The day in pictures…or not

   Because it happened to be occurring at the time I generally rise anyway, I slipped on some shorts and wandered barefoot over to the golf course to check out the moon.  I’d received a text message telling me I ought, and had decided last night if I didn’t wake up late I would.  this is what happens when you ignore your instincts.  The text message was from an ex and said something about “go look at the fucking moon asshole” or some such.

    My heart was warmed by this poignant prompting, and being obstinate I almost went and took a good healthy shit in rememberance of the relationship.  Instead, because I actually wanted to see it I did so.  It was a moon.  It was hard to see because it was in its fully eclipsed phase, and as noted at 6 a.m.,  blue.  As I was returning to the house I noticed something dark on the steps.  It wasn’t big enough to be a corpse, so with my disappointment already upon me, I tried to make out what it was.

   It was a cat.  A kitten rather.   A furry little puntable puffball of a kitten.  I’m not a cat fan.   I nudged it with my foot to push it off the steps, and the feral little fuck reared back and hissed at me.  In the best of times I’m not a particularly pleasant person, and in the morning I make Genghis Kahn look like a girl scout.   Had this thing been human it would’ve been soundly smited and sent packing.  Since it wasn’t, I went ahead up the steps and into the house.  My screen door tends to close at whatever speed the wind dictates, and I’m not particularly inclined to turn and close doors.  They close or they don’t, it’s all up to them.

   When I finished the morning blurb, bath, and beyond I returned to the living room to do the animal things.  Water the dog, feed the dog, water the rabbit, feed the rabbit, water the cat….what the hell is that thing doing in here?  Apparently the cursed little dung beetle had followed me in, and was all curled up next to Roscoe.  I reached down with ill intent, but as i tried to return it to its natural habitat (anywhere but my home) Roscoe started grunting at me.  Not his high pitched I want to bump uglies with your ankle growl, but rather these almost nurturing sounds.  I took a closer look at the kitten, and noticed that it was that blueish black color.  I like to think of it as necrotic.

    Each time I tried to extricate the kitten from Roscoe’s clutches he started with the grunting nonsense.  I decided to hell with it and went to work, where around nine a.m. I broke my finger, and just after lunch pulled a muscle in my chest.  Add to this the determination as to when I would take my forklift training, and the general all around ignorance of the workforce, and it was not a good day.  I did get the east end of the baghouse done, so at least it was productive.

    I drove home in one of them funks that has you cussing at everyone going slower than you for being an idiot, and everyone going faster than you for being a maniac.  Don’t lie…you’ve been there.  I’d forgotten about the cat.  Apparently he had forgotten about me as well, for when I walked in and headed for my flop zone the mangy little hair merchant was on my couch.  I didn’t see him, and the yowl eminating from him when my oversized ass landed on his microscopic body was in direct contradiction to the laws of probability.  It rattled the windows.  I was fairly impressed.

     Cats,  being spawns of satan, are incredibly hard to damage, and this one wasn’t injured.  I still felt bad, so I let it hang around.  Then my daughter came in.  Squealing with delight she snatched it up , and spent the next several hours doing the can we keep it thing.

   I now have a cat.  I blame it for the eclipse, the finger, and any other damn thing that went wrong today anywhere on the planet.   It’s name is general Tso’s kitten.  laugh fuckers.  The first time I smell cat in my house it will be general tso’s kitten, and my daughter will be in a convent.  

   

the day in pictures

ha ha sucker, you got as much chance of viewing a picture here as you do of finding a winning lotto ticket in your pocket while you’re getting a blowjob from she-ra the warrior princess.  You can, however, should you choose to waste the next several moments of your life enjoy what I like to think of as the least common denominator in faux literature.

   The day began with a Roscoe.  It always does.  You know the old saw about teaching kids to walk and talk and then telling them to sit down and shut up?  That’s what my rescue of Roscoe is beginning to be.   He went from being the rabbit version of being a clam, to being the bruce willis in die hard version of being a rabbit.  Tile no longer limits his range, but for whatever reason makes him crap.  I mean all over.  Little bunny balls needing to be swept up every three to five minutes so the kitchen table doesn’t disappear.  He’s like a never ending bag of rabbit poo.  I now sleep with a shovel so I can navigate the hallway when I awaken without smelling like an excerpt from mutual of omaha’s wild kingdom.

   He has also taken to bullying Mollie.  I mean bullying in the Ole’ sense.  He will build up a full head of bull rabbit steam and slam into her.  Mollie is mostly fur,  but roscoe is a midget, and the affect of his new ramming technique on Mollie is to make her aware that he is present.  Roscoe on the other hand spends three to four minutes roaming around the living room like  Dean Martin after a weekend in vegas.  When the concussion subsides, he proves that bunny memories are short by slamming into her again.  This goes on for as long as it takes mollie to decide she is tired of the game. 

   So that’s how the morning starts.  This morning also included a beautiful sunrise, the picture of which you can find here.  It made hateful hard until I remembered we were dismantling the slag caster today.  We didn’t though.  It was delayed a day I know not why.  The sum total of my involvement in this project is going to be cutting the molds off the chain, stacking them on pallets, and then returning them to be mounted on the new chain. 

    Instead me and Forrest Gump (I know it’s supposed to be Forrest Gump and I, so lick ass) painted the baghouse.  Thats the new nickname of my forgetful young protege.  He doesn’t seem to like it much which makes it all the better.  Due to safety concerns I am required to be with him anytime he’s on plant property (to head off some dumbass, no, not in the bathroom), and he keeps forgetting things.  Which means I have to walk extra steps, which vexes the hell out of me.  Maybe the new moniker will encourage him.   The problem is it may encourage him to throw me off the baghouse.  I’ll chance it…tormenting the young is fun as hell.

So as I’m driving home my daughter calls and informs me that after I give her some money her and her friend are going to the movies and she’ll be home sometime next tuesday.  That’s how she does me.  I figured what the hell, I’ll stop and get some food at the deli.  Cooking for one is just stupid.  I order my victuals (thats vittles spelled right you chitlin eating rednecks), and the young lady behind the counter says “you don’t remember me do you?”  All the alarms start sounding in my head, and I’m scrambling like hell trying to figure out what the hell I had done to this one.  She appeared to young for me to have taken carnal liberties with her, so I assumed she was pissed at me for dumping her shrew mother or some such.  I couldn’t place her so I said, “well, you’re obviously not one of the hateful old fat heifers that normally gaurd the fried chicken.”  She said “oh, you know my coworkers.” I’m still searching my brain.  I never forget anything, and I can not place this woman for shit.   It turns out that she used to hang out with this gal that used to live next door to me.   I even babysat her kids once.  I remember her as a typical hotter than hell party girl, and not much else.   She no longer looks like she did.  In fact, she is no longer recognizeable, and I said so.  Tact and diplomacy are not a dish that I partake of.  It occurred to me after I said it that she probably took this harsher than it was meant.  She is not an unattractive woman, but her hot chick party days are behind her.  To me she is more attractive now, but I’d be willing to bet based on what I’ve been reading about women and mirrors she looks in hers with a bit of angst.  Maybe I’m wrong.  It seems 6 years changes the young more than the middle aged.  She recognized me instantly.  Then again, when you look like a cross between quasimodo and homer simpson, you’re a little hard to forget.

that was mostly the day.  Rotten kids, rotten pets, rotten coworkers.  A nice good morning, and a chance meeting of an old acquaintance.  I’ve had worse days.

todays events

  These are not necessarily in any order.  Order is the ruination of mankind, and any little thing I can do in my own personal existence to advance the cause of chaos I do.  in other words I’m to lazy to put them in order.

1.  My daughter returned from her trip to the amusement park with her friends.  She brought me a gorilla.  it is 6″ high.  She said as she gave it to me.  Here’s your $100.00 gorilla.  Now I don’t owe you anything.  I call that daughter math.

2.  I have returned roscoes sheila to its rightful owner.  Mollie is upset from hell, but Roscoe seems to be taking it just fine.  Apparently he’s one of those “i got mine” fella’s.  Anyway, we’re going to get him a permanent mate this weekend since he didn’t eat this one.

3.  diet soda appears to be a stronger issue than i thought it would be.  At least to some people who obviously have dead taste buds, and a lack of full length mirrors.

4.  a buddy from work brought me a whole sack of homegrown tomatoes.  My yard does not face the right direction to plant them.  Is there anything better than a nice beefsteak tomato, thin sliced purple onion, and mayo sandwich on 12 grain bread?  Washed down with anything but a diet soda?

5.  It’s payday.  I only vote for Ron Paul on wednesday.  I like to imagine what my tax dollars are spent on.  This week I’m buying new knobs for the ladies senatorial washroom doors.  I hope them skanks wash their hands after.  The remainder of it Nancy Pelosi is going to siphon into a private slush fund and buy a half a bra with it.

6.  Khaled Abdul-Fattah Dawoud Mahmoud al-Mashhadani is really tom johnson, a truck driver from des moines.  he has no links to al qaeda but was arrested on July 4th .  It took two weeks for the Bush administration to beat him into agreeing to say he was khaled so that they can continue to link al qaeda to the war in Iraq. *my conspiracy theory for the day.

7.  I had to cut and paste that name…can you imagine having to spell that in kindergarten?  It’s no wonder these clowns grow up to be terrorists.  No, not Tom Johnson. you must be a pauliac.

8.   I filled the car with petrol.  I could’ve bought a hooker and a bag of weed.  Life blows.

9.  My boss was in a mood.  When I asked him what he would like me to accomplish today he said” go see how many more people you can piss off enough that they call me and complain about you.”  I got to 7 before he asked me nicely to cease and desist.

10.  on the way to work i saw one of those morris the cat looking cats that had been smooshed by a car…beside it was a sign that said I can beez cheeseburger.  (this was for the mullets that keep coming here from the i canhazcheeseburger schlepfest.  Never let it be said that I don’t try to please my readers.  

11.  Here are some things you should never do on a blog.  Talk politics. Talk religion. Talk diet soda. Talk cats. Talk animal sex.  Poke fun of stuff.

12.  If those are true this blog doesn’t exist, and you have been drinking way to much if you think you are reading this.

13.  My son has decided to joiin the Marines.  My first instinct having been one was to yell “I forbid it.”  “What came out of my mouth was “don’t sign anything unless I am there.”  Being a dad can suck sometimes.

14.  I finally asked you know who to marry me.

15.  Ok, that last one was hilarious.

Sunday is for random thoughts #4

1.   Doesn’t the latest terrorist failure in the British Isles make you wonder why it is that the mightiest nation on earth can’t whoop the Islamic version of the Keystone Cops?

2.   I always loved story problems in math.  This one shoud be on the SAT  If you leave los Angeles driving east at 65 MPH and another car leaves new york driving west at 65 MPH, how many licks will it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop?

3.  Barack Obama raised over $32 million dollars this quarter.  Proving you don’t need experience to run for president.  You just need a lot of stupid people with too much money to support you.

4.    Republicans won’t reveal their figures until this week.  Proving I suppose that The apple is faster than the abacus.

5.    these don’t seem random enough

6.   David Sedaris is the funniest homo to ever write a book.  Is homo still allowed or do I have to say heterosexually challenged individual?

7.   It’s unfortunate for Ron Paul that his supporters will not be allowed to vote hundreds of times in the primary.  Thats made him all the rage on web-based polls.  When the voting is real this guy won’t last through 5 states.

8.   In an effort to start feeding the hungry in impoverished areas of the world I intend to start promoting the cat as a viable food source on I can Haz cheeseburger.

9.  Hearing about Alli “treatment effects” senior management at Domino’s has begun a recruitment effort for the takers of this pill.  I believe its a cost cutting measure.  (don’t give me that look…I just got that off the wire…think it’ll change the taste of the pizza?)

10.   china” has begun a crackdown on political leaders that have mistresses.  Good plan.   The intent is to raise morality.  I bet it raises the divorce rate, and violence. 

11.   I wish they made an amnesia pill.  I’d take it even if it made you crap your pants.

12.  Roscoe can only see sideways.  Bet that would make driving a real bear.

13.  If your looking for work,  The government in India is looking to hire a “condom Man.”  I’m not sure if you have to be bald or not.

14.   it takes 20 hours to build a camry.  10 hours of that is painting.  It takes 164 hours to build a hummer for the military.  no painting included.

15.  if an ultra liberal and an ultra conservative had sex, what would the kid be?  It couldn’t happen.  Ultra liberals are all gay, and ultraconservatives don’t have sex.  Them not procreating is a good thing for the rest of us.  Kill off the “i’m to stupid to listen to reason gene,” maybe.

16.  I found a website that claims to contain (I didn’t check) women in my area that wish to have sex.  I’m not even going to get into the miracle of a midwestern woman that wants to have sex.  I’d just like to point out that this used to be what alcohol and badlines were used for.

17.  I just contemplated what my week at work is going to entail.  It’s the only thought that ever makes me look lovingly at the strychnine bottle.

18.  Based on what she licks my dogs favorite flavors are her butt and my chin.

19.  Ever notice that men who have daughters look older than men of comparable age that don’t?

20.  The world is an incredilby dangerous place.  That said, you are still more likely to die falling down than from all violent means combined.  I’m not sure how they score it if you fall down on a car bomb as you’re having your throat cut by a mugger.

21.  Have a good week.