Rugs Vs Carpets; Who Gives A Shit?


So. I decided to take the kids down to the Occupy Wall Street protest site at City Hall. Our visit to anti-anti-abortion protest was such a dud that I wanted to give my pets a better experience. I had the designers over to our hemp clothing factory make everybody “I’m mad as hell and I’m not gonna take it anymore” tee shirts.

We have almost perfected imitating the soft cotton fabric of tee shirts fame, but almost is the operative word. I still wear a wife-beater undershirt with my tees to keep from getting rock-hard nipples that then chafe as they rub against the shirt. I hate sore nipples.

The Squirt told me she likes the feel of the semi-rough cloth as it rubs her eight little nubbins. “Closest thing I get to sex since you cut my goodie box out of me. Mooner, you are an asshole.” The Squirt forgets that it was Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson who ordered the female castration. I merely delivered her to the vet for the mutilation.

At breakfast this morning, we got into this big debate about “It’s a carpet—no, it’s a rug, no, Gram, it’s a carpet, it’s a fuckin’ rug, Mother” between Gram and Mother. I suggested that we get several of our “rugs” cleaned, and would Mother please take care of it so that I would have time to teach the guys how to protest. Peaceable protesting is an art, and one best taught to our young while they still are. Young, that is. When people are passionate about shit, those passions can often boil into non-peaceable protestings. Protestations?

Not that I think the occasional non-peaceable event has no place in American society. Civil rights would still be at the “painted rock” street sign stage if some protests hadn’t gotten violent. We Americans have really hard heads about some issues. It’s just a shame that it’s usually the downtrodden whose heads get hammered and not the downtrodders. And fuck Spellcheck. If downtrodders isn’t a word it should be.

I always attempt peaceful protestings and usually reach that goal. I never instigate any aggressive behaviors, but I do seem to have a propensity to start them. If you really don’t want to hear what I have to say about something, then maybe how about you don’t fucking ask.

We have many rugs spread on the floors of our ranch house. All kinds and shapes and sizes. The ones needing to be cleaned are the ones inside the entry doors. Seems it’s been so long since we had rain that everyone forgot that wiping your feet was a function performed best on the outside mats.

So I say, “Mother, would you take the rugs by the outside doors in for cleaning for me. I’m taking the guys downtown for a little protesting and I don’t have time.”

“They are carpets, Mooner,” my mother informed me.

“They’s rugs, Mother,” Gram said through a mouthful of oatmeal. It actually sounded like, “Thphs phugks, Mumthr.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Gram, don’t speak with your mouth full,” the woman who is my actual mother, named Mother, advised.

Gram swallowed her mush, washed it down with the glass of whole milk laced with a shot of corn whiskey she gets in trade for her potions. She drinks a glass at every breakfast to “get her innerds all stirred up”[.] “They’re fucking rugs, Mother”

I thought that I would whip out my Webster’s unabridged and settle the dispute, but since a carpet is a rug, and a rug is a carpet—and both by definition—I was unable to settle anything.

Then the phone rang and it was Dr. Sam and she asked me to bring the guys over to her house to mow. Seems the weekend’s rain made the grass grow and I have been the lawn man over there ever since our divorce. We had fun mowing except for the incident with the squirrel, but I got the blood cleaned off the white stone of the house before it dried.

How was I to know that some squirrels have death wishes?

Anyway, it’s Carta Blanca beer time, so manana, y’all.

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2 Responses to “Rugs Vs Carpets; Who Gives A Shit?”

  1. Brandon says:

    Carpets, rugs… it doesn’t matter to me. As long as they match the curtains.

    Actually, I’m more partial to hardwood floors.

    Oh, and Rick Perry? Yeah…. fuck him…

  2. admin says:

    Brandini. I actually don’t give a shit if all the fabrics match. And I like to bring the hardwood, if you know wha I mean. And fuck Rick Perry, indeed.

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