Safety Hazards

My family is not a group of highly coordinated people; in fact we have all had our instances of falling or injuring ourselves doing stupid and usually simple activities (like walking) throughout our lives.  Our older sister falls regularly, just walking around the city.  Our older brother broke his foot once kicking our cousin in the ass.  Our dad fell once, face first onto the pavement on a family vacation.  Our mother broke her big toe gardening and of course I managed to crack my tailbone running around the house and slipping on a wet tile.  Despite all our accidents, Panda was probably the most prone to injury when we were children.  Out of all of us, she spent the most time in a cast or splint.  Once she jumped in the pool on top of our older sister and ended up with a broken finger.  Another time our sister decided it would be a good idea to put boogie boards atop a retaining wall in our backyard and pretend it was a pony.  Being the older sister, she made Panda try it out first, it was after Panda ate shit falling off the wall and breaking her wrist that our sister decided that might not be the brightest idea.  Another time Panda was trampled by our cousin playing with the neighbor kids and ended up with a fractured ankle.  As a teenager she made a trip to the ER after running onto a softball field to warm up the pitcher prior to a game without a catcher’s mask, which resulted in a bleeding, broken nose.  She’s prone to falling frequently as well.  There is a bloody stain on the steps leading up to the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, DC where she ate shit running too fast down the stairs.  If you read our first blog, you know about her headfirst slide through the dirt at Delphi, Greece.  On that same trip we went swimming in a small lake in Switzerland, where she slipped ass first onto a block of concrete.  We’re not sure the extent of the damage done during that fall, but I’d say it was rather significant as it bothered her through the rest of the trip.

Possibly the most amusing story of Panda getting injured is the story of her falling off the treadmill.  While hanging out at a neighbor’s house with our cousin the two of them decided to try out the family’s treadmill; it would be her first treadmill experience.  Not knowing you were supposed to hook the special safety cord to your clothing in the unlikely event that you fall off, she jumped up there and turned it on. 

Our cousin, deciding it would be funny to speed it up as much as possible, cranked up the speed.  Please keep in mind, Panda was a little on the chubby side as a young girl and not the “running” type.  As our cousin continued cranking up the speed, Panda did what she could to keep up with the track, gripping the handles tightly. 

It finally got to a point where she couldn’t keep up and her legs gave out beneath her.  Afraid she’d be sucked in and wrapped around the track (like in the opening credits of The Jetson’s) she continued gripping the handles for dear life as the track kept going round and round, taking the skin off her knees and shins as it went.  For a moment our cousin stood there, transfixed, but he quickly came to his senses and realized the horror of what was happening and he shut off treadmill.  

Panda stood up rather unsteadily, breathing heavy, looking down at the damage the treadmill had caused.  Bloody and winded, Panda hobbled home to clean herself up to the tune of our cousins hysterical laughing.  The bleeding sores that resulted from her accident have since healed, but she will carry the emotional scars with her forever. 

C U Next Tuesday!

As you can tell from previous blogs, my family has quite the potty mouth.  We mostly attribute this bad habit to my father who never bothered to censor himself when we were growing up.  As young children, we heard (and used) language that would shock most truck drivers and in fact, we’ve been accused of having mouths like a trucker.  My older brother, who we like to call Bear, was the worst of all of us as children.  In fact, his very first word was “shut up”, which he learned from watching my father scream “shut up” out the back sliding door at the many dogs we used to have, which tended to get riled up and bark a lot.  Shut up may not sound like such a bad word, but please remember, this was Bear’s first word he ever said.  I like to think this was just an omen of what was to come.  We’d like to take this opportunity to introduce you to Bear and the first memory we have of him using that filthy mouth as a child.

When I was about 4 and Panda was about 3, my parents took in two of our Cousins to live with us.  The younger cousin was the same age as me and we got on pretty well.  The older cousin was a girl of about 13 named Lisa; she was quite an angry teenager and sometimes difficult to deal with.  Panda and I didn’t interact with her much as she was quite a deal older than us, but Bear had the pleasure of dealing with her craziness quite often.  Needless to say, the two never got along. 

One morning, my dad was taking the 6 of us out somewhere, so we all got dressed and headed out to pile into my dad’s old truck (also known as the Piss-Mobile, which is a story for another blog).  As we were piling in, my cousin managed to piss Bear off, which was pretty typical.  Bear, sick and tired of her BS, acted out in his usual way and started an argument with her.  The argument came to a head when Bear yelled out to her and said “Stop being such a CUNT Lisa”. 

We are positive Bear heard the word from my dad, but my dad turned to Bear with an expression of utter shock on his face, as if he couldn’t understand where or how Bear could have learned that word.  Our dad grabbed Bear by the scruff of his neck, like a baby kitten, and dragged him into the house. 

 The rest of us, not really sure what was going to happen to Bear, ran after them.  As we ran into the house, we looked down the hallway and saw Bear sitting on the toilet in the front bathroom as my dad grabbed the bar of Zest soap from the sink.  We looked on in stunned horror as my dad shoved that bar of Zest soap into Bear’s mouth and made him sit there like that for five minutes.  All those years for my parents threatening to wash his mouth out with soap became a reality for Bear that day. 

After the washing of the mouth out with soap drama, my dad herded us all back into the Piss-Mobile and we headed out to accomplish our day’s activities.  As you can tell, Bear's punishment that day did not have the desired affect my dad had hoped for, as we can say for certain that word is used often in our household for a variety of different reasons.  In fact, I think the word has a special sentimental value to our family, as we all look back on that day with fondness, watching my dad shove that bar of Zest soap into Bear’s mouth remains one of our treasured memories of my dad’s unique parenting techniques. 

When Animals Attack: Part I

Growing up, our family had an assorted menagerie of pets.  Of course, most of them were the typical domestic pets, like cats and dogs, guinea pigs, hamsters, even hermit crabs for a brief time. We also had a selection of what most consider “farm animals”, such as horses, chickens, goats; we even had a cow.  During our formative years, my family lived in a relatively rural area where this sort of mini “farm” was acceptable.  Because of this upbringing, we have a vast variety of pet related stories that we find extremely humorous.  We plan to tell as many of these pet stories in blogs to come.  For this blog, we’d like to focus our stories on a particularly unique cat named Barney. 

While still in elementary school, my sisters and I decided it was a good idea to procure two baby kittens from a friend at school without first informing our parents (a story for another blog).  We ended up only keeping one of the kittens and named him Barney. 

When Barney was a young cat, I decided it was a good idea to bring him down to a friend’s house, she lived right down the street and I thought it would be a great opportunity to train Barney to walk on a leash like a dog (this did not work out by the way).  My friend’s brothers had two large Rottweilers, but my friend also had cats which got along with the dogs with no problem, so I felt safe bringing Barney by. 

As it turns out, it was not safe, it was probably one of the worst ideas I’ve ever had.  One of the dogs got wind of the new cat and attacked.  The dog managed to get a hold of the cat’s tail while I still had his leash in hand.  We both began tugging in opposite directions, me tugging his leash, trying to free Barney from the dog, and the dog tugging his tail trying to eat the cat.  To this day I am amazed we managed to get the cat home in one piece. 

My friend’s dad came out and began beating the crazed dog with a pole.  When the pole broke, he began using his hand, which he also broke.

 

At some point, my friend’s cat came charging up and leaped on the dogs head, claws out. 

This startled the dog enough to open his mouth and free our cat at which point, I grabbed the cat and ran home.  My brother and I cleaned the cat up, and were shocked to find he only had a small wound on his tail, but was fine otherwise.

Needless to say, Barney was never quite the same cat.  He was antisocial and didn’t enjoy being overly touched, especially around his rear end/tail region.  He made a habit of randomly attacking other animals and people.  He got in so many fights he looked like a street cat with his ears all cut up.  One morning we were all enjoying a bowl of cereal and weekend cartoons when all of a sudden Barney leaped onto my sisters back and sunk his claws in.  My sister began frantically thrashing about trying to get the cat off of her. 

This was extremely amusing to those of us witnessing the crazed cat attack, but of course, my sister did not find it funny.  She eventually recovered, but this is just one example of Barney’s strange behavior.

Barney spent most of his younger days outdoors while we lived on our “mini-farm”.  When we were 9 and 11 years old, my family moved to a new house, which was located in more of a typical suburban neighborhood.  Surprisingly, this new house had a serious problem with coyotes, so we were more reluctant to let our pets run wild outdoors.  We did let them out for brief periods of time, but not enough to suit Barney.  He spent most days sitting on a window sill, despondently looking outside.  Other cats in the neighborhood would come by the window and sort of taunt Barney, and he’d respond to their taunting by growling and hissing loudly, and Barney had a growl like no other cat you’ve ever met! 

One evening my dad, sick of listening to Barney carry on like a cat being tortured, opened the door and let him out.  Some time later that night, my dad began hearing cats fighting right out in front of the house.  My dad went out front to see what all the commotion was about and realized it was Barney fighting in the street.

My dad became concerned for Barney’s safety and attempted to break up the cat fight by reaching down and grabbing Barney by the scruff of his neck.  In a crazy acrobatic move, Barney twisted his body around and latched onto my dad’s arm, claws extended.  My dad began swinging his arm about trying to get the cat to let go.  When it seemed as if the cat would never let go, my dad bumped his arm against our car, stunning the cat long enough to let go and run off. 

My dad was bloody from wrist to elbow and dripped blood all over the front driveway, which we noticed the next morning on our way to school.  The next evening, my dad came home and his arm was red, scratched up, and swollen. My mom was concerned by its appearance and drew a line on my dad’s arm where the swelling and redness stopped in order to monitor whether or not it got worse, which it did.

Turns out, my dad’s attempt to rescue Barney resulted in blood poisoning.  A few weeks of antibiotics and he was good as new, but my dad never did quite trust that cat ever again.

We have many more animal attack stories as well as a variety of other funny pet stories.  We hope to share them with you in future blogs.  We hope you’ve enjoyed this illustrated blog and we hope to bring more pictorials to you.  Until next time…

Awesome Transportation Destroyer Vessel

Stumpy: It smells like fucking urine in my office all of a sudden.  I think someone pissed outside my cube.

Panda: hahaha.  It was probably Karla.

Stumpy: ugh.  I hope Karla's piss isn't outside my cube.  That shit is probably deadly.

Panda:  hahaha.  That would be the worst thing that could ever happen

Stumpy: ya, it would.

Panda:  well aside from Karla piss on your person

Stumpy: OMG.  I just threw up in my mouth, and not a little, a lot. 

Panda:  haha.  Did you swallow it back?

Stumpy: uh ya.  I don’t want puke on my desk.

Panda:  haha.

Stumpy: it is bad enough i have Karla piss outside my cube.

Panda:  you should have puked outside Karla's cube.

Stumpy: i don’t think i would have made it.

Panda:  dude...side note...i would like a fast missile craft.  Get me one.  I think it could be fun.

Stumpy:  uh, ok.  What are you going to use it for?

Panda:  fast missil'ing in a craft.  What else would I use it for?

Stumpy:  I’m not sure i understand.  Is it a craft that shoots fast missiles?

Panda:  Uhhh...what isn't to understand?

Stumpy:  or is it a missile that is a fast craft?

Panda:  it is a fast craft that fastly shoots fast missiles

Stumpy:  ok.  Got it

Panda:  get me one

Stumpy:  totally, we should get one

Panda:  I would ride around in it all the time, shooting missiles

Stumpy:  are they on Amazon, or...?

Panda:  Amazon probably has them

Stumpy:  is it a water craft.  Or land?  Or water/land?

Panda:  a water craft.  But i would put wheels on it

Stumpy:  I’d like one that was water and land.  Ya.  Like a fucking tank

Panda:  ya.  But also a boat

Stumpy:  a tank boat

Stumpy:  that shoots fast missiles

Panda:  revision: i would like a fast missile tank boat

Stumpy:  craft.  Fast missile tank boat craft

Panda:  tank craft.  Got it.  Like it.  Google it.

Stumpy:  cool.  Let’s get one.  I’m totally all for it.  Do you know how handy that will be during the next snow storm?

Panda:  i bet it has pretty good reviews.  It would be nice if it could hover.  Like a hover craft

Stumpy:  a fast missile hover boat tank craft

Panda:  YES.  OMFG.  SO AWESOME

Stumpy:  and it should totally fly like a fucking jet.  A fast missile hover boat tank jet craft

Panda:  we could destroy all sorts of annoying shit. Talk about the party mobile!

Stumpy:  ya.  Fast missile hover boat tank jet party bus craft.

Panda:  I should probably apply for a patent ASAP.

Stumpy:  totally.  Do it.  Now.  And then invent it. 

Panda:  I think we could get a few different types of things off the internet and then combine them to make this rad-ness

Stumpy:  yes.  Why the fuck did you become a lawyer.  You should've been a fucking engineer

Panda:  because i needed to learn about the fast missile craft

Stumpy:  an engineer of the raddest shit on earth

Panda:  I can do that too.  Because I am fucking rad

Stumpy:  ok. So do that.  Let me know when you're finished.

Panda:  I will probably need some funds to get this project rolling

Stumpy:  fuck.  Maybe we can get some of that $16 per muffin money the DOJ just throws around

Panda:  maybe i can start a "donate to my fast missile-hover-boat-tank-jet-party bus-craft fund"

Stumpy:  ya

Panda:  we can call it the FMHBTJPBC

Stumpy:  hmmm...maybe we need a more condensed name?  Maybe something like: "Raddest fucking thing ever craft".  The RFTEC

Panda:  how about "awesome transportation destroyer vessel"

Stumpy:  YES

Panda:  and a marketing slogan can be: "great for boating, driving, hovering, flying, partying and BLOWING SHIT UP"

Stumpy:  fucking radical

Holy Mother...

Our mother is typically well mannered and polite; however there are those rare occasions where my sister and I see exactly where pieces of our personality stem from.  We’d like to take today’s blog to introduce this "quirkier" side of our mother.

While still in college, my parents purchased a small two bedroom condo where I lived during the last few years of school.  Our mother lived with me for a short time after our father had been relocated for his job.  They commuted back and forth between the two cities on the weekends until my mother found a new job and relocated with our dad.  During these years, my sister was going to school up north.  This was a rare period of both our lives when we saw very little of each other.  During this time, my life proved to be rather challenging and confusing, which led me to believe it was critical my family and I return to church.  As young children, my parents took us all to church for years.  As we grew up and our lives became busier, church became a smaller priority and we stopped attending regularly.

During college, when I was a crazy & confused 20 year old, my parents helped me find a church near where I was going to school and we began attending, just me and my parents.  The priest at the church was a very nice man who liked to become involved in the lives of his “flock”.  One day after church, he approached us and requested an opportunity to come by and meet the rest of the family.  My parents agreed and the date was decided.  As the date got closer, my mother requested the assistance of my brother, who has many years of experience in catering and event planning, in preparing a light brunch.  My brother agreed and put together a lovely menu.  Additionally, my mother made it very clear to us that she did not want her children to embarrass her in front of the priest; dirty language and fighting amongst ourselves (which was pretty typical behavior for the four of us) would not be tolerated.  These types of lectures are typical of my mother, but they generally have very little effect on our behavior.

With our recent lecture at the front of our minds, we all gathered at the small condo where my mother and I lived, and waited for the priest to arrive.  Upon his arrival, my mother invited him in, introduced him to the rest of her children.  We all gathered around the table and began filling plates with the lovely buffet style brunch my brother and mother had put together.  After filling up on pasta salad, frittata, and coffee, we sat around the living room talking with the priest, answering his questions about ourselves.  When the conversation turned to my brother’s life, he began answering the priest’s questions in his usual flamboyant manner.  It might surprise you to know that my brother (at least back then) had a worse potty mouth then my sister and I combined.  Knowing that, we are sure you can guess what happened next.  Even after the "lecturing" and stern looks, my brother let loose the “F” word in his conversation with the priest.  To be honest, we can’t even remember what he was talking about, some nonsense probably, as that is typical of our brother.  Nonsense where the use of the word fuck probably had no real place, but being our father’s children, we find use for the word more often then most.  After realizing what he had done, my brother slapped his hand across his mouth and looked with wide eyed alarm at my mother.  As we stated earlier, my mother is typically well mannered and polite, however she has a potty mouth of her own at moments.  These moments are few and far between and are usually reserved for times when a priest is not sitting in her living room, but apparently not on that day (however, as this is the only time in recent memory that a priest has been sitting in her living room that is really more of an assumption than a fact).  My mother’s face turned red and she looked at our brother with a shocked expression and blurted “JESUS CHRIST” followed by some shocked stuttering.  This was not the “Jesus Christ” one utters during prayer; it was a straight up, old fashioned curse.  In unison we all turned to her with a look that clearly said “mom, that didn’t make it better!!”  Conversation stalled for a few brief moments before the priest laughed a bit uncomfortably and muttered something about being used to some inappropriate language, being a chaplain of a fire house.  While we refrained from using any further inappropriate language for the rest of the visit, we could tell the priest had had enough of us.  The rest of the visit was somewhat tense and uncomfortable and when the priest made to leave, we were all pretty relieved to be rid of him.  As is typical of my family, we had quite a laugh reliving my mothers slip up after the priest had left and to this day the use of “Jesus Christ” as a curse makes us all chuckle a little.

Life for Dummies - Chapter 1 Part 2

Life for Dummies
Stumpy & Panda's Manual for Life

Chapter 1: Appropriate Attire (Part 2)

Business Attire

Business attire is typically split into two categories, business formal and business casual.  Business formal is generally reserved for those working closely with high level executives, law offices, public relations, things of that nature.  Business casual can be very diverse, depending on the environment, and can range from a well tailored pair of trouser jeans to dress slacks and a nice blouse.  This section will discuss the entire spectrum of appropriate business attire.

To begin, we will list the things that are absolutely prohibited in the work place, and when we say work place, we mean any office or retail work place, most of our rules do not apply to the occupations within the sex industry, including strippers, prostitutes, or porn stars.

The following items are never appropriate business attire:

¨           Ribbed Tank Tops

¨           Metallic Shoes

¨           Clear Shoes (this includes shoes with a clear heel)

¨           Shoes with Rhinestones

¨           Dresses found in or near the bathing suit section at Target

¨           Boob shirts one would wear to a dance club on Saturday nights

¨           Halter Tops

¨           Tube Tops

¨           Anything from Hot Topic, Wet Seal, Charlotte Russe, or Forever 21 (unless you work at one of these stores)

¨           Prom Dresses or any other formal wear

¨           Cocktail Dresses

¨           Suits (or most anything) found in the Juniors department at JC Penny

¨           Jumpers or Rompers

¨           Jean Jackets

¨           Jean Dresses

¨           Torn or ripped clothing, even if it is considered “designer tears”, it is still not appropriate (if you own these sort of items, throw them away or get them repaired, it is fucking inexcusable to wear them)

¨           Leggings or Jeggings of any kind

¨           Shorts

¨           Mini Skirts (any skirt that does not pass the finger tip test, meaning if your skirt does not pass your fingertips when your arms are resting at your sides, it is too fucking short – throw it away)

¨           Pajamas of any kind, especially pajama jeans

¨           Overalls

¨           Sweats, even black ones that you feel could “totally pass for dress pants”

¨           Hooded sweaters or sweatshirts

¨           Most anything that requires a draw string to keep on

¨           Most shirts or sweaters with a zipper

¨           Any item of clothing that requires a safety pin to keep your tits from being exposed

¨           Pants that are so long that you stapled them up (just fucking hem them)

¨           Maxi dresses

¨           See through clothing of any kind

¨           Wet hair (blow dryers are easy to use and relatively cheap – buy one)

General rules for all business attire

¨           Your clothes should always fit.  If we can see the outline of your cheesy ass cheeks through your pants, your pants are too fucking tight.  If you have a massive muffin top falling over your waist band, your pants are too fucking tight; adding a pretty shirt in attempts to cover your muffin top does not make you a cute cupcake, buy new fucking pants.  If your pants do not reach the top of your shoe, your pants are too fucking short.  If you have to staple or pin your pants to keep them from dragging on the ground, your pants are too fucking long.  If your blouse rides up as you walk and exposes your stomach, your blouse is too fucking small.  If you bend over and your blouse rides up exposing your back and your pants ride down exposing your ass crack, all your clothes are too fucking small.  If your button down blouse gapes in the middle and your bra and boobs are put on display, your shirt is too fucking small.  If you are unsure what the appropriate amount of coverage is, make sure you are covered from your chest to your knees and you’ll most likely be covered appropriately.

¨           Your bra straps and underwear should never be exposed in the work place.  Buy lower rise panties and a sweater to cover them up if you need to.

¨           Brown and black don’t fucking match.  Neither do brown and grey.  Don’t even try it.  Keep this in mind when pairing shoes with an ensemble.

¨           Your boobs should not spill out of the cups of your bras.  If they do, buy a bigger fucking bra.  There is no shame in a larger bra size, but there is shame in looking like a fucking retard that doesn’t know what bra size she should wear.

¨           If you are a make up wearing person, business make up is typically conservative.  You can have fun with your make up but if you look at all similar to a tranny-hooker, you’ve gone too far, tone it the fuck down.

Business formal

¨           Business formal wear should almost always be a suit.  It could be a skirt suit, pant suit or a dress with matching jacket. 

¨           Suits should typically not be mix and match, for example a grey suit should not be mixed with a black one, etc, so don’t try to mix things up by pairing black slacks with a grey suit jacket, it doesn’t fucking work. 

¨           Business formal does not include capri pants of any kind or a suit with short sleeves.  Formal business suits should have full length pants and sleeves every fucking time.

¨           Depending on the environment, pantyhose may be a requirement of business formal.  Again, as with formal wear, the only truly acceptable colors of pantyhose are black and nude.  There are situations where a patterned tight might be acceptable as well, but that is dependent on your work environment.  Keep in mind, when we say patterned tight, we don’t mean fucking argyle or something equally atrocious, we mean a small fishnet, or lace pattern.  These should typically be accompanied by a somewhat conservative skirt or dress, try not to take it too far. 

¨           We don’t give a shit how hot your office gets or how oppressive the humidity is outside, it is never acceptable to wear a see through blouse with a jacket, thinking the jacket will cover what it needs to. 

Business Casual

¨           Business casual can range from nice jeans to dress slacks.  It does not mean throwing on a faded or torn pair of jeans, a zip up hoodie, and sandals.  You still need to look presentable.  You never know when you’ll be called into the boss’s office for something.  Don’t assume you won’t see anyone important on any given day. 

¨           If business casual in your office means you can wear jeans, your jeans should be clean and unwrinkled.  They should never be torn anywhere, this includes no torn ratty hemline.  When wearing jeans, they must be paired with an appropriate top and foot wear.

¨           Appropriate tops include most blouses with a collar, or knit tops/sweaters.  Most tops with zippers are not appropriate, if the zipper is hidden in a seam or classically decorative (not motorcycle jacket style), it is probably acceptable.  T-shirts are not acceptable either, if you can wear it to the fucking gym, don’t wear it to work.

¨           If jeans are not permitted in your work place, business casual typically means a pair of dress slacks or docker type pants.  The same rules applicable to jeans should be observed with all other pants; pants should not be ratty looking and should be paired with an appropriate top and shoes.

¨           Cargo pants are not acceptable business casual attire. 

¨           Graphic Tees are not acceptable business casual attire.

¨           We understand when it is cold out, many like to wear hats or beanies to stay warm.  This is acceptable, as long as you remove the hat or beanie prior to beginning your work day.  This means you must comb your fucking hair and style it in some way that does not look like you just woke up, pulled clothes on and left.

Casual

Some of you may be surprised to learn there are rules that apply to casual attire.  If you spend any time outside of your house during your leisure hours, you should be dressing according to these rules.

¨           If you own clothing that looks like it belongs to one of those crazy people you’d see in those mass emails “The People of Walmart”, it is not acceptable clothing, ever.

¨           If you are larger than a size 8, spandex is not allowed on your body, ever.

¨           Fanny packs are not an acceptable replacement for a purse or wallet.

¨           Scrunchies should not be worn as it is not 1987.

¨           Clothes with words on the ass are not acceptable if you are over the age of 18.

¨           Socks should never be paired with sandals of any kind.  This includes Birkenstocks and those god-awful Teva sandals.

¨           You must always wear a bra when out of your home, even if you have small tits.  No one wants to see you running around with droopy boobs because your too fucking lazy to wear a bra, and when we say bra we don’t mean those that come built in to a tank top either, we mean a real fucking bra. 

¨           Even though it is casual dress, you clothes should still fit and should not expose those body parts that most consider “private”.

¨           Pajamas may only be worn out of your house in extreme circumstances, such as a deathly illness that requires a trip to the pharmacy or extreme hangovers from drinking multiple bottles of wine or 5 Long Island Ice Teas the night before.  In these situations you should avoid, if at all possible, pajamas with cartoon characters, or other childhood insignia.  Just in case you were wondering a bra is also required in these cases no matter your physical condition.