I was confused — the meeting was going easier than it should.

Our house is about two years overdue for an exterior paint job, so we’ve started getting painting companies to come give us estimates.

Our first appointment was this Saturday. The company rep had just finished doing his detailed examination of the exterior and was now sitting with me in our living room and we were discussing the estimate. (Note: My Lovely Wife had decided that it was far too early in the day to remove her pyjamas and was leaving the meeting to me. It was 2:30 in the afternoon.)

So, the rep was doing his pitch, telling me why his company was the absolutely bestest painting company we could hire… and I could tell — he’s off his game. He was repeating himself. Clearing his throat a lot. Saying “ummm” and “ahhh”. Occasionally his eyes would develop this thousand-yard stare… and then he’d shake himself out of it and flip through his notes, trying to get back on track. I may have been mistaken, but I think I saw his eyelid develop a tremor.

He was — for no discernible reason — hugely uncomfortable.

With absolutely no prompting on my part, he knocked 10% off the price he had just quoted me. He then gave me an extra month to consider the quote.

Then I realised what had been happening next to me on the couch.

The Large One was leaning against me and had been for the whole meeting.

Licking his genitals.

THAT’S FIFTEEN MINUTES OF GENITAL LICKING, PEOPLE.

Yeah. Let’s see how your sales pitch survives that.

• Daily Mail: “The superlions marooned on an island” (via digg)

Marooned on an island, this group of lions should have died out. Instead, in an evolutionary twist, they’ve learned to swim and become strong enough to tackle their only prey… giant buffalo.

Fearless, ferocious and mightier than the world has ever seen, this is the new breed of super-lion.

Oh… this is SWEET.

Seriously — how do I get a river diverted around me so I can be isolated from others of my kind and transform into some sort of MEGA-JASON that can take down a wild buffalo? Oh fricking YEAH!

…

Honestly though — I have to admit… this ain’t going to happen.

I’d probably be more like one of the warthogs:

“Hey. Lions. Will you take a gander at them tasty-looking water buffalo. Look pretty good, eh? Yeah… geez, wouldn’t a water buffalo go down great about now? Ah no… I’m actually rather stringy. And gamy. Sorry… no — garlic would not ‘improve my natural flavouring’. Hey! Don’t knock yourself, though! It was a good idea! You keep thinking outside that box, ok? Oh! Look! There’s an old one! Is it straggling behind the herd? Boy… that would probably be pretty easy to catch right about now… wow… look at it straggle… I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a water buffalo straggle that much. Really. Look in the dictionary under ’straggle’ — BAM! A picture of that water buffalo! Now — here’s an idea… if you would simply remove your claws from my intestines — oh no! it’s no problem at all! — I bet the lot of you could take that water buffalo down and have yourselves a tasty little treat. Oh — me? I’ll wait here. No no no… I won’t scamper away. Funny guy. You just go get that water buffalo — I’ll be here when you get back. Mmmmm… tasty water buffalo… Yup. Riiiiight here. Ok. See ya later!”

[Pause. Scampering noises.]

Warthogs. The smart-asses of the animal kingdom.

…

(My apologies to any warthogs reading this. You know you’re my homeys.)

With absolutely no consultation, she unilaterally decided to bring this one home:

We approve.

…

Editor’s Note: This one, we picked out together:

Read into that what you will.

Last night. Feeding time. I give the cats their food and then I start emptying the dishwasher.

While pulling a mug out of the top tray of the dishwasher, it taps the edge of a glass. Tink.

The Small One tears out of the kitchen as if small arms fire had occurred.

Smiling, I continue emptying the dishwasher.

While putting two large pots in the cupboard next to the cats’ dishes, I drop the pots and they SMASH against the floor with a resounding CLANG TING CLANG TANG TING TINGTINGTING!

The Large One continues eating.

Impressed with his resilience, I pick up the pots and put them away.

While putting the cutlery away, I drop a fork.

The fork proceeds to bounce off the counter — TANG! — hit the ground two inches from the Large One’s head — TING! — and then drop directly into the cats’ water dish — SPLASH! — soaking the Large One and his food.

He turns his head and looks at me.

Licks a bead of water off his nose.

And continues eating.

He has freaking priorities.