Who Would Have Thought

The little puppy is getting fixed this Thursday (shh, don’t tell her its coming). I heard you can’t give them a bath for about two weeks after so I decided that she needed a haircut. Her hair wasn’t terribly long but it was starting to get in her eyes. And her toe nails were growing at an ungodly rate. So I took her over to the FA’s house on Tuesday after work.

FA called me and said he’d be late. He said he wanted to swing by the gym and hit the weights a little after being embarrassed at Summerfest’s Go Army stand where he managed five whole pullups (wifey did 12). But SHW (smoking hot wife) would be home if I got there before him.

I figured she could start grooming the dog when I got there but then there was the small PBR problem (their daughter’s initials are BPR but I think PBR sounds better). PBR was sitting in her high chair chowing down on some rice and spinach (ambidextrously, I might add). She looked at me cautiously at first but eventually warmed up to me, you know, just like all women. SHW tried to start with the dog but PBR was getting in the way. You won’t believe this one. Yes, yours truly played with PBR. Played and played and played and played. She even grabbed a grubby handful of spinach and rice and offered it to me. I shook my head no but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I held out my hand, she gave me the food, and I (gulp) ate it.

SMW: “B, I’m surprised, you’re pretty good with kids.”

FA: “You should get someone knocked up so you could have one of your own.”

Me: “Hey, yeah, that sounds like a good idea! Just what I need, a kid! Oh, and there are so many women out there who want to sleep with me. Hey, how about your cousin Kat? I’m sure I could drug her and consummate with all the passion and heart and loving care that a man could with an unconscious woman. Would you mind holding her leg to the side and up at an angle for me?”

(Kat, just kidding, I won’t drug you, just get you really drunk.)

So yeah, I guess I’m ok with kids. Ok if you keep it to playing with toes and making funny faces and sharing food/drunken stories. Funny faces: cool. Stinky feces: not cool. I’ve never changed a diaper in my life. After reading this blog you wouldn’t think smelly things would bother me, right?

(Seriously, Kat, give me a holler. I’ll buy you a beer or twenty.)