Login HereThe Three Tonguers followed by He Who Can Climb Onto Everything
Recent events revealed : Monday evening the lithe and fabtastic mrs tbogg is coming down the stairs, gets to the bottom step when, crash boom bam, she slips and crumples into a heap ( a very attractive heap, I might add) because a certain puppy allegedly peed on the marble at the base of the stairs, causing one of mrss tbogg's legs to fly forward while the other refused to cooperate and stayed behind. By the time I got to her she was sitting up and using Our Lord Jesus Christ's name in the many colorful and novel ways that one might expect to hear from Sen. John McCain when Cindy burns his toast... or hides his Viagra. While she sat on the floor, Fenway, who still was only a suspect at the time, circled her like a shark who thinks he smells blood, his tail wagging with delight at this new game.
With an able assist from me, mrs tbogg collected herself from the floor and hobbled into the bedroom where she eventually announced that she 'thinks she broke a toe'. I made the appropriate sympathetic sounds while going back to blogging (did you hear I took up blogging recently ? Oh yeah. Great time-waster).
Moments later mrs tbogg came over to the desk and swung a very attractive gam my way, the better to display the aforementioned toe.
"I think it's broke" she said pointing at her big toe.
I look at it but, let's face it, unless a toe is pointing in the wrong direction, it's really hard to see that a toe is broken. I kept looking, my mind racing for something to say. Something comforting. I look at the toe. It looked at me. I'm not intimidated by a toe, I don't back down. Inspiration strikes...
"I'd kiss it...but it's your toe."
No response, but I got The Look.
I dug deeper.
"Couldn't you have hurt a boob?"
Under normal circumstances I would say "Here endeth the lesson." but wait! there's more.
The next morning the still lithe and fabtastic and now freshly-showered mrs tboggg was in the L&T Casey's room blow-drying her hair when I heard "Nononononono Fenway! No!"
"Now what?"
"He just pooped in Casey's room. Come get him."
As I got to the door mrs tbogg was standing there holding Fenway under his front legs, his impossibly long body dangling towards the floor, when she said, "Oh shit!"
"What?"
"I just stepped in it."
"The same foot from last night?"
"Yes. Dammit."
Pause.
"You know, that foot isn't getting any more appealing."
Here endeth the lesson wherein we learn that, just because you think it that doesn't mean you should say it.
Share This 
Spotlight
Support this site!
Keep up with news
Advertise on Firedoglake
Send us your tips
Make us your homepage
About TBogg
Advanced search
RSS/XML Feed
FENWAY WRIGLEY TBOGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!
Puppies. Damned if they do, damned if they don’t.
Didja think about checking with the other guys, to see who actually told Fenway to do this?????
And…. extremely sorry for ur toe, Mrs. TBogg. I’ve broken many a foot and toe in my day and I know how much it hurts. (None involved Arthur J. GWPDA, however.)
Faces like that are made to be forgiven.
Tbogg displays diplomatic skills that rival Condoleezza Rice’s…
So how long did it take to get the L & F Mrs. TBogg’s toe out of yer ass?
New American folk song to cheer everyone up.
Oh I come from Arizona
With a Bimbo on my knee,
And I’m goin to the White House
Zn Washington D.C.
Barack Obama, you don’t frighten me.
‘Cause I come form Arizona with a bimbo on my knee.
I’m a genuwhine war hero.
I sorta learned to fly,
But the airplanes they gave me
Kept droppin’ from the sky.
Barack Obama ,,,,,,,,,,,,,etc.
Oh I see the world as black and white,
There are no shades of gray,
And I’ve got a nasty temper;
So don’t get in my way.
Barack Obama………….etc.
Awwww, poor Fenway looks very, very sorry (and very guilty). And precious as always.
Oh, Mdm. Tbogg, you deserve so much better!
Is it just me or does Beckham actually look cheerful in that picture? Not his usual baleful self. I think the puppy is getting to him.
They stick out their tongues, and we say “Awwwwwwww…..”
As for the lesson: I presume a brand-new, fully tricked-out MacBook Air is en route to Casa TBogg. Maybe the 1 terrabyte Time Capsule, as well.
Ol’ football helmet head looks happy. Maybe he was the one who peed on the stairs.
Reminds me of the old Catholic mass joke
The choir director selected the 6-year-old little boy with the sweetest face for the opening scene of the play. “Now, all you have to do is, when I direct the choir to sing ‘…and the angel lit the candle’, you come onstage and light all the candles.”
“I can do it - I can do it!” the little boy said, excited to be the one picked.
Rehearsals came and went, and finally the big night arrived. The choir was in grand voice, the stage was beautifully decorated with dozens of unlit candles all around, awaiting the moment when the cute littlest angel made his interest.
The director gave the downbeat, the orchestra began to play, and the choir swept into the introductory lines, ending with an expectant “…and the angel lit the candle,” and everyone looked stage right for the entrance. No little boy. The director gave the downbeat again, and gestured for a louder line, which the choir gave him - “…and the angel lit the candle,” and again, all eyes looked stage right. No little boy.
The director, beginning to sweat, motioned with great, sweeping gestures, and the choir thundered into the line - the curtains belled slightly from the sound - “…AND THE ANGEL LIT THE CANDLE!”
And into the silence which followed came a clear, boy-soprano voice floating piercingly from stage right “…and the cat peed on the matches!”
I actually know a different version, but I like this one too.
God I’m missing out on so much while I’m away… Dad you should have got that on video. I’m excited to meet the puppy next week…
Do you know what cures a broken toe covered in poo?
A MacBook Air. I tell ya it is a miracle cure, better than Benny Hinn.
Beckham looks… kinda worn. And Satchmo looks like he’s thinking “Now you know, Becks, just how much I loved having *you* show up in my life… “
As for the puddles, I’m sure they make Puppy Pants, aka “belly bands” or “male sanitary garments” in the basset hound size. Our new guy has been doing pretty good, considering he was bounced from two previous homes for failure-to-housebreak.* But he still wears Puppy Pants at night, because he’s a lot faster off the mark first thing in the morning than the two middle-aged humans who control access to the back yard.
*Actually he’s broken quite a lot of our house; we would have bet against a ten-pound papillon being able to eat his way through a hollow-core door. Just in case you think Fenway’s a nuisance…
In the matter of the L and F Mrs. TBogg v. Fenway: “Your Honor, I am sure we are all sympathetic to the injuries and indignities suffered by the plaintiff. In response, I can only ask you to look at my client. (Points to Fenway, sitting in black leather chair, looking like the very embodiment of Teh Cute) I ask you, Your Honor, can you honestly believe my client capable of these outrages and enormities?”
You have marble at the base of your stairs? NO S-CHIP FOR YOU.
As you may know, the British Labour party suffered serious losses to the Conservatives Thursday.
Indeed, the District Council of Bassetlaw, once a Labour stronghold, remained in Conservative hands, as the Reagan Democrats there once again drooped their ears toward the lower standards of Conservatism.
Background info (from www.bassetlaw.gov.uk/the_counc.....etlaw.aspx ):
The name ‘Bassetlaw’ is believed to mean ‘hill of the dwellers at the burnt place’, comprising the old English boernet (burnt place), soete (dwellers), and hlaw (hill).
Bassetlaw is even cited in the Domesday Book as ‘Bernedslaue’ but even older are its historic sites where evidence of Roman, Bronze Age and Stone Age artefact’s have been found.
I think Fenway’s getting a free ride in the press. Imagine the outrage of the MSM had Beckham, deliberately and with malice aforethought, made not one, but two attempts on teh life of the Possibly-Fractured and Poopstinky Mrs Tbogg?
One gets a free ride while the other is tarred with the epithet “Little Bastard…” Wait ’til Somerby hears about this.
That’s a story for the ages. Ripping good yarn.
My dear puppy Jack the Dog turns 15 today. Here’s a link to his snapshot iffin’ you’re so inclined to drop by…
I think, all together, that’s about nine feet of tongue in that picture.
I feel like I’m there.
I can almost smell the glory.
I can still smell the poo…..
Will you please be our attorney if McCain wins and he sends his storm troopers after Tbogg? I”m pretty sure the “cute” defense is way better than the “Twinkie” defense….
I would be honored to rush to your defense, dear lady. Please let me know which persona would work best for you: polished barrister or gallus-snappin’ country lawyer. Fee schedules available on request.