no. (roses_rejoice) wrote,
no.
roses_rejoice

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yank yer hamster, do-si-do

Judge's annual dinner was tonight and predictably, I'm now officially, completely exhausted, the more so because I worked today. But I'm totally in love with my judge already, he's a doll. He reminds me of Jack Gilford from Cocoon and those old Cracker Jack ads. His clerk told me that he might hold the record for number of cases argued before the S Ct, so I checked on Findlaw...45 oral arguments. Woah. And to think I didn't even realize he'd been with the SG's office when I interviewed.

Edited to add: due to a mistake in my first search, I actually failed to pick up all the cases he argued when he was deputy SG...which brings the total to 77 ORAL ARGUMENTS... !!::faints::

now, without further ado, a funny hamster story pinched from anjyl.

If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome
including toilet-flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you
laughing out LOUD!

Here's what happened:

Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was
"something wrong" with one of the two hamsters he holds prisoner in his
room.

"He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad.
Can you help?"

I put my best hamster-healer expression on my face and followed him
into his bedroom.

One of the little rodents was indeed lying on his back, looking
stressed.

I immediately knew what to do.

"Honey", I called, "come look at the hamster!"

"Oh my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies."

"What?" my son demanded.

"But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"

I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we
didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my wife.

"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she
inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!)

"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my
most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).

"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.

"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she
informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, you think?)

By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I
shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a
wondrous experience, I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle
of birth."

"OH, Gross!" they shrieked.

"Well, isn't THAT just Great! What are we going to do with a litter of
tiny little hamster babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think
she was being snotty here, too, don't you?)

We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a
tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. "We
don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.

"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.

"Do something, Dad!" my son urged. "Okay, okay."

Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared,
giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with
the same results.

"Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they
could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the
females in my house?)

"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly.

We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe,
Ernie, breathe," he urged.

"I don't think hamsters do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can
be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one
thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.)

The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little
animal through a magnifying glass. "What do you think, Doc, a c-section?"
I suggested scientifically.

"Oh, very interesting," he murmured.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?" I
gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.

"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.

"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This hamster is not in labor. In
fact, that isn't EVER going to happen... Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie
is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like
most male species, they um....um....masturbate. Just the way he did,
lying on his back."

He blushed, glancing at my wife. "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr.
Cameron."

We were silent, absorbing this. "So Ernie's just...just...Excited," my
wife offered.

"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood. More silence.

Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then
even laugh loudly.

"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman
I married would commit the upcoming affront to my FLAWLESS manliness.

Tears were now running down her face. "It's just...that...I'm picturing
you pulling on its... its...teeny little..." she gasped for more air to
bellow in laughter once more.

"That's enough," I warned.

We thanked the Veterinarian and hurriedly bundled the hamsters and our
son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.

"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad," he told me.

"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.

2 Hamsters .... $10
1 Cage .... $20
1 Trip to the Vet .... $30
Memory of your husband pulling on a hamster's wacker. ...Priceless.
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