chickenshoot (chickenshoot) wrote,
chickenshoot
chickenshoot

In Alphabetical Order...

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A is for...

Angus. Angus the dog who loves tools. Here he is obsessing over an unused shovel the other day.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqYAP8ktlDI

Ah, the shovel might be asleep here, but Angus knows that it can overturn dirt faster than dogs---a shovel is like some kind of superhero! He will bite the shovel, eat dirtclods, cry and slobber until he is taken away.

There's my Fat-Stuff in the window every morning:




A is for...Acorn

 Acorn the Alpha Dog.  Hates all dogs on the planet, but she loves ME.

One day Aaron and I were at a monster effects/makeup show at Universal Studios, and the host came down from the stage into the audience. He held the microphone out to a little girl, asking her name. The little girl mumbled something shyly. The host laughed and shouted, "Acorn?? Your name is Acorn?" and everyone giggled. The little girl started crying. Ah, way to go, man.



The next year we got a new dog and named her Acorn. It might have been weeks later that I was retelling the story of her name when Aaron interrupted and said, "That little girl's name wasn't Acorn."  And I said, "No, that's what the guy said!"  And Aaron said, "Yeah, that's why she cried, because Acorn wasn't what she said and everyone laughed."




which reminds me...

A is for... awkward

A lot of the time when I try to make casual conversation with people I barely know, a very awkward situation develops. It's made me afraid to open my mouth...but hasn't entirely stopped me.



Like the time this lady came in the print shop where I worked, and I stood with her while she waited for her order. Usually I didn't chat much, but this day I couldn't stop staring at this huge ring she was wearing. It was covered with giant stones of all colors, and looked wildly out of place on this conservative young chick---it was more like something belonging to the Bugaloo's Benita Bizarre, who, let's face it, was badass:



So I just had to say something about this ring so that I could see it closer and possibly touch it. Oh, all the colored stones---like candy!  I pointed and said it was lovely.  She said:

Well, this ring belonged to my mother-in-law. I always admired it because of all of the different colored gems. It's not the type of thing I would normally wear, but it has sentimental value now. See, my mother-in-law went to check the mail one day, and her mailbox was at the curb. She was walking toward the mailbox when someone drove off the road, up into her yard and ran over her. Killed her... And she left me the ring because she knew I liked it.

I said, "Wow...that's awful. I'm sorry (I asked)..."   


Come on, you can't tell me that's normal to compliment someone's ring or whatever and get an answer like that.



Speaking of bizarre and awkward...

A is for... Aaron

Why do I live in a house full of A-names?  I don't know. I don't think we did this with the dog's names on purpose, but now that we've got it started Aaron has insisted that the next pet be named "Apron."  

I don't have anything to say about my husband Aaron tonight. I'm too tired to describe him.  He's floating in the middle of this picture:





and finally...

A is for... a#$hole

Not in celebration of the word a#$hole itself, but perhaps just curse words in general.  

I was thinking the other day about the kid who taught me to curse. I grew up hearing the adults in the family use the standards: g*dammmit (Dad's favorite), regular dammit, and perhaps shit, and I can remember whispering (with great glee and fear) the word shit with the cousins a few times for shock value, but I did not use these words at all till a certain year.

That would be the summer between 6th and 7th grade when we visited my dad in Arkansas for the summer. There was a red-headed kid named Thomas in the neighborhood, and he could be seen up and down the street on his bicycle, sometimes with a full grocery sack dangling from the handlebar. He was usually filthy from head to toe like he'd taken a dust bath, and he had a broken arm---full cast up to his shoulder. 


Thomas at 11...


Thomas at 12...


Once my sisters and I got to know Thomas we realized he swore like crusty old pirate, and this (along with cleanliness) went unchecked in house because he lived alone with his blind mother. He reminded me of Peter Pan because he had the wild-eyed look of a kid with no rules, and by golly he knew he had a good thing going on there. He proudly said he did not have to take baths and never got spanked because his mom couldn't catch him.

It was f#$king this and mother-f#$king that, and "so-and-so is an a#$hole" from Thomas. He had all of the words, and he knew just where to put them for effect. Having always just heard my dad shout "G#dammit!" all by itself, I had no idea that there were so many other bad words and ways to use them.  Shoot, it was fun to throw them out there for no reason, like, "Wait up while I get my f#$king shoes on."



My older sister came home that summer with her tongue still intact, but my younger sister and I came home with a case of potty mouth that never fully went away. We'd just be there watching cartoons, commenting, "What the f#$k kind of sh*t was that?" and the like...  I'm still working on  toning it down to this day. Thanks, Thomas. 

Sure, he ran from his mom, cursed a lot and refused baths. But ya know that kid usually had groceries dangling from his handlebars because he had shopped for her, bought their milk and bread. I'll bet he was a great kid. 


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