Update from last post

the rat's nest updates,

not about the group spooning (this we can all please forget about now), but the spazzie fitness duo, G and the Kaz.

So I mentioned they are teaming up as workout buddies. I also mentioned the Kaz will kick some butt, especially in the boxing ring and leg "pedalling" events. Also, swimming lessons begin in two months and we are ready to go. She will not go to the snobby posh pool near her house, however. We cannot be a liberal, working class joey and swim in the snobby posh pool!

Do not let her girly appearance fool you in the following pic. This is misleading. It serves to put all competitors off the scent.
Instead, observe the uncensored spazzie gaze, the determined set of the mouth and the disciplined, GI Jane-like (albeit fuzzy wuzzy) hairstyle.

Now I don't mean to completely offend the handyman before his arrival, but it's probably relatively safe because I think he bought his ticket today so there's no going back. So here's a pic lifted from a newspaper (won't say which for reasons of self-protection), showing the pumpkin artist formerly known as Pierre, hard at work. I will say that he at least shaved before carving our president's face into this giant member of the squash family. (In collaboration with another artist/carver, I believe.) But look at that insane head of hair! Check out the generous sideburns! Does this scruffy dude look ready to take on the Spaz?
[Check out the whitehouse blog to see another pic of the finished product and a few more.]

(Also, G, no offense but that lame-o t-shirt does not hold a candle to the pumpkin crew sweatshirt you guys sent me last year.)

I know what you're all wondering: Why do I always pick on the sibs but let the Dapster fall through the cracks, avoiding my rapier nastiness? Well, don't forget that she keeps me fed and prevents the rat's nest from falling into vromyarness. She also deals with all the sickie-related bureaucracy, of which there is plenty. So you can understand that it is not in my best interest to alienate her through this medium. So I am forced to say something positive!

You may know that Dap's mother and sister had long careers as nurses. Dappy did not become a nurse due to chickenshitedness (mine did not come from nowhere, friends), and has sometimes expressed regret about this when we're sitting in the ospedale room and the cool, hardcore nurses come in and do their jobs. K learned to do my jabs (under the skin in the fleshy part of the gut) and has taken care of it, but lately it's so hard to go over to her place or make her drag the Spaz over here, just for the sake of the jab. D tried once but gave up when the medicine leaked back out after she removed the needle. (Needless to say, there is no way that my own well-developed and nurtured-over-the-years chickenshitedness would ever ever allow me to give myself a shot like those diabetes people.)

But yesterday she forced herself to try again and she gave me a painless jab, and repeated the procedure today. Smooth as you like. Perhaps she missed her calling after all. (Plus she likes those little white dresses and caps.)