He's Full of Crap

This weekend J-Fed was all over the map. I'm talking from Siberia to California. His little brain was apparently working overtime, and it came at the price of my sanity.

Because the kiddies were ill and he's set to travel tomorrow, I told him it would be in his best interest to stay over in his fat bachelor pad... and far away from the children. Since it was already making the rounds in my house, I thought my consideration was a kind gesture, although I could think of nothing better than seeing J-Fed suffering a bout of the flu while en route to Boston. At least he'd have easy access to a collection of barf bags.

In return I asked that he take care of the puppy. I thought it was a fair deal. Two sicks kids or one pint-sized poop machine. Surprisingly, he agreed with the stipulations. Friday night he showed up and I happily turned over my own personal Wile E. Coyote. J-Fed assured me that he never has any issues with the dog, and still for the life of him couldn't understand why I was having so much trouble.

Instead of spitting in his face, I filled up a bag of the organic food that he special orders for the dogs (a topic which will be covered in-depth this week) and sent him on his merry way.

Since I wasn't feeling so hot myself, Kuku volunteered to stay the weekend and assist with the children. We all turned in early and prayed for wellness by Saturday morning. However, it didn't come at all.

The Fedster showed up to return the pup, bright and early. He pointed out that he was no problem at all. After giving me another verbal kick in the ass, he  tricky trotted off, leaving me to tend to typhoid mary and her sidekick malaria missy. It wasn't 30 minutes before the pup marked his territory on my porch with a big runny poo. At first I thought my eyes deceived me. Did he have stones in his stool? Oh no, on closer inspection, it was far better -- he had corn kernels in his crap.