"Ruby Max" as I am carrying her downstairs first thing in the morning.
"Ruby Max" as I am attempting to get PJ's on her in the evening.
"Ruby Max" shortly after I walk through the door and ask her how her day was
"Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max" "Ruby Max"
As you can read, Max and Ruby is going to be the death of me. At the very least, it is assisting in the leaving of my sanity.
Max and Ruby, is like crack in our house. At least it is for Madaline. It can truely tame the banshee. Additinally, we have come to learn that we will never know the LMM will need her 'fix'. As a result, the hubby and I have resorted to recording episodes onto the DVR. We learned this the hard way, after a particular taxing day, in which we didn't have one, and it was quickly approaching 8pm - almost a full hour after the latest airing and approxiatemly 23 hours until the next showing. Oye! I am sure the neighbors appreciated the howling and screaching that ensued for not having an episode for her viewing pleasure. Needless to say - Lesson Learned.
However, since both the husband and I would rather have bamboo shoots shoved into the fleshy parts of our toes then feel as if our brains are being sucked aliens and replaced with slime while we watch another episode, the husband has taken to "naughty narrating" during the show. My husband puts a spin on this show that would put Peyton Place and Dallas to shame. Yes, folks, he turns a G rated show, into an R-rated narration, fit for your Prime Time viewing pleasure. Some days he weaves a tale so tumultuous that it would only be fit for Skin-a-Max, errr, Cinamax.
His narration covers a w i d e range of topics - Ruby's real relationship with Louise, Who is Baby Huffington's Baby Daddy, How fast would Roger say 'Ah huh' if he was getting oral gratification. That Candy laces all the candy in her shop with crack, which is why everyone is so happy. That Max is really Ruby's baby. He even spins a crazy tale of Ruby and Max getting married and carrying on the family name (use your imagination with that one).
Hubby's whispering rhetorical questions and outing phrases about the characters under his breath that makes me snort coffee out my nose - nightly. So much so, that I have long since given up on enjoying a relaxing cup of coffee after dinner, especially during this 30 minutes of viewing pleasure. My nose just couldn't handle it anymore. Thankfully, my sweet, innocent Mayhem Makers watch this sweet, enduring show - and NOT paying attention to the comedic relief of her sperm donor.
And, you think this is bad - you should hear his narration for Blues Clues and The Backyardigans. Oye!
PS>Picture credit goes to: http://commuterdad.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/max-and-ruby.jpg