flightless hag

A chronicle of the adventures of birdwoman: a lonely, talentless freak who wanders the internet in search of entertainment.

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Location: Philly

I'm a 40-something married white female, survivor of weight watchers, avid reader of pulp. Dogs (not cats), extreme right (handed, not politics), ENTJ, alto, wanna-be knitter.

December 27, 2013

Ah, the goodness of sharing.

Timothy. My lovely moth man. He's so generous.

See, he had this cold thing.

And we all knew to avoid him - who wants to be sick on break? But the little creep has been drinking from my water bottle. I knew that. I KNEW THAT. but I didn't think about it. He's sick on Tuesday last week. By Friday, I'm sick. Now, we're all sick. Because Timmy had to share.

Have I ever said what a little creep he is?

While I go blow my nose... AGAIN... I leave you with the year 2009. In which we did nothing, and still managed to write two pages about it.

The Rogers Chronicles 2009
Many people have asked how this thing is written. It’s simple: 1) John writes a bunch of offensive crap. 2) Betsy edits out all the stuff he can't say (which is all of it), so then 3) she just says what she wants.
In this way, she gets her precious Christmas letters out, while keeping John from looking like a complete jerk.
First Misdemeanor
Don’t look for John’s exploits on Twitter (Johnny don’t tweet) and don’t ever expect a Christmas letter from him. He still has 20 cent stamps he hasn’t used.
John and Betsy have now been married for fourteen years. The traditional gift is ivory, so John got Betsy a cake of soap. So romantic! Can you believe it? Fourteen years. That’s a lifetime for a dog, and it seems like lifetime for both of them too.
The year has been one of subtle change and not-so-subtle stagnation.
Titus the Dog started spending his days impersonating a shaggy Ottoman. Missing the chaos of a whacky animal, the Rogers opted for Border Collie Version 2.5. For two college-educated people, they sure can be dumb sometimes.
Loki is named after the mythological god who heads the Nordic Department of Pranks and Mischief. He is well named. He barks randomly, runs around like a rabid racoon (see Rogers Chronicles, 2003), and chews everything. As Timmy has been sporting some strange gnaw-marks, it seems Loki doesn’t limit himself to things that don’t move.
Our numerous psychoses haven’t changed. Betsy still washes her hands a lot, and John still pulls down the
what's sunscreen?
window shades like he’s Boo Radley. The psychiatrists have questioned him about his obsessive need for privacy, but this summer he got proof that there really are people watching.
A few one-eyed cats show up and suddenly, everyone in Coopertown gets nosy.
One night, a super sleuth neighbor spied John in the backyard, giggling and shooting a BB gun at milk jugs on the back fence. Yes, he was drinking a Pabst (but contrary to early reports, there was never a can of Skoal and John was mullet-free all summer). Betsy was merciless with the jokes: “Get-R-Done, Hillbilly!” was her favorite.  Ha. Ha.
Of course, then the Rogers boys appeared, decked out in full military camo, digging mud holes and firing imaginary machine guns indiscriminately. Being the macho boys that they are, they can often be spotted practicing maneuvers at their fort - a sacrosanct bastion of boyness.
In late spring, a “girl” began infiltrating Sean and Tim’s “Dragon’s Lair” compound, desecrating the fort with pictures of the Jonas Brothers and Hannah Montana. The boys proclaimed to the neighborhood: the fort is a serious command, control and training facility used by the “Kid’s Creek” Army (whatever…) who protect Lee Circle (from the menace of Rodney Circle?). Girls should take note - the sign says “No Grls Ulowd”, and this is, according to the heir, a serious rule. Sean went around interrogating all the neighborhood girls until they shrieked and ran at the sight of him. 
bastion of boyness
The story would (should!) have ended there, with John laughing his butt off.   But Betsy slipped up when she was tipsy at a party (a half a glass of wine): she told Sean that Dad, not a girl, was responsible.
The therapists are still trying to gauge how much damage  John’s prank did to his sons. While they are at it, they might examine Betsy’s policy of labeling wayward boys “Slave for a Day” and forcing them into uncompensated toil.
Both the boys played baseball with mediocrity this year, but they are enthusiastic cub scouts. Scouting is going well. The boys get to spend time with their father learning useful, manly things, like how to grunt properly. John helped his den prepare skits. The typical scout skits were boring, about values and stuff. John’s potty humor skits had the boys rolling, but their parents were less amused.
What do you expect from a man who would let his sons watch “Cujo?” (John’s comment: I did not let them
watch “Cujo.” I thought it was one of those crappy Beethoven movies - for the thousandth time…Besides,
Like my Camp Crystal Lake
Commemorative T-shirt?
Betsy is warping Timmy. The boy likes music, but she has him listening to Neil Diamond, and some chick who sounds like Ethel Mermen. Betsy’s comment: it’s Kate Smith, not Ethel Mermen. What’s the problem?).
Timmy does love to sing, though. He can be heard practicing anything from “God Bless America” to “Whistle While You Work” while he’s going to the bathroom. It’s also a good gauge as to when the room will be free: at t-20 seconds to flush, you usually can hear the Star Wars theme. What a kid!!
The boys are both enjoying school this year, though they do miss the freedoms of summer. Well the freedoms when Betsy isn’t forcing them on their morning “long march” or their daily “homework” (she has to keep her few teaching skills honed). They have both achieved third-grade humor, and if they are like their parents, that’s where they’ll stop. 
Speaking of stopping - time to stop this fun-fest. Hope you have had a happy year and have an even better one coming up!!
The Rogers! (John, Betsy, Sean, Tim, Titus and Loki)


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