she's just sitting on it."

HannahC: "Why is she naked?"

Me, CherkyB: "'s art. Sometimes people are naked in art for no good reason."

HannahC: "It doesn't look like a woman. It looks like a little boy."

Me, CherkyB: "It's a woman. Look, she's got a boob. Little boys don't have boobs."

HannahC: "Well, fat ones do."

Me, CherkyB: "Look, it's a woman. It's not a little boy."

HannahC: "That doesn't make any sense. Why would a naked woman be on a giant snake?"

Me, CherkyB: "..."

HannahC: "Oh, I bet I know. I bet this was designed by men. So they put a naked woman on it."

CherkyB, The Jerk

Apparently, I am all out of sorts today. I give to you a prime example of my nastiness:

The Mrs: "Do we have Microsoft Publisher?"

Me, CherkyB: "No."

The Mrs.: "I have directions on how to do something in Microsoft Publisher."

Me, CherkyB: "We don't have it."

The Mrs.: "Can you come to the compooter room?"

Me, CherkyB: "Why?"

The Mrs.: "Cuz I need to do this thing in Microsoft Publisher."

Me, CherkyB: "We don't have Microsoft Publisher."

The Mrs.: "I know. But I want to do this project, and it needs Microsoft Publisher. Can you come to the compooter room?"

Me, CherkyB: "We don't have Microsoft Publisher."

The Mrs.: "Just come to the compooter room."

Me, CherkyB: "I'm going to need to know why. See, I already know we don't have Microsoft Publisher, so I don't know why I need to go to the compooter room since we don't have it."

The Mrs.: "Yeah. But I want to do this project, and it only has directions for Microsoft Publisher."

Me, CherkyB: "We don't have Microsoft Publisher."

The Mrs.: "Just come to the compooter room, you f'ker."

Me, CherkyB: "You'll have to wait until there's a commercial."

A brief refresher

It has come to my attention that many of you are quite a bit, shall we say, stupider than even I had given you credit for. So, without naming names, I'm going to do a quick refresher on the concept of "They're not all Winners" for The Mrs.'s hillbilly relatives.

You see, the point is that they're not supposed to be funny. That's the point. Really.

But what can I expect from such a backwoods crew? If I were to say it were raining, they'd have to post under seven different names about how, in addition to it raining, there is water falling from the sky. And then copy and paste a bunch of wikipedi entries on the definition of a flood.

I swear, there's some cousins married not to far up that fambly tree.