Pseudo-MMP

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Our favorite MMP-originator sent me an email last week saying he might not get to post today since his lovely and charming wife has the day off. I’m not sure if that means that he’s so smitten when she’s home that he’s incapable of posting, or that she monopolizes the computer so that he can’t get to it or that she’s got a mile-long “Honey-do” list and he’ll be too pooped to post.

Of course, as I write this, he could be posting and this thread will be redundant and will sink like a ton of stones.

But as a public service to those who need a Monday morning Rue fix, I offer two alternatives:

  1. A Golden Oldie

or

B. An essay assignment: Why I deserve a Rue of my very own. Winners get, um, well, nothing from me, but it’s not about the prizes, is it? It’s all about the love.

Happy Monday!

2

I’m not sure I’d even want a Rue of my own. He’d probably just sit on my couch and eat all of my Doritos. I’m very protective of my Doritos. Hey, what are you looking at?

3

A Rue of my very own. Hmmm… ya know I might like it but he might not. :smiley:

Anyway, if I had a Rue of my very own, he could cook, clean, do laundry and ironing and of course, post the MMP. In return he could lounge around the pool and hot tub and use the puter to surf for whatever it is Rue’s like to surf for all day while I am at work. Oh, and he’d be welcome to use my blender to make his “special” fruit smoothies anytime he wanted. Plus, he could have his own bedroom complete with cable tv and his own bathroom which doesn’t have cable tv but is decorated very nicely. As an added bonus, a Rue of my very own could landscape with pink flamingoes to his heart’s content. That oughta get some essay points!

-swampbear (I could really use the help around the house)

4

swampy, you don’t want a Rue - you want a live-in housekeeper. I suspect you’d toss Rue if said live-in housekeeper was a burly man with beer and cookies. Right?

Right?

slortar, dunno about doritos, but you might want to keep an eye on your rum…

5

Trust me. A stay at home dad?

What’s not to want?

Well, except the whole kid thing. I’d have to respectfully rename him a Stay at Home Rue or something less dad-ish.

I don’t generally keep Doritos, rum, beer or cookies in the house, so he might not want the gig.

6

Hi all. So far Swampy sounds like he has the best gig for me. I mean a pool and a hot tub? All for the stuff I do anyways? But Scout’s a close second. If she promises to buy some rum and wear bikinis at home after work. (Pssst… Scout… it’s not widely known, but backrubs? I’m good at 'em. Just a little incentive on the bikini front. Not that I’d be rubbing the front of your bikini- they call them “back rubs” for a reason. But if that’s what you want…)

Of course Snickers is my A #1 Special Friend, so you’ll have to beat her out no matter what she offers. But the whole “already has a husband” thing kinda detracts from the odds of her gettin’ me. Long-term anyway.

So, I had this post all ready to go so I could just slap it out this morning and let you all know I’m OK. But something came up. You read the post and try to figure just what came up. No hints.

The pre-packaged MMP:

This year for Christmas, all I want is World Peace. Ha! No. Let Miss America get gypped out of loot for the World Peace dodge. I want loot. And, honestly, this year, it’s all want. Technically, I don’t need anything. But you know how it is, swag is good.

You know what else is good? When your heat pump blower doesn’t make a funny sound. Definitely not “ha-ha” funny either. But all in all it’s not a huge thing because when we bought the house we bundled in a “home warranty” so we (“we” being “me” in this case) just called the 1-800 number (if you don’t know because you live in another country or somethin’, 1-800 numbers are toll free, so you can call them and then not have to pay for it later on your phone bill) and we’re all set. Once the service guy calls us and we make an appointment for the fixation of our heat pump blower. Whenever that turns out to be. But it should be soon. That’s what the computer lady (a computer with a lady’s voice answered the phone) said anyway. (Note: When you have a cold and you have to call in a claim on your house warranty, the voice recognition computer thingy can’t really understand you, so it’s better to go through their web site.)

Oh wait! Good news! The blower stopped making the funny sound. That’s good. Oh, no, it’s not good. It stopped making the funny sound because it stopped working. But I think the problem is confined to the blower. Not that I really care. Remember the home warranty thing? Fifty bucks whether it’s the blower or the whole she-bang. So either way, the situation is nearly resolved., Once the fixer guys show up to take care of my problem.

But back to the swag… You know what I want this year? A bocce set. Yeah, that would be cool. My very own bocce set. I could play in the backyard with all my friends. I think that would be better than croquet. Even the croquet with the flamingo mallets. But knowing me, even without the flamingo mallet croquet set, I’ll probably still make Royal Proclamations. (Off with her shirt!)

The other thing right at the top of my Personal Wish List would be a big plastic owl. I almost need a big plastic owl. I’d put it on my porch so in the spring all those birds don’t hang out and poop all over my picnic table. That way after my friends and I finish playing bocce we’d have a poop-free place to sit and discuss World Events. That would be nice.

And since nothing says “Christmas” like the gift of real estate, I’d like a Deer Hunting Cabin. I’ve always wanted a Deer Hunting Cabin. Even though I don’t, technically, hunt deer. Ever. It’s just too much work on my part. I would “passive hunt” though. Whenever I was at my Deer Hunting Cabin. If ever a deer comes up to my door and knocks, I’d answer the door (after looking through the peephole to make sure it’s not a bear) and bludgeon him with my rum bottle. If the deer is stupid (or just suicidal) enough to knock on my door, it deserves to die. That’s just the way I see things.

I’d even let all my friends come over and play bocce and discuss World Events at my cabin. (Between deer bludgeonings.) I might need two plastic owls then, come to think of it.

A four foot tall concrete pig would be uber-cool too. But it would be hard to wrap. (Like a whole Deer hunting Cabin wouldn’t be.) But even if I did get a four foot tall concrete pig, where would I put it? (Answer: Somewhere the Little Woman couldn’t see it.) Maybe I could make do with a three foot concrete pig. But any smaller than that and you’re really slumming it in the concrete pig department.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all, good night.
-Rue.

7

Plus an MMP from Seasons Past.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

8

Funny you should mention concrete pigs. I wanted to give BIL and SIL something for their garden, so we went to a local concrete-stuff retailer. They had pigs and gators and gargoyles and fairies and a small version of Michaelangelo’s David and birdbaths and fountains and, well, just about anything concrete you could imagine.

We got faces. They’re these blob-shaped things, about the size of a honeydew melon. One is a man, one is a woman, and one is a kid. Perfect for BIL, SIL, and nephew!! So we bought 'em. They’re sitting on racks in the kitchen drying out. After they’re dry, I’ll wrap 'em up. That should be the end of my Christmas shopping.

And if you’d said something earlier, Rue, I’d have sent you a pig. In fact, I’d have sent a 4’ model, and you could tell your wife that you had to display it prominently because it would be ungracious to do otherwise, seein’s as how it’s a gift and all.

Of course, shipping for a 4’ high concrete pig would probably be twice the cost of the pig itself. So I owe ya.

I could send you a 4’ stuffed pig, but they get to lookin’ mighty bedraggled in the garden.

ummm, backrubs? Would I arrange a quickie divorce for a backrub?? Nah, prolly not…

9

You know, I always say “shwag,” not “swag.” Huh. Oh, and here’s your pig. Or maybe this one. No? Perhaps this happy, fat concrete pig.

While finding those pictures, I’ve learned a lot about pigs and concrete. Feel free to ask me anything at all about - um - pigs and concrete. I’ll be the life of the party!

-tool (piggishly)

10

Dear Mr. De Day,

We are in receipt of your application for the position of Unemployed Adult Male, and, although your qualifications are certainly inpressive, We regret to inform you that we already have one too many in our firm. However we will keep your resume on file for a period of 1 year, or until we stop giggling, whichever comes first.
We wish you the very best success in your future endeavors,

Catbert
HR Dept.
Bumbazine Enterprises
P.S. I already gots a Bocce set, but nobody will play with me. I don’t have a concrete pig though. What I really want is a big concrete gargoyle. I also want pop-up lawn sprinklers attached to a motion sensor so the neighbors’ cats will stop messing up my bocce playing field.

bumbahumbug

11

What I Would Do with A Rue If I had One

%^&$%W#*()(*&&%%#@#@%&^%#&&^^^##&^^%^^%##!@!%&)()(&&^%^*&(^%##@#&&()(&%@@#@^(**(&&%%##@&((&^(&^%@#)()()(^&^@@#!%#%@%&&(&%(*)##@)()*&@#)))(@#!&$%$$^^^&^)((&*&&#%*&(&(%#!#&

(Censored) :eek:

12

Bumbazine,

Do you have any openings for Unemployed Adult Female? I mean, from what I hear, while the pay stinks, the fringe bennies are great. Oh, and I’d be willing to relocate. Unless it’s to a place that snows. I don’t need that. Because then I’d probably be expected to shovel the snow, what with my being unemployed and all.

If that position is filled, I’ll gladly submit my name for consideration as a Trophy Wife or Society Maven. I might not be as qualified for those, though. Unless they involve posting on messageboards and shopping online via Amazon. I’m real good at those two things.

13

Let’s see now, scout didn’t offer to buy rum or wear bikinis. I can buy rum, heck, I got two unopened bottles of dark rum right now. I doubt Rue wants me in a bikini any more than I want me in a bikini. I’d be willing to wear tight shiny pants around the house after work though. Would that help?

FCM of course I want a housekeeper. I’m offering that plus the use of a hot tub, pool, blender, puter, bedroom with cable and private bathroom. Sounds like a good deal to me.

Of course if Shibb or Bumbazine want to show up wearing tight shiny pants they’d still be welcome to. I think we’d prefer they wore tight shiny pants over bikinis as well. Well, maybe my very own Rue would wear the bikini. :smiley:

Oh, I know! My very own Rue could have as big of a concrete pig as he wants. That oughta cinch it for me!

14

:: gives up in defeat ::

:stuck_out_tongue:

15

Yep, you can’t fight the big concrete pig.

16

swampy, I’ll see your concrete pig, and raise you a pair of big concrete gargoyles (I like gargoyles myself). I would also give Rue unlimited discretion to do anything he wanted to with the backyard, with or without a bikini.
If you do have to fight a concrete pig–like in a duel at dawn–choose a jackhammer as your weapon.

17

My dear Scout, your offer is very tempting, but my Social Secretary, Financial Advisor , and all-around wife says I can’t have another wife, or girlfriend for that matter, although she might be in the market for a wife, since I am differently-enabled when it comes to housekeeping. Actually, I keep a pretty clean and neat house, by my standards. But I look at things differently. When I look at the floor and say to myself “Hmmm the floor’s dirty.” I make a mental note to myself to clean it as soon as circumstances allow. She, on the other hand, will drop whatever she is doing and clean that floor right now!
:sigh: viva la difference!

Swampy, although I may well be in the Atlanta area sometime next year, (my Mother and Brother and associated families live around there,) I sincerely doubt that I will be wearing any tight shiney pants. I think there’s a law against me wearing any form-revealing garments in public. Something about ‘terrorist activities’ or somesuch.

Kallessa: :eek: :eek: :eek:
Especially the ‘^*&(^%##@#&&(*)(&*%@@#@^(**(&&%%’ part. Of course if it’s a plantain instead of a banana, that might be all right.

18

Oh man! Kalley got all censored! You know that has to count in her favor. And her two concrete gargoyles would compliment my two concrete gargoyles, so it is a bit of Kizmet there. But just a bit.

So don’t worry Scout. You’re not out of the running yet. I mean, one good bikini pose and ka-boom you’re the Mayor of Leadsville. (That’s “Leeds-ville” like you’re “in the lead”, not “Leds-ville” like you have a lot of heavy grey metal.)

Although maybe I should franchise or something. Not leave anyone out in the cold. Like the way I’m not out in the cold. The furnace guy showed up and fixed the heat pump like nobody’s business. So everything’s coming up daisies. Except for the snow. But I’m sure under that snow there’s daisies like you wouldn’t believe. Which would be better than the daisies being under a giant concrete pig. From the daisies’ perspective anyway.

Oh, and by the way, no bikinis or shiny pants on this cowpoke. That’s just the way it is.
-Rue. (warm now, thanks)

19

Thanks for clarifying the pronounciation. I was thinking “lead? What’s he talking about? Is he saying I’m heavy?”

:: checks thighs ::

:: sobs ::

20

What if we put the concrete pig in a bikini? Or tight, shiny pants, for that matter? Of course, it may be considered animal abuse, in which case we would have to be on the look out for PETA. Which should not be confused with feta–a whole other kettle of fish. Actually, it’s a cheese, and probably would not be found in a kettle of fish, unless said fish were caught by a fisherman using feta for bait, in which case, I doubt that he’d catch enough to get a kettleful.