Bunny turds are not for consumption. It is the reason we all run screaming from your wagging tongue and don’t engage in toy play with you after visits to the back yard. For the love of the man, please stop snacking on them like they’re Raisinets.
Stairs are not the devil. If you’ll just climb the magical steps to the second floor, you’ll discover a whole new world to sniff. You might even get to sleep with your parents. Also, you can hide there from overzealous little people when the need arises.
People sneeze and cough. This is not cause for alarm. Such involuntary actions will not produce disembodied heads or bring the world to a close. Promise.
Thanks for being such a good sport about wearing diapers this week. Just a few more weeks to go, and you’ll be past this whole coming-of-age nightmare I call “The Carrie Chronicles.” I think the kids behind the counter at Walgreens think I have some kind of feminine product hoarding issue.
Since you’re being such a good sport about wearing the diapers I’ve made for you (even the ones fashioned from a pair of my old undies with the classy tail hole), I’ll forgive your removing the store-bought ones I purchased and subsequently shredding the maxi pads all over the carpets.
Sorry so many things skeer you. Contrary to what you might believe, people are mostly good, doors will not bite you, and not every person who comes to our door is equipped with a cheese-dispensing attachment on their arm. Just our friends do. The appliance repair dude was absent the day they handed out that apparatus.
Your person mom
P.S. We think you’re pretty awesome.
She’s our new 10 month-old pup.
She arrived with that name, and we had every intention of changing it, but after spending the first day with her, we decided she simply looked like a Rummy.
She’s enormous (nearly 72 pounds).
She’s very sweet.
She is also quite scared of… well, most things.
Like sneezes (I think we’re loud sneezers at the Wombat household). They kinda send her into outerspace. Or sniffing around to see what terrible, horrible thing could have made such a noise.
And grunty Pugs. They’re kinda scary. What with all the grunting.
And strangers. All strangers, sadly, but we’re working on it.
She has found some favorite things, though.
She loves Annabelle’s old squeaky hotdog.
She’s also quite good at prewashing dishes as they go in the dishwasher.
Having a job is important, you know.
She’s used to being with her pack of dogs, and I think sometimes she really misses them.
Sometimes she seems to think I’m one of them when she gently gnaws at my hand while getting silly lying on her back.
She’s one of the best-behaved pups I’ve seen.
We just have to work hard on that shyness thing.
We’re trying to give her lots of love to make her feel secure.
Here she is sharing a moment with Mister Man.
Because life needs more mustaches.
Since my last installment of Mustaches at the Mall, the mustache revolution has exploded. I found many mustaches already residing at the mall, but there was still much ‘staching to be done:
Hello Kitty got into the swing of the mustache thing:
But Kitty still needed a little help:
Not sure what animal this is supposed to be, but he looked better with a little hair on his upper lip:
Proof that mustaches do make everything better:
Never seem to tire of this play on words:
Things even sound better with a ‘stache:
Had to kick a few things up a ‘stachie notch at Brookstone:
I don’t even know what this gizmo is, but its popularity just went up 100 and ‘stache percent:
I think this is a diary, hence the lock. I don’t, however get who it is. Rudolph has a red nose, but I don’t recall a bow or big ol’ lashes:
Cool ‘stache hat:
Cool kicked up a notch:
I’ll get it on the next round…
Hey kids–Ms. Prancercise is back in the saddle, and she’s brought along a special (unnamed) friend. Who also has things going on in a certain region of his pants that she seemed to struggle with in her last video.
Great green beans. I don’t even know what to look at first here: Frightened horses fleeing for their lives? The artful game of “dodge the droppings?” Or the most obvious one–whatever it is that’s going on inside that zebra-print ensemble?
I’ll be scrubbing my eyes if anyone needs me.
I think the untimely departure of Robin Williams has struck a melancholy chord with anyone who has ever seen him perform on stage or screen. I hope he knew what joy he brought to the masses. I suppose even if he had, it wouldn’t have been enough to shake the demons he fought for so many years.
His humor gave some people moments of light from their own gripping darkness. Others he lifted to a higher level of being through his dramatic work. Still others simply found moments of levity in an otherwise stressful day when they settled in to watch him improvise like only Robin could do.
My childhood friends and I loved him when he debuted as Mork from Ork. As high schoolers, we were forever quoting a special of his where he said something to the effect of: “Fuck it, I’m going through–gotta get these pineapples to Hawaii!” I use that quote to this day, but I only recently tried to explain it to Mr. Wombat and had to dig deep in the recesses of mah brain to remember in what show I’d seen him say it. I think it was an old HBO special.
I suppose he’d probably prefer to see us laughing. I’d like to remember him with one of my favorite ways to greet friends and family: A hearty Mrs. Doubtfire Hello:
I think the party upstairs just got kicked up a notch.
Rest in peace.
Saw a bitty flying thing whiz past me a few weeks ago and dashed in to get the camera for identification purposes (and so I could share it with you, because I think you’re the bees knees).
This was not a bee, but it seems to have knees. I think. Looked like a hummingbird the way it flew and the way it hovered to gather noms from these petunias.
Fortunately for me, another one came a callin’ a few days ago. This time it was kind enough to hang with the flowers until I could grab the camera. So thoughtful!
It acted like a hummingbird, but it didn’t look like one. See?
What, do you ask, is this thing? It’s a hummingbird moth: