Greetings and Salutations to me Droogs n Droogettes.
Quick note before I go too deep: Phil over at Busted Knuckles got laid off. Dunno if he’s got a tip jar or not, but if he does, hit the ole bastard up as we all gotta look out for one another. After all, it’s his fucking fault I’m back here doing this shit LOL. So… back to the story at hand…
Its been a rough couple o’ days at the Big Country Home for Wayward and Mental Veterans.
A liter sized bucket’o rough.
Not my normal tipple, but strenuous times requires strong drink.
“Patron Silver… when Vodka ain’t cuttin’ it.”
OK… so the Granbebe is gone… got picked up today. And not one second too soon. Yesterday: No nap. None… wasn’t having any of it. Became a fucking exhausted monster. Oh… and did I mention the night before?
Oh ho… yeah… Monday Night she decided to become the “Chocolate Volcano” after being constipated all weekend… as in dropped of Friday, no poop until Monday. And the only reason it happened was we gave her ‘the nuclear option’ of a half a piece of Ex-Lax. Like a lot of kids her age, she’s at that stage where she –won’t poop-. Its not that she’s genuinely bound up, it’s something about 2 and 3 year olds where sometimes, some kids just won’t let it go. Granbebe is one of them.
So the only solution is to start off with some stool softener, and then ramp up from there. Which is when (pardon the pun) shit started getting ugly-ier.
We did the children’s stool softener… twice. Result: Nada.
We did the liquid fiber drink for kids….once. Result: Bupkiss
We THEN did the baby enema… gross!!! and once. Result: Goose egg again.
Finally… out of desperation, a half a teeny brick of chocolate exlax.
Jesus H Christ. Next time an motherfucker needs a warning.
She essentially exploded out her ass. While in for a lay-down. Not a nap… she doesn’t sleep until she falls over unconscious. She, while in for the lay down, blew the fuck up. AND unlike a normal kid, she didn’t cry or let us know. Nononono… that woulda been too easy.
Thank GOD I work from here at the house. The missuz, God Bless her was stuck taking one for the team on solo clean up duty. I happened to be stuck in the “I’m working honey! Sorry!” mode and I only hadda comfort her after the fact. That and I did the laundry…. which turned out to be an insane amount.
So… that was Monday.
Tuesday, while on break I started working thru the mountain o’fuckin nasty shit-stained bullshit.
Remember I just got a new washer?
Yeeeeeeeah… seems the drain hose worked loose and dumped water ALL over the fucking kitchen. I didn’t find out until lunchtime. Sapper handled it for the missuz as I think her head almost exploded. I know –mine– woulda if’n I’da been the poor sumbitch who found that shit. OK… problem -relatively- solved. I re-secured the fucking drain pipe with a goddamned leftover prisoner zip tie from Iraq… no fucking way this fucking thing is gonna break like the last one… I have a couple dozen emergency restraints for quick prisoner-taking from Iraq… they look like industrial size zip ties, but have a thick wire inside the plastic so’s it can’t fucking break… you need wiresnips to get that fucker off.
Now, cut to Tuesday night… specifically oh dark motherfucking early. I swear she’s read the enemy manual on how to fuck me up… I’m not the sharpest between 0200 and 0300… and at 0205, she exploded AGAIN, this time ‘cept out her mouth.
Bazooka Barfing. ALLLLL motherfucking night. Everywhere. All night.
Sapper thinks it’s from when she played with the poo, she probably got some in her mouth, and it took a couple of hours for the fecal bacteria to kick in. So damn.
By the time we returned her to the other Grandparents, she’d stopped puking (of course) and was actually rather chipper after we’d dumped a quart of Gatorade into her to counter the invariable dehydration that she had from all the water loss… So much so the other Papa was like “She seems fine to me!” as he looked at me, the bedraggled and spent mizzuz, and baggy-eyed Sapper.
Go fucking figure right?
OK… so onto other less disgusting news. Fun stuff. New flammerwerfer under construction here, possibly 2. I need a new one, and think I might sell the other one. Extra bux and all that. Other cool stuff, I got a deal on 5 Uzi mags. And whats even –cooler- is the company that shipped ’em to me fucked up. Instead of 5 used “fair condition” mags as described on GunBroker, I got fuckin’ 5 brand new still-in-the-wrapper-and-cosmoline mags. Think someone in shipping done fucked up, but hey, I ain’t complaining. Brand new 32 round Uzi mags are about $30 each… I paid less than $100 S&H included.
Other CoronaChan News:
Joe Chink et al all seem to think they can blame the US for this bullshit. And that we’re gonna let ’em. Not so sure about that Chinky-chuck. The AVERAGE US Citizen is irked. And Joe Chink, like most of the fucking retards in Washington, live in a bubble of their own minds when it comes to ‘average Americans’. I got a hunch that a few messages of “Fuck You, Strong Message Follows” might do something… I mean influencing American companies is pretty easy. Bring home the goddamned manufacturing, or we’re not buying from you, and if you DON’T, I say find out where the middle management and upper management, especially HR works live, and burn down their fucking homes. Got me a strong feeling the message would be received five-by-five on that one.
That and I personally think we should burn the Chinese Embassy to the ground. Fuck them shifty slant eyed fuckers. In fact burn ALL the Chinese consulats to the ground, and assault ANY and ALL chink diplomats. Fuck ’em… they brought it on themselves. They think they can play a long game? Ha! Fuckin morons.
Shit… people don’t remember but we fucking dropped a bomb on their fuckin embassy back during the Balkans Bullshit. Everyone played it off like it was an “Oops our bad!” mistake as we were bombing the fuck outta Belgrade? or wherever the fuck it was located at the time. One off course bomb? Yeah, So Solly ’bout dat, you no rikey we unnstan.
In reality, what people don’t know was that a few days before, the Serbs had figured out how to track AND shoot down our F-117 Nighthawk.
And they managed to do just that. And apparently, the Serbs either sold or gave some of the more critical parts to the Chinks, who then took it to the embassy to box up and ship back to Beijing.
Not so fuckin’ fast ya lil Bastards.
As Sam Kinison said, “BUILD A NEW HOUSE!!!!!!”
Works for me. Personally, gotta give credit to the Serbs for figuring out how to take out a ‘supposedly invisible’ aircraft. My understanding is they put radar site on top of three big ass hills/mountains with the radr aimed down instead of up. The F-117 when doing it’s thang, flew low, between the moutains and hills. Low enough that the radar(s) could see a ‘hole’ in the coverage that shouldn’tve been there. Damned tricky them Serbs.
So yeah. Fuck ’em. They don’t like it, then they shouldn’t dabble in Bio-War. Which it’s looking more and more like that that’s exactly what it was. I think I pointed out a couple o’dozen times that this bug cut loose at a time that was extremely nervous making for the head Joe Chinks. Hong Kong’s protests were getting bigger and starting to ‘infect ‘ that mainland so to speak. Amazeballs how this bug came along just in time to prevent any further ‘social disruption?’ And how, as Instapundit has from a friend of his: “A FRIEND ON FACEBOOK OBSERVES: “If you’ve been paying attention — and almost no one has — Hong Kong was strangled over the past several days, as the Communist apparatus rolled up much of the protest leadership, and asserted its right to rule in any fashion it wishes. ‘One country, two systems’ is dead. The city itself will now likely go into decline: ordinarily with Shenzhen taking over its role in commerce, but who can say now? Another light goes out. The Communist Party of China is tying up loose ends and, to borrow a phrase, taking care of all family business. This isn’t the main event. This is preparatory to that. The main event is coming — and it is hastened by a Zhongnanhai calculation that the United States possesses neither the attention span nor the competence to do something about it. You can pick your metaphor: August 1914, December 1941. Just be aware that what they’re contemplating will end up a metaphor all its own.”
Yeeeeeah… bad things are coming. More later as I got to make dinner AGAIN (burgers tonight) and start hitting the Tequila. Until then I remain, The Intrepid Reporter