Category Archives: April

TDD Valentine Weekend Especial


Goooooood MORNINGGGG TDD!!!!!!

Did you read that in a loud, obnoxious Robin Williams voice? If you didn’t, go back and read it again. You done? Ok, thanks. There’s nothing worse than when someone doesn’t read what you wrote the right way. We’ve gotta be on the same wavelength, you and me. And I’ve only got one wavelength. So you’re gonna have to come over to mine.

So how was your valentine weekend? It looked like most of you got some nice goodies from your wives/husbands/boyfriends/girlfriends/booty calls etc.

We had a fun weekend at home. It started off a little funky of course, with April and I going to watch 50 Shades of Smack Dat Ass. If you didn’t read my review on this excellent piece of cinematic beautistry, I’ll put a link at the bottom. It ranks right up there with Citizen Kane, Gone With The Wind, and Showgirls. Except with whips and chains and butt-stuff. Continue reading TDD Valentine Weekend Especial

RIP, Urkel

Well, we’ve got several photo sessions out of the way. As always, April has a pretty damn impressive spread set up out at the barn, and the pictures look adorable.

There’s a 30 minute break here before the next appointment shows up, so I’m gonna take a minute to tell you about how our morning started. Cuz it wasn’t pretty.

Let me back up. Yesterday, April called me to tell me she found one of her roosters behind the tool shed, and he was pretty bloodied and beaten. Bottom line, he got his ass whipped by the other rooster.

We didn’t know that they were both roosters when we got them as babies. Once we figured it out, they seemed to get along okay, so we weren’t too concerned about them fighting. Unfortunately it seems, yesterday shit got real. And even more unfortunately, one of them is a LOT bigger than the other one.

Picture in your mind, Muhammed Ali fighting….Steve Urkel. It was pretty frigging lopsided.

April saved Urkel, scooped him up and took him back to the coop to recover. She was sad, but me, in all my chicken farming glory said, “he’ll be fine. Just leave him in there to recover for a bit.

Fast forward to this morning. We let the dogs out, I put the coffee on, get bundled up and head outside to get the last bits ready for April’s busy day of Christmas pictures.

I’m out at the barn when I hear blood curdling screams. It’s Emma. Oh damn. She’s screaming, really screaming. At Vegas, the Australian shepherd. “He’s EATING THE CHICKEN!!! Vegas, STOP! STONEYYYY!!!!”

Vegas is now laying on the porch looking as innocent as Sylvester after he just tried to eat Tweety Bird. He’s got a telltale red ring around his mouth like Gracee when she’s been eating a cherry Popsicle. Except something tells me that’s not cherry flavoring around his lips. Crap.

I make my way to the coop to find….an ugly scene. The chickens head is gone. Completely. And his neck. It’s all gone. There’s just a wide open hole looking down into his body cavity. Emma is beside herself. April is now outside, and needless to say, she is less than pleased. I reach down and grab the chicken up from his roost, and he’s stiff as a board. Well, that’s actually good news. He’s been dead a while, and the dogs just got outside. So they didn’t kill him. They simply ate his head AFTER he was dead. Sometimes you’ve got to be pleased with small victories.

But then, the other rooster comes walking up looking like Carrie when they dump that bucket of blood over her head at the prom. He’s covered in blood. And it’s not his. Awwww damn it. He killed the injured rooster during the night. He’s a straight up, stone cold assassin. He even looks proud. He’s crowing and strutting around the yard like he’s Billy Badass. The good news is, I don’t have to worry about having the roosters fight anymore. The bad news is….well, I’ve got a bloodied headless rooster.

However, I’m nothing if not an opportunist, and I took this opportunity to teach Emma some biology. I am an animal science major, after all. So I had Emma come over to me and we looked down inside of his body. I showed her the different parts of his heart, and his lungs and gizzards.

So, I’m glad to say that Urkel’s death was not in vain. We used his body for the betterment of science.

And also, I want Emma to have plenty of things to talk about someday when she is in therapy.

Double score.


Not my best day…

So yesterday was a bad day. Many of you may have read here,, where I lost my dear old NRHA coffee cup. It was a bad way to start the day.

But then later in the day, I went out to the barn to feed horses. The colt is really growing. He is thick and healthy, probably pushing 400 lbs. He’s also ornery as hell.

Emma and Abby both had mentioned earlier in the week that when they fed him, he had acted like he wanted to kick. I shrugged it off as an over-exaggeration of two little girls. I am around him all the time, and he’s never offered to kick me. Not once. He’ll definitely nibble on you occasionally, but a swift pop in the mouth cures that pretty quick.

So, I scooped up some feed for them and threw it the trough in the barn. Before I walked off, I noticed a small 3″-4″ piece of PVC pipe laying on the ground beside the feed trough. Probably something Shooter found who knows where.

Standing beside him, I bend down to pick up the small piece of pipe. And as I do, the little bastard spun around on me in a split second and kicked, both feet. We call that a ‘double barrel’ in the horse world.

One foot caught me just beneath my left shoulder blade, and the other one in the back of the head, knocking off my hat. And sending my Ray-Bans flying across the barn.


I can’t really tell you what happened next. It’s just between Shooter and I. But it’s a conversation that I expect he will never forget. After our “talk”, I made my way into the house to check out my bits and pieces. Other than the bumps and bruises on my head and shoulder, everything checked out fine. Thankfully, when you’ve got a mouth like mine, you learn to take a punch to the head without too much concern.

However, the whole incident, along with my broken coffee cup, put me in a bad mood. And when I get in a bad mood, I like to clean. So I decided to go wash my truck. Where’s my sunglasses? Then it hits me……ahhhh dammit.

I go out to the barn, but can’t find them. I look around the stalls, the alleyway, while simultaneously giving Shooter the stink-eye, but still can’t find them.

April senses my mood and decides to help. And like moms always do, she found my beloved Ray-Bans buried in the dirt, with a lens busted out into tiny pieces.


Son of a bitch.

Shooter hasn’t made eye contact with me since the incident. He sees me wearing my backup pair of Maui Jim’s, drinking coffee from a different cup, and he knows. Steer clear of the boss man. He’s pissed.

He’s not as stupid as I thought. Our little training session must’ve paid off. He should probably play it cool for a few days though. Cuz his ass is on thin ice.