tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26265230988667893542024-03-13T00:41:57.470-07:00"It's a Nutty World!" Advice from Todd "Hot Nuts" EpsteinSome days, it just seems like the world has gone nuts! If you've put all your nuts in one spot, or can only find 10% of what you've buried, it can get pretty frustrating. That's when it's time to get out of your tree and get help. Ask me, Todd "Hot Nuts" Epstein, the go-to Taxidermied Advice Squirrel. With a bit of chatter and a twitch of my tail and a little scotch, all of your troubles will be gone!Julie, The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444095359022135281noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523098866789354.post-54376224614686615822011-01-06T20:39:00.000-08:002011-01-06T20:39:17.046-08:00Todd's Party Moved to Jan. 18!!<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>Todd "Hot Nuts" Epstein </strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>cordially invites you </strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>to his First Annual Quad Cities</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>Taxidermied Squirrel Party!</strong></span></div><br />
WHO: You<br />
<br />
WHAT: Margaritas and chips and guacamole<br />
<br />
WHERE: Azteca in Cumberland Square in Bettendorf, Iowa<br />
<br />
WHEN: Tuesday, January 18, 7:30-9:30<br />
Because Julie's Book Club conflicted, and those bitches are fierce.<br />
<br />
WHY: If you have to ask why, you may not be ready for a taxidermied squirrel party.Julie, The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444095359022135281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523098866789354.post-70142837590407473202011-01-04T20:05:00.000-08:002011-01-04T20:05:59.025-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Hey Wifers!</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Do you like margaritas?</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Do you think guac rocks?</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Are you pleased by cheese?</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Do you have inexplicable feelings of </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>warmth toward taxidermied squirrels?</strong></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgomiksj6eNsgBBqJU49cv_-MhEgxHfN9fzCMGRkoaCHeqQWPe2z4XDRp04lqSJBkGVaco24TRx3LbMqNEfhrfudqINiC5GiaSbdlbEHbJ3AQa5a_2-ZoZTiRusEX6r2wRmZaH2v8KxDk/s1600/squirrel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgomiksj6eNsgBBqJU49cv_-MhEgxHfN9fzCMGRkoaCHeqQWPe2z4XDRp04lqSJBkGVaco24TRx3LbMqNEfhrfudqINiC5GiaSbdlbEHbJ3AQa5a_2-ZoZTiRusEX6r2wRmZaH2v8KxDk/s1600/squirrel.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Then do I have news for you!</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>It's time to get nutty with Todd!</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><br />
</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">Todd "Hot Nuts" Epstein </span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">cordially invites you </span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">to his First Annual Quad Cities</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">Taxidermied Squirrel Party!</span></strong></div><br />
WHO: You<br />
<br />
WHAT: Margaritas and chips and guacamole<br />
<br />
WHERE: Azteca in Cumberland Square in Bettendorf, Iowa<br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="350" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=Azteca+near+Bettendorf,+IA&sll=37.0625,-95.677068&sspn=41.632176,106.787109&ie=UTF8&hq=Azteca&hnear=Bettendorf,+Scott,+Iowa&ll=41.547926,-90.498622&spn=0.035875,0.049368&output=embed" width="425"></iframe><br />
<small><a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=embed&hl=en&geocode=&q=Azteca+near+Bettendorf,+IA&sll=37.0625,-95.677068&sspn=41.632176,106.787109&ie=UTF8&hq=Azteca&hnear=Bettendorf,+Scott,+Iowa&ll=41.547926,-90.498622&spn=0.035875,0.049368" style="color: blue; text-align: left;">View Larger Map</a></small><br />
<br />
WHEN: Tuesday, January 25, 7:30-9:30 p.m.<br />
<br />
WHY: If you have to ask why then perhaps you aren't quite ready for a Taxidermied Squirrel party.<br />
<br />
Come late, leave early, it's all good at a squirrel party. Your appearance is your consent to be misquoted by and photographed for the blog. You will be forced to wear a nametag. It doesn't have to be your real name, but you must consent to be called the name on your nametag for the duration of the Taxidermied Squirrel Party. Pictures with Todd are free and encouraged. Todd will not be available for dancing. <br />
<br />
IMPORTANT:<br />
<br />
Taxidermied Squirrel Parties are not for everyone. They are not for those with liver problems. Taxidermied Squirrels are not for women who are nursing, pregnant or may become pregnant by the taxidermied squirrel.<br />
<br />
If you party with Todd, tell your doctor if you feel any new muscle pain or weakness. This could be a sign of rare but serious squirrel side effects. Tell your doctor about all squirrels with whom you fraternize. This may help avoid serious squirrel interactions. Your doctor should do blood tests to check your liver function before and during the Taxidermied Squirrel Party.<br />
<br />
Common side effects from hanging out with Taxidermied Squirrels are diarrhea, upset stomach, muscle and joint pain, and changes in some blood tests. Those with syphilis, pinworms, or chronic halitosis may experience enlarged nuts after interacting with the squirrel.<br />
<br />
For those of you I haven't met, I will be the woman sitting at a table with a margarita and a taxidermied squirrel. I will order the first pitcher of margaritas, guacamole and con queso, which you are welcome to watch me drink and eat. All are welcome, except for dogs, cats, wolves, sharks, hunters, hillbillies, tires, or other natural enemies of the squirrel. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>See you there. If you have the nuts for it.</strong></span>Julie, The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444095359022135281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523098866789354.post-4005774243441014972010-11-01T21:06:00.000-07:002010-11-01T21:06:23.070-07:00Freaky Friday. But it was Sunday.I was sitting innocently in my phone nook, thinking about Belinda, a really fine brown squirrel from the East Side who could pack more nuts in her cheeks than any other squirrel, when the human pulled me out of my reverie.<br />
<br />
It was Halloween. She had plans for me. <br />
<br />
I watched, laughing, as the Mutt Dog was dressed up. He was pissed, and completely ashamed. She pulled the costume over his head, strapped the velcro, put up his cute furry tail and...What the Fuck!?! He was dressed as ME!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE084ULS_V2rRZF5wA6WAqKRk-aOsa1MX-43PMQApfhdO_J2mK_fLPgvoiIYNnb8NJfagdwuJSZ6HOmYCp9q5kPtmoCznxE7kQO_zlir5G6Wuiyn-rmindFK9pM3H2XclFZF2NVZRe8D8/s1600/Halloween+2010+018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE084ULS_V2rRZF5wA6WAqKRk-aOsa1MX-43PMQApfhdO_J2mK_fLPgvoiIYNnb8NJfagdwuJSZ6HOmYCp9q5kPtmoCznxE7kQO_zlir5G6Wuiyn-rmindFK9pM3H2XclFZF2NVZRe8D8/s320/Halloween+2010+018.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8l6ndrp22rI1oPt4CRBbLAv7o6EYyO5S2VVV_fSIRvmg51cMF4YlXuo6jGTIDdPccfc7blSns3prJU1EnBPORZz8_teW4jJnB4B1cFwwMmknUtEa12-jscXv9EpHa8emUeATc_VpnX6Y/s1600/Halloween+2010+019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8l6ndrp22rI1oPt4CRBbLAv7o6EYyO5S2VVV_fSIRvmg51cMF4YlXuo6jGTIDdPccfc7blSns3prJU1EnBPORZz8_teW4jJnB4B1cFwwMmknUtEa12-jscXv9EpHa8emUeATc_VpnX6Y/s320/Halloween+2010+019.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">That bastard.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But that wasn't all. Not only was the Epstein name blighted forever, but this is what I was forced to do:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDThROdsZ_jIqpB2_E9p90Q7qtHZlSBfaufufrrNmRMUeEJNhe82gFBGtlT8ixwQ15RyYuyLHyGNU1rt0ujTOiYzv2187TwpMzvfzgm4lkeDZwM89m1ookzbVOYyQVb8-pR_UrvsMOaDw/s1600/Halloween+2010+024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDThROdsZ_jIqpB2_E9p90Q7qtHZlSBfaufufrrNmRMUeEJNhe82gFBGtlT8ixwQ15RyYuyLHyGNU1rt0ujTOiYzv2187TwpMzvfzgm4lkeDZwM89m1ookzbVOYyQVb8-pR_UrvsMOaDw/s320/Halloween+2010+024.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBrplEvHSHtSh599lP9DkYWzwfx86nh8il7Pm3MNTc-DUeHASzhGC9qHCFkxXtDXYhnc0JcbxFHF-gfVgqqIyIKXjN40fW8BBsdQzREehYH2irS-waKGTEVKue2PKCKrh7pPN1e2vD-Ck/s1600/Halloween+2010+025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBrplEvHSHtSh599lP9DkYWzwfx86nh8il7Pm3MNTc-DUeHASzhGC9qHCFkxXtDXYhnc0JcbxFHF-gfVgqqIyIKXjN40fW8BBsdQzREehYH2irS-waKGTEVKue2PKCKrh7pPN1e2vD-Ck/s320/Halloween+2010+025.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">They made me into the dog.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
I swear, with Mother Nature as my witness, if I wasn't dead and stuffed I would so bring the worst case of rabies to these people. I hope you had a nice Halloween, because I sure as hell didn't.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Love, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Todd</div>Julie, The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444095359022135281noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523098866789354.post-55220475596685483642010-10-31T19:34:00.000-07:002010-10-31T19:34:13.616-07:00I hate my human.I am being oppressed.<br />
<br />
I'll admit, I started creating a little drama when I heard the humans were going to put their house on the market. This house has the best trees, the best nuts, and the best squirrellettes in the hood. But before you could say 'walnut' they stuck me in a plastic Rubbermaid tub and stuck me in the attic dormer. Apparently I was too "grotesque' and 'unsettling' and 'dead' to have sitting around the house while people looked at it, so off to the attic I went.<br />
<br />
Do you have ANY IDEA how fucking hot it gets inside a Rubbermaid tub inside a dormer in an attic in Iowa in July? I think I lost three pounds and my sanity. I was packed away with Edward and Bella action figures, so at least I had someone to talk with, but they would just go on and on about Shakespeare and when it would be appropriate in their relationship to have sex and/or kill each other.<br />
<br />
So now the house is sold and it's almost time to move, and the humans think they can just pull me out of the tub and everything will go back to normal. (As normal as it can be when humans name and clothe a dead, stuffed squirrel.) I'm done with sitting on my plywood square and going along with all of their plans. I will not go quietly. I'm going to take my prescription medication, and think about my strategy.<br />
<br />
Any suggestions on how to disrupt their lives would be helpful.<br />
Love,<br />
ToddJulie, The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444095359022135281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523098866789354.post-55580435005548821932010-06-01T07:06:00.000-07:002010-06-01T07:06:44.029-07:00On Another Kill MissionHello humans and taxidermied brethern.<br />
<br />
The last time we talked, I told about how I am on a mission to avenge the death of my cousin, Asa "Mocha Whip". Things have changed. Now, the dog and I have called a momentary truce so we can fight together against a new, more vicious enemy....feral chipmunks in our yard.<br />
<br />
Our people have planted a garden, and some punk ass chipmunks in our neighborhood have decided to tag our yard. These chipmunks, they have some HUGE nuts to be coming around here, eating our greens. In the old country, this just wasn't done. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I've called in another cousin, Steven Segal.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiabS98JtqjCkASAeYlMj9df-slHc8bAn-TnSJzhA162nPOx-iy21kqFTd4oewSVVQxOcdghpNYpZgmG3qZo2oHL9poLDtnqOf2J6pWAJjb3PGAA0HmqyLS1ZfoMjiZt8opAX6drkvgU9s/s1600/stevenseagal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiabS98JtqjCkASAeYlMj9df-slHc8bAn-TnSJzhA162nPOx-iy21kqFTd4oewSVVQxOcdghpNYpZgmG3qZo2oHL9poLDtnqOf2J6pWAJjb3PGAA0HmqyLS1ZfoMjiZt8opAX6drkvgU9s/s320/stevenseagal.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Known in the treetops as Squirrelly Steve, he is one of the Creatures of the Forest.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I take my badassness lessons from him. I got my trusty serrated blade, and positioned myself in a defensive trench amongst the green beans, and I waited.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5JahIylpSmJedmkf4yruW8X4xdA-L1dwDujeBuUFtKs_ehjOnX7eicaDQxKu2AjH5-SnudAFHko-B96bqHKlGRSvTAp3OKbHSfRyDvhBftuHoKgE9V-_sm_QBXQi6a_-z9dTaWoanjvk/s1600/100_2602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5JahIylpSmJedmkf4yruW8X4xdA-L1dwDujeBuUFtKs_ehjOnX7eicaDQxKu2AjH5-SnudAFHko-B96bqHKlGRSvTAp3OKbHSfRyDvhBftuHoKgE9V-_sm_QBXQi6a_-z9dTaWoanjvk/s320/100_2602.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>See how well I'm camoflauged? Brown on brown, baby. </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> It doesn't get any more ninja than that.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">But the more I learn about these chipmunks, the more concerned I'm becoming. I believe they are a sleeper cell of Al Chippiqua, a terrorist munk organization. They deal opium, acorn hashish, crystal rock strychnine, and terrorize gardeners. Here is a secret training film I found of this underworld Munk organization on YouTube:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
<br />
<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dI-mSFB_7Sk&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dI-mSFB_7Sk&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div><br />
Terrifying, isn't it? But it gets worse. They are not only trained in hand to hand combat, they are also able to take on two opponents at once, known as the "Menace a Tois":<br />
<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rOYQfdN66wA&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rOYQfdN66wA&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br />
<br />
The dog and I may have to get outside reinforcements. Or at least get matching outfits. I'll check in again later after I've had more time to formulate a strategy. It's time to call the New Jersey chapter of the Taxidermied Squirrels. That's all for now, keep those tails a' twitchin'!!Julie, The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444095359022135281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523098866789354.post-1464244935382389042010-04-26T20:16:00.000-07:002010-04-26T20:16:14.372-07:00My Quest to Kill the DogHello Hot Toddies. It's been a long time since I've been in touch, and that's because I've been in a place no squirrel likes to be: Underground.<br />
<br />
Almost two long months ago, The Dog at my house killed my cousin, Asa.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59GtmqLqcnYLsfEaKe3xGmagydrLReIARYNqHH2NHjCut_09XW1V6PETj1LysoWMHdJsi-Li2-I1ichoef9UQ8arqReAT5z5Ef9y77_KwyjtCjGNlVC99JX-0_6bXwNBj7gniXcBrvWo/s1600/drunk+squirrel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59GtmqLqcnYLsfEaKe3xGmagydrLReIARYNqHH2NHjCut_09XW1V6PETj1LysoWMHdJsi-Li2-I1ichoef9UQ8arqReAT5z5Ef9y77_KwyjtCjGNlVC99JX-0_6bXwNBj7gniXcBrvWo/s320/drunk+squirrel.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Rest in peace, Asa. You deserved better.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">So I spent the last couple of months stalking The Dog and plotting his death. Oh, and I caught a couple of Ok Go! shows. (The Chicago show kicked ass.) Here is some documentation of my efforts:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8D5J1wlQmui3DX3GgNL5mJuHSXliQVlpgSglLnVBOou6E6VLHz-jCcS8XU-xj31AHqSbwS5UECeyLi_oKOcql5v3rIRoXv2-A28Qei2GAMg8LX-mltDOslNVZAmm8Dm8PS4aLSZN2efc/s1600/100_2503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8D5J1wlQmui3DX3GgNL5mJuHSXliQVlpgSglLnVBOou6E6VLHz-jCcS8XU-xj31AHqSbwS5UECeyLi_oKOcql5v3rIRoXv2-A28Qei2GAMg8LX-mltDOslNVZAmm8Dm8PS4aLSZN2efc/s320/100_2503.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I tried to shoot the dog, but he was like Neo in The Matrix, and turned his head in slow motion just in time for the bullet to whiz past his head. Dogs are all about the whizzing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6sqoLlXbUBIp6Hfj-kU3VDRcEtb_mSs4QG4Y1iHYv-x8pX4iSAqZxXBl3St1w6JQyOLzT-d0EYGK96aiWzvyjsN4CDXBtCdzhEyLIpj2LmabHcy4mYDoc_EeLyLH11j4DrE_lA8MYL4I/s1600/100_2508.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6sqoLlXbUBIp6Hfj-kU3VDRcEtb_mSs4QG4Y1iHYv-x8pX4iSAqZxXBl3St1w6JQyOLzT-d0EYGK96aiWzvyjsN4CDXBtCdzhEyLIpj2LmabHcy4mYDoc_EeLyLH11j4DrE_lA8MYL4I/s320/100_2508.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">The Dog lunged at me, but as I used my mad squirrel Ninja skills on him, my blade deflected off of his steel nose. I was foiled again. This was no ordinary stupid dog. I could not defeat him whisker to whisker.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMOsr4zZKEG0BIo5N6CxoEk86G_XSlwyZIfjXLoj_MGu19IzCTLDLHCmy-8bmDBc-7LGOZ5Z5YYD9Cx8_F8Cx0wRLnAi3lfhH8a0klXj-SXcbO51P1RjQrRQrS1B5VK8Aehm62e7UZcU/s1600/100_2509.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMOsr4zZKEG0BIo5N6CxoEk86G_XSlwyZIfjXLoj_MGu19IzCTLDLHCmy-8bmDBc-7LGOZ5Z5YYD9Cx8_F8Cx0wRLnAi3lfhH8a0klXj-SXcbO51P1RjQrRQrS1B5VK8Aehm62e7UZcU/s320/100_2509.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">The old "Shoe Polish in the Dog Food" trick. But alas...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The Dog Lives.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">But this isn't over, not by a long shot. I will need to go to The Council of Squirrels next month to decide how The Dog will be dealt with. In the interim, I have been busy taking your questions. Later this week I will answer the question sent in regarding "salad tossing". This topic is near and dear to my heart, because I have tossed a salad or two in my day. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Thanks for tuning in, my lovely little Squirrel People. And remember, Whether by kung fu, weapon or pill, The Dog will soon be kill....ed. (Sorry, I've just returned from Asa'a wake.)</div>Julie, The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444095359022135281noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523098866789354.post-59343135565090741942010-02-28T21:29:00.000-08:002010-02-28T21:56:15.699-08:00It's a Dog Eat Squirrel World<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Hi Nut Bunch, it's me, Todd.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I'm really kind of pissed off today. Squirrels don't normally get pissed. They get aggressive and loud, but we're actually very Zen-like. Today, I've started plotting how to kill a dog 100 times my weight, but I must avenge a death.<br />
<br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The taxidermied advice squirrel is at war.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So I was sitting on the mantel, stuffed full of cotton, thinking about how I would give my left nut to just have one more cigarette, when I see the woman in my house run for the door. I look out the window she just left, and I see him. The Dog. With a fluffy, adorable squirrel tail hanging out of his mouth. The woman grabbed the dog's mouth and shook his head like a can of whipped cream until he dropped the dead body of one of my brethren out of his mouth.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It was my cousin, Asa "Mocha Whip" Rabin.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAmuQF7lZOjfaRwyl2XMsQLghSPn1gJiSxKvgo98sBdFvKpunnBYakQn79moYKBZlKJRrdP4ryY_fKybyD60wRfzGu33psjYASwRbXgWb1GxoPQOvydE9HQ4u67HwzwkpdD8ZpCBSYqUM/s1600-h/drunk+squirrel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAmuQF7lZOjfaRwyl2XMsQLghSPn1gJiSxKvgo98sBdFvKpunnBYakQn79moYKBZlKJRrdP4ryY_fKybyD60wRfzGu33psjYASwRbXgWb1GxoPQOvydE9HQ4u67HwzwkpdD8ZpCBSYqUM/s320/drunk+squirrel.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> <b><span style="font-size: small;"> Rest in peace, Mocha Whip.</span></b></span></div><br />
Mocha Whip was a good squirrel, but ever since the Rave over at the rabbit hutch, he hasn't been the same. He's been spending his days smoking grass and listening to the Owl City CD over and over and over. It's a little nutty, but harmless. And then he ends up in that slobbering bag of crap's mouth. It's insulting.<br />
<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>So this week, I'm ignoring the reader questions, and speaking directly to the dog who killed my cousin Asa.</b></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Dog, I've looked at you through my all-seeing glass eye, and I do have some advice for you:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><b>Run. Sleep with one eye open. Be careful what you scratch. Because vengeance will be mine.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><b><br />
</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">He may get rabies, or Asa's raging case of syphilis, and then my work will be done. But otherwise, I'm gunnin' for you, Dog. You've been warned.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJd-r8X_fqb9qXbztrShCWDKlt1PWLQgWMalbMeZafze-IuBc2jDoUKyxynQNfKKtuSMdb6VV6C41rTKfaEHh_E7iz6DMVPkCf3_69W1YlPcDvSI8WmykuNklglkj8DcsC6pn33Z-BVdM/s1600-h/100_2411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJd-r8X_fqb9qXbztrShCWDKlt1PWLQgWMalbMeZafze-IuBc2jDoUKyxynQNfKKtuSMdb6VV6C41rTKfaEHh_E7iz6DMVPkCf3_69W1YlPcDvSI8WmykuNklglkj8DcsC6pn33Z-BVdM/s320/100_2411.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Hell hath no fury like a taxidermied squirrel scorned, Dog.</span></b> </div><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">If you have any suggestions for how I can torment the dog, please send them to:</span><br />
<a href="mailto:todd.hotnuts@gmail.com"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">todd.hotnuts@gmail.com. </span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I have a number of pressing issues to address, thanks so much for your questions so far. Have a great day, relax, and remember: </span><br />
<br />
<div style="color: #38761d;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I'll answer questions if you wish, but Dog, I'll gut you like a fish. </span></b></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Love, Todd</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span>Julie, The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444095359022135281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523098866789354.post-1224352459022685522010-02-15T21:49:00.000-08:002010-02-15T21:49:21.435-08:00Nesting is for Lovers<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Happy Valentine's Day from me, Todd.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I love Valentine's Day. The women start the day all flushed with expectation, and the men start the day anxious. Then the men end the day all flushed with expectation, and the women end the day anxious. It's the kind of tail-chasing we squirrels can appreciate.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The taxidermied advice squirrel is your God. Worship me.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #351c75; font-size: x-large;"></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Whoops! Did I just say that? I don't mean it, really. It's just that ever since I was shot and stuffed, I don't think right. I'm harmless, ignore me. It's the booze.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">(I own your soul.)</span><br />
<br />
This week's letter comes from Kim in Vail, who can't get her husband to clean up after himself. Have you ever wondered where squirrel poop goes? I don't . We're as clean as we need to be, and that's that. <br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>A READER ASKS:</b></div><blockquote style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Dear Crazy Stuffed Squirrel - </i><br />
<div><i>My husband is a sloth, and leaves his stuff all over the place. How do I get him to clean up after himself?</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><i>I need answers, Todd. </i></div><div><i>Kim in Vail</i></div></blockquote><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Kelly, I've looked at your letter through my all-seeing glass eye, and I do have some advice for you:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>TODD ANSWERS: </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Take your boyfriend's clothes from the floor of your home. Lay them in a circular shape on the floor of your living room or kitchen. Keep building those clothes up until they are at least two feet high and make a nice cushy place to rest. Then take off all of your clothes and sit Indian-style in the middle. Eat something messy, like peanuts or goldfish crackers. Wait until he gets home, look up at him with a big smile, and say, "I'm going to build one of these every day with the cool stuff I find on the floor!" If you can manage to vomit on his things, or give birth to a litter of baby squirrels, that will help your cause.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I hope this helps your problem.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Thanks for your question, Karla! If you have any questions for me, please send them to:</span><br />
<a href="mailto:todd.hotnuts@gmail.com"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">todd.hotnuts@gmail.com. </span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I have a number of pressing issues to address, thanks so much for your questions so far. Have a great day, relax, and remember: </span><br />
<br />
<div style="color: #38761d;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">With a nod of my head and a flick of my tail, my advice to you will never fail! </span></b></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Love, Todd</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span>Julie, The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444095359022135281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523098866789354.post-52621125218728514072010-02-09T16:18:00.000-08:002010-02-09T16:20:04.711-08:00You're welcome, Sharon.<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Todd here.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It's snowy outside, and I love nothing better than to wait in the trees and then jump on a snow covered branch right above your crazy human heads. Or drop my nuts on your car hood. Or steal your booze. </div><div style="background-color: white; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I am the first taxidermied advice squirrel, </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #351c75; font-size: x-large;">and this is my gift. To you. The people who presumably killed and stuffed me.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This week's letter comes from Susan in Omaha, who has relationship problems. Squirrels don't have relationship problems. Particularly dead ones. But I'll give it a shot.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>A READER ASKS:</b></div><blockquote style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Todd - </i><br />
<div><i>I am having trouble with my boyfriend. Whenever we get annoyed with each other, he won't talk about the problem, and it just grows until there is this unspoken tension between us. I really love him, but I'm not sure if I should stay in the relationship if he won't communicate with me.</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><i>Sincerely, </i></div><div><i>Susan in Omaha</i></div></blockquote><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Sally, I've looked at your letter through my all-seeing glass eye, and I do have some advice for you:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>TODD ANSWERS: </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Take your boyfriend outside. Put him on one side of a large tree with his palms on the tree trunk. Then you stand on the exact opposite side of the tree with your hands on the trunk. When he looks around the side of the tree, dart away so you are once again EXACTLY opposite of him. Do this for ten or fifteen minutes. You will either break up and move on to someone else, or he will offer to share his nuts with you. You're welcome.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Thanks for stopping by. If you have any questions for me, please send them to:</span><br />
<a href="mailto:todd.hotnuts@gmail.com"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">todd.hotnuts@gmail.com. </span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I have a number of pressing issues to address, thanks so much for your questions so far. Have a great day, relax, and remember: </span><br />
<br />
<div style="color: #38761d;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When I look at your problem through my glass eye, you can tell your troubles goodbye! </span></b></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Love, Todd</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span>Julie, The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444095359022135281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523098866789354.post-38303603152817685572010-01-31T20:58:00.000-08:002010-01-31T20:58:26.741-08:00HEY! It's Freakin' February and my tail is twitchin' about it.<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Hi. I'm Todd. Todd "Hot Nuts" Epstein. And this is my advice blog. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I see you people, running around with your bags and your stuff and your travel mugs and your kids, looking startled and ducking for cover, forgetting where you put your stuff, chirping at your kids. You seem confused. You seem frustrated. You seem like you need help. I wish I could just put a feeder full of seeds up for you. Instead, I'm going to give you advice. Real, tried-and-true advice that has worked for my family for years. Look for me to come out of my tree every few days to say hi and answer your mail.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> <span style="font-size: x-large;">I am the first taxidermied advice squirrel, </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #351c75; font-size: x-large;">and this is my gift. To you. The people who presumably killed and stuffed me.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My first letter comes from someone named "Dim in Davenport," which I assume means they are on their couch with bad lighting, so my first piece of advice is "Get off the couch and live outdoors - it's brighter!" That was a bonus, because I like this person.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>A READER ASKS:</b></div><blockquote style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Todd - </i><br />
<div><i>Since you are not a living creature (although you once were), I thought you could help me with a problem I'm having with another non-living creature. The lights no longer work on the legs of my illuminated Christmas deer. I think it's important to decorate one's lawn at Christmastime, but a floating deer body is a bit weird, and it frightens the neighborhood children. Any ideas on how I can fix this? Perhaps you could come over and talk to the deer to see what's happening?</i></div><div><i>Thank you, Todd!</i></div><div><i>Sincerely, </i></div><div><i>Dim in Davenport </i></div></blockquote><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Well Tim, thanks for being my first client. It means a lot to me, which means a lot, because I am dead and full of sawdust or cotton, and things have really ceased to mean anything to me. But I've looked at your letter through my all-seeing glass eye, and I do have some advice for you:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>TODD ANSWERS: </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It is Feburary, get the damn deer out of your yard! It's done it's time, and it's probably exhausted and waiting to get home to have a White Russian and a Boca Burger before it's time to get back out and bring holiday cheer. That's why it's frightening the neighborhood children - there is a herd of half-lit deer in your yard in February, for Christ's sake! As far a floating deer body goes, it isn't that unusual where I'm from, as we eat a lot of peyote. You don't want me in your yard, Steve, because if there is anything I can't resist, it is chewing on electrical cords. YOW! I know they will hurt me, but sometimes it feels so good to be bad.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Thanks for stopping by. If you have any questions for me, please send them to:</span><br />
<a href="mailto:todd.hotnuts@gmail.com"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">todd.hotnuts@gmail.com. </span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I have a number of pressing issues to address, thanks so much for your questions so far. Have a great day, relax, and remember: </span><br />
<br />
<div style="color: #38761d;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">There's no need to be so worried, you could be shot and taxidermied! </span></b></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Love, Todd</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div>Julie, The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444095359022135281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523098866789354.post-65404594473843587782010-01-11T19:59:00.000-08:002010-01-11T19:59:50.970-08:00Hi! I'm Todd.<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><i><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Don't get your nuts in a bunch! </span></i></b><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><i><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">This site is under construction! </span></i></b><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Hi. I'm Todd. Todd "Hot Nuts" Epstein. Once, I was just your average no-name squirrel. I flitted and scolded and hid my nuts from the world. But then, I was shot with a BB gun, gutted, and stuffed by a 12-year-old in Taxidermy class. I found myself filled with not just cotton, but an all-seeing practical view on life through my magical glass eyes. Let me share my gift with you!<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Starting in February, the month of Love, I will be answering your questions and giving out my special brand of advice. Please e-mail me at <a href="mailto:Todd.HotNuts@gmail.com">Todd.HotNuts@gmail.com</a>, and I'll pick a few questions to answer upon my whim. <br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Because I am a taxidermied squirrel, and we are unpredictable. And unstable.</span>Julie, The Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444095359022135281noreply@blogger.com2