If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome including toilet flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD!

Overview: I had to take my son’s lizard to the vet. Here’s what happened: Just after dinner one night,
my son came up to tell me there was “something wrong” with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room.
“He’s just lying there looking sick,” he told me. “I’m serious dad, can you help?”

I put my best lizard-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.

“Honey,” I called, ” come look at the lizard!”
“Oh my! gosh,” my wife diagnosed after a minute. “She’s having babies.”
“What?” my son demanded.
“But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!”
I was equally outraged. “Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn’t want them to
reproduce,” I accused my wife. “Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?” she inquired.(I actually think she said this sarcastically!)

“No, but you were supposed to get two boys!” I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together). “Yeah, Bert and Ernie!” my son agreed! . “Well, it’s just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know,” she informed me. (again with the sarcasm, you think?)

By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. “Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced. “We’re about to witness the miracle of birth.” “Oh, gross!” they shrieked.

“Well, isn’t THAT just great! What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?” my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too. Don’t you?)

We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second late!

rrrrr… “We don’t appear to be making much progress,” I noted. “It’s breech,” my wife
whispered, horrified. “Do something, Dad!” my son urged. “Okay, okay.”

Squeamishly , I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results. “Should I call 911,” my eldest daughter wanted to know. “Maybe they could talk us through the trauma.” (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)

“Let’s get Ernie to the vet,” I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap. “Breathe, Ernie, breathe,” he urged. “I don’t think lizards do Lamaze,” his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me
is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God’s sake.)

The Vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a
magnifying glass. “What do you think, Doc, a C-section?” I suggested scientifically. “Oh, very interesting,” he murmured.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?” I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside. “Is Ernie going to be okay?” my wife asked. “Oh, perfectly,”
the Vet assured us. “This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn’t EVER going to happen… Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um…. um…. masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back.”

He blushed, glancing at my wife. “Well, you know what I’m saying, Mr. Cameron.”
We were silent, absorbing this. “So Ernie’s just… just… excited,” my wife offered.
“Exactly,” the vet replied, relieved that we understood.

More silence. Then my viscous, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then
even laugh loudly. “What’s so funny?” I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness. Tears were now running down her face.

Laughing “It’s just… that… I’m picturing you pulling on its…its…teeny little…” she gasped
for more air to bellow in laughter once more. “That’s enough,” I warned. We thanked the Vet and hurriedly bundled the lizards and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay. “I know Ernie’s really thankful for what you’ve done, Dad,” he told me. “Oh, you have NO idea,”

Closed mouth, my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
1 - Lizards - $140…
2 - Cage - $50…
3 - Trip to the Vet - $30…
4 - Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard’s winkie….. Priceless.
Moral of the story - finish biology class - lizards lay eggs

Bottled at the source P.W.S.

Pepsi-cola announced today on CNN that their bottled water “Aquafina” will have a label change soon. The new bottles will say, “The Aquafina in this bottle is purified water that originates from a public water source,” or something similar, Pepsi-Cola North America spokeswoman Nicole Bradley told CNN. So much for P.W.S.

This particular news piece made me look twice at my bottle of Poland Springs water this evening! I’ve been a bottled water gal since the release of Madonna’s second album Like a Virgin. After reading this report I am not a happy camper because my bottled water of preference is owned by Nestle, an irresponsible company that has been boycotted in one form or another since July 1977.

Why didn’t I spend more time on research as I do in all other areas of my life? Was it because my geologist friend always had a bottle of trusted Poland Springs water when we went hiking and that made it alright? Or is it representative that I really have compromised my belief system and have become just one more casualty of today’s throw away society?

How about if I bang my head as hard as I can against my new blog, and shove my pointy little brain into a tight idiot crevice for your commentary bliss…

I found the option so that anyone can comment without approval.

I am just building this blog - come back when it is together!