Posted in Daily Photo
I can’t believe I wrote all that. Sorry.
It might be from a storm a while back, but either way it sounds like it’s personal.
Heather, I don’t care what the storm is. But please don’t be in the storm anymore. Please?
Or maybe the storm is a terrible little tornado — maybe Leta has gone MOBILE on them!
Fish, your deductive reasoning ranks you right up there with the best.
Elementary, my dear Watson.
Boobah for you is Dora the Explorer for us. Give it a few more months!
You know how sometimes you’re really upset about something, and part of you wants to talk about it (or share a forboding picture), but the other part of you just wants to be silent and sad, because if you start talking, you’ll probably start crying, and then you might not be able to stop, and then that feeling, it might just get worse instead of better? That’s kind of what it sounds like to me. But of course, that’s just coming from the particular place that I’m at right now, what with the postpartum hormones and the sleep deprivation and all.
Shoot. 17 minutes minus the 5 minutes spent loosening the titanium codpiece doesn’t leave much time for Boobah.
It’s good to hear that someone else’s husband farts on them, too.
The profile looks a bit like Jon as Drunkenstein, but it most certainly is something more serious. If not for Dooce’s recent comment, I would think maybe it was when she talked to her parents about not being a mormon anymore. Maybe it’s when you were going into labor? Or maybe, Dooce, it’s the lobby of the hospital from a few months ago? (Although, I can’t imagine having a camera at that time. And you did talk about it.)
I believe the Fish was correct.
Ok, and come to think of it, if it was the hospital lobby, the hospital was not a storm, but salvation (in a secular way). So forget my theory.
I do think it’s Dooce on the right with feet on the table.
Titanium codpiece. Jon: You are funny.
Where can I get me one of dem codpieces?
Just one more post, I promise.
Not Drunkenstein, maybe Tom Ridge.
Not Dooce on the right, but some man.
Not feet on the table, but legs crossed.
Not lobby but someone’s home/office.
Boobah? Shoot, if it hadn’t been for Barney, we wouldn’t have had a second child!
Ooh Dooce. You are soooo wiley. This is just like that gd Thanksgiving pic, circa 1994.
There’s evil in you…
From Dooce’s comment and the title, the storm seems personal. The picture is interesting on it’s own, though. It makes me think of a type of Sunday evening in winter, being a young teenager, sitting in the living room with my brother and some music, it was grey all day and cold outside, and school is tomorrow.
Like a poem, sometimes a picture is about what it is about, and sometimes it is about what it makes a viewer feel when seeing it.
Dooce, we used to vacuum our dogs (with the crevice attachment), and they liked it. I’m not kidding. The goal of the vacuuming was hair, not flea, removal, as they were extremely furry sheepdogs. They would run up to the running vacuum all excited like they were getting a treat, and were extremely cooperative. Too bad I can’t convince my extremely furry cat that this is a good idea (I’ve never tried, but all the racing from room to room with a look of terror in her eyes that she does when we vacuum makes me think she’d not really be into it).
hunh huh hunh huh..she said ‘codpiece’.
We trained our dog to love the vacuum cleaner–she was a 3 year old pound dog–she used to hate it and run terrified when we first brought her home.
It took about 3 weeks. We started by having the vacuum off, but near where we were brushing her every day. then would turn it on to clean up the extra hair. After a week or so, we’d turn it on and one of us vacuumed the kitchen while the other brushed her and gave her treats. In time, we started to bribe her closer and closer to the vacuum with treats as we brushed her, until one day we had her sort of cornered against a wall with a treat in front of her and me and the vacuum to her side. She started to pull away as I brushed her with it, but then she seemed to realize it felt good. She still hates the sound of it, but stands there with a confused happy/embarrassed face whenever we vacuum her.
Her favorite attachment is the little brush. (I like the crevice tool, for its sexy name.)
(Oh–and a tip I saw somewhere–if there are fleas around where you live, not Utah, put an activated flea collar in the inside of your vacuum cleaner, under the bag. Any fleas that get vacuumed die, but your carpets and upholstery don’t need to be covered with dangerous poisons.)
Ok. So I just copy-pasted into photoshop and messed with brightness/contrast, and this is what I found:
1- There might be a person on the right side of the picture.
2- And a curtain, maybe.
3- And a coffee table in the foreground, possibly.
Yeah. That’s it.
Why, Jennay, would you tear apart a photo or any piece of art for that matter? It only destroys the spirit and the intentions of it.
So, what you are prepping for? Filming an X-Files episode? Because Chris Carter never filmed anything with light in it? Clearly, you are imitating Chris Carter.
I see a person on the left looking at the person on the right, sitting in a striped sofa chair, crossing their legs with a little person on their lap facing us.
Jennay, you photoshop girl!
I don’t think Dooce would post a photo that was so deeply personal that she didn’t want us to see it so she, ? posted it.
Did I say that in English?
Anyway, Perhaps this is pre-horsey bar?
but it doesn’t look like a hospital, more like a bedroom.
The picture is cool and dark at the same time. Try getting a little vacuum for your daughter to follow you around with. It worked for my daughter.
Hey, even with the codpiece you can still poke him in the eye.
Hilarious story about trying to vacuum the dog!! Strangely, my brother’s dog absolutely loves to be vacuumed. Mind you, he is kinda stupid…
Fish- don’t know about the carpenter ants. . .
I think almost any regular human shampoo will kill fleas if you let the animal soak in the lather for several minutes, but Pert Plus works particularly well. Doesn’t keep me from using it. But then, I’m an Animal Science major, and I’ve done things to young bulls (for school, you gutter-minded fools) you don’t wanna know about.
I think it might be the calm before the storm of TICKLING.
Dooce. I see you have not been introduced to Pooka.
Pooka is the ultimate defense against any would be assailant. It was invented (around here anyway) by my friend John Cowart (cruel little bastard englishman) many years ago.
It works like this:
1)Take index finger and hold it in a pointy fashion.
2)Sneak up behind unsuspecting husband, friend, co-worker, etc.
3)Insert finger into victim’s behind (clothed only)and proclaim, “Pooka!”.
4)Measure the success of Pooka by the strange noise made by your victim as well as the amount of time they spend airborne.
It works best if victim is wearing boxer’s and is bent down to look for missing item under couch.
Of course the depth at which you Pooka is strictly based on the intimacy of you and your victim.
I promise, the next time they think about tickling you…oh yes, they will remember Pooka.
I have committed the Pooka to memory and will report back with my own findings.
Thank you for sharing.
[wringing hands a la Mr. Burns]
KellyH: You would’ve been SO helpful a few weeks back during the in depth discussion of bull condoms.
*Fish pauses, unsure as to how to approach the subject*
What … life experience made you put the “clothed only” proviso into your description of pooka?
Fish- it is Pooka. not Colonoscopy. Fine line, my friend.
Pooka! Oh, Amanda B… I want to pooka!
Eh hem. My theory was a tickling storm too. But I wasn’t the first to suggest it, so… pooka!
Also, please note that I have changed my name to “Chloe (is here)” as I’ve seen another nefarious “Chloe” has posted (you can tell the difference by the different web sites when you rollover on our names, but that’s a pain in the ass) so I’ll just be the good girl and change my name.
Not that anyone really gave a damn about that…I’m just over-explaining.
Amanda B.: Oh, yeah.
Let me clear one more thing up: you do this to your co-workers? Where the hell do you work?
My guess is the two people calmly talking in this pic will eventually end up in a knock down drag out fight and the memory is still very painful even for Dooce to talk about.
Ahhh… what a peacuful sight.. that’s how my room looks before I have to start working…
Fish- No one is safe from Pooka.
Ancient Chinese Proverb: Blessed are the tickled, for the sphincter of life is easily startled.
I dig the photo noir. Mysterious, no?
And this POOka game. Much like checking the prostate, no?
Ladybug, I read what you wrote about the Dyson guy. I would like to hear him say “prototype” as I give him a little Pooka.
“sphincter of life.”
Check out the lamp in the background. Reminds me of one in my great grandma’s house.
This page never ceases to amaze me and continuously makes me cry tears of extreme laughter.
I’m still thinking it’s going to be a good storm, a happy storm. Such dark speculations and predictions here; doesn’t anyone else LIKE storms? I do. A truly ominous photo doesn’t really fit with the moods of the “thinking” and the “how to annoy me” posts today; you know? Actually, the photo is serving as a “projective” — a little Rorschach test — we’re all seeing what’s inside us today.
“POOKA” would mean “justifable homocide” in my household
no. it’s right befoe Leta wakes up!
Mouse is back! Missed you!
I think whoever said it was the calm before Leta gets moving is right….
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