Bloody Mary Blogging, Edition 8,467

Conversation Overheard At My House:

ME:  Mia, stop tormenting the dog.

MIA: I'm petting him.

ME: He has his bone.  Don't mess with him when he's guarding his bone.

NOTE:  I love my dog, but he is dumb.  He doesn't know what to do with the rawhide bone.  He carries it around and guards it.  He doesn't actually chew it or play with it.  We are pretty convinced he buried the last rawhide bone somewhere in the backyard and has forgotten where he buried it since whenever he is outside, he is frantically sniffing everywhere in the yard and doing half-hearted digging.

MIA:  I love Bennie.  I pet him.  (While smacking him on the back.)

BENNIE: Gets up and runs into the other room. Presumably to hide from Mia.  Mia follows.

ME:  QUIT TORMENTING THE DOG OR HE WILL BITE YOUR HAND OFF AND THEN YOU WILL NEVER BE POTTY TRAINED SINCE YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO WIPE! 

MIA:  He not bite my hand.  I get another hand.

ME: Where would you get another hand if he bit your hand off?  (Genuinely curious.)

MIA: KOHL'S. 

ME:  KOHL'S?  Hm, I must have missed the Missing Body Parts Replacement Department.

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Speaking of Bennie, when my friend Ronni and her husband visited for my birthday, Ronni fed Benny red licorice.  I'm glad I didn't see that coming out the other side.

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We have a neighborhood garage band.  They suck.  They suck bad.  They are currently working on butchering the Bon Jovi anthem, Living On A Prayer. WHOOOAAA WHOA WE'RE HALFWAY THERE, WHOOOOA WHOA LIVIN ON A PRAYER.  That's as far as they get.  If I ever liked this song or even tolerated it, I don't now.

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My backyard neighbor Jacinda just called me.  When I said hello, she started singing, "WHOOOAA WHOOOOA HALFWAY THERE!  WHOAAA WHOOOOA LIVING ON A PRAYER!"

Then she hung up. 

I'm cracking up.

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I just found out, via Peter, my father-in-law, that friends of ours who live in Trenton, Ontario, read my blog and Martin's.  Our friends, D and T, are the son and daughter-in-law of Margaret and Peter's oldest friends.   In fact, Peter said he found out we were house shopping from Joe, the father of T and D's father-in-law.  Which is a little off, since Margaret and Peter have looked at houses with us before this and are helping us financially.

Still, I'm a little freaked out.  So hi, D!  Comment, okay?  Say hello!  When are you guys coming down again? 

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I'm sick of looking at houses, doing the offer game, figuring out taxes, which vary wildly around here.  I'm tired of looking at neutral carpet and ceramic floors and redone bathrooms.  I'm tired of figuring out what the mortgage payment will be.  I'm tired of looking at people's idea of nice wallpaper.

I can move in a week-end.  Can we just find a place?  I don't want to look at any more "staged" houses with the soft music playing, the apple/cinnamon candles lit and the crock pot going with beef stew. 

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Comments

[Ronni]

I really didn't give him very much.

~apologetically~

He has those big brown eyes and he liked it.

[Donna]

Our realtor showed my two old maid aunts, whom I lovingly refer to as Lenny & Squiggy, over 94 houses. They still haven't found "the house".The realtor is Mary England. Mary never complains, just keeps sending those listings. I hate house hunting. Ever see the Monty Python house hunting cartoon skit?

[Beth]

How do I start a blog???
I am beginning to think that this could be a really good way for me to let off steam and just plain old bitch about life in general!

[Lisa]

Bennie is awfully cute, isn't he?

[Marlene]

Is there any such thing as "nice wallpaper"? Stripping it off isn't so fun either. :)

[Stacy]

Kohl's. Heh.

[Cathy]

I have a house for sale in Brighton, not listed yet, still finishing the clean out and clean up but it is a nice house with a great lake view...

[da chipster]

BOOOOOOOOOOWHOOOOOOOOO!...... ok I was wrong when I thought I wouldnt miss anything of the office when I left. I MISS "STORY HOUR" sniff sniff.