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Welcome to Dudeville

I dropped Dys off at the airport this morning at Oh Dark Thirty.  (Technically it was Oh Dark Forty, but who cares.)  From here until Saturday night, it’s me and the Boy and the dog.

There’s lots to do.  Christmas decorating, Christmas shopping, general picking up and so forth.  Boy will also have homework, Cub Scout pins to work toward, and that sort of jazz as well.

But as I told him last night, for the rest of the week, this is Dudeville.  Which he correctly pointed out wasn’t exactly true, as the dog is a girl, but he conceded that as we had her outnumbered 2:1 we could call it that.

So there will also be things like grilled venison burgers, maybe an afternoon shooting pool, and other non-girlie stuff like that.  Halo 3 deathmatches and band practice at high volume.  I’m pissed that the weather’s turned crappy because I’d hoped to sneak an afternoon at the go-kart track again.  To kick off Dudeville Week, I bought him an issue of Road & Track complete with a cover story on “best drifting cars,” which earned me a fist-pumped “YES!” and an accolade as “Best Father Ever” yesterday.  And me without my tape recorder.

In Dys’s presence, I asked him if we should have a party and invite a lot of girls.  He was all on board.  Dys’s laughing veto power brought out an actual argument from him.  He apparently didn’t take kindly to her yoinking the whole house-full-of-hot-girls idea just as he started to envision it.  When she explained what “married” meant to yours truly, he attempted to end-run it by requesting teenagers instead of women.  He was a little deflated when we explained that that could land Dad in jail.

So, welcome to Dudeville.  Population:  two.

Now excuse me while I go home to let the dog out to whiz.


7 Responses

  1. Missed opportunity with the title, man. Liz Phair FTW.

    I find the disparity in our posts today highly amusing.

    Frankly although I know who Liz is, I can count the songs of hers I’ve heard on one hand, so I’m surely missing a good joke there.

    I agree on the disparity in our posts! 😀

  2. Enjoy the Testosterone Festival!

    Roger that!

  3. I think she has an album called Exile in Guyville or something – I’m not looking it up just to trivia-test myself and see how close I got. Keeps the old brain active, since I’m convinced Google is making me senile.
    Have fun in Dudeville – but I don’t have to tell you that!

    AH. Now it sounds familiar. My apologies to all you ladies.

  4. Shooting pool isn’t girlie? Damn. That big table with the green felt and pockets in my basement was a HUGE mistake. 😉

    I figured that was just there for, uh, other adult uses. *grin*

  5. And rock on with all that! Todd does the same thing when I am gone.

  6. I presume you are the mayor of Dudeville. I hope you had a sufficiently testosterone-y time with lots of car talk and maybe some Big Lebowski.

    I actually took the title “President” because I didn’t think he’d really go for the title of “Deputy Mayor.”

    Would you believe I’ve never seen “Lebowski?” I know, it’s an oversight I should rectify.

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