Gut Rumbles

November 30, 2003


I saw my son tonight. He and Jack came back from Blood Mountain this evening and couldn't wait to tell me about their adventures. They SAW SNOW while they were there! They picked ICICLES off the rocks! It was COLD! Jack fell in the creek! They built a dam with logs and rocks and then they BOTH fell in the creek!

I believe that they both had a good time. They petted on my shit-ass dog and asked me why she was in trouble. I told them and showed them what she did yesterday. They were really impressed with the peanut butter jar theft.

"How did THAT DOG drag the jar of peanut butter THAT FAR and almost chew the lid off?" Quinton wondered. Hell, I wonder, too, but the dog damn sure did it. Oddball remains in shit-city until she understands the error of her ways. We're going to Wal-Mart tomorrow to buy her a cage. I won't have her doing that kind of crap in my house. I WILL teach that dog to behave.

Quinton ran off, then came back 30 seconds later. "Mama wants to know if she can see your dog."

I said, "Sure. Tell her to come on in."

She did. I felt badly because the house is a mess and I haven't taken a shower or shaved today. I didn't expect visitors. Both myself and the house look like Fido's ass. But there I was, with my ex-wife petting my new dog and two boys who love me enjoying the scene. I wasn't going to fuck up that kind of moment.

"She's screwed up right now, but I believe that she has possibilities." I said. "That's Oddball."

"Awww... she's such a sweet dog," Jennifer replied.

"You not the one cleaning up behind her," I said.

I gazed at Jennifer with the strangest feeling falling over me, like a dark cloak hitting my shoulders. I realized all of a sudden that I have no idea who she really is. I DON'T. I am not certain that she does, either.

The plant installed a "fitness center" in the old R&D lab, after they fired everybody who once worked there, and Jennifer has been excercising. Her efforts show. She's looking more and more like a fucking linebacker every time I see her. She's always been big-boned, with the body of a majorette, cursed with big thighs, thick ankles and broad shoulders.

Let her hit some weights for a while. GOT-DAMN! That woman is looking more masculine every time we meet. Her face remains beautiful, but what in the fuck is she trying to do to the rest of her body? Grow a set of nuts and a goddam beard? Hell... maybe so.

I am finished with trying to figure her out.



I just got back from Blood Mountain as well. Had a great time!

Posted by: Michael Demmons on November 30, 2003 06:40 PM

Did you screw my ex-wife while you were there? It doesn't matter if you did. She's already slutted enough for my entire lifetime.

Posted by: Acidman on November 30, 2003 06:48 PM


Interesting post. And monumental progress --at least I thought so until I opened the comment box...

Yeah, I'll bet it was strange.

Posted by: Key on November 30, 2003 06:52 PM

oh boy I started a blog

Good to see your making progress with the dog at least . You could say that you had two bitches in the house that day ! hahahhah

Posted by: Action Mike on November 30, 2003 07:15 PM

Ooh--deja vu.

That set-up is too familiar, Mike. ; )

Posted by: Key on November 30, 2003 07:19 PM

Not sure if this is what I mean Acidman, but I'd say I'm kind of feeling proud of you.

Posted by: Adam on November 30, 2003 07:25 PM

Damn! You guys wanna talk about snow? I'm looking out my window here by the computer and you can hardly see my mailbox. We got at least 4 feet of snow since Thanksgiving. Had to break out the snow blower for the first time in a couple years, and finally had to put my Dodge Ram in 4-wheelie and plow myself to the grocery store. Sure makes me miss the South sometimes, but there ain't nothing like being hunkered down here in my igloo in the wintertime. I just hope I can find my truck in my driveway in the morning!

Posted by: Alaska Kim on November 30, 2003 07:58 PM

Screw your ex-wife? It was cold up there.

But not THAT cold.

Posted by: Michael Demmons on November 30, 2003 08:08 PM

Maybe she's working out to get ready for the Mrs. Universe Body Building trophy?

Posted by: Ms Anna on November 30, 2003 08:09 PM

Maybe she made a HUGE overture by asking to enter your home.

Posted by: Key on November 30, 2003 08:11 PM

Progress: you're not calling her BC anymore.

Posted by: Juliette on November 30, 2003 08:56 PM

Its no longer your job to try and figure out your ex. That should be someone elses headache

Posted by: Anna on November 30, 2003 09:16 PM

Damn, Rob! WTH?? You let her come into your house?
IMO..that was a bad call. I know, because I have done the very same thing before with my ex. I said I wouldn't. I pounded my fists and said she would never set foot in my house again!

But I lied to myself because I let her come inside. I had to call for help to have her removed.

I have felt that "dark cloak hitting my shoulders." I know what you mean by that. And not to be "trekkie", but that feeling is called "a disturbance in the force", it's a dark, evil thing, for sure. You let her in the house, she gets in your head. Don't do it again.

btw....bones are bones and her bones are just as big as everyone elses! Describe her any way you have to to vent, to let the anger out. Don't try and figure her out. Shake the dust off of your shoes and move on.

Ever notice how "ex" and "ax" can sound alike?

Run, Rob, Run.

Posted by: Marcus on November 30, 2003 10:18 PM

Sorry Cochise, but you'll never escape trying to figure her out.

It comes with the territory.


Posted by: Lamont Cranston on December 1, 2003 10:43 AM

Shit city is not the way to deal with dog.



grab dog by collar, drag her with front feet in air quickly to peanut butter jar (very uncomfortable, no air).

point at jar: Oddball, phooey! Oddball, phooey! whack across outer hip.

Then: look away, relax: Oddball, okay. and release.

The shit city lasts only that long and no longer.

Put peanut butter jar back where she found it as a temptation.

Next day, repeat if she repeats. If not call her over to the peanut butter jar, say Oddball, good dog! nice pat.

That's the end of that too. Excessive praise is the flip side of a beating, because neither takes the dog seriously.

A cage is to keep her from getting hurt, not to keep your stuff safe. Sacrifice your stuff, and use it as a temptation the next day.

When you get a dog, you'll lose some stuff, but not much, and then it stops and she knows what's hers and what's not.

In a cage, she's not learning.

Posted by: Ron Hardin on December 1, 2003 04:31 PM

PS a very good device, the Snappy Trainer

put it where there's stuff your dog is likely to be interested in that she should leave alone; for instance on top of the trash can. It's effective because it works at exactly the right instant; a retroactive unpleasantness takes more thought from the dog to sort out, not that the dog can't do it though.

Rather than keeping the dog from temptations, multiply temptations. They're opportunities to say clearly what the rule is.

Posted by: Ron Hardin on December 2, 2003 01:03 AM

Rob's house is tempetation every inch poor dog doesn't stand a chance.
The cage is the best idea. She won't get in trouble there.

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