So this is the MMP, ayh? I was looking for it, found a missing MMP and, lo, I am suddenly in colourful thread about milk and birthdays, and alot in between.
My parents actually live at a dairy farm, so I like milk. I even like cows since I have to tend to them from time to time. Usually they are goodnatured and come down from the hills in time each evening before we have to milk them. When they do not, I have to walk up the hills with the dogs and get them, and then the cows will be waiting on the top of the hill giggling between themselves. Then I just have to tell them to get down the hills, and the dogs will run around them a few times just to get them up to speed, and the cows will loaf down the the hill. So there you have it, every time I go home to visit my parents, they turn me into a farm hand.
And now to business, Chaoticbear, I live in a big house with six other people myself. There is nothing badder than one shirking his collective duties. Point one, make sure you all have agreed to keeping a tidy place, that means that everyone cleans up after themselves. Point two, have a list of collective duties that need to be performed from time to time. What we do in our house, is have list of many thing, from cleaning the kitchen sink to washing the living room floor. Each time we do someting we can add a tick to our name. That way we have some knowledge of who does what, who doesn’t. At the end of each month, the one with most ticks, get a bonus from the bar. Point three, when all have an agreement about the level of cleanliness, it is easier to make that talk when everyone is present about the lack of thereof.
And happy birthday to Swampbear and Vunderbob!
May I point out that Bobbio not me is having a birthday. I already had one. I’m good for another 363 days, thank you.
I have cool new Rayban prescription sunglasses! I look mysterious and swarthy when I put them on. Hmmm… I may have a new game to play with ACBG!
Concerning the milk-centric OP: You, sir, should simply plead guilty as charged and do your penance. Any man married more than a decade will tell you the rules are quite simple – finish the old carton before opening the new. At least that was the jist of a “Dear Abby” clipping taped to my favorite coffee cup several years ago. Razorette is adamant about strictly observing refrigerator/cupboard protocol, and I have even been known to surreptitiously dump the last swallow of old milk before opening the new carton. But never, NEVER, under any circumstances, be the guy who opens a new carton before the old one is empty. I’m surprised at you, I really am.
Did I mention that I’m on VACAAAAAAAASHUN?! Woo-hoo! Unfortunately, since I loafed around ALL weekend, I need to be productive and do some stuff around the house today.
I’m experiencing difficulty in becoming all motivated though. Part of me wants to whine that “I’m on VACATION, I shouldn’t have to do ANYTHING!”, and the more grown-up part of me is saying, “You need to get your butt in gear. This is the perfect opportunity to get to all the stuff you can never get to when you’re NOT on vacation. Andelay! Get a move on!”. Sigh, it’s very hard to argue with me…
I’m going to allow myself 15 more minutes of goof-off time, then I’ll get my butt in gear.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, VUNDERBOB!
Time for me to stop reading, and go to work. Really.
Bleh.
Happy Birthday to Swampbear & Bobbio!
I am sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo tired.
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Happpy Birthday Bobbio!!!
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I often have multiple containers of milk open, but it’s usually because I have soy milk and rice milk and perhaps cow milk in the fridge and they all taste different and are used for different things. Plus, I live alone, so I can do whatever I want, including drink from the carton. It’s not as much fun that way, though.
My car went blooey this morning. Actually, it wouldn’t start and then it armed itself - how’d it do that, I haven’t used the alarm in years? and the alarm wouldn’t turn off, no matter how I pressed the beepy thingy. It finally stopped/died and then the light blinked, but I could get back in the car. It did this while I was in the midst of laundry, so I and the car were at home, but the laundry was at the laundromat. So I had to lug two baskets of laundry all the way home. It’s a short drive but a loooonnnnnggggg walk. So the tow-truck driver came and beat on my car’s engine with a hammer and then a bigger hammer (really!) and it finally started and I drove it to AAA and it’s in their custody for the rest of the day. My vehicle was manufactured by those fine carmakers, GM. It’s a 97 Pontiac POS AKA I am NEVER buying an American-made car AGAIN. They made a lot of those in the 90s. This is the car that you’ll be driving down the street and some random piece will just fall off or break for no apparent reason. I have sworn that when this car is finally not worth repairing, I am going to pay to have it hauled away and junked and I am going to watch them smash it into a little white cube. Heck, I want to press the button to smush it. There will be nothing worth salvaging on this, this thing. It only has 75000 miles on it, but it’s been recalled multiple times, for fun things like starting on fire while the engine is turned off, airbag deployment while driving down the street and turning right when you’re trying to make a left turn! :eek:
I didn’t do much this weekend. I finally finished knitting the stole I started 30 days ago, but forgot to take pictures of it. That was about it.
Happy Birthday Vunderbob!
Oh! I forgot to tell y’all about the fun thing we found when we got home Saturday night. My sweet little pooch Lucy (actually she’s not so little) decided it would behoove her to eat half the German Chocolate cake I left on the counter. There was no mess, no crumbs, no pan on the floor - just half a cake missing. She mostly ate the icing!
So we’ve been eating dog drool cake since Saturday. It’s not too bad…
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**Rebo ** - how’s your puppy today? I thought chocolate was toxic to our 4-legged friends?
I have heard that chocolate is toxic to dogs as well. However, my dog managed to eat most of a big box of chocolates all by himself and did not suffer at all. We had stupidly left the box on the middle of the dining room table with the lid on. :rolleyes:
For the record, he hasn’t pulled that in years. We were very worried about him, but he didn’t get sick, didn’t have diahrrea, and was his happy, goofy, go-lucky self.
You need The List.
Do you want to know what happens when a guy like me goes to the supermarket without The List? Of course you don’t, but once again I’ll tell you anyway.
If I go to to the supermarket without The List I’ll feel fine when I’m there, and I’ll even think I’m doing a good job. I actually get a sense of acomplishment about it. Right up until I get home and the true horror of what I have done becomes evident. She (the inimitable SHE, also known as AngelPants) lays out all my purchases, which take up all the counter space, the entire dining table, and a significant amount of floor space, and then points out my shortcomings as a grocery shopper.
Left to my own devices, it is apparent that I will freely purchase the following: an assload of beef jerky, some of those three-foot pepperoni sticks, beer, canned baked beans, six different kinds of cheese, crackers to put the cheese on, some of those cheesy crackers, beer nuts, more beer, cookies, some of those stuffed clam things the nice old lady had samples of, toilet paper because I always worry about running out, a stick of deoderant, potato chips, pretzels (same aisle!), fish sticks, frozen pizzas, some kind of frozen pannini that’s probably going to suck (but who knows?), two pounds of grounds beef, a shiny thing I found in the kitchen gadget section, an entirely different variety of beer, hot dogs, tonic water (I think I have half a bottle of gin in the cupboard, so duh), cake flour (I dunno, I was on a roll, and there was a picture of a cake on the package), a cake, a different kind of cookies, sardines, Spam, that wheat beer I’ve always wanted to try, clam dip, clams (100 ct. for $3.99!), those two enormous lobsters in the back of the tank (surprise, Honey, we’re having steamed clams and lobster), a bag of lemons, a complementary bag of limes, some of that nut bread I like, maple syrup (the real kind), drain cleaner, the odd carton of milk, and , because the voices in my head were particularly strident that day, six cans of vienna sausages.
None of the above items are related in even the remotest way to the stuff I was originally sent to the store to get.
I’m not allowed to go into Target at all anymore.
Hee, Ex, you remind me of that 90’s commercial about Kmart.
Guy drops off wife, ,who says “I’m just going to get one thing.” Then you see guy, driving around, for hours and hours in the parking lot. Finally, when it’s dark, woman comes back with like six bags.
Guy says “Where’s the one thing?”
And the woman says “It’s in there.”
it isn’t to all dogs, but the probability is too great to risk it.
i used to have a husky who loved chocolate more than i do (if that’s possible)
and would dig out bags from inside cupboards etc and generally help himself.
i think my favorite was when he got into a bag of kisses and spit out all the little bits of aluminum foil, without the tiniest bit of chocolate left.
My little dog – the one we call Stupid – will eat anything. She’s had lots of chocolate. According to my vet, it’s the baking chocolate you have to worry about. If you dog ate a bunch of unsweetened chocolate straight up, there might be a problem. But once it’s all mixed up with cakey goodness, the bad stuff is diluted. And the bigger the dog, the more chocolate she’d need to eat. But I’m not a vet – stay of poop-watch!
My Stupid dog has eaten chocolate, birthday cake, furniture, ice packs, oven mitts, and an entire tube of feline hairball treatment (and by entire tube, I mean the box, the cap, the tube itself, and the contents of the tube), and a pair of eyeglasses. None of these seemed to cause her any harm.
I guess it wasn’t meant to be - he (the blind date guy) is married - and very up front about the fact that he’s looking for a mistress - but that’s not for me, so I cancelled.
Oh, I should have said! We watched her carefully, but besides being ashamed at being “in the doghouse,” she seemed just fine. And you can guarantee she didn’t share any with the other (shorter) dog. She’s a 2 year old lab, he’s a 10 year old sheltie. Said sheltie has gotten into M&M’s and Hershey’s kisses before - no apparent damage, thank goodness.
Well, hmmph to him!
(That was to Rosie. Sorry about triple posting! Not really…)