Handsome For About A Minute; Raging Shatz

So I'm working the desk last night at the library and this out-of-towner comes up to ask for a guest pass to get on the Interwebs (you need a valid library card # to get on at my library; we give passes to visitors because WE'RE A 5-STAR OUTFIT, B*TCHES!!1!).

So in a friendly way she says: "Hello, McNulty." Or at least that what I hear. So I ignore that part because that's not my name. 

But she says it again. I just smile. 

She says, "Haven't you ever heard of McNulty?"

And a light goes on, and I go: "O, yeah - the character on The Wire! McNulty!"

And I'm feeling kinda flattered right about now because she's saying she thinks I look like Dominic West, who's a pretty good-looking guy, with a pretty non-flat @$$, for an Irishman.

And she goes, "No,no, no ...
... I said 'Nick Nolte'. Hasn't anyone ever told you you look like him?"

Me (slightly pissed, now): "No. This is the FIRST time." [I may have uttered a joySashaY-esque "Grrr!" here, too.]

"Well you DO!"

It's dawning on me now: She evidently considers this a compliment.

Me: "Here's your [f*cking] guest pass. [Now go and f*ck yourself. Rather hard.¹]"

(Portions in brackets may or may not've been uttered aloud.
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So I'm innocently making a comment on MCM Mama's blog, and I notice this:

Now, I don't know how things work inside the beltway² where MCM Mama lives, but out here, in REAL America where simple, small town country values reign supreme — I'm talkin' about Joisey, here, foax — chicks don't go around making comments about a dude's @$$ (or, in chickspeak, "tushi"). It's considered rude. 

HEY!! MCM MAMA!! My eyes are UP HERE!!1!

But while we're on the topic ... Does MCM Mama's blog make my tushi look big? 

It's fine if it does. I could use a little junk in the trunk.

To be entirely honest, I am slightly flattered that MCM Mama is not turned off by how much I resemble Nick Nolte. 

But still, I AM married.
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Morgan, our neurotically agoraphobic sheltie, had, all day yesterday, a case of what one blogger had dubbed "the raging shats". Something Morgan ate did not agree with him and, when I got home last night at around quarter of 10, Teh 'Bride immediately regaled me with the latest adventures in Teh Life of Teh Dog With Teh Liquid Butt. I figured, Okay by now he must be all shat out. But Teh 'Bride insisted he be put in his cage for the night. (He usually sleeps in our bed.)

And it's a good thing she did, because at 2:30 a.m. (there's a 2:30 in THE MORNING, too, in case you've never been up to experience it), I heard what sounded like a kid trying to make the most disgusting farty-noise he could with his mouth. But that was no kid. And that was no mouth. That was Morgan — specifically, his raging, shatty, loudly liquid @$$.

And Teh 'Bride and I had to clean it up. As soon as we let Morgan out of his cage, he jumped up on the bed, @$$ still kinda trailing liquid poo, and sat on my pillow.

I'll spare you the disgusting details. O, wait ... too late.

So I've basically been awake since 2:30 a.m., which is early even for me.

I think Teh 'Bride got back to sleep. I sure hope so, because tonight's her night at her library. She has to work till 9:00 p.m. (Did you know there's a 9:00 AT NIGHT too? We AARPs rarely stay up that late, so it was a surprise to me.)
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¹ cf. deloosemoose bah-humbugging Secret Santas.

² This is NOT a euphemism for some sort of Loose-Moose-ian "toenail biting" [nudge-nudge] deviant sex act; it refers to where Teh Mama lives: Inside (or at least near) the DC Beltway.