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Welcome to my blog. Brb... I'm making memories (read as: Wine. I'm going to get some wine...)

Hounds and My Honourary Penis!

So yesterday I got home, walked outside to feed the dogs, took one look at our grass outside and wanted to just burst into tears! You see, we moved into our brand new house and were left with a beautiful garden, and now after getting two hulking Boerbul / Ridgeback puppies, who are 7 months but act like 2-year old terrorists, our garden /grass now looks like shit!

Seriously I don’t know what is in their pee, but it must be like some form of hydrochloric acid, the ones you see in the movies where those guys are wearing hazmat suits and then the acid messes on them and you see them banging on glass while they beg you to “Just let us out for Gods sake mannnnnnnnnn!” while their faces melt off, you know the one?

Well yes, that is what my dogs are wee’ing all over the grass.  And they do it in the same fucking place all the time, so now my garden looks like a Twister mat with all these polka dots of dead grass everywhere! The one section is even starting to resemble a smiley face!

When I walk out and see the dead grass I get angry and then they run up to it, tongues wagging out and give you that “Look-what-we-made-you-mom” face that makes me feel bad about strangling them.  Fuck!

Stop fucking up my garden! And why must you eat everything, and dig holes to China! Seriously, what are you trying to findddddddddddddddddd!

We buy these brats a gazillion toys to amuse them during the day, you literally cannot take a step in our garden without stepping on something squeaky or spikey or some sort of rope attached to a cows hoof  that threatens to wrap itself around your legs and fling you into the pool when you walk past it (the dead cows revenge for stealing his shoes maybe?) so why oh whyyyyyyy do they act like they have nothing to amuse them and rip our plants / grass to shreds?

…and then there was that disgusting fly catching bag thing we put up in the tree to prevent the flies from bugging our “poor little babies” while they run around and play all day (translate into “fuck up our shit”) which they pulled down (because they’re the size of  small horses now and can jump really mofo-high) onto themselves which just meant that coming home after work I had 2 pooches who smelt like a rotting whale carcass jump on me to give me loves… thanks.  I think.  No I take it back.  No thanks.  You stink.  Fuck.

Anyhoo.  Love them to bits and this whole story above was a lot of digression into my actual tale about coming home and seeing the manky long grass that’s half dead yesterday.

So I pulled out the lawn mower in a fit of fury! Screw you grass, I will make you my bitch! And mowed the lawn, IN MY WORK CLOTHES!

Dalekins came home and steered clear of me.  Partly because he came out to see my mowing aforementioned lawn in my work clothes, swatting at mozzies,  mumbling about “me having to sort shit” and “killing the dogs” and “fuck you grass” and “all my princess dreams have come true” with sweat pouring off me (very sexy) and a face like thunder.

It was AWESOME! When I was done I pulled my top over my head and ran around the garden like I’d just scored a goal.

So I’d like my honorary penis now please.  No I won’t use it.  It will go in a jar on the shelf, next to my honorary ball sack.

This is when they were still tiny.  And well behaved.  How can you not love those faces!

Happy New Year by the way!!!

Dalekins brush with death!

Dalekins brush with death!

For Porns sake!