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 23, 2013

History Cannot Teach Us

So, in kind of editing these little Christmas letters, I have noted that, once upon a time, John clipped Titus's fur. And it NEVER LOOKED GOOD AGAIN. It was so bad that WE NOTED IT IN THE CHRISTMAS LETTER.

Last night, he decided he needed to clip Loki's tail. I hid the scissors; to no avail. He found another pair.

Loki is now called Stumpy.

I crap you not.


Time for 2005!

 Rogers Chronicles, Aught-Five edition 

Ah, the wonders of Christmas. Well, at least last year’s Christmas: Santa outdid himself last year, managing to quietly spirit in 2.4 metric tons of toys (truck scales can be handy things) in through a 6-inch furnace pipe. His sleigh unburdened, Santa found himself able to make the trip to the rest of the world’s two billion children.

But that’s still not too many toys to not fight over… remember, the best, most important toy is always the one your brother just picked up.

The Rogers are considered somewhat freaky. One reason? We have no use for battery toys. No, we aren’t a bunch of granola-eating hippies! Batteries cost money – and changing batteries on kids’ toys today in our hyper-safe society is like picking the lock on a safe. And heck, we’ve got TV to watch! So call us lazy: our kids will have to settle for beer boxes. And who knows, with the way Betsy abuses the household, they might even get a new appliance box in the coming year!

Ah, children are wonderful: childhood is a time of adventure and discovery, a time of learning and wonder. But luckily, we have a TV – with TIVOTM - so the children can do all of their exploring with their butts firmly planted in the cushions, watching TV and eating CheetosTM, just like good kids. Who needs to play in nature when you watch it close-up from the comfort of the couch?  But neither boy shares Dad’s taste in TV, at least not yet… though Sean is starting to get fixated by the “Girls Gone Wild” infomercials John has a habit of recording. (Heck, if you look just right, you can see right past the blurring, and it doesn’t cost a dime!)

The kids, like all the other children in this country, are unique and gifted.

Timmy’s got quite an ear for pronunciation. He calls Titus “Daiwok,” and he calls his brother Sean “Stinky” – OK, the boy gets a few points for perception. But don’t go thinking he’s clever: When asked to say “hi” to his knee, Timmy replies “Hiney! Haaaa! HAAA!” Get it? Yeah, we didn’t think it was funny either.

But to Timmy, it’s a riot.

Abra Capocus! Hocus Cadabra!
Sean has become the golden child to all his teachers at school, kissing the posteriors of all those in charge and turning in his fellow inmates at the Trunchbull Academy as often as opportunity allows. We see a future for him in management at a Fortune 50 by age 25! Or maybe he’ll be the night manager at a Burger King.

Because of this, Sean has become the target of both his parents’ pent up desire to tease. When Sean developed a fondness for a certain brand of toothpaste – Spongebob Squarepants toothpaste – Dad thought he’d be clever, taunting Sean about his “Dishrag Doug” toothpaste. Sean was not amused, and he complained about “Dickrash Doug” to anyone who would listen.

Explaining that whole story to Sean’s teachers was a really fun two hour yuk-yuk…

Enough about the little brats. Time to update on the big ones.

A vice president at John’s company jokes occasionally about sending John to India. For years, John has been taunting Betsy about a similar threat made by her management. But they’re no longer threatening to send Betsy to India, just her job function. Somehow, it seems poetic that Betsy’s job might go to Hyperbad. We’ve a feeling that the management has known all along just how talented Betsy is!

John and Betsy glided through the winter, only to find that when spring came, they had to cope with not having Betsy’s mom around to help out anymore. What, we have to clean our own clothes? Back to the old college trick of wearing underwear inside-out in order to squeeze out a “Bonus Week”….

Because there was money to burn after John’s income tax deduction skills (Heck, we can deduct dog food!), this year it was time to finally take some vacation.

In the summer, the Rogers subjugated two households to our presence in the name of “getting to know the cousins.” Though no major physical harm was done, the behavior of the cousins may never be the same. They thought Florida was far enough away for insulation. Guess they know better now!
Calgon, take me away!

For their tenth anniversary (and they said it wouldn’t last! Little did they know we know no one would put up with us except… well… us!), John and Betsy went to New York City, dumping the kids with the grandparents. It was great. Betsy observed the fine architecture, sampled the exotic cuisine and visited with friends. For John, New York was a magical place full of many new bright and shiny things. Unfortunately, he had a brush with the law; but luckily, putting slinkies on escalators is not a crime in NYC.  But John did take off his shirt in a restaurant in a fancy Greenwich Village restaurant, so he isn’t allowed to take any more trips for two years!

So, have no fear, you will not be subject to a visit – unannounced or not – from us any time soon. This little update is as close as we’ll get to you for the time being! Who says there’s little to be thankful for?

Have a wonderful Christmas, a blessed New Year and all that bunk.

The Rogers
(John, Betsy, Sean, Timothy, and poor, tortured Titus)


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