Ms. Highschool

"Hey Honey"

I said this right when little Ms. Highschool Chick was 2 feet away walking to her car in the grocery store parking lot.

And bingo, I'm pegged as a gross creepy old guy.

Ms. Highschool veered her path as she gave me a dirty look. She bubbled out from me and walked around her car to get in putting the appropriate distance between myself and her. Her windows were painted with the words "Seniors 2010" in nice blue and gold shoe polish. Obviously a lot of work went into this to let the world know that she is a recent highschool grad and not a piece of chick meat for a man who graduated almost 20 years before she did.

As you can imagine, we were at the grocery store and I was actually speaking to my daughter. I call her honey all the time.

"Daddy, can you buy me a horse named Turbo?"

"Yes honey."

"Daddy, are you big and strong?"

"Stronger than anyone honey."

"Hi Daddy!"

"Hey honey."

And that's why Ms. Highschool wonders why I'm driving an SUV rather than a white van with little puppies painted on the side. She obviously didn't see what was painted on the side of my windows. Crayola #18, a nice magenta shade in the shape of a somewhat complete circle.

But let me ask you, what the hell is wrong with me? Why wouldn't I be a good choice? Ya know, women in their 30s and 40s find me extremely attractive. I cook, I clean, I take care of the kids. That's chick gold man. I change diapers, I plan outings, I burp babies. When I go to the library with the kids, moms are practically throwing panties and diaper bags at me. Women love the stay at home dad. Well, women with experience do.

I tell you what, Little Ms. Highschool. Go to college and get your experience. Find out what ruffies are and do things on the quad. Graduate from there and start in the big world of corporate America. You'll be full of ideas, of energy. You'll be a go getter, you'll be sure that the corner office is yours and only a formality at this point.

Then one day, in your 30's or late 20's you'll start to see things differently. Mortgage payments will start to wear you down. The promotion will go to the suck up and you will realize that your cats actually just hate you. There was never any love. Eventually you will realize that there was never a corner office in your future, only the bigger cubicle. That's when you'll see reality and things will start to change for you. Maybe you'll get saddled with couple of kids along the way and you will have to worry about things such as diaper rash and developmental disabilities.

You'll go to Library story time and see me there. You'll find out that I'm a SAHD and you will think that is awesome. You mean someone will cook for ME? And bam, now I'm hot.

My point is, take a look at the big picture and not just the 5 minutes before you. Life is a long haul my sister and things will look different to you in 10 years.

I put Little Hoss in the car and realized that my fly was open.

I'm sorry. Apparently I am creepy old gross guy. My apologies.


The Shower Drain

It was everywhere Sarge, oh dear god, oh dear god!


It's coming to get me! It's coming to get me! It's going to get all of us! Game over, man! Game over!


Save the women and children! Throw the elderly overboard! We are all doomed!

(Slap! Slap! Slap!)

I'm sorry Sarge, I'm so f'ing sorry. I just can't control myself Sarge. You didn't see man, you didn't see it.

Ok, I'll start from the beginning, Sarge but don't ask me to repeat anything. After I'm done, have mercy on me and just put a bullet in my brain.

I got the orders at 09:30 Zulu time. It seemed simple at first, ya know. Another day, another mission. We get them all the time, right? They said "Direct Private Hossman to unclog the shower drain. Report progress every 30 minutes. End of transmission."

We get those all the time, right? We don't ask no questions, we just go where we are pointed. There was no intel on the job but when is that unusual? So I grabbed my tool belt and my dog tags and hopped the next transport to the Shower Drain. Hell, I've been there 100 times before, how was I supposed to know this was going to be any different?

So my team and I get there a little after 10. We are feeling pretty good, checking out the scenery, playing with make-up when we could. A little R and R before we get down to the nuts and bolts of the mission. We splashed a little water around and Bubba Hoss and I turned the jets on in the jacuzzi tube. You know old Bubba, he loves the jets. Little Hoss danced a little bit and then chased the cat. It was all on the level Sarge. When we reached the Shower Drain we were all 5 x 5. Our shit was screwed on straight so don't tell me I'm hallucinating! I know what I saw.

My team and I turned on the shower to get an idea of the situation. A little recon before the big job. Standard operating procedure. Sure as shit, the water wasn't going down the drain. We've cleaned drains before so I wasn't expecting anything unusual. I was..........

I was............

Oh god I was so wrong. I'm so sorry Sarge, I'm so sorry man.

So we turned the water off and got out our screwdriver. Little Hoss turned the water back on and I got a little wet. She's always liked the practical jokes man. So anyway, I kneel down and see that there are just two simple screws to take out. No biggie. I let Bubba Hoss do it once I got them loose.

We pulled the screws out and then took our pliers and grabbed the drain. I pulled and........and...........and.................................

I screamed.

I screamed because no words could describe my horror. I pulled that freaking drain and attached to it was something black, something not human. Do you understand what I'm telling you Sarge! IT WASN'T HUMAN MAN! IT WASN'T HUMAN!

This, this, this thing was holding onto the drain man. It came out of the drain and even made a popping sound when it came out. It was wiggling like a worm on a hook. I just kept pulling Sarge, I couldn't help it. It was about 2 feet long and I swear to all that is holy it was as thick around as my arm.

It may have once been human hair Sarge, but it had mutated. It had combined with soap and god knows what else to become something unholy. Who knows how much it has been accumulating down there? I probably even pissed down there myself Sarge. I don't know man, all I know is that I went in there to pull a clog and found the devil instead.

My order didn't say nothing about this man. They didn't say that I was to confront the biggest hairball known to man. Who has ever seen a hairball that big? 2 feet Sarge, 2 freaking feet! It looked like a baseball bat.

That's when all hell broke loose. Little Hoss screamed "Bug!" and tried to strafe it with lotion that she nicked from the counter. The thing just laughed at her man, it actually laughed at her! She went crazy after that, and now she's gone. Bubba Hoss decided to go into his "Dinosaur" Hoss and tried to bite me. I'm holding the hairball in one hand while the living dead attacked me from behind. I screamed some more but no one heard. He then ran off, smashing into walls as he ran.

I lost the whole team, Sarge. I lost everyone. God Sarge, they just left me there all alone with that......

with that.......

with that thing!

The next thing I know I'm running out of there and still screaming. I tripped over a dog. I punched an orphan. I don't know. It's all a blur.

The next thing I know I'm being dragged out of the closet I was hiding in by your people Sarge.

Don't go back up there man. Leave well enough alone man. Listen to me Sarge!


Come back here Sarge! Don't go do it man! COME BACK HERE! Don't do it!

God help you Sarge, god help you.


Hello Hossman

I feel like I've written this one before. It's probably in there somewhere. But after 500 posts of gibberish you ain't gonna take the time to look. So you just write it again.

It has come to my attention that several of my readers and new friends think that my last name is actually Hossman. Sadly, this is not true.

"Who's that?"

"Why dear, that's Johnny Hossman."

"He's a lovely man."

"Yes he is dear."

"I hear he writes a little now a days."

"Occasionally dear."

"I like his bulge."

"Yes dear."

The point is, my name is not actually Hossman. It is a nickname that I acquired in college. In my younger days, as is the case with most young stupid men, I was full of bravado. I was full of fake macho and pseudo toughness.

Let me write that part again. I was tougher. Couldn't help it, just the way it was. The grass is green because it is green. The sky is blue because the sky is blue. And I was tough. Just the way it was. If that was it then I would be like the million of other stupid dumbass 19 year olds out there. But it went farther. I had a philosophy on life. You do the right thing because it's the right thing. And if you weren't sure, then you probably shouldn't do it anyway. As an older guy now, it's quite embarrassing looking back now.

But that's basically how I acquired the nickname. My real name is.............

It occurs to me that I have never mentioned my real name before on my blog. Everyone has nicknames. Hossmom, Little Hoss, Bubba Hoss and my self. We make up the Hoss family. I think that I did this because sometimes it's easier to write about the less spectacular things about yourself when no one really knows who you are. And what happens if I'm googled? Then I realize that I don't really care. I'm not embarrassed about the blog or the stories in it. It's my family.

And my family is tough.

I would like to introduce to you Erin (Hossmom), Vivi (Little Hoss), and Wyatt (Bubba Hoss). It's been a great three years writing about them and I hope to continue to do so for many more years. At least until Vivi breaks my computer, Erin finally gets fed up and divorces me and Wyatt just wanders away in his little boy way that he does.

I'm Shannon Carpenter and I'm your host. Pleased to meet you. Go ahead, make the jokes about the guy with the girls name. But just remember that once in Mexico I held onto a car battery at full charge until 8 other guys fell to the floor. Stupid yes, but tough.


DaddysHome Inc

For you Monday article today, zip on over to the Daddyshome Blog where I have something that was just posted.

As you can tell, I've haven't been posting on Wednesday's for the last couple of weeks. I have been helping my Mother In Law move and organizing the amazing amount of stuff in my house. There's a lot of work to do but for now, I've at least got paths through my home. So I should be back to my normal Monday, Wednesday and Friday routine and I think have some pretty funny stuff.

And if you like my article at Daddyshome, leave a comment and some love. It's always appreciated for my fragile ego.


Captain's Log

Captain's Log, star date 11.44.1294: Day One
The cargo has been unloaded. It happened very fast and now I just sit and look at it. I have no idea what it is. You would think I would know what it is considering that I drove it halfway across the country, but I don't. I just know what it cost me and the cost wasn't cheap. What wasn't paid out in dollars was made up for in family drama. I would have rathered just paid money. It takes up my entire garage and I've got to find a place for it. I look at my two crewmen and they stare back at me, waiting for answers. I have no answers.

Day Two:
Began to scope out places to put said cargo. Would like to find a good Ceti Alpha VI but so far all away teams have been useless. It seems that our only choice is Basement, a desolate place devoid of all but the foulest of foul creatures. Personally went down to inspect it myself. The first officer objected but then she remembered that Chuggington was on and quickly left myself and her redshirt brother to accomplish the mission. Discovered that since I was down here last that the cat has gone incontinent and has shit everywhere. I hope she has Leukemia. I've heard cats can get that. If I can find a cat that has it I will make my cat lick it and hope for the best. Maybe they can share needles or something. Spent the rest of the day fending off green skinned hotties and bleaching cat shit off the concrete floor. Have tried several tactics for killing the cat but our phasers do not seem to affect the wretched beast. Ended the day by actually building a screen door for the bottom of the basement so the fat thing can't get in anymore. Am waiting for a "present" to be left on my pillow. We can only hope for the best at this point.

Woke up in the middle of the night to answer nature's call and discovered a strange pain in my back. I am concerned as I have never in my life hurt my back doing manual labor or lifting things. 35 years of good times but I'm afraid that age has finally caught up with me. My back hurts. Sleep comes but it is troubled. I am not hopeful that this mission will have a positive outcome.

Day Three:
Began moving the cargo and the natives were not happy about it. They wanted to know why we had to move all of Grandma's stuff down to the basement. They thought it was cool to have it in the garage and asked if I had checked with Admiral Mom yet. I told them to suck it, that I was the captain of this house and I would do as I damn well pleased. Almost had a revolt. I threw a box of Christmas ribbons at them before they could take my head off. It was enough of a distraction so that I could escape but just barely. The ribbon was lost, recommend it for a medal. Considering mutiny charges.

Found a dead rabbit in the garage as well after I moved an especially heavy box of silver. We have three sets of silver now. I don't know why but we could throw a kickass fancy dinner party if we wanted to. But then I would have to cook and the dinner party would no longer kickass. Note to self: order out when dinner parties come unless everyone is happy with Macaroni and Cheese. I didn't know what to tell the crew what happened to the baby rabbit.

I knew that my other cat, the good one, killed it and decided to leave it for us. He's a giver. He doesn't shit everywhere so he can stay a part of this family. Science Officer Bubba Hoss asked if the rabbit was sleeping. I said yes. It was all I could think of to say. When Little Hoss asked what that stuff was coming out of his ears I replied "Happiness". I quickly distracted them with popsicles and chunked the rabbit in the trash. I am not ready to have the death talk with the crew yet. I am a coward but deep down, all men are.

Moved the old entertainment center downstairs to make room for the new one. I was not alone. Crewman Helpful and Crewman Sit on it we more than willing to jump on top of it as I was sliding it down the stairs. They also wanted to help with the large oak chair but I had them confined to quarters on a trumped up charge. I'm not proud of my actions but sometimes that's all you've got. My back further paid the price from all the heavy lifting. It appears that I have the body of a 65 year old woman and that lifting heavy table sets and complete sets of china will cause me to have spasms. Admiral Mom asked if I took any aspirin and I scoffed as I cannot have her question my toughness. Went to bed early. Dog farted on me.

Day Four:
Beginning to be more hopeful today. The end is in sight. I figure that I can finish this job and get the whole house back to normal in a week or so. Started this mission almost a week and a half ago and it feels like I was a different person then. I thought I was still young enough to cart solid oak table tops by myself. I thought I could easily work until midnight without any adverse affects. Turns out not to be the case but those are only minor bumps and bruises that I can deal with. The cargo has shrunk in size greatly over the last several days. If I keep this up I may be able to get some shore leave soon. Green Skinned Hotties and Romulan Ale. I'm a rocket man and we are almost done. God speed.

End Transmission.................................................................................


Daddy Comes Home

"Daddy!" they yelled. Then my two minions ran up and punched me in the nuts.

"We missed you so much!" they said. Then Bubba Hoss threw a car that hit me in the nuts. Two nut shots in 3 minutes. That has to be some kind of record.

"I drew a picture for you!" Little Hoss yelled and then ran off to get the picture. She turned around and came back to me and punched me in the nuts because she had forgotten to do so then ran to get her picture.

"Picture!" Bubba Hoss said in his little two year old voice and then just kind of twirled around. I had been gone for 3 days and had just driven a big truck 10 hours. People asked me if I would be lonely on such a long trip by myself. What they thought would be loneliness I took as peace and quiet with no one hitting me in the balls.

"See Daddy, here's my picture!" Dad coming home after such a long break (for them anyway) had caused a lot of excitement by the time I got home. They then started to fight on who would show me the picture. 10 minutes at home and I was already going to have to put someone into timeout.

"I rode Turbo!!" Little Hoss screamed inches from my ear. I enrolled her in horse riding lessons and she is very happy. Then Bubba Hoss tackled her from behind. It was good form though, he may have a future there.

"I want to sit on you" both of them yelled as soon as I sat down. Then they proceeded to play king of the hill on my lap, moving up to my stomach and eventually ended up on my head. I was kicked in the nuts several times.

Yup, 10 hours alone of listening to crap radio and drinking my own soda without any fear of backwash being in it. 10 hours of jamming to grunge with the occasional Donna Summers (not many radio stations in the midwest wheat fields!). 10 hours of no fighting, no yelling and no wondering where the hell my wallet is. 10 hours of peace and quiet.

We put them down to bed where both couldn't get enough of me. Kisses, hugs and punches: that's how we roll in this house.

"I love you Daddy" Bubba Hoss said. Then he gave me a hug.

"I missed you Daddy" Little Hoss told me as she laid her head down on my chest.

I'm home. I'm never leaving again.


The Friday Five

5 Things That I Should Have Seen Coming But I Didn't.

5. The cat hissed at me. Then she left for a while. She took a shit on the closet floor.

4. We left chalk out on the driveway last night. I forgot that the pretweens wait for the bus in my driveway. The next morning as I took the garbage out I was greeted by a picture of a penis on driveway.

3. I asked Little Hoss what she was doing. She said nothing. Later, I found out that "nothing" meant that she was painting the hardwood floors.

2. I put the potato chips on the top of the pantry, within easy reaching distance of any toddler and a dining chair. We no longer have any chips.

1. "Daddy, can I bite you?" Bubba Hoss asked. "Absolutely not!" I said. He then asked for a hug. I now have teeth marks on my chest.


My Apologies

I've got to go to the grocery store today because it is Monday and all we have in the house is brownies. Not that I'm averse to feeding the kids brownies for breakfast. It's what they want anyway and I think I have proven that I'm a bad parent throughout the history of this blog. But we don't call it bad parenting, we call it "alternative parenting". That makes it sound like a theory rather than what it truly is: me parenting by the seat of my ass. Sure, we have a basic philosophy but it's really just pretty words that fail when applied to reality.

Before we go to the grocery store today though I want to just give a preemptive sincere apology to everyone who's going to be there. I know how it's going to go today so I just wanted to say I'm sorry to everyone that will be crushed in our campaign of destruction. It's less like grocery shopping and more like a raping and pillaging. On my grandmothers side, we are Nordic. I get the feeling that Eric the Red would be very proud to call us his brethren.

To the people that are waiting for the grocery cart, I am sorry for the scene that you are about to witness. I am sorry that you are going to see two children that are fighting for a seat in the special race car type cart. I don't know why they do this as they can both sit in there, but they will. I'm sorry you are about to witness violence as well when one of them throws a punch. But don't worry, they bounce back really well and I am somewhat proud to say that neither of my children have a glass jaw. Now if there isn't a race car cart there, I am sorry to the people behind us for the complete and total meltdown that you are about to witness. Just close your eyes and you can get your own cart in a minute. And when you hear me finally lose it and yell, just remember that I'm doing it for the good of humanity. You do not want these two unrestrained.

To the people in the vegetable aisle, I am sorry that when you get your green beans that some of them will have little teeth marks in them. Funny thing here: they like raw green beans at the grocery store only. If I cook them, they won't touch them. But at the grocery store they love to take a bite out of as many green beans as they can get there hands on and them put the half eaten morsels back into circulation. I know, this is pretty gross and you may be asking where I am at. Well, you can't expect me to watch my own children all the time. I wouldn't have time to flex for the hot mom checking out the apples. Besides, the grocery store has cameras usually and that is good enough for me. As long as someone is watching.

To the people in the milk and dairy section, I am sorry that you are about to get hit in the back of the head with a large rubber ball. I try to control this, I really do, but the grocery store kind of brings this on their own. Honestly, who puts the super cool balls in the milk section and makes them so easily accessible to kids. I'm just saying, I think the blame can be shared here. But if it is any consolation, they are terrible shots and will probably only hit you once out of ten tries. I would love to stop them from doing this but it's kind of hard when they both have a ball and are throwing it at the same time. It's either going to be you or someone else. Let's just call it a Sofie's Choice and shed a tear. Besides, by this point I'm talking to the hot mom who was checking out the apples. She is usually following me around the store at this point.

In the freezer section, it would be nice if everyone just skipped this section while I'm around there. I'll give everyone plenty of notice, I promise. When you hear "GET BACK HERE!" in a sultry sexy manly voice, just go to the dairy section (we would have just left there, it's safe). If you don't, you'll see my children opening every single freezer door and licking the inside of it. I don't know why they do this but then again I don't know why they do anything. But I make sure they brush their teeth everyday so that when you see the tongue marks on the doors you can rest assured that it contains very little bacteria. Besides, the cold will kill most of it.

We spend quite a lot of time in the cereal aisle so it's best if you don't even attempt to buy any cereal at all on Mondays. Or at least go earlier than 9:00am. This is the fault of advertising companies so when you write your angry letters you should write to them. I know one if you need an address. "I want the birdie!" Little Hoss will yell. "Bear!" Bubba Hoss will counter. It's the great debate of our Monday mornings. Very intellectual. If that was it this would be no problem. But it's not. They want every cartoon character that is on a box so eventually my basket is filled with enough boxes to make it look like a giant collage of Saturday morning cartoons. I'll put most of them back but I'm sure that 1/2 of them will be on the floor by the time we leave because they also like pulling shit off the shelves once I put something there.

I would also like to apologize now, before it happens, to the poor stock boys at any grocery store. Because as they put away the taco shells they will be sure to find a package of pantyhose or a birthday card to an Aunt tucked away in there. This is my fault. The kids like to pull random crap off the shelves as we walk through and then when they get tired of it I usually just put it where ever I am. They usually get tired of it right around the Mexican food/ethnic aisle. So when you find a piece of cheese there, that's all us. Sorry about that.

Finally, I would like to offer a heart felt apology to the check out ladies. They are so nice to us. They will take all the crap that I don't want to buy (rubber balls) and hide them behind the counter. They smile. They know my name. And they say "What cute kids you have" and she'll mean it because they are cute. But they are cute like a sleeping lion can be cute. It's only a distraction so that they can sneak around behind you and steal your wallet. While you're looking at the boy the little girl will be behind the register looking for gum and money in your purse. As soon as I discover this I promise to make amends as fast as possible.

To anyone else that gets caught in the riptide that is our Monday shopping trips, I am truly sorry for any injuries you may receive. Perhaps today is the day to just stay home. I mean you, not me. Keeping these two indoors all day is like having a death wish and I love my life. And most times my children too. It is totally understandable if you do not. And to the hot mom checking out the apples and my biceps, if you make it out alive, call me. We'll do a playdate.


The Friday Five

5 Reasons Why Teenagers Suck OR

5 Reasons Why I'm A Old Bastard.

Please keep in mind that at this writing I have had 4 hours of sleep. And for those with actual teenagers, I'm sure they are nothing like what you are about to read. I am sure that they are good kids and not testosterone filled mindless asses that respect their elders.

5. Because they show up on a Thursday night to the late night screening of Iron Man and screw up my good time. What the hell man? Isn't tomorrow a school day? So why are there roughly 3000 teenagers spilling their uncorked angst all over my good time? Sure, it's a bad idea for me to see a midnight movie but I thought it could be fun. Besides, I can just give the kids a couple of knives and some duck tape the next day and they'll entertain themselves for hours. What I didn't count on was Little Ms. Texting Mcgee sitting near me with her magic fingers moving faster than the speed of light. Learn a real skill like caning a chair and put the phone away. Where are your parents????

4. Because of the way they drive. If daddy bought them a new car, they are going to screw it up because they aren't going to have to pay for it. A teenager should never have a $40,000 car. Why? Because he's going to end up cruising around the movie theater parking lot with his dumb ass buddy hanging out the window screaming at everyone. So when he hits someone, he doesn't care, he doesn't have to pay for it. But thanks, I enjoy a good DEAR GOD SWERVE every now and then. And if the teenager has a piece of shit car, he doesn't care who he hits. His car is a piece of crap that he's not going to fix anyway. But thanks for the door ding guys, my family SUV looks like it has much more character. Oh, and that white thing on the side of the road that you go flying past, that's called the speed limit. Yeah, I know, they are tough to see when you are going 90 in a 25 mile an hour school zone but I'm sure you're young reflexes will kick in right before you plow over my dog.

3. Because I don't understand their clothes, their haircuts or their music and what I don't understand scares me. I'm old. First, what's up with the mop top of hair? What's this look all about? I don't get it. You need to join the army, they'll fix you up. But I do love the cleverly placed hole in you jeans right next to your crotch. Let me guess, you thought that this would entice some young girl to give you a hand job, right? Because you are that cool and smooth. Finally, turn your music down. It sucks. Your music has no soul, it has no emotional depth. Lady Gaga sings about a telephone. That's it. That's what the message is about in that song. At least Madonna had something to say. Material Girl may be the greatest song of my time. Tick Tock, your songs suck.

2. Because nothing is more pathetic than watching a 17 year old try and get action. Let me save everyone some effort here and tell you how it's going to play out. You'll fumble around with zippers for a while and someone is going to cut a thumb. But that won't phase anyone because the bra apparatus will confuse you until you have to call your friend Chester for technical advice. There will be a lot of slobber and random squeezes until you are so worked up that your weasel will pop. You'll apologize and suggest that everyone goes and plays video games at the local arcade. You'll both leave the public park and head for your car as you throw your used drug needles next to the slide.

1. Because they make Generation X realize how old they have gotten and how much they haven't done. What happened to us man? Gen Xer's were supposed to be cool and change the world. We were ambitious and motivated. There used to be a ton of news stories on the Gen Xers, now we got nothing. We are no longer "it" and that will hit us when we realize that todays teens were only 2 years old when we graduated COLLEGE. It will bring home the fact that no one is terrified of us anymore because it turns out that it's hard to be cool while paying your mortgage. And we'll do exactly what everyone else has always done before us. We will look at today's youth and say things like "back in my time....." But for the record: Back in my time my letter jacket was way more bad ass.


The Case Against Hossmom

Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury. First off, I want to thank you for your time. I know it's been a long trial and that you must be missing your families by now so I'll be brief as I possibly can.

You've heard testimony now from all sides. You've heard the defense try to poke holes in our case. You've heard experts talk about things such as shoe prints and leverage. You've heard testimony form all parties involved. In this summation, I'll put it simply for you. I'll lay out the facts of the case, the things we know. From there it will be easy to do your duty and find for the state in the matter of Hossmom VS. The State of Reason.

It's really very simple. If you get rid of all the fancy lawyer speech and see this for what it is, then there is no way that you cannot find Hossmom guilty of plant murder. That's right ladies and gentlemen, she is a menace to plants, to gardens to anything green.

On or about Sunday afternoon Hossmom killed yet another defenseless plant. A brutal and cold blooded slaying in which she shows no remorse. And the worst part ladies and gentle people of the jury, this isn't the first time.

I believe that we, the state, have shown that she is not only a plant murderer but also a serial plant murderer. She has a history that establishes a pattern. I bring you attention to exhibit one, the empty herb garden planters box.

Hossman bought this, along with the whole kit, to grow a herb garden for his family to enjoy. He thought it would be a good project for him and his kids to do on the back porch. But Hossman is not a genius, that he freely admitted on the stand. He left the supplies out for a little bit before starting the project. During this time Hossmom decided that she would do it herself with the kids. What started as a playful project ended in herb genocide. Not only did she throw the different seeds just where ever she wanted, she forgot to label any of them so that the family would know which herb was which.

And what did she do when she was confronted? She sent Little Hoss out on the back porch unsupervised. You know what happened next from the grisly photos. Christ, it was like putting a hungry lion with lame gazelle. The carnage was unnecessary but suited her purpose: to destroy the evidence.

But one act does not make a pattern. So fast forward to earlier this year.

Previously Hossman, under direction of his wife to "make me a garden", planted a ton of flowering bulbs. This takes time and planting. They have to be planted in the fall, for 6 months you have to wait to see if you did it right, and you have to pray that it grows. Well, a daffodil did grow. It was beautiful, you've seen the pictures. For 6 months Hossman waited and cultivated on these precious little flowers. On these precious little innocent flowers.

However, shortly thereafter as Hossmom was insisting to help in the garden again, she viciously and savagely crushed that little daffodil under the boot of her oppression. The reason she gave this time: She didn't see it. I know folks, doesn't seem plausible that you couldn't see a bright yellow flower. Maybe she's color blind, I don't know. But the fact remains that she stamped the life right out of it and thus all of Hossman's hard work.

And finally ladies and gentlemen, to the case at hand. Hossmom once again insisted on helping with the garden. Hossman suggested that maybe she stay inside and clean the house. Or perhaps that she go on a vacation to Cancun. But no, she wanted to help. Perhaps he didn't protest enough here. Perhaps he didn't do enough to protect the garden. Like I said, he's not big on the brains sometimes. He could have offered to let her mow the yard but the thought of Hossmom behind the bar of a cutting machine with flowers just inches away scared him to much.

So he said ok and was terrified. And he should have been.

Consider these facts when you go back to pass judgement. It wasn't' just a daffodil this time that was destroyed. It was something special because Hossman didn't know what it was. He had planted alot in the fall and this one was late in growing, but it was growing. And it was growing bigger than the others, thicker and stronger. Could it have been an Iris? Could it have been a Lilly? He didn't know but he treasured this one for the very mystery of it. He cleared away debris, he watered it, he loved it.

Then without warning, it was gone. He'll never know what it is.

Hossmom says she didn't do it. She once again blamed it on Little Hoss, her perfect scapegoat with a rap sheet. However, this time that wasn't going to work. Because this time she was found red shoed standing right on top of the stalk of the plant! That's right, you've heard the testimony but let's make sure you've really heard it. She was found with her big tennis shoe directly on top of the flower. It was crushed beneath her Nikes. This is a fact. This is not supposition. This is what happened.

Again, she said she didn't see it. Highly unlikely given her past pattern of plant destruction. She said that it wasn't a flower. Again, the bloom would refute this. The fact remains that Hossmom is a danger to gardens everywhere and continues to destroy the very things that she has directed Hossman to plant! We don't know what sick game she is playing with his head but it's cruel.

And what did she do this time when confronted with "God Dammit Hossmom, you killed another flower!" This time, she went on the defensive.

"You mulch like you fuck. All over the place."


Rather than offer an apology for destroying life, she attacked the very manhood of Hossman.
And she said this with children within earshot! (gasp!)

Those are the facts of this case ladies and gentlemen. You'll hear the defense later today I'm sure in the comment section. However, I believe that we have proved our case and you'll go back into that jury room and do the right thing. Your duty here is clear, ban her from plants everywhere. Because if you don't, maybe one day she will offer to help you with your garden. Can you sleep at night knowing that?

Thank you for your time. I know you'll make the right decision.