Babyniverous
Why is it that when people admire babies, they speak of cannibalism?
It’s happened several times to me and Sir Fartsalot. A young wan who helps me out with Laughingboy from time to time, she wanted to melt my baby down and spread him on toast. A neighbour pinched Sir Fartsalot’s leg, and told me she wanted to just sink her teeth into it. My cousin wants to gnaw on his bellybutton while she watches Coronation Street.
I myself have yearned to chew on his chubby cheeky cheeks from time to time, and I find myself alarmed that nobody finds this disturbing in the slightest. It’s all so Salad Fingers.
Have you ever witnessed this bizarre behaviour?!? What does it say about us as a supposedly socially savvy species; that we want to absorb the baby’s purity and digest its essense like the Skeksis from The Dark Crystal, maybe… or maybe we sense that the baby’s flesh is tender meat and we get peckish? Why people get so vicious when they see a set of baby bobbly toes is beyond me.
I bet it’s just because we want to become one with the purity. How primeval… but it makes sense to me now.
Never mind!
As you were…
FUBAR dog.
What do you get if you cross a sheep with a rat? A reep maybe. Or a shat.
Apparently it’s none of the above. Apparently you get one of these:
It’s a cross between a Bichon Frise and a Shitsu, what I might call a Scut. Certainly not a dog, that’s for sure.
When it was placed in my charge for the weekend, I accepted gracefully for the sake of the entertainment of Puppychild, but swore to take the piss out of it at every available opportunity, as you do. I bathed it, and made it look like a drowned rat and laughed at it, and laughed at it again when it re-appeared the next morning fluffier than a tumble-dried tampon.
Since introducing it to Laughingboy however, I’ve changed my mind. It respectfully pawed his chest and snuffed in his ears and made Laughingboy giggle and put up with the wild thrashing arm-flaps that ensued. It fell asleep on the kid’s chest and ignored the grabby wetness of a six month old baby with great temperance. My estimation of it went up several notches.
Then, when it came with me to the bathroom while I pee’d and curled up to scratch its itch by my feet; as if to say ‘If you run out of bogroll, I’m always here in emergencies…’ I fell another 10% in love.
Should my friend return on Sunday looking for her dog (?) only to have me tell her it’s dead while I sneakily hide it in the shed… you wouldn’t judge me, would you?
(Yeah, it was me that put the hairclips in its barnet. Not because it’s cute, but because the poor pissant can’t see for its messed up fringe. I can identify with that.)
Of Overpopulation and Things
If I was the Teeshirt of Ireland I would do the following two things:
1. I would solve overpopulation of prisons by putting criminals of a lesser threat to hard work in war-torn or third world countries. Fraud is such a clever felony, I’m sure such a brain would be of great use to school children in Malawi, it’s such a waste having them rot away in their en-suite (all mod cons) prison cells and chewing through so much tax.
2. I would make adoption of said third world or war torn orphans faaaar less expensive. Couples all over Europe have trouble conceiving kids of their own, yet have large houses more than capable of rooming several disadvantaged kids but they can’t, because adoption (at least in Ireland) costs roughly the same amount of yoyos as a brand new Jaguar X-type. I don’t understand why with a bit of vetting, they’re not throwing those kids at us. They should be on sale in Lidl, they should be giving them out free with Happy Meals but they’re not!! They’re leaving them to die or selling them to rich people who aren’t necessarily better parents just because they’re rich. So bizarre.
Thankfully I’m not the Teeshirt of Ireland and never will be (because the country would most likely go to pot and all the small furry animals would die because I seem to have that effect and would probably have a hard time explaining that to Ryan Tubridy).
I would however welcome the present Teeshirt of Ireland to read my blog and steal my ideas and also fertilize my crops in Farmville for me sure aswell while he’s at it by way of thanks.
Speaking of small furry animals…
Watever
I think I’ve pissed Buddha off. I fell in love with the little guy in Thailand, so I brought him home and made a little altar for him in the bog. He is surrounded by some pine cones which were lovingly painted by a three-year-old girl, a few spiky Chestnut husks and a wee glass butterfly. A shotglass holds a glob of mála, into this I stick incense, the aroma from which never hurts in bogland.
The thing is, according to behaviours spotted in Thailand I should also be leaving water with him, and tiny plates of food at mealtimes, and chunks of fresh fruit in case he gets the munchies. I should be stringing garlands of flowers around his neck and I’m guessing that exposing him to my pimply white arse at shower time is right out, considering bare shouldered women are booted right out of their Wats back home with no apologies whatsoever.
But what happens if you piss off a deity? When a Thai person finally sinks into their pillow at night after a long slog, then wakes with a start when they realise they forgot to feed Buddha… would they stay sleeping, or would they worry about the starvation of the wee statue and fret and finally get up to do the job, pushed forcibly by unending guilt? What would their mother-in-law have to say about it?
Something weird lies ahead for me and my pimply arse, I can feel it. The afterlife will find me on my hands and knees with a toothbrush, or stuck as a mosquito for all eternity. I can understand now why leaving Thailand with a copy of their deity is illegal, the mass negligence would be catastrophic, resulting in God knows Wat.
If only we Irish had the same sort of adoration in us. We’d be a whole lot nicer!
I miss Worzel Gummidge :(
I have been told today by two seperate people out of the blue that I need a Christening cake. I had no idea that there was such a thing. I have decided that I won’t bother, but will obsess about this constantly for the next week until the last second when I will change my mind and most likely pay over the odds for something that tastes a bit weird. I know that now, but will do nothing about it because that’s just the way it is. Acupuncture would probably fix this kink in my general thought pattern, but I can’t afford it! I need a new head. That’s what it is.
(image thieved from here)
