My Last Vacation Blog

I know, don't cry.
So we went to the Pittsburgh Zoo, a very cool place. I like the 10 story escalator you have to ride up to even GET to it, it's on a mountain just like everything else around there. Again, many of my pictures are of one animal or another, you've seen one, you've seen 'em all. Discovery Channel, National Geographic, the zoo- lions and tigers and bears, etc etc. As I did last time we went to a zoo, I only included pictures that may be a little out of the norm.

This one's for you Christy....


Okay, I SWEAR I never saw the message on the glass, and I took like five or six pictures. Aaron actually pointed it out when I was done-"No Flash Photography". Actually if you want to get technical, it says "o Flash Photography." I mean if they were really serious about it, you'd think they'd go to the trouble of pasting an N back on. I blame them. Aaron, trying to make me feel better about it, says "Good job Jen, you probably just killed it." I consulted a vet friend who volunteers regularly at an aquarium, and she said it actually just startles them and will make them go hide. SO THERE! And it didn't go hide, which means it's probably used to having it's picture taken, which means I'm probably one in a LONG line of octopus paparazzi.

This was taken in the bat area, which smelled like a giant pile of rancid spicy diarrhea, that someone threw up anchovies and tuna on, that some human sized dying amphibian crawled on top off just before it kicked the bucket, and someone found it after it had been baking/rotting in a humid climate for a week. I was taking a picture of one of the bats that were hanging upside down, and I didn't even realize this happened until I checked my pictures-

How cool is that??!!! A still of a winged rat in motion! It's like the ones behind it were changing clothes and he was blocking the view. "Move along people, nothing to see here..."

And last but not least, the wildest but cutest animals of all...

It was doing a fair amount of raining, so Gram and Gramps bought them some gear.

On the way to PA, there are a couple of long tunnels. They go under the mountains in Virginia. When we were heading back, Aaron thought it would be a great idea to start blasting away on the horn when we were going through one. At first I was like "Stop it!" Then all the other cars and trucks started honking, and the tunnel became a symphony of echoing toots. The kids loved it, and we exited the tunnel feeling a little closer to and more positive about our fellow man.

We entered the second tunnel (an hour or so following the first), and Aaron starts blast way again. Unfortunately, only one person responded this time, and only once. It was an 18 wheeler. Aaron continued to give it his best effort until we reached the end, but we didn't get any other responses.

After we were out, we started to come up alongside the 18 wheeler. I started smiling and raising my hand to wave, my way of thanking him for being decent enough to be the only other person to honk. We're right next to him, and I look up to see his arm raised as well- the back of his hand pressed to the window, middle finger extended. I started CRACKING UP, and I told Aaron what he did. Almost as funny was the fact that Aaron refused to believe he flipped us off. "Maybe he was giving us the thumbs up, or an a-okay sign." Um, I'm pretty sure I know what "the bird" looks like, it's a gesture I'm QUITE familiar with.

Crappers and Nappers

There are old homes aplenty in Pittsburgh. When I say old I mean they are 100 years or more. They also have several floors- the 1st, the second, the attic, and the basement. Despite all of the extra room and rooms, the majority of these buildings were constructed with only one bathroom. Maybe they didn't use them as often back then, due to a lack of food and/or the hassle of getting in and out of tight/multi layered clothing. Maybe if you were a lady it was impolite to excrete more than once daily. Who knows. My parents' house is no exception. They put in an extra bathroom when they lovingly restored their house. They also have what they refer to as a "Pittsburgh toilet." This phrase describes a commode that stands alone in the basement- no shower, no sink, no DOOR even....

Apparently it's a pretty common household item, and sort of a running joke. "3 bedroom, 2 bath, eh? The second bath is probably a Pittsburgh toilet...."
My mom was really excited that the only picture I took in her beautiful house with the intention of blogging was the pooper in the dungeon. HA! Seriously though, look at those decorative touches- a flowered shower curtain, an end table, even a fluffy mat around the bottom so you don't get your hooves cold on the concrete. And can you spot the spotted dog toilet scrubber holder? Delightful.
I can tell you this, my husband and my brother-in-law love it. And so do the rest of us, for the same reasons- they don't pollute the entire house with their gut garbage.

Whenever I visit my mom and dad, I'm so LETHARGIC. I'm like this pile of useless mush that sludges around everywhere. I'll get like 10 hours of sleep, then be sitting an hour later with my feet propped up, all yawning and droopy eyed. I suppose it has to do with feeling comfortable and relaxed, and in an environment where I'm not responsible for getting everything done. Actually I'm not really responsible for getting ANYTHING done. It's friggin' awesome. While I was pretty much a boneless heap, I didn't take it to the extreme like some other folks. They were a little TOO relaxed. Comatose even....

Common $#$&(@#$&* Courtesy

As I sit typing this, I'm waiting for our AC people to call back. You see, we've been without any air conditioning for roughly two weeks now. Initially, we had a friend of a friend come check it out. He added free on and cleaned the ducts, neither of which worked, and he was unable to find anything that could explain why it wasn't blowing any cold air. So we had to suck it up and call in the local experts, who determined our AC has bit it. Not really a big surprise, it's in the age range where that's likely to occur. When we were trying to get prices, it took FOREVER for them to "call us right back" (1-2 days which is an eternity when temperatures and tempers are rising). Now we've got the damn thing ordered, it's "supposed" to be in today, and "hopefully" they'll be out today to install it. This is what they told us Friday. So I'm off today (monday is my regular day off), and for the FIRST TIME EVER I have the house completely to myself- they started school last Wed, Reese's first year (why they started in the middle of the week is beyond me). So I call them this morning, to see when they typically get deliveries and when they might think they're coming out. I've got a few thing to do, I'm not asking for an exact time, just a ball park because obviously I don't want to miss their phone call. He said he would find out and "call me right back." This was over an hour ago. Sometimes, I just can't GET OVER how CRAPPY customer service is these days!!!! Find out asshole, and call me right back like you said! It's not a difficult freaking task, and oh YEAH, it's your stinkin' JOB!! If they couldn't give you any idea of when it would be, then call me the F back and tell me that!!!! So now, I'll have to call back shortly, and I will be sweet and polite and apologetic for bothering them because I know they are SOOO busy, and they will FINALLY give me an answer, then call me a pushy bitch after hanging up.
For another example, the guy that works on our x-ray machine at work. Our machine was having problems but still working, and he was supposed to be finding us a replacement before we were completely without the ability to take radiographs. After about 10 phone calls, he finally had one for us to look at. Then I called him like 10 MORE times, because he kept saying he was going to bring pictures and prices by on certain days and he would NEVER SHOW UP!!! How professional is that??!! Of course he's the only guy in the area so we're stuck, he's really nice and knowledgeable, but what the hell good does that do if he's not there!!!! So THEN our machine totally croaks, it has been almost 2 weeks without it, and it "should" be in today and "probably" installed by the end of the week. @$&*@%#$@
And while I'm complaining, my neighbor on the end of my street really pissed me off the other day. We had a new bus driver the first day of school, because our regular one had to have surgery. The first week is usually a little screwy anyway, as new kids/stops are added on. This lady had a list of the addresses she was supposed to stop at, but no names or idea about who was supposed to get off where. She's driving her route after school, stopping at the stops, and no one's getting off. So she makes the rounds like 4 times before everyone finally disembarks. Some kids were like 20 minutes late getting off the bus. One kid apparently got off at his friend's house, and walked the couple blocks back to his own. I'm assuming it was this heifer's kid, because I got stuck behind the bus the next day while she was leaning in the door, screaming and pointing for like 10 minutes. Her poor kid is on the driveway for the duration. When she's done she turns around and stomps toward him, gives him a kiss, then clamps her arm around his shoulders and marches him back toward the house. Here are my reasons why my neighbor is a total whore and the outburst was completely uncalled for A) her kid is almost as tall as me. are you telling me that after 4 or 5 years of riding the bus he has no idea where he's supposed to get off? He got off at his friend's because he knew he could get away with it that day B) did YOUR freaking bus pick you up and drop you off in front of your house???!! My certainly didn't! We had to walk a few blocks to the bus stop and C)(probably the most important) Parents are supposed to be WAITING to get their kids off the bus, and if no one's there TECHNICALLY the driver is not supposed to leave them. Where was Holier Than Cow when the bus passed her house for the umpteenth time?
On a lighter note, someone destroyed 26 mail boxes in our neighborhood the other night. One of them was ours. Luckily Aaron was able to nail it all back together, now it's even sturdier than before! We like our earthy, antique of a mailbox, I mean it's not like you can buy them with the fungus already on them. It takes YEARS to develop. Apparently, they were driving a golf cart, because they left several large pieces of its plastic windows all over the streets. It would seem the total douchebags were knocking their own means of transportation apart while destroying the property of others. When Aaron called the cops, they already knew who the culprits were and they were on their way to pick them up. I guess when you leave a trail of evidence leading to your snoring form snuggling an aluminum baseball bat, it's pretty much an open and shut case. ( I'm making that up, but how funny would that be?).
I consider my mailbox a small sacrifice I'd be willing to make again to serve a higher purpose. You see, Mooron Mom's mailbox was also toast. She probably called the mayor and tried to get a guest spot on the local news to express her outrage.
In closing, we do have two new red chickens. And none of the little mother cluckers are shooting any eggs out of their pooper yet! When are the portly peckers going to start earning their keep???!!
It's been right at two hours, and guess who hasn't called me back yet?

The 'Burgh

Okay, so I'm going to split my vacation blog into segments. I started thinking about all of the pictures I have that I want to put on, then I started contemplating what order I would put them all in, then I just became overwhelmed and decided to blog the PA trip over several entries. SO you are reading the first installment.
We had a fantastic time of course. We took a few trips to the local park, on our first visit one of the girls needed to go to the bathroom. I see a Porta A Pooper (dread) across the way, so I start towing her in that direction. On the way I'm mentally preparing myself for the mountain of TP, wee wee, and brown sludge piled up inside the hole that my precious child will soon be dangling her once healthy hind end over.
As we approach, I notice the sign on the side of the den o' doody...

WHAT?!! I had never heard of such a thing! I opened the door and was NOT immediately overpowered by the foul odor of excrement! The bowl contained nothing but blue fluid I could only hope and imagine was disinfected water! And by my feet....

Who would smoke in a turd tank?....Anyway, I still held her over the can (obviously) while she did her business, then I hit the foot pedal. It's not the kind that flushes in one go, you have to push it 4 or 5 times and pump everything through. But I was TOTALLY impressed and wondering why I hadn't come across one of these beauties until now.

A few days later, we returned, and had to make use of the facilities again. Have you ever put Hershey's chocolate fudge on ice cream? You know how it freezes as it's oozing down the scoop, waves halted in mid-flow? That's what the ENTIRE back of toilet seat looked like. I guess the flushing feature is pointless if the colon blow never actually makes it IN the receptacle.

My parents live in a town generously populated with what they refer to as "special people". This is my parents' kind and non-judgmental term for the folk I like to call "total nutjobs." As my dad explained, every area has its fair share of "special people" but where they live they actually COME OUT.

So my daughter, my stepson, and I are waiting outside of a local shop for my mom, my husband, and my other daughter. As we're hanging out, a lady shuffles by- probably mid 50s, matted hair, hunched forward, a wild look in her eyes. Suddenly her attention shifts to her right, and the wild look in her eyes becomes downright crrrrazy. So I follow her gaze to see what has her all riled up. My stepson is leaning against the store front, dollar bills fanned out in front of him as he's counting his money. She passed without incident ( I was really surprised), and I started CRACKING up. I told him he might want to keep his dough out of plain sight from now on. Seriously, I wish someone else could've seen her, it was hilarious. I was afraid if I tried to point her out while she was still close by, she might turn on me and pounce like a mountain lion. When I told everyone about it later, my parents knew exactly who I was talking about. Apparently she likes to scream at and kick telephone poles. I'm glad I didn't draw attention to myself- unlike those obnoxious telephone poles..

CNN (Chicken News Network)

I almost forgot- we (well, Aaron) discovered right before we left for vacation that we definitely had a couple roosters. How? 6 a.m. and "ER ER ER ER EEERRRRR"! One of them sounded normal, the other reminded me of Peter Brady on the puberty episode. "When it's time to change, then it's time to chay- ay- annge!"So anyhoos, no more red ones. Fatburst, we bid you farewell. You will not be missed. No neck wringing this time, he gave them away.
And SPEAKING of hen homicide, Aaron made Mole a couple weeks before we left on vacation. This is pronounced "Mole-ay", and refers to the poo brown jarred sauce you buy to mix with the chicken. Everyone likes it except me, I think it tastes like sweat, and I always tell Aaron it is actually moles (the skin growth variety) that have been ground up and liquified. Whenever he makes it, I just put the rice, beans, and cheese into my tortilla, hold the MOLE. I was scooping leftovers out of the tupperware the next day, and I was like "Geez, why's there's so much chicken left still?" "Because I made it with two instead of one." I look over at him and there's a big grin on his fuzzy mug. "EEEWWWW! UGH!" I'm so glad he made something I don't eat with them, because he never would've told me it was them before I dug in. I know, I know! I eat chicken all the time, and it's not like I was fond of the feathered funkbags, but STILL. There's just something about eating something that you saw when it was alive- clucking around the coop, crapping everywhere, picking and pecking.....4 down, two to go. The black and white ones are left, and have done nothing to earn their keep to this day. Apparently it takes a few months before they start laying eggs. They look big enough to be squeezing out golf balls to me! I'm guessing Aaron's going to be on the hunt for MORE hens too, now that our numbers have dwindled. BAH.

Potheads, Perverts, and Puke

I like to grab the readers attention right from the get go. This is a work related blog, so many things happen that I could put on here, but I try to narrow them down to the most entertaining.
We have a few clients that come in totally stoned on a regular basis. They stumble in an hour late for their appointments, eyes bloodshot, smiling stupidly. We had one such client pick his dog up after he left it for neuter the day before- as a matter of fact I was telling all of my co-workers the day he dropped it off that I KNOW he's normally baked when he comes in. ANYWAYS, he brought his girlfriend with him to retrieve his dog- maybe he thought between the two of them they might be able to comprehend something or make some sense. One of my other co-workers was lucky enough to be the one to go over instructions with them. She had just started with how he had to limit his activity for about a week when he was like "Can I ask you a question?" "Sure." "Is it okay to give him weed to help keep him calm?" "No....I'm pretty sure that wouldn't be a good idea." He then starts to tell her how the dog ate a bunch of their stash one time- "Oh. Is that where it went?" asks the girlfriend. The marijuana debate continues, and the girlfriend says "Can I ask you something?" "Sure." Silence. "Umm...ne'ermind." "Are you sure?" Silence. "...ne'ermind." You had to see her impersonating the girl to really appreciate it, eyes drooping, words slurring...she left the room without going over the rest of the discharge with them, she said she couldn't take it anymore.
Then YESTERDAY, we had an dirty, old, obnoxious man came in. We actually have an alert on his chart to warn anyone who has the misfortune of dealing with him. He refused to wait, even though he just walked in. After they put him in a room, he was pretty much shouting until someone came in. "I'm in hare WAITIN'." "When is someone comin' in HARE?" After one of my co-workers came in he said,"Aintcha gonna close the door?" "NO." He talked the entire time the doc was talking and she said it was worse than the cajun on Waterboy, she just kept talking until she was done then left. He blew a kiss to one of the kennel girls, and every time our office manager walked by he said "HUP one, HUP two, HUP three..." I was laughing my ass off, of course, I didn't have to deal with him. Although I've CERTAINLY handled my fair share of vile hillbillies.
AND then finally, there's the puke. This happened a few weeks ago, and I told Ca-cas I would blog it. She was in isolation, medicating a sick dog, when it horked up all over the floor. She was trying to clean it up, and it was that really slimy, slithery stuff. The kind that just moves away from the paper towel or slides off of it when you try to scoop it up. While attempting to contain it long enough to dispose of it, SHE threw up in the trash can. I told her I would say I wish I could've seen it, but then I probably would've barfed too.
Well, that's about does it for this edition of Appalachian Animal Clinic, sorry if it blows, I AM TIRED. I have a vacation blog to do, I just have to get motivated enough to put in my pictures. Now I'm off to watch a movie with Tatum and Reese, they keep pestering me to join them. It's a classic from the Mary Kate and Ashley film series. I'm pretty sure it had some Oscar nominations.

Auld Lang Syne

An old friend of Aaron's came to visit recently, he hasn't seen him in like 3 years, and it's been about 8 for me. I'm pretty sure I was pregnant with Tatum the last time I saw him. He was passing through, so he only stayed ONE night, which I GUESS is better than nothing. Anyway, I told him I'd blog about him and then send him my blog address.
FIRST of all, I washed my sheets (they were April fresh) and neatly made my bed so he could sleep in it that night. I was already sleeping in Tatum's bottom bunk, but he told Aaron he'd feel bad taking it, so he slept on the couch...

It's really dark, I know, I didn't want to get any closer (or turn on the light) and cause the creatures to stir. I think he just wanted to be near Aaron so they could fall asleep to the sound of each other's melodic voices. They sounded like a snoring symphony when I came on the scene.

He also asked me if I remembered any Tomball stories. We all remembered one first and clearly. I know I've told many of you the story of how Aaron tricked me into looking at a picture of his crap (literally). He tried to convince me many times to come into the bathroom after pinching one off. Apparently he had several that were an interesting hue, of enormous size, or a unique shape. "JEN! Come in here! You've got to see this!" Of course, I politely declined each time ("HELL NO!"). So one day, I picked up pictures I'd had developed (in the old days when film was on a roll), and I was sifting through them. "AAAAHHHHH!" He took a picture of our toilet, complete with his turd trophy. Lucky for him he wasn't committing an actual crime, because his feet were in the photo. There would be no mistaking those hooves in a line-up. "Yes sir, I'm sure- it's number seven. I could never forget those toes..."

ANYWAY, this leads to me to his friend's story. AGAIN, I've developed a roll of film. I'm looking through them....and there's a picture of him with his back to the camera, his head down, and his elbows bent. I WANTED to put this "before" picture in, but I couldn't find it! So I'm thinking "Hmm, that's strange....AAAAHHHHHH!" Now, I DID find this picture, but as my site is not XXX, I didn't put in on here. Does the phrase "cat brains" mean anything to you? How about "skin chandeliers"? I was scarred for life. Of course, we did keep the picture...

AND I thought of another story. It involves two guys (assholes, really), and a girl (an angel), and one lighter that had been tampered with. The girl smoked at the time (nasty habit), and it was rather windy out. When it was breezy, she would put the lighter and her FACE inside her shirt, so she could spark up without a problem. Both gentleman (douches, really) watched her proceed to do this, knowing full well the flame was set to blow torch. I think you can guess at the rest. Luckily no one was seriously injured. BASTARDS. Anyway, below is a picture of the three of us....

Hopefully so much freaking time won't go by before we hang out again!

On to YMCA news...Since the brown trout incident at the pool, Reese is convinced someone has pooped in the pool every single time we go. We'll be swimming along, or playing shark or something, and she'll say "Hang on a second!" Her goggled head will dip below the surface, then she'll pop back up and say, "I'm pretty sure there's some turd down there!" "No Reese, there's not. And you do realize if there actually was we'd have to get out." Of course, I still inspect the area closely whenever she makes her announcement.

And speaking of foul discharges from human holes, Tatum threw up at the pool yesterday. We were at the baby pool, and I was sitting on the side dangling my feet in. She emerged from the water doing that rattling, chunky belching thing they do when they suck back too much H2O. "Tatum, I keep telling you to keep your mouth shut when it's in the water!" By this time she's right next to me and she goes. "Mom, I didn't BLLLSLASDAEFGGH..." Her lunch(partially digested) landed on my towel and my leg, a very tiny dollop hit the concrete. I used the towel to wipe off my leg and swipe the concrete, then I threw it away. I was just relieved none of it hit the water, then WE would be the ones responsible for the pool closing. Joyce would've given me the silent treatment for weeks...

When I was going through pictures looking for the pre-plums (more like prunes really) photo, I came across the picture below. It was one of those booths where it takes a picture of you and your significant other, and puts your features together so you know what your kid will look like. I can't get over how much it looks like Tatum! Amazing!

Join us next time for the gripping saga of Pedro the pig, a courageous porker who overcame the odds to become an Olympic gymnast...