Can I please have the brute squad come for a smack down?

Where ya need us? I'm in the mood for kicking some asshole ass.

Is that redundant?

Can I please have the brute squad come for a smack down?

That guy is a ninnyshit.

Health ~ma to all.

Bartleby has an infected bum. Which is, well, a bummer. I took him to the local, crazy but gifted vet on Saturday and was given antibiotics and an ointment.

What I WASN'T give we a key piece of information along the lines of 'this will get much worse before it gets better.'

Last night, the ulceration turned into a huge abscess. I freaked out, then went into Civil War field nurse mode. Seriously, it's like aphasia.

Anyway, I expressed the abscess and used hot compresses to keep it draining. whitefont: oh my god, the blood. there was a lot. Then, I spent the night worried about sepsis.

Today the vet charged me for another office visit so that he could poke around with a wooden stick and then compliment my medical skills and say that the worst is over. Sheesh.

The poor boo is conked out and I'm constantly staring at his ass.

I've had better nights/days.

Much health and comfort to all our fur friends!

I'm doing my best not to kill my offspring.

Two hours after he's gotten home and Nate proudly announces that he's "gotten started on his math." The same math that I told him to start on when he first got home.

Mind you, I haven't been able to nudge him for the last hour because I had to go to the elementary school to pick up my daughter who missed the bus. Then RETURN to the elementary school, just as the skies were opening up because she SWORE she couldn't find her binder ANYWHERE and she must have left it at school. Except...

(we know where this is going, right?)

It wasn't at school.

So we come back home. Where Nate meets us at the door with the "I've gotten started on my math" commentary followed by, "Oh, by the way, Abby, you left your binder on the sofa."

I asked him when he found it.

"Right after you guys left, I guess."

"Why didn't you call my cell."

(blank look) "I dunno."

And now I have to take my daughter to the orthodontist.

Also, I think "ninnyshit" is my new favorite word.

Hubby's old cat had an abcess. It was a mess, and having a peeved 20-pound Burmese with a sore butt is not a happy thing.

{{{{bonny}}}}} butt~ma for Bartleby. Poor thing.

{{{{{Gadget Girl}}}}}

{{{{{Barb}}}}}

I'm gearing up, lemme know what the alibi is going to be, and I'm with the brute squad.

How about we put DD waist deep in a vat of superglue? Hmm, there should be some kind of restraint to keep his hands under too. After it sets, we let all the teachers at your school "reprimand" him publicly to get him warmed up, then let the students at him.

That guy is a ninnyshit.

Seconding that, and agreeing with Barb that "ninnyshit" is an awesome word.

I think we should force DD to actually try to teach one of his class loads and schedules for a semester. He's a rectal flange.

Wasn't there a Carl Hiaasen book in which someone was tied to a satellite dish as a hurricane approaches? is hurricane season over?