The Doo Doo Fly Reserves

Dear Diary …

Sometimes you have no scientific proof to back something up … but you know what? Isn’t that how new discoveries are made? We challenge the world as we know it, we do the research, and then boom … new proof!

So consider today the day that I embark on my journey to prove to the world the existence of … The Doo Doo Fly Reserves.

First … a little biology lesson. What’s a “doo doo fly,” you ask? Well my friends, it’s those big, stupid flies that always manage to find their way into your house … Buzzin’ around and bein’ all gross … and for the most part contributing absolutely nothing positive to the universe. You call them whatever you want … house fly, black fly, whatever … I call ‘em “doo doo flies” because that’s what they love to eat, and then they love to land all over your food and rub their yucky little fly legs together, “Mmm … gonna run some doo doo all over this potato salad.”

OK … back to my groundbreaking scientific research on The Doo Doo Fly Reserves, because I, Zack Jackson, believe that these flies strategically attack you one by one. Think about it … every time you have one of these flies in your house, you have exactly that. One. Shoots into the tiniest crevice in your door with sniper-like precision, and then proceeds to slowly and stupidly buzz around your house like it has absolutely no idea how to get back out.

Bzzz … bzzzz … bzzzz … BONK … bzzz … bzzz …. BONK

So if you’re like me, you hunt this doo doo fly down with a murderous bloodlust and … WHAM … thwack him with a dish towel and end his gross little life. Cool … problem solved!

And then …

Bzzz … bzzzz … bzzzz … BONK … bzzz … bzzz …. Bzzz

All of a sudden there’s another one. Materialized out of nowhere.

Ahhh … but not nowhere my friends. From The Doo Doo Fly Reserves.

I think they all hide there in a pile somewhere and just wait. And when you kill one of ‘em … “OK Bill … you’re up.”

Bzzzz … bzzz … THWACK!

“OK … Joe … you’re turn.”

One right after the other. Sometimes I’ll kill six or seven doo doo flies in a row. But never are there six or seven flying around my house at the same time. Just one. The rest are hiding in the reserves!

OK … now … If you don’t think my theory makes any sense (beause it probably doesn’t) … I give to you an alternative … Microscopic Doo Doo Fly Mutation.

I also believe it is entirely possible, that these flies mutate so quickly, that when you kill one of them in your house, tiny microscopic bits of doo doo fly shoot off into the air and immediately grow into another brand new doo doo fly.

Ridiculous? Probably. But if we’re willing to give flat Earth people a voice in this world, I’m definitely smarter than they are, so Microscopic Doo Doo Fly Mutation isn’t entirely out of the question.

Here’s one thing I do know for a fact … If doo doo flies write little history books to use when they teach their little baby doo doo flies about the world, I’m pretty sure I’m considered their Al-Qaeda, cuz I’m really good at killin’ em. If nothing else, I’m definitely not fondly portrayed as a hero and a Founding Father to the doo doo fly community.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Boo to the Zoo

Dear Diary …

It’s taken me four decades to figure out, but I think I’ve finally come to the realization that I’ve never really had any fun when I’ve gone to the zoo.  Ever!  And I think I’ve been in denial my entire life.

Now let me start by saying … I love the zoo (in theory).  I love animals.  I love learning about animals.  I love how much the zoos love the animals.  Again … in theory … I think zoos are awesome and I encourage everybody to support the zoo.  Everybody else that is.

Every time I go, it’s the same thing.  My excitement level is through the roof when I get there.  YAY!!!  THE ZOOOOO!!!!

Which in a half hour turns into … [less excited] … yay … the zoo.

Which in another half hour turns into … oh my God I am hot and sweaty and my legs hurt and how many more animals do we still have to see?  UGHHHHH!!!!!

It never fails … my entire life … the hottest day of the year is the day I go to the zoo.  Which is fine … if you’re a crocodile … not some pale schmuck staring at a crocodile.  And really … most of the animals hate it too.  So instead of seeing anything, you’re just searching for some brown lump in the corner, under a log, just trying to get some shade until this million degree day is over with.

And I understand … most of this is on my for poor planning … but it just happens to work out this way every single time.

By the way … while I’m talking zoos … who are these crazy people that stand there and take tons of pictures and videos of random zoo animals.  For what?  You’re never looking at that stuff again.  You gonna invite a bunch of people over … “OK everyone … gather round for this 6 minute video of a camel standing there in its enclosure at the zoo!”

“Hey look kids … a picture of a gorilla!”

“Oh … you mean just like the ones on Google?  Except yours are through am annoying sheet of protective glass and are way less awesome than the real pictures I can call up on the internet in a microsecond?  Awesome!”

Moving on Diary … it blows my mind some of the things that we as a society decide is acceptable quality.  For example … we have evolved for decades upon decades to now be able to provide fantastic TV picture quality, in your house on a wonderfully big screen, and at a fraction of the cost of what it used to be.

So what are we all doing now?  Watching stuff on the tiny screens of our phone.  And not even the long way … the stupid up and down vertical way.  Now we got things like Instagram and Snapchat developing TV shows specifically for this tiny little screen.

“Well … research shows that kids today don’t watch TV.  They watch everything on their phone.”

Well kids … let me ask you this … what the heck is wrong with you idiots?

You got a perfectly fantastic cinema-quality screen to use, and instead you’re staring at some tiny little rectangle with your neck slumped over in a doofus fashion that’s gonna have you growing up with both vision and back problems from stuffing that thing in your face all day long.

Don’t get me wrong … I love me a smartphone.  It’s great for a lot of things, but at some point you gotta get your nose out of it to see what’s around you.

Demand more for yourself.  You deserve better.  You don’t need to be watching TV on a six inch screen.  That’s what your great-grandma had to do when they had this giant piece of furniture with a tiny little black and white square in the middle of it … squinting just to try to see the Lawrence Welk Show or whatever dinosaur was on TV.  Don’t go back to that you dummies!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Gettin’ Froze Out

Dear Diary …

I am gettin’ froze out! I’m King of my Castle … Lord of My Manor … Ruler of My Kingdom … oh who am I kidding? No I’m not. I got no control. And even worse, I’m being held hostage by an eight pound demon.

Yup … tiny dog is freezing me out!

You see Diary, we have a little dog named Francie, and she is seriously about the size of one of those dogs that rich 21 year olds carry around in a $1,000 purse while they shop on Rodeo Drive. And “dog” really isn’t even the correct term, she’s more like a rat … or a weasel … or some other kind of rodent. Because despite her tiny size … she is totally controlling my house. Specifically … my bed.

Now … I like dogs. But I don’t like ‘em in my bed. I’ll hang out with ‘em all day long, but when it’s time to go to sleep. You go in your bed, and I go in mine.

The problem is, my wife’s philosophy on this is “Oh you’re such a cute little squinkitude!! … You love to snuggle don’t you?” Which in lady language translates to, “Me no listen to husband.”

So now … this dog is in my bed. And not just “in my bed” … but right in the MIDDLE of my bed. By my head. Like a human. And in between me and the wife.

And Diary … I’m a happily married man. And I like showing that fact off fact from time to time with a little “mashing of the potatoes”. But now, I’m gettin’ totally froze out by this attention-hogging maggot who is Zack blockin’ me from any action.

And her being in the way would be bad enough … but that little rat grows at me when I get near what she defines as “her” space. YOUR space???? This MY bed, yo! I don’t hear you doin’ no Sleep Number commericals to pay for this thing!!!

And sure, I could just pick that weasel up and toss her off the bed, but that’s not exactly a subtle, spontaneous romantic move. I might as well broadcast [SIREN] … “Red alert! Red alert! Husband on the move!!! Look alive people!!”

That’s not exactly a chapter in 50 Shades of Grey … let’s just put it that way.

So there you have it Diary … you spend your whole life busting your butt to get a good education, find a good job, make some money, and provide a life for you and your family … only to have it all controlled by an evil 8 pound kingpin who lays around all day and still manages to dictate every minute of your entire life.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

The Bird Battle

Dear Diary …

Let me start off by say that … ultimately … this was my fault. But still, I don’t need to be yelled at by no bird. That’s right … bird straight up yelled at me this weekend. A lot too!

Let me backpedal a little and set the scene … I have a garage, but it’s one of those old detached garages, so it ain’t for cars. It’s for stuff. Lawn mower. Extra grill. Random crap you think you’re gonna need again some day but never do. It’s that kind of garage.

And I’ll admit … I get lazy and sometimes don’t close the door to the garage when I’m done gettin’ stuff out of there. OK … “sometimes” actually means “all of the times.” Cuz … uh … … I’ve had the door to the garage open for a about a month and a half. And this weekend was the time I realized that I gotta stop doing that, because I saw this little bird fly in there. Oh crap … he’s probably living in there somewhere, and now I gotta try to figure out where.

Well Diary … It didn’t take much lookin’ … Turns out Mr. Bird was living in a cabinet on the wall, which as you can see was another thing that I was too lazy to close. Well in this cabinet there was a pile of old work gloves, which apparently to birds is a perfect place to call home. Add a little stick, another stick there … and poof … you got yourself a nest.

Correction … HAD yourself a nest.

Sorry Mr. Bird … bird apartment complex is closed for business!

So I took the nest and … well … tossed it. And I did feel a tiny bit bad about that, but he can’t be living in my garage. But I figure I gotta toss it, because a human touches a nest, a bird won’t use it again anyway. And full disclosure … I don’t really know that, it just feels like that might be a fact. And since it feels like a truth to me, and it makes me feel better, we’re gonna go ahead and pretend it’s true no matter what.

OK … so back to me gettin’ yelled at. I toss this nest, and now I’m in the garage getting some tools, and all of a sudden I hear this bird … yellin’ at me. And he’s MAD! [[[CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP!!!]]]

Got some little twig in his mouth … standin’ there on my electrical wire. Just lookin’ at me and yellin’ … [[[CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP!!!]]]

And I’m like, “Look bird … you don’t live here anymore … sorry dude.”

And he flies into the garage … lookin’ around … [[[CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP!!!]]]

Your house is GONE bird … get over it! Take your twig and start over somewhere else!!!!

But he kept comin’ back … all afternoon. He’d fly away for a minute, then fly back. Stick got that twig hangin’ in his beak … [[[CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP!!!]]]

I mean he was saying … “You took my house you rotten human, and if I was bigger I would figure out a way and I would kill you!”

And I will admit … cuz I had just taken the kids to see “Finding Dory” the day before … this is exactly how one of these Pixar movies starts. Evil Human destroys the nest … bird goes on an adventure to rile up the entire animal kingdom to eventually come back, take over Evil Human’s house, and turn it one gigantic bird sanctuary.

Diary … Usually I fear the robot uprising, but I think I gotta put that one on the backburner while I prepare for the impending animal kingdom takeover. They’re comin’ for me … I can feel it!

I had the last laugh though. Cuz you know what I ate for dinner? Chicken. Now no this wasn’t a chicken living in my garage, but it was still a bird. And I’m not gonna lie … I took a bite and looked right out the window at him, too. [[[CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP!!!]]]

Yeah I just ate your cousin … whatchoo gonna do about it now bird?!?!!

Till next time Diary … I say … goodbye.

The Great Doo Doo Fly War

Dear Diary …

I’m under attack. You know what? I’m at war! And this is a frustrating war, because just when I think I’m winning the war … the enemy keeps growing and coming back for more. Now I know this sounds like the war on terrorism, which I guess it kinda is, but this terrorist hits even closer to home. In fact … it’s IN my home where The Great Doo Doo Fly War rages on.

Now some people call it the house fly … whatever. They say “you are what you eat,” and these things love to eat doo doo. So they are doo doo flies.

And thanks to another one of our lovely Southwest Virginia summers where it’s 95 degrees every day with 98% humidity and yet no chance of rain, we are just one big steaming pile of hot doo doo. Oh the flies love that … it’s like the world’s biggest Old Country Buffet to them. So they’re everywhere.

Now I’m fightin’ the good fight … me and my dishrag … I can swat the heck outta some doo doo flies. Heck … I Mr. Miyagi’d one last night … caught that thing with my bare hand. And they say war changes a man and makes him do crazy things … I was so jacked up by that I darn near tossed the thing in my mouth and ate ‘em to send a message to the rest of the doo doo fly army.

I will say this … if the The Great Doo Doo Fly War ends with a trial , where I face allegations of war crimes … yeah I’m goin’ to jail. Cuz I’m racking up an impressive list of war kills.

But here’s the thing with these doo doo flies … They keep coming. Diary … I killed like 10 of ‘em yesterday. I go to bed. Wake up in the morning. Get ready to get in the shower. Doo Doo fly.

Where the heck are they coming from? I don’t keep doo doo in my house. Shoot … I pay a housekeeper and she’s awesome. So why are they constantly around? I’ll tell you why … because every time you open a door even a tiny crack, these things … BZZZZZ … Right into the house like a precision missile. Of course, all that precision immediately goes away as they … [[[BZZZ]]] [[[Donk bonk donk]]] all over every window of your house. I’m over it! Man I’m excited for fall.

OK … moving on Diary … I need to alert you of a new scam. This is one of the ones your little demon children try to pull on ya … so parents need to be on high alert.

My two kids have figured out a new scam called “change your mind at the last minute.” Here’s how it works …

My son … he’s three. Other night, he gets to pick his dessert after dinner … so he picks a lollipop. He proceeds to eat most of the lollipop, and then [[CRUNCH]] … says “Actually … I changed my mind. I want a different dessert.”

Oh hell no … you can’t be changin’ your mind now, we are WELL past that!

Both kids do it with the TV too … since they can’t possibly agree on a show, I have to let them take turns. So they’ll pick one of their dorky shows, watch 90% of it, and then “Actually I don’t want to watch this … I want to pick something else.”

You know … here’s what I’m learning … I look stupid. It’s gotta be it. I never thought I looked stupid before, but clearly I present the image of “Grade A Moron,” since that’s what my kids seem to think they’re dealing with.

I don’t know what I need. How do you get rid of idiot face? Botox? Will that help me look less dumb? Otherwise, they’re gonna keep trying to pull this scam on dodo me.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Gardening Pics and Fishetarians

Dear Diary …

Here we are, smack dab in the middle of summer. So we’re right at the time one annoyance starts popping up all over the place … Gardening.

Now I’m not hating on gardening. You wanna plant some stuff? Go ahead and plant some stuff! Me? I don’t wanna. I’ve done it in the past … and it’s just not for me.

“Oh but you save so much money cuz you don’t have to buy any produce from the store!”

Yeah sure, in theory, but when I was done buying dirt, and plants, and insect sprays, and fungicides, and tomato cages, and blah blah blah … I wasn’t saving any money. Then … add in the fact that I’m out there workin’ the fields all the time, gettin’ eaten alive by mosquitos just trying to keep these plants alive.

Then … when I finally have something growing, every big fat jerk squirrel in the neighborhood just comes in and eats everything. And whatever they didn’t eat just got that tomato butt rot disease instead. That’s a thing … look it up!

Point is … gardening is just a joy!

But hey … If you wanna put up with all that garbage, and you still like it … that’s fine. Good for you. I got NO problem at all with that. But for the love … Do you need to post a picture on Facebook every single time you pick a bean from your stinkin’ garden?

“Oooh … look at all my squash!”

Yeah yeah yeah … we’re all so proud of you Green Giant. You know … I got squash too. Tons of it. At the grocery store. You don’t see me posting a picture of that, do you?

I gotta be honest here … I’m the smart one. You do all the work. You deal with mosquitos and the butt rot, and whatever else, and I’m the one that swoops into the Farmer’s Market and eats it. I’d say the score is currently me 1, you 0.

OK … Moving on Diary …

Since we’re already talking vegetables … Let’s tackle an issue I have with the biggest veggie lovers of them all … Vegetarians.

And if you are one … fine. Definitely not for me, but if it works for you, that’s great. I mean … I eat vegetables. I like kale. But it’s not my main dish.

Kale is a side dish. I mean … What would you have as a side with kale? More kale?

Whatever. The issue I have is not so much with vegetarians … It’s with what’s known as Fishetarians. Or as I call them, “Biggest Hypocrites Alive.”

These are the people who say …

“Well I’m a vegetarian … I don’t eat meat … Except of course fish, which I eat all the time.”

What the heck did fish do to get such a raw deal from these self-proclaimed animal lovers? Why don’t they count? Fish are way more majestic and graceful than some loud ugly chicken, but apparently that doesn’t matter. We gotta save that chicken, but we will eat that fish’s face and not even think twice about it.

I even had an argument recently with a fishetarian who said to me, “Fish isn’t meat … it’s fish.”

OK genius … then what food group does fish go into?

Grains? No.

Fruits and vegetables? No.

Dairy? No.

There’s only one left … meat. YOU ARE EATING MEAT, YOU HYPOCRITE!

Look … I don’t care if you eat it. I eat it. It’s delicious. But don’t hide behind some sort of moral compass that makes you think you’re a better person than me just cuz you don’t eat a cow.

Make up your mind … either eat meat, or don’t. Or if nothing else, just be quiet about it. Of course you’re entitled to your own dietary plan. Just don’t preach it to me.

I don’t shove bacon down your throat. (Which would totally be a favor by the way). So don’t pressure me with your quinoa agenda either!

Till next time Diary … I say goodbye.

Kids and Dogs Hate Sleep / Pinterest Is a Liar

Dear Diary …

So answer me this … And this is probably one of life’s biggest mysteries … Why do children and dogs hate sleep? Oh and not THEIR sleep … they get plenty of that. They just hate YOUR sleep. Especially on Saturday and Sunday mornings.

Why do they do this to us?

Their loyal, giving parents who spend all week bustin’ their hump for the man to pick up a not big enough paycheck, and to keep them flush with their Barbies and their Milk Bones and their Frozen soundtracks. The week finally ends, and all we wanna do is sleep until … oh I don’t know … all the way until 8 am. Oooooh … sleepin’ in!

But noooo … apparently that is an unreasonable request.

One of my dogs throws up EVERY Saturday morning at 6:30. Doesn’t throw up during the week. Doesn’t throw up any other time of day. Just Saturday. Every Saturday. And just at 6:30am.

And the 6:30 vomit alarm? Oh well you’re lucky if you make it that far, because half the time my son is already awake and just in his crib, yelling …

“Momma!” “Momma!”

And guess what he does on weekdays? Sleeps! My wife has to wake his butt up to get him ready for school.

But Saturday?

“Daaaaaaady!” “Daaaaaaaady”

The one silver lining to all of this is that it finally answers that question I always asked myself when I was 16 years old and I wanted to sleep till noon … “Aw, ow come my Mom is vacuuming at 8:30 in the morning? She knows I’m trying to sleep!” Yeah she knows … which is exactly why she was vacuuming. I stole her sleep … and I she was just returning the favor. And I will be doing the exact same thing to my children.

OK … moving on Diary …

Let me pass on a warning to all of you about something that tries to pose as helpful, but is actually evil. Pinterest. Oh Pinterest tries to be your friend …

“Hey look at me … I’m all beautiful looking and fun to use!”

It’s a liar. Don’t listen to it.

Now … If you’re unfamiliar with Pinterest … It’s a website where women post pictures of arts and crafts projects that they’re never actually going to do, but always tag them with things like “Totally going to do this.”

That’s half of Pinterest. And then the other half is a place where people post terrible recipes and trick you into making them by making the pictures look pretty.

And there’s my warning .. never trust Pinterest recipes. 99% of them stink. And even with that percentage, I am still the idiot that goes diving back in for more all the time.

Hey that looks good!

Well it isn’t.

Like the last one I made … some casserole. I don’t even remember exactly what. Doesn’t matter. Point is, when it was done it was a flavorless, watery mess. And even as I’m making it, I’m thinking “Sure does seem like a lot of liquid.”

Well sure enough … it was.

Do these people actually make these recipes? Or is it that their standards just set much much lower than mine when it comes to good food?

Cuz everything is always “the BEST cassserole EVER!” or “BEST crockpot meal” or whatever. I mean … opinions are often relative … So maybe they’ve just never eaten good food before … so them it actually is the best casserole they’ve ever had?

I dunno. Point is. Don’t trust your friend Pinterest. He’s like that bad boy you dated. He’s all cute on the outside, but he’s a big liar on the inside that will break your heart and make your tummy hurt.

That’s your bad boy Pinterest. Be warned!

Till next time Diary … I say, goodbye.

Your Loud Barking Dog

Dear Diary …

I am a dog person. I have had dogs my entire life. I love ‘em. I think they make great pets. As for cats? Nope! Not for me. Fine if it’s for you, but not for me.

But here’s the thing … dogs aren’t for everybody, and I understand why. It’s not the dogs that make you dislike dogs. It’s the dog owners. Too many of them are lousy. They don’t treat the dogs right, and more importantly, they don’t respect their surroundings.

And yes, I’m speaking directly to you … dog owner with a loud, barkin’ ass dog. The one that sits outside all day, all night [[WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOFF]]. Horrible! And here’s what I don’t understand … how do you not hear them? Because everybody else in your neighborhood hears them, and it’s driving them crazy. Why does it not drive you crazy?

And on what planet would this be acceptable … “Hey it’s two o’clock in the morning and my dog is outside barking. Yeah … I’m OK with that!”

Are your ears broken? “Oh I don’t hear it.” Well you know what … If that’s actually true … HOW? Do you have a REALLY loud air conditioner, or soundproof windows, or do you just drink a bottle of vodka and crash into a semi-coma? Whatever it is, please let the rest of us know so we can do the same thing so we don’t have to listen to your yippy little devil machine.

And full disclosure … I have a beagle. And she’s awful. BOWWWWWWWWW!!!! It’s the worst sound on Earth, but you know what? I hear it. And I don’t like it either. So I bring her inside and make her be quiet. And at night, she goes to bed. That’s how you’re supposed to do it.

OK … moving on Diary … This is for all the people out there that are in charge of making dinner in the house. Like me.

Now … We don’t mind doing it. Most of us enjoy cooking. But there is one part of meal preparation that is far and away the most annoying … picking out the meal. Oh it just hangs over your head constantly … what am I gonna make tonight? Ahhh I got no ideas, I’m not excited about anything, I don’t wanna have to go to the store. It’s agony! And the ultimate kick in the stomach is that once you pick out a meal … well you just gotta start planning for tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. It never ends!

So here’s some advice to you non-meal preparers … on those rare occasions that you step in and make dinner … which we love … what we don’t wanna hear … “I don’t know what to make? what should I make? Just tell me what to make and I’ll make it.”

Oh no you don’t … you’re on dinner … you figure it out! This happens to me every time I’m not making the meal. My mother was in town just last week … and says she’ll make dinner. Great! “I don’t know what to make. Whadda ya have in the house? What are you in the mood for? Whaddya want me to make?”

What I want is for you to stop asking. Stop it! If I’m gonna come up with the whole menu … I might as well be the one makin’ it.

So remember this … when you’re on dinner … YOU’RE on dinner. Don’t talk to us. Don’t consult us. We’re already dreading the 647 pots and pans you’re gonna leave for us to wash, so at least let me sit in peace for 10 minutes and not have to come up with the meal. I don’t even care if the meal stinks. I just don’t wanna pick it.

Till next time Diary, I say … Goodbye.