|HIM, in a rare relaxed moment|
Cressy: Cressy is our daughter. She's 7 years old and adorable. Although she can be Pill Girl, like HIM can be Pain In The Ass Man, she's mainly a source of unending amusement, although this is in a good way. For example, if you haven't read the blogs, 'The Attack of Alligator Girl and the Zombie Kids!!!' and 'The Return of Alligator Girl!!!' you have missed out. All of those fine literary works came directly from Cressy, excepting for my illustrations and clever insertions of smart assed comments. (She'll appreciate that when she's thirty years old.) Here she is doing her infamous Spongebob laugh. (I'm going to hell for this.)
|ME, in a common fashion deluded moment|
|My Sis, I swear! She looks great doesn't she?|
The Bitch: Although sometimes I refer to one of my least favorite neighbors this way, this is actually a cat we had once. Her real name was Mifawnwi, which denigrated into Miff or Mifwi, and which I got out of a name book. I should have saved that name for Cressy, which is short for Crescencia, and someday will get me in very hot water with the daughter. Anyway, the Bitch was a black cat we adopted while we lived in Germany. We soon learned that her slinky was kinked. She was one beer shy of a six pack. The cheese done fell off her cracker. I often told people that Mifawnwi was Irish for 'Can't pee in the litter box.' Oh, she knew how to pee in the litter box. She just attempted to pee everywhere else to drive me insane. HIM believes that the Bitch was a alien sent to earth in a secret mission to test earthly defenses and that the Bitch had an additional alienized bladder that was saved in reserve to pee in all the places that she previously missed. When she died, I had her cremated and I still have her ashes in the attic because I'll be damned if I know what to do with them. HIM figures that the Bitch haunts us every time something leaks. Could be true.
|The Cats of Doom|
|HIM, as depicted by Me whilst I was playing with the Autodesk Sketch Program|
Or HIM in his nighttime attire
This picture has nothing to do with this blog. I was bored
and feeling scrappy.
|My MIL. Hah. Bet you think she looks helpless. She carries a gun and knows|
how to use it, buddy. Plus she has a big truck to run you over with.
Anyone else not previously mentioned: The guy at Walmart who chased us out to the car asking for our receipt gets an honorable mention, because I intend to talk about him for many years to come. The creature from the black lagoon who lives next door to us, not to be mistaken for the actual Creature from the Black Lagoon, who has much more integrity and moral character than the thing next door. The co-owner of Bitzell Fence Company in Northern Virginia who has about much moral character as the thing next door, except probably less. (I'll save the fence company story for another day, but it basically falls under the POOR CUSTOMER Service category.) An entire range of varied and assorted relatives who have all kinds of stories that I'm ready to drag out and make public in a sarcastic and snarky manner.
And lastly, I'll save a special place for those privileged individuals/companies in the future who shall piss me off. They're out there. They know who they are.