Breaking News:Tripler’s folks kick his sister’s boyfriend out of the house!
Lemme give you a little background info on “Lumpy”. My sister has been dating this moron for the past four years or so. He lives with his stepmom sometimes, and mooches for awhile, then moves to his father to repeat the process. He is barely a high school graduate with no future, and can’t seem to keep a job. Basically, he’s an overweight lump on two feet, which is why we call him “Lumpy”.
It seems said jackass had moved himself into my folks house. Ya know, eating the food, using the phone to all hours of the night. Welp, one night, he decides to kick my dog . . . You don’t kick Tripler’s dog.
Momma Trip gives him a nasty look and says to Lumpy “That was totally innapropriate.” The Lumpmeister replies, “I didn’t kick her that hard . . .” Momma Trip counters, “I don’t care. That was totally inappropriate. I think you should leave. . .”
So, he sulks off to my sisters room, and Momma Trip tells Sista Trip to get Lumpy out of the house. Momma Trip has had enough of this welfare hotel crap. Two cheers for Momma Trip.
Seems the folks are now changing the locks and alarm codes so Lumpy is denied access to the house. Apparently, he’s got a key to the old house locks from the spare key board. So, this will change.
Tripler has also issued a verbal order - *Use of force authorized. *
If a trick, boyfriend, husband, or family member, I don’t care, ever kicked my cat or my roommate’s cat, they’d exit swiftly out the nearest aperture, door, window, or air vent. You don’t beat up on the kitties.
My mother, god bless her, was kind enough to let me and my 2 pit bulls stay with her when I first moved back to this god-awful-poor-excuse-for-a-state (don’t ask) until I could find a house. God bless her!
One day as I was going out I told her “If they give you any trouble, just smack 'em or kick 'em or something”. Her response? “Yeah right”. In retrospect I suppose it isn’t a good idea for an old woman (or anyone perhaps?) to kick two 80 lb. pit bulls. Funny, anytime I’ve suggested that to someone they responded to me as if I was crazy. No, I don’t kick or in anyway mistreat my dogs. Spoil them beyond all belief? Guilty! How many dogs do you know with a king size and air conditioning?
But hey, if you’re feeling like Bruce Lee, give 'em a kick… I’m curious to see what would happen… So send that dirtbag on over. He can stay with me for a few days. Although, he may never be seen again in one piece.
Tripler, tell Sissy that she needs to dump Lumpy, NOW. Anyone who would kick a dog might decide that it’s all right to kick or hit his girlfriend. She deserves better than Lumpy.
She can do better! She just doesn’t feel like going out to find better. She said, “I’ll find someone somewhere along the line . . .” Problem is, the more overtly I deny Lumpy his “mooching pleasures” the more Sister Trip runs to him. She’s a charity worker-type, I think. So the more I/we (Clan Tripler) are reppellant of him, the more she runs to him. I think it’s that bad boy image. We’ll see just how bad of a boy he is with my boot up his ass. . .
Spoofe,, Vince get off the couch. Bad boys. Wanna go outside? C’mon, I’ll put you in your pen . . .
Tripler
I always used to trip over my dog…I don’t know if that counts. She would tend to sleep either at the top of the stairs, or in the enterance to the hallway. I’d be walking along, then bump, and she’d give me that look that said “You just ran into me”, at which point, I’d give the look that said, “It’s your fault, stupid, for lying in the middle of the hallway”, and she’d give me a look that said “Well, I’m going back to sleep now…please don’t run into me again.” But, it was never a deliberate decision…good for your mom, Trip.
I’ve been known to kick a cat off my feet in the middle of the night, but I don’t think that counts, since I’m not really kicking them, just kicking my legs around so the cat will move! Why is it the cat that weighs the most is the one who wants to lay on my feet?
If someone kicked my dog… well, I’m not sure the dog would even notice… but hang on a sec, that’s not the point. The point is, I too, would be violently upset and would, as mentioned above, be moving the hapless offender towards the nearest aperture. Defenestration indeed.
