March 8th, 2012
I forgot to tell you about them, didn’t I?
Yes, two days before Christmas we had two immigrants in our basement. We had to hide them there so the kids wouldn’t know until Christmas and it was touch and go for a while there. I kept running into the basement under the guise of doing laundry so that I could give them food and water and make sure they weren’t too cold. And also, to make sure they hadn’t escaped.
We didn’t know what their names were. Hubby picked them up somewhere around his job in White Plains and brought them home. We just dubbed them Pablo and Jose.
Then, thank GOD, Christmas came and we could let Pablo and Jose up from the basement and the kids were SO HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY!
Did I mention that Pablo and Jose are guinea pigs?
Also, their names are no longer Pablo and Jose. Our children, in what can only be called a stunning lack of ethnic awareness, have called them Spike and Speedy.
The whole Pablo and Jose thing came about because The Tech Guru and I were watching Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern once and he was somewhere in South America – where guinea pigs are part of the native population, hence the Pablo and Jose monikers – and the family that he was eating with had some guinea pigs roasting on the fire. I mean, this whole idea of keeping animals as cutesy putesy pets that serve no fucking purpose whatsoever beyond entertainment really shows how well off we as a society are. Because in other places, you need to provide some kind of food and earn your keep, or your ass is getting cooked. Milk. Eggs. Even the dogs have to catch some shit or guard some shit or herd some shit; none of this lazing around going to doggy day camp and playdates in the dog runs with your best friend the Rottie from down the street. So although I wasn’t exactly dying to fire up the grill and roast me a cavy (cavy being the proper name for guinea pigs), I was okay with the people eating the guinea pigs. They have to eat SOMETHING. Shit, we eat chickens and cows. And pigs. Just not…guinea pigs.
Then lo and behold Pudding and Punksin decided they wanted guinea pigs and as it just so happened, a woman close to The Tech Guru’s job was giving some up for adoption, and she had two boys. You may have read my previous post in which I mentioned that two boys is a no-no since they will supposedly try to beat each other to death, but she assured me that NOOOOO, they were father and son and they got along FAMOUSLY.
Pablo and Jose, they sort of tolerate each other, but the son is always snatching food from the dad, and rolling all up in his face when the dad’s trying to eat, like “what, what, i’m in yo face, what?” and the dad is always walking around making rumbling noises and doing this thing that guinea pigs do where they sway from side to side with their hind legs like little sumo wrestlers, which is guinea pig body and verbal language for “back the fuck up OFF me or I will fucking shank you, motherfucker, fo REALS.”
Actually…maybe that should be in Spanish? Unfortunately, my Spanish – ees no so good, ju know wha i mean? I know how to say boring stuff like I love you, stop it, come here, what is this, how much does this cost, you know, simple stuff. I know how to tell my husband he’s handsome and sexy and please take his clothes off. I mean, he’s Latin – I figure I should know how to tell him to get naked in Spanish. And telling the kids to STOP doing whatever the hell it is they’re doing, I mean, the Tech Guru only tells them that about a THOUSAND TIMES A DAY, so that in Spanish, I know. But nothing along the lines of, I’m running shit up in this cage, SON, or, bitch you better give me that carrot, or, why you hoggin’ the hamster wheel, yo?
What a fucking waste of Spanish classes.
But back to Pablo and Jose. The more I think about it…something is fishy here. They’re always swaggering and fighting. They steal shit from each other all the time. They have set exercise times (guinea pigs like schedules, apparently). They get fed 2 square meals a day with treats for good behavior. Twice a day we take them out of their houses so they can get exercise. They even have guinea pig EXERCISE EQUIPMENT. And at night, we turn off the lights so they can rest…but they don’t always sleep…
Oh my god.
I’m running Guinea Pig Alcatraz.
Jesus. I hope they’re not raping each other…
Well, so far they have yet to kill or seriously injure each other. (If they are raping each other, it’s after lights out and I DON’T WANT TO KNOW.) But most of the supposed fisticuffs really is a lot of posturing and swagger. (Serious digression here but really: why is it that the more men swagger, the less impressive they actually really are? It’s like, I’m not really that hard or confident in myself but I don’t want you to know that, so I’m gonna act EXTRA MANLY to fool you. The Tech Guru has ZERO swagger. NONE. He doesn’t look hard, act hard, talk hard – shit, he hardly talks at all if he doesn’t know you well. He will sit there and not say boo, but internally, he’s sizing you up and trying to decide if you’re worth the bother of him opening his goddamn mouth. But! When he DOES finally say something, he MEANS it. If he says he is going to do something, THAT SHIT GETS DONE. And when he does get pissed, if it is warranted, he will KICK YOUR ASS – and he has the muscles to do it: nice big hands…muscular thighs, I LOVE his thighs, football player thighs and they haven’t changed a BIT from when he played in college…great abs, too! And a hairy chest, it goes all down to his stomach and just covers those abs nicely, not too much that it’s gross, but its like a soft carpet and I just rub my face in it and it feels like velvet…sigh… I like men with hair on their chests, not a whole bush but something substantial you can see and be like, yup, that’s a MAN. Big biceps too, did I mention those? Yum. But ZERO swagger! Just manly in a very confident, I-don’t-need-to-overdo-it-but-I-can-back-my-shit-up-if-you-test-me kind of way. That right there? Silent but kick-ass? That is SEXY AS HELL.
Okay, I, um, need to go find The Tech Guru for…something. Where the hell is he anyhow… yeah, uh, stay right there. I’ll be back.
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THIS EDIFYING ARTICLE HAS BEEN BROUGHT TO YOU COURTESY OF THE VOICES IN MY HEAD. THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT AND REMEMBER…
JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN’T HEAR THEM, IT DOESN’T MEAN THEY’RE NOT REAL.
Okay, um, I’m back. What the hell was I talking about? Shit, I’m out of breath. Oh…yeah…guinea pigs. Whew! Prison. Yeah. Okay, I’m back on track now. I was SAYING, that these guinea pigs talk some good game but really don’t do much for us to worry about; a matter of fact, we should probably be more concerned about Pudding killing his guinea pig, Spike (aka Jose) because he hoists that little fucker around like a rag doll. We keep telling him to be gentle but it’s not really sinking in…but Spike actually seems to be getting used to it.
I guess he knows whose bitch he is now!
Damn, this post made me tired.