crabbydad - Dog Day of Summer...

 

Here are the latest updates for dadgregator@gmail.com "crabbydad" - 1 new article Dog Day of Summer... More Recent Articles Search crabbydad Dog Day of Summer... Apparently, I was just not crabby enough. Apparently, I needed less sleep, less money, less time to myself and assloads more frustration. Apparently, I needed a dog. So, we drove down to the Toledo area yesterday and came home with Grover, rescued mutt extraordinaire. His full name, according to his genealogist, Mr. Z, is Sir H. Grosvner Scruffington of the Barkshires. His given name is "Gordon." I actually thought that name was fucking hilarious for a dog. I love human names on dogs. Like Chuck. Or Kevin. But I was the only one in the crabbshack who liked Gordon, so we had to find something we all agreed on. Stupid democracy. The Old Lady went with the nerdily obvious "Albus." Fuck no. Like we're not already big enough nerdarinos. We eventually decided on another "G" name, so as not to confuse the pup. Or course, Mr. Z and Miss O came up with the unusable "Goopula." Then I thought, "Why not just switch the letters around a bit. No use wasting some perfectly good letters." ME: What about "Grodon"? MISS O: [laughing, secretly] MR. Z: What's so funny? MISS O: Nothing. ME: No, really. Why is Grodon funny? MISS O: Isn't that the 'thing' on boys? MR. Z: [laughing hysterically] NO! That's "scrotum"! So, he's Grover. This is gonna be ruff... • Email to a friend • Related • More Recent Articles Dinnertime at The Crabshack... Fowl Play... Song Fu 3: Electric Booga... lee? Z-mail Pecker Trouble Redux... Again...

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crabbydad - Fowl Play...

 

Here are the latest updates for dadgregator@gmail.com "crabbydad" - 1 new article Fowl Play... More Recent Articles Search crabbydad Fowl Play... I'm pretty sure a dove tried to kill me tonight. This morning, I went into the garage to get the paper and as I got ready to hit the door opener, I bird darted outta some invisible space/time continuum rip and started flapping in my stupid face. I got the door opened and it eventually flew the fuck out of there but not before infarcting my goddamn infarcter. I figured the thing must've built a nest in there somewhere, so I looked around until I saw a bunch of twiggy looking shit on top of the garage door opener mechanism box thingy. I climbed up a ladder and not only did I find the nest, but I also found a lone egg perched atop it. So, I did the only humane thing to do and scooped up the nest/egg combo, walked to a tree in front of the house and wedged it amongst the twiggery. Now I know you're not supposed to move a nest or touch an egg 'cuz then you'll give it human cooties and the bird will never touch it again, but what the shit -- I wasn't gonna leave it in there and risk getting my eyeballs pecked out by an overprotective mother hen... er, dove. Besides, I'm still so fucking pissed at those goddamn woodpeckers that ALL BIRDS are on my shit-list, so fuck them. Did I mention that our car was pancaked with dovey ass-batter? Well it was, so it's ON. Cut to tonight, as I'm out back grilling up some veggies for dinner, when I hear a giant fucking crash echo through the crabby'hood. I thought someone's basketball backboard crashed to the ground or maybe Miss O found a live grenade in the street, so I walked around front and saw that the garage door had crashed down onto one of the plastic sleds that Mr. Z was fucking around with this afternoon, and the Old Lady was trying to extricate what was left of the sled from the door's death jaws. The cables from the pulley things on either side of the door had completely snapped and the door smashed down, hermetically sealing our garage in a Tutankhamenian sarCARphagus. We tried to pull the door up but that fucking door weighs like a fuckillion pounds and we barely got it lifted a half-millimeter before my hyena popped out. Motherfucker! And, of course, both cars are IN the garage so we're basically fucked until we get the thing fixed. So yeah, the dove did it, I'm convinced. I touched its stupid egg so it sabotaged our garage. Garagotaged! I'm giving the woodpecker the day off tomorrow and I'm going after that fucker. And if all goes as planned, the crabbyfamily's gonna be having some squab and eggs for dinner tomorrow night. • Email to a friend • Related • More Recent Articles Song Fu 3: Electric Booga... lee? Z-mail Pecker Trouble Redux... Again... There's no "U" in Wii.... Farty Arty...

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crabbydad - Song Fu 3: Electric Booga... lee?

 

Here are the latest updates for dadgregator@gmail.com "crabbydad" - 1 new article Song Fu 3: Electric Booga... lee? More Recent Articles Search crabbydad Song Fu 3: Electric Booga... lee? It's that time again... time for me to beg you to vote for my song at the never-ending Song Fu contest: Blah, blah, VOTE, blah, CRABBYDAD, blah, TURDS Have I mentioned that I'm SO ready for this thing to be over. I've actually wanted to start posting here on a more regular basis, but this contest has sapped any stink of extra late-night energy right outta me. Obviously, a lot has happened over the last month or three. Here are some of the highlights: 1. Tae Kwon Do + Miss O = medal 2. Spelling Bee + Mr. Z = trophy 3. tooth + looseness = Miss O losing first tooth ever 4. Me + wet burrito from The International Traveler's Club and Tuba Museum = cramps and explosive 'rrhea 5. basement + workers + all of our money = new basement 6. woodpecker's return + dad's bb gun = we'll see? Let me know which one you want to hear about first and I'll get to it just as soon as I lose the Song Fu contest. • Email to a friend • Related • More Recent Articles Z-mail Pecker Trouble Redux... Again... There's no "U" in Wii.... Farty Arty... Who Effed?!

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crabbydad - Z-mail

 

Here are the latest updates for dadgregator@gmail.com "crabbydad" - 1 new article Z-mail More Recent Articles Search crabbydad Z-mail This letter mysteriously appeared in the mailbox yesterday... I knew something was fishy, as today is the day that my parents spawned me, but I played along with it. MR. Z: Hmm... who's that letter from, Dad? ME: I have NO idea. Someone named "Rich Dethlefsen" from Mason?! I'll bet it's just some sort of real estate thing or maybe a coupon to some cruddy store in Mason. MR. Z: Yeah... are you gonna open it?! ME: You know... I think I'll wait until tomorrow when I open my other birthday cards. That way it'll seem like I got more stuff. I could tell that he was dying for me to open it but I managed to drag it out until this morning. Sure enough, upon opening the mysterious letter, I found this inside: And of course an original Mr. Z poem: Apparently, he told the Old Lady a couple of days ago that he wanted to "trick" me on my birthday by hiding his card in a "bill." A classic Mr. Z idea, by the way. He got the dude's name and address from the phone book. The funny thing is, yesterday after school he told me he wanted to run next door to see if his friend P could play. I told him that P wasn't back from school yet and he replied that he wanted to go ask the nanny if P could play once he did get home. I told him to just chill and wait a while. Now I realize that he wanted to stick his faux bill in the mailbox so it would be mixed in with the mail when I went to get it. Apparently, I was being inadvertently dickish. I'm good at that. Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go write Rich Dethlefsen a thank-you note. • Email to a friend • Related • More Recent Articles Pecker Trouble Redux... Again... There's no "U" in Wii.... Farty Arty... Who Effed?! Challenge 2: Electric Fu-galoo

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crabbydad - Pecker Trouble Redux... Again...

 

Here are the latest updates for dadgregator@gmail.com "crabbydad" - 1 new article Pecker Trouble Redux... Again... More Recent Articles Search crabbydad Pecker Trouble Redux... Again... The woodpecker is back. It's been waking our asses up at around 7:30 a.m., which isn't bad during the week but on the fucking weekend, I'm worthless unless I get to sleep in until at least 7:40. So I've been bolting outta bed, grabbing my wrist-rocket and a handful of BBs and running outside to try and pierce the tiny pecker's tiny pecker with my eagle-eye wristrocketmanship. The problem is, my eagle-eye is kinda like the dead, cloudy eyeball of that old Master dude from Kung Fu, so, needless to say, the bird has survived my "onslaught." Today, I decided to at least cover up the largest of the pecker-holes (on the house, mind you) with some aluminum flashing that I keep around for just such an occasion. I did some fancy metal bending too, so it would kinda zig-zag over the lip of the siding and blend in a little better. I set up the ladder, grabbed some screws and a drill and prepared to climb up to seal my pecker-hole. With the Old Lady holding the ladder, I climbed up to the top and then... I fucking froze there like a goddamn deer in headlights... that's been dipped in liquid nitrogen. Apparently, when one is on the verge of 44, one gets this crippling fear of heights and today, for some reason, my brain said, "Fuck it. I'm done. You better drill that fucker in with your honkin' schnoz, 'cuz I ain't letting your hands offa this goddamn ladder." Complete and utter High Anxiety. So I finished piddling in my nappy, shuffled back down the ladder, threw the drill on the ground and told the Old Lady that if she wanted the hole plugged, she'd have to drill it in herself. (Which is, surprisingly, the first time I've ever had to tell her that in the 23 years that I've known her. Go figure.) She climbed up four rungs of the ladder, paused, and then climbed back down. At least there was one person more chickenshit than I. So I did the only thing left to do. I walked inside, grabbed my old Xanax prescription that I still had from last year when I thought I was dying, popped 1/2 of one in my pill-hole and then waited for it to kick in. Half an hour later, I bounded up the ladder, drilled five screws the fuck in, and slid down into a perfect 10 point landing. Have I mentioned how much I fucking love Xanax? I should have a hollow tooth with a pill in it at all times and then all I'd have to do is just bite down on it in times of stress. Note to self: call dentist in the morning... oh, and then drive to Canada to get shitloads more Xanax. This would, of course, be a great story if it ended right there but, unfortunately, an hour later I was in my upstairs study droppin' a deuce when I heard that familiar tap-tap-ratatatatatafuckintappin' on the same wall, about a foot to the left. Motherfucker! So I went outside and sprayed that bird-dick with the hose. It's gonna be a long fucking spring. • Email to a friend • Related • More Recent Articles There's no "U" in Wii.... Farty Arty... Who Effed?! Challenge 2: Electric Fu-galoo Let's Take an Okay-tion...

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crabbydad - Farty Arty...

 

Here are the latest updates for dadgregator@gmail.com "crabbydad" - 1 new article Farty Arty... More Recent Articles Search crabbydad Farty Arty... I know I haven't posted in a while -- I've got no fucking time, goddammit. Someone's gotta invent some new kind of blog thing where A) I don't have to type, 2) I don't have to think, and C) I can do it while taking a shatner. Invent that and I'll post more often... deal? Anywhich, I've got a coupla great drawings by the spawnages that I thought I'd share. The first one, by Miss O, is presented to you as a public service, really. She's apparently learning about ears in school, of late, and she has a couple of illustrated pointers for proper ear maintenance. That's right -- always wash your ears until they sweat and don't put bass drum mallets all the way in your ear. You heard it here first. Get it? And Mr. Z and I have finally added another episode to our ongoing graphic novella, "The Adventures of Cheez Man." This episode finds our fromage-y hero once again in the evil clutches of Angry Pickle, the kingly kosher dill-etante. Again, for those unfamiliar with this wildly successful series, Mr. Z and I alternate drawing panels until they're all filled in. There is no consultation between us while drawing... which is why it makes no fucking sense whatsoever. Enjoy... Thought I'd make it all the way through without drawing a turd, huh? You don't know me very well at all, do you? And speaking of turds -- there's your post. Another one pinched off, for your pleasure. Don't forget to flush when you're done reading. • Email to a friend • Related • More Recent Articles Who Effed?! Challenge 2: Electric Fu-galoo Let's Take an Okay-tion... New Post... BUT KEEP VOTING! VOTE EARLY, VOTE OFTEN!

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crabbydad - Who Effed?!

 

Here are the latest updates for dadgregator@gmail.com "crabbydad" - 1 new article Who Effed?! More Recent Articles Search crabbydad Who Effed?! [conversation in kitchen last night] OLD LADY: So, I dropped an F-bomb in a meeting today. MR. Z: YOU FARTED IN A MEETING?!?! ME: [spraying hot tea outta my nostrils] No, while "dropping an f-bomb" sounds like it should be about farts, it actually means something else. MR. Z: What is it? OLD LADY: I said "fuck." MR. Z: Whoa! Your students must think you're mean. OLD LADY: No, I said "fuck" in a meeting with other professors. ME: But you're right, Mr. Z, Mom's students do think she's mean. I swear, every day our conversations become more and more like some sort of dysfunctional Bazooka Joe comic. VOTE HERE FOR CRABBYDAD • Email to a friend • Related • More Recent Articles Challenge 2: Electric Fu-galoo Let's Take an Okay-tion... New Post... BUT KEEP VOTING! VOTE EARLY, VOTE OFTEN! Hangin' in the Showers...

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