I came home to discover that the Butcher was watching TV with…
Go ahead. Guess. Who was the Butcher watching TV with?
Yes, that motherfucking crawdad!!!!
It walked up to him in the yard and he… I don’t know… took it as a sign that the crawdad wanted to watch some Attack of the Show.
I made him put it back in the creek.
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I am so seeing this scene. You’re living in the House o’ Strange.
f**king hell…. time for the Butcher to get a J.O.B.!!!!!!!
Beth, isn’t that a little thoughtless of you to write? The Butcher has been trying very hard to find a job. The economy is a mess. He’s had some really bad luck. He’s a little miserable about it. He too would rather be working than watching TV with a crawfish.
I think it’s kinda funny and cute. And I’m really glad that next photo above gives me something to judge the size. That close up shot has been haunting me a bit. I’ve been imagining it as a 4 pound lobster even though I knew it must have been tiny.
I would have followed him home, met his family, then eaten the whole lot of them.
And it’s that attitude, autoegocrat, that will keep you from ever finding a nice crawdad to settle down with and marry and have little crawbabies with.
And let’s not rip on the Butcher too much here, folks. I adore weird crap like this and I’m tickled that I never know quite what I’m going to come home to.
I wander around with a Bigfoot figurine in my handbag, so I love that the Butcher would watch television with a crawdad.
I think this is awesome and if we lived in a more crayfish (this is the word my family has always used for crawfish aka crawdads) friendly place I might give it a try.
Really, I think this is kind of like how your old house had the ghosts of the Civil War (unless they came with you – that ready supply of modern kitchen impliments is nice) and the hobos. So it must be new neighborhood, new local friends.
I think your new friend needs a name!
I’ve been thinking of him as “Dwayne.”
He looks like a Dwayne.
i didn’t mean to be thoughtless… words on a screen have no tone. I have been in the situation — what I meant is that once you get there, you start getting VERY BORED VERY FAST — this can be either before or after the depression sets in.
When a person starts watching tv with crayfish…. ;-)
Only if you spell it Duane (as in “Lord, I was born a ramblin’ crawdad). Otherwise, him needs him a good Cajun name like JeanPaul. I’d like to call him etoufee, but hell, he’s almost your kin now.
You know that crawdads live a hellacious long time, right? If something doesn’t eat him, he’s going to be around for a while. He’ll just shed out when he’s ready to get bigger.
He is a ramblin’ crawdad! He’s been in the house, he’s been in the yard, now he’s back in the creek…
Y’all make me laugh so hard. He totally is the ramblin’ crawdad!
He just can’t leave his rough and rowdy crawdaddin’ ways.
Oh. My. God. My children don’t need the alarm to wake them, because my hyena-cackle just brought them all out of bed. That is HYSTERICAL!!!
The Butcher is awesome. All there is to it. Your home seems a wonderful place to be
You “made him put it back in the creek”? Is he your husband or your son? Geez
Um, do you read this blog? Because he’s neither.
I’m pretty new. I haven’t read enough to find what government-issued papers you have or don’t have for this Butcher. But you know the old saying “if it walks like a duck…”
Pretty new and ready to assume that a female getting a male to take some action is probably wrong, huh?
Oh OK. Googled it. Sorry for the confusion. I’ll just read and gush every once in a while.
I don’t know about “wrong,” and I would have had the same thought if the genders were reversed. Now that I know he’s a brother, it’s kinda sweet, like Max and Ruby.
No one’s required to gush, but if you’re going to throw your weight around, you better make sure you’ve got your facts straight.
I made a mistake and apologized for it; if you expect perfection, we’ll both be disappointed.
I don’t give a shit one way or another. I’m saying do what you want, but if you’re going to strut into a thread all cocky about what I’m doing wrong in the world, you damn sure better be right. Otherwise, find a way to frame it that doesn’t make you sound like you’ve elected yourself police of how I conduct my personal life.
That’s all. It’s pretty easy. I’m not trying to be a hard-ass. I’m trying to tell you about how things work around here. If you seem like you’re looking for a fight, folks will fight you.
If you seem like you’re looking for a fight, but that your feelings easily get hurt, folks will fight you worse.
If you aren’t looking for a fight, bear those things in mind. It’s not a “safe space” in my comments and you’re walking by wolves waving red meat.
I’m a little freaked that he found out the butcher was your brother via Google.
Kat, you can find it by googling “Aunt B” and “Butcher.” It seems harmless to me.
I’m not looking for a fight nor have my feeling been hurt; I thought it was kinda sad you made him get rid of his little companion. I’d read the “He bought me cookies at Walmart even though I ate his ??? (can’t remember)” thread and got the wrong idea about your relationship.
Seeing that we’re all pretty anonymous talking about whether or not a crawdad should watch television with an unemployed butcher instead of living in a creek, I respectfully disagree that it’s not a “safe space” in the scheme of things. I haven’t elected myself anything except someone with an opinion about how it was unfortunate you “made him” put the crawdad back in the creek (and it actually did remind me of an episode of “Max and Ruby” where Max, the little brother, finds this frog and his sister makes him put it back in the creek over and over again.) If that makes me some sort of Nazi cop waving around red meat to a pack of wolves looking for a fight, well, I’ll just have to enjoy the metaphor.
Seeing that we’re all pretty anonymous talking about whether or not a crawdad should watch television with an unemployed butcher instead of living in a creek, I respectfully disagree that it’s not a “safe space” in the scheme of things.
Actually, as I look through this, most of us have met socially in real time, and the others (save you) have all been here long enough that we ‘know’ each other at least cyberly.
So no, we’re not all that anonymous.
And yes,nm, I guess you can. I still get freaked out when people google me, though. I think of google as a handy way for looking up OTHER folks. Not for having myself searched. ;-p