Pete the Penguin Shark Dives

Today I’m continuing Pete the Penguin’s story….

WARNING: I know these next pictures are going to be particularly disturbing. The pictures are real. Kiefer really went shark diving. I know it looks extremely realistic, but I swear I photoshopped in the pictures of Pete the Penguin. No animals were harmed.

Dear Thoughtsy,

I’m shark diving today. I decided to take our new pet Pete the Penguin with me. Don’t worry; I dressed him weather appropriately.

Look how much fun Pete and I are having! It’s like we’re starring in an episode of Shark Week. The sharks here are so nice. They’re really more like the sharks from Finding Nemo: “Fish are Friends, Not Food.”

Shark diving is 100% safe.

Wish you were here!

Love, Kiefer

To Whom It May Concern:

I regret to inform you that there was an accident. I’m ok, but Pete…Pete didn’t make it. I turned my back for just one second, and he was gone. Just one second. I don’t understand how this could have happened. I didn’t even hear the Jaws theme.

…I have a confession. Pete’s death wasn’t an accident. The shark rattled the cage, and I panicked. The whole thing’s a blur, but apparently I shouted, “Take the penguin instead! I can’t die yet! I haven’t even proposed to Thoughtsykins yet!” before tossing Pete out of the cage and into the Great White’s massive jaws.

I swear this is not a reflection of my parenting skills. Our future children have nothing to fear. Nor is it a reflection of petsitting abilities. I promise to take excellent care of Esme.

Please don’t hate me.

Love, Kiefer

Let’s hope that Kiefer is more responsible with the baby than he was with Pete the Penguin.

Last time Kiefer and I were in Tampa, we’re sure we saw Pete at the aquarium. Hopefully, we’ll see him again this year.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I don’t know — Pete’s cute, but he looks like he’s planning something. Like, you’d get him home, and he’d wear the butler suit and serve you drinks, but then you’d wake up the next morning and find that Pete and all your jewelry are gone.”—Laura

That Was NOT a Honeymoon

When you visit Greece a month before your wedding, everyone asks if that was your honeymoon.

The answer: No. No, it was not.

Originally, Kiefer planned to propose in Greece. Just because he proposed early didn’t make Greece our honeymoon.

When you’ve waited as long as Kiefer made me wait, you get as many trips as you want. So we’re doing two honeymoons: one just Kiefer and I after the baby is born and another with Boo and Radley.

Our family honeymoon is this week. We’re headed to Florida to visit some friends, SeaWorld, and the Tampa Aquarium, where we will hopefully see Pete the Penguin.

Who is Pete the Penguin?

A penguin Kiefer got me when he went to Africa a few years ago.

Dear Thoughts,

I’m in Cape Town today visiting the penguins, and I thought of you because you love penguins. I’m going to try and smuggle this little guy back for you.

I’m not ready to marry you yet, but I am willing to commit to raising this penguin with you. Let’s name him Pete. Pete the Penguin. We’ll get him a butler suit and teach him to serve cocktails just like you’ve always wanted.

Love, Kiefer and Pete

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “It is never too early to start teaching about the undead. And I hear braaaaaaains are great for teething.”—KittenThunder

Eating Pop-Tarts Could Save Your Life

Finally…after months of a Pop-Tart-free diet…I caved.

What was the cause of demise? Multiple factors.

• Closure of the Pop-Tarts store in NYC.
• Halloween candy withdraw.
• Stress about the Ravens-Steelers game.
• Stress about being trapped in a wrecked car for days and starving to death.

That actually almost happened to a little girl. Do you know what probably saved her life (besides the seatbelt)?

Pop-Tarts.

True story. And that is why you should carry Pop-Tarts with you at all times. All times, people. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

You know what else made me give in to Pop-Tart consumption?

A new flavor Pop-Tart: Baby Seal Sugar Cookie.

That’s right. I tore open my Pop-Tart to package only to be face-to-face with a baby seal…in a hat…waving at me.

Baby Seal: Hello! (Baby Seal sounds like Mr. Bill.)

Me: Hello….

Baby Seal: Why are you looking at me like that?

Me: Like what?

Baby Seal: Like that! Like you’re going to eat me.

Me: ::evil grin::

Baby Seal: NOOOOOOOOOO! I could be your new Pete!*

Me: Nice try, Baby Seal. But Pete was a penguin…and not made of delicious Pop-Tart. Nom Nom Nom.

*If you’re new around here, you’re probably thinking, Who the hell is Pete?  Pete was a penguin Kiefer got me from Africa. Unfortunately, the original Pete the Penguin was eaten by a shark. But when I visited Tampa, I got to meet Petey Junior, aka RePete.

Nanny Nanny Boo Boo! Stick Your Head in….

Please excuse the regression to my 5-year-old self.

But I’m having an early birthday celebration this weekend! I’m so flippin’ excited that I may pee my pants! Oops…too late…. Apparently bladder control starts to go at age 29.

Seriously.

So you’ll have to do without me for a few days. I know, I know. Deep breaths. 

What? You forgot my birthday was this month? I can’t believe that you would forget something so important. I mean, it’s not like you have your own blogs, lives, children, and pets to take care of or anything. (::head hung in shame:: <–Yours, not mine.)

Anyways, as my early birthday present, please pick one of the following:

• Search for a Pete, Jr. (I heard Pete was quite the ladies’ penguin.)
• Bake some cookies (and then send me a sample).
• Check out my About and Background pages. (I updated them forever ago and then didn’t tell you.)
• Start a fundraiser for me you and me to go on another cruise.

Now for some serious business.

Serious Business #1: There’s an imposter amongst us. While the Hipster and I were in Ellicott City, we found someone masquerading as The Jolie!

Serious Business #2: Please send wrinkle cream. Apparently my 29-year-old forehead needs some.

Note to self: Never make that face again. It causes wrinkles.

My New Secret Weapon

It’s no secret that I hate birds (except Pete). If you didn’t know that, read this post.

I’ll wait.

Did you read it? I don’t wanna see any comments below about how birds are really very nice creatures, blah blah blah. Because if birds were really nice, they wouldn’t be terrorizing me.

Plus birds keep pooing on my blog buddy, Izzie. You can say, “But birds pooing on you is good luck!” Bah! That’s just a myth spread by those dirty little birdies.

Anyways, as you read in last year’s post, the current score is Thoughts 2, Birds 8. The flippin’ birds are winning. Jerks.

However, up until now, the birds have had an advantage: They outnumber me.

But not anymore! Now I have a sidekick. More than a sidekick. I have a secret weapon.

A secret weapon that…

• Jumps 5 feet into the air.
• Is faster than a speeding bullet.
• Has claws of steel.
• Has a bird-killing instinct (well, kinda).
• Has cat-like reflexes.
  

  To illustrate my point better, maybe I should have picked a pic where she wasn't napping.

 It’s Esme!

In the past month, two birds have manuevered their way into Blarney and I’s basement. And Esme has caught both of them!

Look out birds, we’re coming for you.

Thoughts and Esme, 4. Birds, 8.