Oh yeah…

KABOOSH!

Maggie is a big fan of YouTube. Yes, it is even hitting the preschool set these days. She also has more friends on MySpace than I do! However, one of her favorite songs from YouTube can also be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aeK08o2qiSU

and looks a little like this:

She pointed to her own eyebrows and said, “I like his these.” Not long after I heard her running through the house singing the song and was finally lucky enough to catch it on video.

Direct link here

Ok, I have several videos coming down the pike here. All pretty funny stuff, but I had a busy weekend and just haven’t had the time to do all the fun, fancy stuff to them yet.

In other news, two more second-hand pets have found us. Two lovely bunnies, a black and white girl (Kate named her Oreo) and a white Cadbury-like bunny that Maggie has named Twelby. Oreo is pretty bitchy and appears to be under the impression that she can take any one of us if she really wanted to and she’s the little one!

Twelby is a doll. Super sweet and he loves to be scratched and loved on.

and you KNOW this, MAAAAAAAAN.

*sigh* I love Friday. The movie and the day… but today I am totally looking forward to NEXT Friday. The 4th of July Blitz. WOOT. Where my friend, ED (a girl, no I am not kidding) and I will probably drink too much and dance too loudly and drunkenly in my garage (wide open in front of the entire neighborhood) to 80’s music while we attempt to convince ourselves we are in junior high again.

My kid will roll their eyes, Mike will undoubtedly imbibe one too many keg beers and scorch his scalp under the firework sparks (AGAIN) and we will all eat too much, drink too much and be so damn merry that it will be the best 4th of July since Bing Crosby tap danced with Danny fuckin’ Kaye.

Wait. Wait… wrong holiday.

Perhaps you get my point anyway, right?

*sigh* I freakin’ love summer.

Thanks to my MIL who spent some time researching instead of doing what WE did which was to believe someone from the city that they knew what they were talking about, the following was found yesterday:

6.08.010 Keeping prohibited—Exception.
It is unlawful for any person to keep or have under their care, custody or control, either as owner or otherwise, any chickens, ducks, geese, or poultry or fowl of any kind whatsoever, within the city, unless same are kept securely enclosed in a yard or pen at all times. (Prior code § 9.02.010)

We had two, tiny, bantam chickens. They were not capable of leaping the fences (which are over 6 feet tall) they were secure within our backyard and spent 80% of their time UNDER the butterfly bush. The following is the email I sent off last night to the gentleman who showed up and fed us a load of bullshit regarding our pets.

We researched the City Code here -
http://www.qualitycodepublishing.com/codes/bakersfield/

6.08.010 Keeping prohibited—Exception.

It is unlawful for any person to keep or have under their care, custody or control, either as owner or otherwise, any chickens, ducks, geese, or poultry or fowl of any kind whatsoever, within the city, unless same are kept securely enclosed in a yard or pen at all times. (Prior code § 9.02.010)

——————-

Our bantam chickens were SECURE within our yard. You saw for yourself that they were kept securely within our yard. According to this code here - we were well within our rights and now we have had to deal with our 4 year old absolutely heartbroken at the loss of her beloved pets.

Can you please explain to us why you led us to believe that we were doing something that was against code? Is this a change in the code you were unaware of?

Mike and I would appreciate a response and explanation regarding this. Furthermore, I would be interested in knowing who made this complaint as it does appear to lack legitimacy in light of this code.

Thank you for your help in this matter,

Mike and Amy Doran

Maggie has been absolutely heartbroken over Chickie being gone. We had to deal with her SOBBING most of the day when they were taken away. The anger I am feeling right now is nearly quadrupled to what I felt on Monday.

I cannot begin to tell you how STUPID I feel. After all the years I have spent not taking anyone’s word for something, always researching it myself, I stupidly saw a badge and took the jerk’s word for it. You have no idea how ignorant I feel right now. Why I didn’t research this immediately before giving up Hank and Chickie, I just don’t know. I just couldn’t believe that someone who is supposed to enforce the municipal code either didn’t know it or lied his ass off.

Either way, this is my fault, ultimately, because I didn’t investigate my own rights. That will be the last time I EVER make a mistake like this, I can tell you that.

Either to avenge my daughter’s broken heart or the injury to my pride, I’m telling you, I want BLOOD now.

Parenting teenagers is, at times, like a suburban version of the “Cold War.” It requires dedication, stealth and the ability to constantly remind yourself that age and treachery triumph over youth and skill any day. Therefore, it is imperative to strike first, silently, and with great stealth.

As I write this, it’s still early in the evening on Tuesday night and in about 5 or 6 hours my children will be home from their tropical vacation. But, in their minds, they will still be on “Island Time.” Which, as it turns out, is not some bullshit Jimmy Buffet made up.

They’ll arrive home late, the luggage will be left in the entry way. They might be talkative for the first 20 minutes and then they’ll crash into travel induced comas.

They’ll slowly trudge downstairs in the morning probably tired and a more than a little grumpy over the prospect of returning to their normal and very un-tropical existence. This is where Maggie comes in since she’ll be bouncing around them like a Pomeranian puppy on crack. This, of course, will have nothing to do with Mike and I spending all day prior pumping her up and explaining to her that Bubby and Katie will be here when she wakes up in the morning. However early that may be. Don’t gasp and tell me how horrible I am, this child is an absolute necessity to my strategy of keeping the teenagers just a little off balance.

MY GOD people! We’re talking about my very survival here!

Mike and I will try to be patient until one of us trips over the afore mentioned luggage for the 10th time. But, it’s that moment when we ask them to haul their luggage upstairs and unpack that reality will really set in. That’s when the war will really be on. We’ll hear the huffs, we’ll see the eyes roll and I will look at Mike and quietly I’ll whisper, “Yeah, missed you too, you little bastards.”

They are teenagers, it is perfectly acceptable for me to refer to them this way. All is fair in love and war, people, now say it with me…

This is the part that can be just a little tricky. We’ll have to step carefully here, one sudden move and they’ll have us by our jugulars. I hear that can be pretty uncomfortable, so we won’t dare to suggest that they return to their normal chore routine lest we inspire a full blown mutiny. No, instead we’ll give them a day or two before we suggest that the empty soda cans and dirty glasses that are piled in their rooms be returned to the kitchen so that the rest of the family can avoid drinking out of their hands or left over McDonald’s cups or something.

By the end of the week it might be safe to remind them that there is a chore list for each of them on the refrigerator. Maybe. I’m keeping this option open as their may be more subtle ways of handling the situation.

By next week, provided they’ve caught up with all of their friends after their “long absence” from their typical social circles, we’ll suggest that they begin some basic summer projects like cleaning out their closets.

Of course, Ethan will be attending summer school so to suggest that he clean out his closet as well when he’s trying to balance a social life, a wonderful girlfriend, summer school, and all of his other hobbies would be akin to suggesting that one should store expensive cigars in a cookie jar with the Oreos.

And all of that hinges on whether or not we have eased them back into their chore schedule without waking up with pineapples rammed up our asses and tiny umbrellas shoved under our fingernails. Subtlety is NOT in the teenager nature, therefore any attacks from that side will include explosions, rash decisions and most likely, brutality.

That’s why the first attack must be from our side, it must be swift, clear, yet subtle. Some might say sneaky, because it could easily be mistaken as a crude attempt to lull them into a sense of false security. It’s not though, it’s a multi-leveled, well thought out plan of attack. They won’t know what hit them.

Don’t think they don’t have a plan of attack. They’ll come back with little grenades called “souvenirs” and “gifts.” They can be sneaky… sneaky, but never subtle that is.

Therefore, our plan of attack must be in place before they ever arrive home. While they were on a plane I was preparing for the arrival of my offspring much like I did before their births. Well, minus the pretty nursery and me still making their beds and putting their cutesy, teeny clothes away. I cleaned the house from stem to stern. Floors were mopped and vacuumed, dishes were put away, the kitchen was scoured from top to bottom, and all the towels were washed. I was even kind enough to tidy up their bathroom that is supposed to be their responsibility that they slipped out of town without taking care of.

They will come into a house that is orderly, neat, tidy and they will mistake it to be a welcome home gesture. Ahhh. But it is so much more for clearly, the house is clean, no chores are required.

And that, my friends, is where it begins. Like a silent, ninja concrete filled boot from behind slamming right into their behinds.

Wish me luck!

*WARNING*
For those of you who are new around here or are under the impression that I am a nice person. I just want you to know that I am, but I am about to lose my shit in the following paragraphs and I just don’t want you to hold it against me. You’ve been warned. - Oh, and fair warning, sarcastic comments probably won’t be looked at kindly today. Just so you know.

You know what? I’m goddamn done being the nice guy, being the bigger person. And so help me God, someone is going to pay for this garbage in a big, fat, ugly, ass raped, burn for eternity in hell kind of way.

We do not have a home owner’s association. Thank God, around here they are pretty much nothing but trouble and complete bullshit.

My front yard? Is immaculate. I’d post pictures but I’m too fucking pissed to go outside right now, because if IF I see a neighbor look at me so much as slightly crossway I’m going to light their ass up bigger than any fucking 4th of July barbecue.

My backyard? IMMACULATE. Slightly immature, but what do you expect for a yard that is only a year old?

We have a 1964 Chevy truck in our driveway. It won’t fit in the garage, it’s 4-wheel drive, and primer gray. We don’t drive it because a.) it’s my son’s truck, waiting for time for he and his father to make it pretty again (also it was owned by my FIL originally and passed down to Mike) and b.) umm, it doesn’t have appropriate seat belts and WHY in God’s name would we drive it around when we have two vehicles of our own and our son does not have a license yet, hmmm? Essentially, it’s a classic that just needs to be restored.

Some stupid, fucking, cockwadding, asswiping, numbfuck, twatsicle neighbor called to complain to the city about the truck and the two bantam chickens in the backyard. Oh yes, the TWO, TINY chickens in the backyard that control unwanted pests and are totally a GREEN FRIENDLY SAVE THE ENVIRONMENT (there is currently a bill they are trying to get passed to allow this for home gardeners) alternative to spraying chemicals around our children and further polluting the planet.

The guy from the city? Thought it was funny actually. Considering there are train tracks nearby and non-fucking stop construction from the construction crews who refuse to wait until their 7am start time to start building the fucking houses on the lots that line the back of our property. He walked into a lovely backyard with butterflies buzzing around, daylilies in bloom, and two adorable chickens nesting under the butterfly bush.

Two chickens that I have to get rid of TODAY and THEN call this guy back out to ensure that we did it.

If I find out which neighbor it was - God help them. I will make their lives a living hell.

How about the neighbors in the cul-de-sac who have lined their fucking front porch with hideous looking plants and LEFT THEM in the ugly black containers from the nursery so it looks like a weed (and not the good kind) factory behind their stupid ass looking fountain and house that they have fronted with four different kinds of mismatched rocks that looks like a design nightmare straight from hell.

Or perhaps the neighbor two doors over with the 8 foot weed in her front bed and backyard that is nothing but dirt - when our purchase contracts state that we have to put in a backyard within a year of occupying the property?

Oh wait.. or maybe the neighbors behind us who threw a big ass party with cars lined up and down the streets and then several party goers pulled up with a flat bed trailer and started loading up lumber from the construction site? (Mike called the police on that one)

Or the neighbor across the street who NEVER MOVED in and has 6 foot weeds in the backyard and beds overflowing with weeds in the front yard?

Oh wait, let’s not even mention the stupid fucks in the cul-de-sac who bought a house that is terra cotta and GRAY only to paint the door flaming fucking twat-wad red? Hmmmm?

Or the nine houses on the streets around us where no one is mowing their damn lawn?

Or the house next door that is not foreclosed on (YET) and the backyard has HUGE weeds growing in it that I have to look at every time I fucking go out on the deck.

OR the fucking neighbor two doors over with 3 full size Dobermans (and at least one more small dog) that bark NON FUCKING STOP? It’s not even legal to have that many dogs here and why would you put 3 HUGE dogs in a tiny dog run in a tiny backyard anyway? And the BARKING? Did I mention the constant BARKING?

But NO, immaculate front yard and very pretty backyard owning US - get harassed.

I’m livid. I love this house but all the neighbors can go suck a rotten cock for all I care.

UPDATE
Although not much of one. Mike was in contact with another gentleman (from the same part of town we are in) who has close to an acre (zoned for livestock) where he has bunnies and bantam chickens. He is more than happy to come and pick up Hank and Chickie. We’re just happy to have found a home that will treat them as kindly as we have. Although, that is little consolation. I’m going to miss going out and talking to Chickie and petting her. She coos so pretty when you pet her.

Of course, this does little to quell my deep desire for revenge. I’m trying to work through the anger but it’s pretty hard. My neighbor next door couldn’t believe it. She’s of the “Nancy Drew” nature, so maybe she’ll find something out. As it stands, I can’t say for sure it’s a neighbor, maybe it was one of the builder’s employees, maybe it was someone in the sales office, it could just have been some “Johnny Rulebook” who happened to walk by.

But, if I find out who it was…

My kids are in Oahu for 7 days. Well, less than that now since they’ll be back on Tuesday.

Tropical paradise… I’m trying not to envy the little bastards but it’s getting hard.
Especially when I receive things like this on my cell phone:

My lovely daughter sent me that their first night there. It’s the view from their hotel room.

*sigh*

All I know is that if I don’t get a couple of boxes of chocolate covered Macadamia nuts out of this someone is going to catch hell. In the meantime, it’s just Mike, Maggie and I. Oh, and occasionally Tim who we’ve sort of just adopted. I’m moving up from animals back up off me, man!

Tuesday night Maggie let the stupid bird out of his cage. He flew into the ceiling fan, got caught in the wind current, was thrown into the wall and landed on the back of the couch. He sat there looking rather stunned and shaking his head. Thank God Liza was asleep and missed it because I don’t think he’d have lasted long. I think that bird was not blessed with the normal brain birds get.

Yesterday we were going to take Maggs to the movies. Kung Fu Panda. Maggie got up around 9am and went back to bed at 11, slept until almost 2, woke up and went back to sleep on the couch until around 5 when she woke up and promptly puked. After that she was back in the game 100% - twenty minutes after puking she had let Sophie loose and I found Sophie standing up on her hind legs barking at Tim.

I think she was totally getting off on someone being intimidated by her! They (Ethan and Tim) both swear that Sophie has bit them… I don’t believe it for a second. My little angel wouldn’t ever do that!

I have a dog. I like him. But, I’m really not a dog person. Dogs are the animal world’s version of a suck up. They have the potential to like everybody (maybe that’s why I like my dog, he really doesn’t like everybody) and they will come up to you and roll over and act all submissive. Cats won’t do that.

When a dog walks up to you and barks, looking like he has something important to tell you, you say, “What is it? Did Timmy fall down the well again? Does Timmy need help?”

When a cat walks up to you and meows like that you say, “What? Did Timmy fall down the well? Do we need to go laugh at his stupid ass?”

That is how a cat rolls. There is no help there, just a constant stream of mockery and disgust.

My cat will hide at the top of the stairs (on the banister) and attack you as you go up or down the stairs. Do you think she cares if she scares the bejeezus out of someone and makes them fall down the stairs? Hell no! She’s HOPING for that! Broken leg? That’s ICING on the cake!!

Then there is Ethan’s cat. She’ll look very sweet and will actually walk up to you and lay down on the floor and stretch as if inviting you to rub her belly or something. Less intelligent people have tried. They have subsequently required band-aids and copious amounts of hydrogen peroxide.

Zander will wait cautiously for you to do something stupid, like leave your hot dog within reach. Liza will walk right up to you, leap onto the desk and decide to drink all of your iced tea and doesn’t care whether you are sitting there or not. In fact, she’ll stick her paw into your glass to ensure that you will no longer be using the damn thing. It’s the cat version of the old human trick of licking the last piece of pizza so no one eats it. It’s not a dumb thing - it’s a ballsy thing.

Liza has convinced the parakeet that she is his friend. I kid you not. That bird hates ALL of us except Maggie and Liza. Liza will go up to the cage and start purring and the stupid bird DANCES for her and runs over to the side of the cage chirping happily as if she is a very good friend. We feed that stupid bird, we clean up after it and the little bastard still runs from us every time we go near the cage. If the vacuum cleaner is ran too close to his cage he falls of the damn perch.

The rest of us clearly understand that Liza is totally hoping to score her first kill and this is all one long, well thought out plan of attack that has very unique (and obviously successful) emotional components. That freaking bird TRUSTS her. He makes kissy noises at her.

Which tells you smart that bird is. He kisses the cat, imitates the coffee grinder, and falls off his perch at the first sound of the vacuum.

Last night there was a cool breeze blowing and Mike and I sat out on the deck to enjoy the sunset. Maggie soon pranced her happy butt out on to the deck and began doing the “I really have to go potty but I’m so happy to be enjoying your company that I’ll put it off for a bit” dance.

I have to admit to briefly considering watching her prance to the point of no return and then calling Ethan to step out on the patio below for an impromptu evening shower. What? Shut up. You all know that I have an evil streak.

Instead I told Maggie to go in and go to the bathroom. She ran into our bathroom that has a small water closet with a window just above the toilet. The window overlooks the deck. Wow that sounds strange, but go with me anyway on this one.

Mike got a sort of evil grin on his face and since I was really enjoying the beer I didn’t feel the need to inquire and/or possibly stop him. He tip toed over to the open window.

“Oooooooo, oooooooo, I’m the bathroom ghost… woooooooo.”

I heard a scream and two little feet slam down on the tile. I guess that’s when she looked back and saw Mike at the window.

“MIKE!!! You don’t say bathroom ghost!!!!”

Mike laughed and I guess that made Maggie mad.

“I’ll kick your ghost ass!!!!!!”

Yep, you can go ahead and overnight that Parent of the Year trophy, folks.