did clean the downstairs, so I guess I accomplished something today. Thank god it’s Thursday and I can watch my beloved Friends tonight. I managed to miss the last two episodes, and I’m going into withdrawal.
Speaking of TV shows, I’ve taped The Street for the last couple of episodes, and the more I see it, the more I like it. I might like it a tad more if I had clue one as to how the stock market works (no, please don’t email me and try explain it; I just haven’t got the sort of brain that understands). But with a cast that includes Tom Everett Scott and Christian (Neve’s brother!) Campbell, you just can’t go wrong. If the show starts to suck in the future, I’ll just turn the sound down and drool over those two.
Last night, the spud told Fred that her hamsters were – and he swears that this is how she put it – "gettin’ jiggy with it." I haven’t really mentioned this in here before, because to be honest with y’all, what the hamsters do on their own time (I guess it’s really all their own time, isn’t it?) is just not anyone’s business but their own. One day last week, the spud came downstairs and informed me that the brown hamster was trying to "stick his crayon up the other one’s butt." No, I don’t know where she got the term "crayon", and when Fred said "It’s not a crayon, it’s a penis!" she giggled and said she didn’t like that word. I suspect she probably either came up with "crayon" on her own, or picked it up from another 6th grader.
Anyway.
I said, "Oh, I don’t think they’re doing that. I’ve read a little online, and small rodents rub against each other to leave their scent." (I really did read that when I was looking up information about gerbils, it’s not a motherly-type lie I made up).
Eventually, I wandered upstairs and into her room, where she was doing her twice-yearly room cleaning. In front of the hamsters’ aquarium, she had put a notebook so that she couldn’t see what they were doing. I bent over and peered into the cage, and the hamsters were doing what they usually do, which is running back and forth, eating, and pooping. I turned to go and glanced down at them one last time, and the brown one (one’s Fred and one’s Barney, and I don’t know which is which, sorry) was sniffing the gray one’s ass. And we’re not talking a delicate, inquiring sniffing from a few inches away. No, the brown one about had his nose buried in the gray one’s ass.
"Hey!" I said, shaking the cage. "Stop that!" The brown one paused not at all, and instead climbed on and started, uh, doing his thing. You’ve ever seen rabbits going at it? That’s exactly what this looked like. The brown one’s back end was a blur, he was moving so fast. "Hey!" I said lamely, not really wanting to reach my hand in there and separate them, and the gray one didn’t seem to dislike what was going on anyway. "Hey!" I said again, "Stop that!" The brown hamster, in mid, uh, thrust (okay, look, we’re all adults here, and maybe not all of us have had sex, but surely we all know how it works, so I refuse be embarrassed about this!) and glanced up at me, and it was like a little porn movie (and it wouldn’t surprise me to know that hamster porn is out there and a booming business to boot, not in the slightest), because he slowed down and made the sex face (yeah, act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, uh huh) and did the long-stroke for a few moments before his ass end became blurry again.
I put another notebook in front of the one the spud had put up, and told her "Yeah, that’s a good idea, don’t watch them…" and went out to find Fred. "Um, baby, we have a problem," I said. Because obviously, the brown hamster very clearly wasn’t "scenting" the gray hamster; what the brown hamster was doing was getting his rocks off, no two ways about it. "Either the gray hamster is a female, or they’re gay." (Though now that I think about it, having gay hamsters wouldn’t really be that much of a problem until one of them began dressing up like Barbara Streisand and singing showtunes at all hours of the night. Kidding.) So Fred got up and went into the spud’s bedroom to check out the situation, and the brown hamster saw that there was a new audience, and performed his sex show once again. When it was over (I assume Fred waited until they were done and did not interrupt them mid-copulation) Fred picked up the brown hamster and verified that he was male (um, that the hamster was male, that is…), and then picked up the gray hamster and could see no male genitalia, but the gray hamster is really quite fuzzy and furry, and though Fred blew the fur around to see what he could find, he could find nothing to confirm that the gray hamster was either male or female.
Fred was all concerned, wanting to know what we’d do if we ended up with a litter of baby hamsters. I said we’d bundle the whole kit and caboodle up and take them back to the pet store and inform them that they were taking the baby hamsters because the guy who sold the brown one and gray one to us swore up and down that they were both male.
I realllly hope they’re gay. I mean, it’s probably illegal in Alabama and we’d be harboring criminal hamsters, but I’d rather deal with that than a bunch of tiny hamsters.
Okay, enough about rodent sex for tonight. Have any of y’all dealt with this sort of thing before? I’d love to hear about your experiences!
I was going back through some old entries from June (I think), and I found this picture of Spanky. We’ve taken to calling him "gomer" lately, and this picture explains it all.
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Isn’t this about the cutest little plant? I saw it in the grocery store last week and just had to have it, since it was only 99 cents and half off and I’ve been wanting an ivy plant for the house for a while now. It desperately needs repotting, and I have the pot and the potting soil, but there’s nary an ounce of get-up-and-go in my body these days.
This isn’t brand new, but I don’t think I’ve put a picture of it in here yet. It was a birthday present from my sister, and it cracks me up. I need to find a yellow candle for it, I think.
