Just talked to VunderWife. She’s going home tomorrow, once the new drugs start taking effect.
Another bachelor night. Yippee. I’ll spend it cooking another batch of food for my geriatric dog. Exciting, ain’t I? 
Tuppy brought up Santa on a Harley. Can I help it if Santa on a Hawg is sexy?
[QUOTE=swampbear]
Some stuff happened but I ain’t sayin’ what cause I don’t wanna start out oogin’ vunderbob out first thing Monday.
[QUOTE]
Aaugh! WTH is “oogin’”? I live in the South, and I have never heard that word.
Help me out here.
(Mmm. Forbidden Santa.)
Aaugh! WTH is “proper coding’”? I’ve visited the SDMB, and I have never experienced it.
Help me out here.
(Mmm. Forbidden correctness.)
merrily, I’m not English, but I think I got most of the humour. Gorgeous book, and it would be great read by Jeremy Irons.
Yesterday started very badly, with Bailey’s two-hour expensive vet visit, but ended very well. The new Robin McKinley book came in at work for me, in cheap paperback, so Quasi-Daughter’s present is covered. Also, Best Friend phoned to say that they’ll be coming to visit in mid-January. I am happy.
Except that I’ve got to do fifty bazillion loads of laundry, the dishes, and the grocery shopping today. Aagh. And it’s sleeting. But- I have my new book to read at the laundromat, so it’s not all bad.
Okay people, who’s going to go with me to the store to buy a christmas tree? I’ve finally admitted it’s idiotic to keep spending up to a hundred bucks on a fairly ugly tree that implodes in a welter of dust and needles a week before the big day. So plastic it will be, and the store has a pretty decent one but it’s ginormous and doesn’t fit in my car. Maybe I can strap it to the top of my car and give people something to laugh at.
Regular Santa on a Harley does seem a bit wrong. So here’s what you do; imagine santa as a studly young man who just happens to be wearing butless chaps, big black boots and maybe a leather vest. Not oogie at all now, huh?
See chaoticdonkey? Sweet Grandpa Santa in extreme baggy-butt chaps= oogie. Santa stud= yummy.
Just to further chaoticdonkey’s education in oogie a bit more, I offer the following.
VunderBob gets overly skeeved at some of my revelations into my err… umm… shall we say personal life, like Santa in buttless chaps spanking naughty boys at a Christmas party a few years back. NO! It was not ME being Santa in the buttless chaps despite what others MAY think. See, oogie is actually beyond beeing skeeved. It’s ookie taken a few steps higher.
Does that help?
Ashes[sup]2[/sup], a couple things here. First, good idea about the tree. Second, a mature burly Santa in buttless chaps, boots and a leather vest on a Hawg is waaaaaaaaay sexy. Not that I’ve ever seen anything like that, mind you. Nope. Never saw anything like that. Just my imagination. That’s all.
-swampbear (always willing to fight ignorance)
Glad to hear VunderWife is coming home, Bob. Take good care of her. Good wives are hard to find.
You have a geriatric dog? What do you cook for him (or her)? Do you pour Geritol over his dog food, or what?
Waddya mean? I tried, once or twice, really I did.
Either my puns were too esoteric, or they weren’t very punny, I guess.
What is it with women and men’s butts? If you all find men’s but soo attractive, why do you find refrigerator repairman’s butt oogy? If my refrigerator repair person was a woman and when she bent over she exposed a portion of her um…nether cleavage,* I* wouldn’t say “ew ick!"
BTW, The Missus is always telling me that I have a particularly fine butt. I don’t see it myself. Ha! I slay me!
We’re probably not having a tree this year. Maybe. We say that every year and then something happens in our (her) brains and we (she) decide we have to have a tree, usually on Dec. 24th. So in actuality, we may or may not. Or we may run away to the beach, in which case, we won’t. Unless we can find that one-foot-tall fake one we had one year.
Swampy, I hope you bought a good quality train set for the little’on. What kind was it? I ask because I care.
Unless you happen to be Mrs. Santa
or swampy :rolleyes:
I’ll help ya out here, bumba. The average fridge repairman bears a striking resemblance to a sumo wrestler. Hence, the “ick” factor. Just picture said sumo wrestler as female and get back to me.
Bumba a couple things. First, we’ll deal with the train. It’s a wood train with a wood track and a little wood village and little wood people. See, this young’n is a wee preschooler yet, so I figured that was safer if he decided to eat it or something cause the parts are kinda big and wouldn’t go down too easy. I bought him a train whistle (also wood) for the noise part. He’s a boy, so he’ll figure out how to make noise with the whistle real easy like. 
Now, as to the butt question. I happen to like men’s butts. I don’t think the repairman’s but is all “ew! ick!” at all, specially if it’s a butt like the one on the electrician that was rewiring some stuff at my pool back in September. Ok, I’ll stop before Bob starts gettin’ all oogied out. I am an afficianado of men’s butts so if’n you want a professional opinion, email me a pitcher of your butt. OOPS! Too late! I oogied you know who out with that last sentence.
-swampbear (hoping chaoticdonkey is paying attention to the examples of oogy)
Swampy, what would I do without you? I’d be even more ignorant than I am now.
Although I’m having trouble with the concept of buttless chaps on a motorcycle…you know, we all know Santa has a naughty and a nice list, but do we really know which list he prefers? I’m just saying.
Goodness Swampy, I’m no ageist, especially when it comes to tushies. Older men are lovely things, yeppers. Nope, the oogy santa booty I’m thinking of resembles less a hiney and more a people-colored prune.
And that’s something I’ve always wondered about merrily. Can you imagine the resultant road rash if ol’ Harley Santa has to put that bike down, whilst wearing buttless chaps? Yeee-ouch. I vote santa rides safe and wears jeans under the chaps. Snug jeans.
Yay! for the vunderfamily. It’s got to be smooth sailing for a while now.
VW is coming home tomorrow.
Swampy, I know this comes to you at the expense of a running gag, but the fact that you like hairy, gentlemanly male butts doesn’t bother me. I would be oogied out if those male butts were in middle school, however.
Oh, so it’s just cottage-cheese-butted refrigerator repairmen’s butts that offend. Okay, I get it now. Except that now I’ve got a visual of female sumo wrestlers stuck in my head. Ouch! Get outta there!
But awhile ago you said he was seven years old. And he’s not in school yet? Oh. Wait. :smack: I forgot. You’re in Jawja. Nevermind.
You know I’m kidding right? I’m sure Georgia’s educational standards are as good as any in the nation, and better than some, I’m sure. I’m looking at you here Mississippi.)
As far as sending you a pic of my butt for a professional opinion, well, I’ve already got a wifely opinion (several, actually) and so I think I’ll pass. However, if and when I’m in Jawja again, and if I get the chance to motor down your way, I really wouldn’t be offended if you just happened to accidentally ogle my butt in person, just a little bit, in a platonic sort of way, of course. It’s the least I can do for a friend. See, I ogled earthpuppy’s butt once, just a little bit, by accident, and she didn’t mind. Although I’m not too sure about Mr. Puppy. (I didn’t ogle his butt.)
I’m always up for some manly butt ogling.
Bumba I looked at my earlier post about the choo-choo and see that I have caused confusion. See, actually, it wasn’t the seven year old I bought the choo-choo for. I got him a monster truck (well, a toy monster truck) cause that’s what he wanted. I got confused. Christmas shopping does that to me. The wee preschooler got the choo-choo. He’s three and a half years old, though he’ll be a might past three and a half by Christmas.
merrily I aims to educate whenever and wherever I can. That’s me. I’m all about enlightening the masses and the MMPers.
Ashes[sup]2[/sup] I agree about Santa not wearing the buttless chaps while on his Hawg. He should wear jeans under the chaps. He can take the jeans off after he gets off the Hawg. Actually, he’d have to take the buttless chaps off, then take the jeans off, then put the buttless chaps back on again. That also means he’d have to take his boots off and put em back on again too, but Santa won’t mind. The Santa I met that one time liked the boys on the naughty list.
VunderBob I would be oogied out over a middle aged man with a hairy butt who was still in middle school too. 
What’d doggie have for dinner?
What kind of Georgian Santas do you have? Here, the Santas are all wear red (probably fake) velvet suits and ride in sleighs. I guess Og had to give you something good to make up for your baseball-sized mosquitos and crazy heat.
“Oogin’”, because I need the practice saying the word.
Me too. Although I hear there are high school star quarterbacks that have wives and a couple of kids over in 'Bammie…
The doggie had commercial dog food so I could get to see the doctor for my regular appointment, and then see VW. It’s kind of cool that his office is in the same hospital as she is, and not too far from her room.
He had good news and bad news for me at my appointment. “OK doc”, I said, “give me the bad news first”.
“You have to lose 100 pounds.”
“Great. What’s the good news?”
“You’ve beaten anorexia.”
The homemade dogfood starts with 2 lbs of hamburger, that I boil in a pot. Once it turns gray, I add rice and canned veggies, and salt, pepper, a shot or two of hotsauce, and garlic. I couldn’t tell you how much rice, because I do it by eye, but at least a cup and a half if I was guessing. Keep it boiling until the rice is cooked, and absorbs the water. After it’s done, she gets a dose of liquid Centrum with the bowl. Heck, we eat it sometimes ourselves, but not from the dog bowls.
We started feeding her this stuff after our last trip to Indiana because the vet said her pancreatic enzymes were bad, and she can digest this stuff better.
Enough about Santa’s butt. Let’s talk arms, shoulders and chest. See, wrangling reindeer and lifting that big ol’ sack o’ toys keeps Santa’s upper body in mighty fine shape. Mighty fine. (And haulin’ around on a Harley doesn’t hurt.) That “defined but not ostentatious” physique, with strong, capable arms and broad, herculean shoulders. Santa is sturdy, stout and studly, a one-man everyman, an irresistible powerhouse of robust charm and vivacious presence, a beefy, burly, brawny, husky, lusty, full on, full force, strong as brandy kinda guy. Yes siree, I tell you truth, Santa is a hunk. (Read this out loud, with a faint Southern accent, gaining speed as you go. It’s poetry, I tell you, pure poetry.)
Hey, you have your myths, I have mine. You can dream of dancing sugar plums if you want, I’m dancing with Santa. The Holiday Hunk.
Now what is this? I’ve always been the epitome… the acme… the very embodiment of moosh and sentimantality. Always. It’s sorta my chewy caramel middle what’s surrounded by my crunchy, crusty bastardy outter shell. Like a malted milk ball, only in reverse. And caramel instead of the malt center, which would be on the outside if you turned it inside-out.
And like Scout said:
That is so true.
Be hush Bumba. We know how you have Kalley’s weakness for wordplay, but I was trying to play up to her a little since she was gone there for a bit. To let her know how much we all missed her. It wasn’t a slam on you so much as good stuff for her. And you should always put the wimmins on a pedestal. That way it’s easier to look up their skirts.
Ashes[sup]2[/sup], if you take the tree out of it’s box you can get it all in your car. Yeah, it’s all over your car and in the trunk and there’ll be parts in the glovebox and don’t have anything in the drinkholder when you go. Or you could rent a U-Haul. Either way.
-Rue. (chock-full of helpfulness… or something)