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Hi, I'm Tanner. I like cloudy days and fish tanks. I have a wife and a kid. I like them as well.
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So a few weekends ago Vicki and I traveled back to Maryland to celebrate her 30th birthday. Along the way we stopped by to see my folks. As soon as we walked in the door my mom made us a pair of her famous “Pammy Milkshakes”. As we struggled to sip the thick milkshakes through our bendy straws, my mom warned us about a viscous “demon attack owl from hell” that had allegedly been terrorizing small dogs in the community. I stress the word allegedly, as she offered up very little in the way of actual “proof”.

Now, as many of you know, my mom has a small rather pathetic looking dog named Toby. Although Toby is often mistaken for an ugly cat and/or ferret and contributes absolutely nothing to society, my mom nonetheless loves him very much and was absolutely freaked out about the owl. She had gone so far as to build a small green cloak for Toby so that he would blend in with the grass when out for walks.

Anyway, long story short, once I was done my milkshake my mom demanded that my father and I set out to “destroy the owl”. So my dad and I put on some old hockey gear, grabbed our sling shots, and headed out to do some damage. Neither of us thought there was a chance in hell we’d find the owl, and to be honest, we weren’t so sure it even existed. 

As we walked along with our slingshots my dad and I traded stories about Toby’s seemingly endless supply of pathetic-ness. I was deep into a story about the time Toby got his head trapped in one of those plastic hamster balls when my dad yelled “God damn it’s an owl”. I looked up and there he was, looking right at me like I was some kind of hipster doofus.

So yeah, my dad and I raised our slingshots and just as we were about to shoot my dad said “Hold on a second son, this here owl’s a majestic creature of nature, how’s about we let him live”. “What about Toby?” I asked. My dad replied “Toby’s just a rat that barks, Owly Owlington here is a champion of nature”. “Did you just call him Owly Owlington?” I asked. “Yep” he said. “What about Owlbert Einstein?” I asked. “Nope, his name’s Owly Owlington”. 

And that’s the story of Owly Owlington.

EDIT: I forgot to mention that my sister’s boyfriend, John, was also along for the adventure to destroy Owly Owlington. He lagged behind a bit as I think he saw the whole ordeal as a bit, shall we say, unnecessary and pointless. However, he did have a few good alternate name suggestions for Owly Owlington, including Owl Bundy and Owlan Rickman.

Here’s a wide shot of Owly Owlington and his tree…



Yep, it’s true, we shoved Rigby in a suitcase and dragged him to Japan. He immediately became obsessed with Japanese game shows and rarely left our hotel room. This unfortunately means that he was not in too many photos. However, he made a brief public appearance once he heard about our new rabbit friend. Rigby’s a lover, not a hater, and he especially loves other animals that may, or may not, be real (much like himself).


This was the only worthwhile picture that I took while inside the Kochi aquarium and it took FOREVER because…

a. Vicki couldn’t hold the damn magnifying glass still

b. The little shrimp creature from hell wouldn’t stay still

c. I couldn’t figure out how to focus my my damn camera

Answer: Definitely not “c”, but I’m torn between “a” and “b”.

Also, I can neither confirm nor deny that this creature is in fact a shrimp. But what I can confirm is this… it is certainly, without a doubt, from HELL!!!


No, they’re not mogwais, but still, pretty damn cute. My only gripe is that I wish the one in yellow was wearing blue so they could be named Alvin, Simon, and Theodore.

Also, thank you everyone for your brilliant replies to my previous post where I asked the following question…

"At what point after midnight does it become safe to feed a mogwai?"

Although I received several different ideas and suggestions, they all seem to suggest that an 8am pancake breakfast with a mogwai would be safe. What a relief! Thank you!