9.4.2kXI
I saw a green recycling truck the other day with a picture of a dumpster diver diving into a dumpster and the words, "Dumpster Diving is a CRIME," or something similar. Who knew? I know some of those divers make enough for a car, while others can't afford a babysitter and have their children in tow while they scavenge. The latter makes me sad and the former makes me MAD!
No shit, there's some cat with a car - a light pickup, actually - who swings by, stops, parks, shuts'r off and dives my dumpster. He snags some stuff (mebbe he's a she? Wat eva), gets back in, cranks'r up and is off. Goddam truck is washed, too. Grrrrr.
So I gathered up some of my new pet ants, told them I'd put some snacks (unwashed recyclable containers and beercans with a sip left) in the dumpster and they could have at it. They jumped and yelped for joy.
I next saw the lazy diver jumping and yelping himself! Uh oh! All his treasures had meelions of ants in'm! He get bitey! I hope his truck is now home for some of my ants.
Tonight - HOMESTEAD.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Johnson
9.3.2kXI
My sister was visiting a week or so ago and we had a fun time, especially when we played the inaugural game of just-released AC/DC Monoply. (I was the stack of cash and she was the lightning bolt; I was indeed thunderstruck and I had to retire.)
Anyway ... we were looking at some dumb YouTube vid when Ez joined us. He sat on my lap and we switched over to some funny cat videos. Ez watched for a while and suddenly said, "Look, Daddy!" He was looking into his lap. I looked. My sister looked. He had his elastic-waistband ... uh ... lowered ... and his willy was peeking out. "Oh hell, Ez! Put that thing away!" I said. He laughed and did what he was told. My sister hyperventilated from laughing so hard. It was pretty funny, but I've learned the 4th Lesson of Parenthood well: You don't laugh at shit like that.
I spoke to my sister the other day and she said that she'd relayed that story to my uncle, who grew up in the 50s. They had a laugh and he asked if I'd disciplined him for that. She said no. He asked how Christi and I discipline him when it's necessary, and she said that we send him to his room, which is accurate. He told her this story:
"We were given a choice of a whipping or being sent to our room. Most of us chose a whipping, as it was over soon enough and you could go back out and play right away. One time a handful of friends and I were discussing the very subject and only one of the guys said that he chose being sent to his room. The other fellas and I looked at him sideways and asked why in hell he'd choose that. He said, "Cuz you can go up in yr room and think about pussy." We agreed that was a fine reason indeed."
Tonight - Elixir SF.
AC says, "Though (the choice of this venue is) against my better judgement, as part of SF "Cocktail Week", Elixir is hosting vodka tasting - featuring Swan's Neck Vodka 7p-9p." Can't be all that bad.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
My sister was visiting a week or so ago and we had a fun time, especially when we played the inaugural game of just-released AC/DC Monoply. (I was the stack of cash and she was the lightning bolt; I was indeed thunderstruck and I had to retire.)
Anyway ... we were looking at some dumb YouTube vid when Ez joined us. He sat on my lap and we switched over to some funny cat videos. Ez watched for a while and suddenly said, "Look, Daddy!" He was looking into his lap. I looked. My sister looked. He had his elastic-waistband ... uh ... lowered ... and his willy was peeking out. "Oh hell, Ez! Put that thing away!" I said. He laughed and did what he was told. My sister hyperventilated from laughing so hard. It was pretty funny, but I've learned the 4th Lesson of Parenthood well: You don't laugh at shit like that.
I spoke to my sister the other day and she said that she'd relayed that story to my uncle, who grew up in the 50s. They had a laugh and he asked if I'd disciplined him for that. She said no. He asked how Christi and I discipline him when it's necessary, and she said that we send him to his room, which is accurate. He told her this story:
"We were given a choice of a whipping or being sent to our room. Most of us chose a whipping, as it was over soon enough and you could go back out and play right away. One time a handful of friends and I were discussing the very subject and only one of the guys said that he chose being sent to his room. The other fellas and I looked at him sideways and asked why in hell he'd choose that. He said, "Cuz you can go up in yr room and think about pussy." We agreed that was a fine reason indeed."
Tonight - Elixir SF.
AC says, "Though (the choice of this venue is) against my better judgement, as part of SF "Cocktail Week", Elixir is hosting vodka tasting - featuring Swan's Neck Vodka 7p-9p." Can't be all that bad.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
9.3.2kXI
The two of you who read these rants might remember last week's story about the ant army that devoured the just-hatched winged termites and thereby cleaning up my garage. I thought I'd capitalize on this helpfulness and, as I needed some things cleaned, set the little fuckers on some other tasks:
I'd recently dug a shallow grave and needed my, uh, garden tools cleaned, so I made a solution of Karo® syrup and water, spritzed the tools and laid them in the garage. Overnight ... BINGO! Clean spades!
I poured some honey in JailBreak's gas tank and left the fuel hatch open overnight w/ the Jeep® parked in the garage. Next morning? Squeaky clean fuel line! In yr FACE, dealership!
And just last night, the goddam rats (having returned) tripped my peanut butter-baited rat traps and left some peanut butter residue on them. I figured they wouldn't need a spritz, so I left them as-is on the garage floor. Them traps are shiny and ready for some actio tonight!
Tonight - Bloodhound.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
The two of you who read these rants might remember last week's story about the ant army that devoured the just-hatched winged termites and thereby cleaning up my garage. I thought I'd capitalize on this helpfulness and, as I needed some things cleaned, set the little fuckers on some other tasks:
I'd recently dug a shallow grave and needed my, uh, garden tools cleaned, so I made a solution of Karo® syrup and water, spritzed the tools and laid them in the garage. Overnight ... BINGO! Clean spades!
I poured some honey in JailBreak's gas tank and left the fuel hatch open overnight w/ the Jeep® parked in the garage. Next morning? Squeaky clean fuel line! In yr FACE, dealership!
And just last night, the goddam rats (having returned) tripped my peanut butter-baited rat traps and left some peanut butter residue on them. I figured they wouldn't need a spritz, so I left them as-is on the garage floor. Them traps are shiny and ready for some actio tonight!
Tonight - Bloodhound.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, September 08, 2011
My dog has fleas!
9.2.2kXI
And my garage has termites! Well, it's the land lady's garage and it does indeed have the termites. I haven't blown my eardrums out, so when I'm in there, I can hear their munch, munch, munchin' away. The sound gets kinda gross after awhile.
I'm not an expert on termites, but it seems the little hungry grubs turn into ugly little slender flying bugs after a time. Once a year (around NOW, to be more specific), hundreds of the little fuckers litter the floor of the garage, desperately learning how to use their wings. They flap and flap and I suppose if they had enough time, they'd fly off and start eating somebody else's garage.
This generation did not have enough time.
I went in to retrieve something and thousands upon thousands of wee bitty ants were marching in their awesome little straight lines right into the midst of the almost-flyin' termites, swarming them, killing them and either eating them on the spot, or leaving with some take-out. I have a deal with ants. They can do whatever they want outside, but they die if they come in. The ants in the garage was in the grey area of this policy, but as they were dealing very efficiently with a bunch of stupid, gross, messy little pests, I let them go on ahead.
Later that day I went back and all the ants and all the termites were gone. Cool.
Tonight - Casanova.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
And my garage has termites! Well, it's the land lady's garage and it does indeed have the termites. I haven't blown my eardrums out, so when I'm in there, I can hear their munch, munch, munchin' away. The sound gets kinda gross after awhile.
I'm not an expert on termites, but it seems the little hungry grubs turn into ugly little slender flying bugs after a time. Once a year (around NOW, to be more specific), hundreds of the little fuckers litter the floor of the garage, desperately learning how to use their wings. They flap and flap and I suppose if they had enough time, they'd fly off and start eating somebody else's garage.
This generation did not have enough time.
I went in to retrieve something and thousands upon thousands of wee bitty ants were marching in their awesome little straight lines right into the midst of the almost-flyin' termites, swarming them, killing them and either eating them on the spot, or leaving with some take-out. I have a deal with ants. They can do whatever they want outside, but they die if they come in. The ants in the garage was in the grey area of this policy, but as they were dealing very efficiently with a bunch of stupid, gross, messy little pests, I let them go on ahead.
Later that day I went back and all the ants and all the termites were gone. Cool.
Tonight - Casanova.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, September 01, 2011
Titliest II
9.1.2kX
The following is a partial transcript from a telephone conversation I had with my brother on September 1, 2001. (Thanks to Mrs. Pepper Sweetchunks for the transcription service.)
"Do you remember when we were children and we sponsored those neighborhood races?"
"We did a lot of races. We had the kids racing kids; the dogs racing dogs; the dogs racing kids; bikes against cars; bikes against skateboards; OH! and the swimming races. And remember the "Little People" races? Where we would take the Fisher Price wooden "Little People" down to the bottom of the deep end and let'm go and race to the surface?"
"Yeh but this one was between the snake and the spider?"
"I do remember that. What kinda spider was that?"
"I don't know."
"That was a good one. Why do you ask?"
"Something I never told anyone, and I'd forgotten about it until the other day. I spotted a small, cloth, draw-string bag washing down the gutter during a monster thunderstorm soon after the race. I picked it out of the gutter just before it washed into the sewer. I untied its strings and the snake and the spider fell out, dead. I'm sure it was the same ones we had raced."
Tonight - Lucky 13.
Because we're lucky to have our city back after a good majority of it vacated to the Nevada desert.
Also, wishing Miss Heather Lake (aka "The Cupcake Queen") a very happy birthday this week. Come on out and buy her a drink to celebrate!!
whrr ... clik!
The following is a partial transcript from a telephone conversation I had with my brother on September 1, 2001. (Thanks to Mrs. Pepper Sweetchunks for the transcription service.)
"Do you remember when we were children and we sponsored those neighborhood races?"
"We did a lot of races. We had the kids racing kids; the dogs racing dogs; the dogs racing kids; bikes against cars; bikes against skateboards; OH! and the swimming races. And remember the "Little People" races? Where we would take the Fisher Price wooden "Little People" down to the bottom of the deep end and let'm go and race to the surface?"
"Yeh but this one was between the snake and the spider?"
"I do remember that. What kinda spider was that?"
"I don't know."
"That was a good one. Why do you ask?"
"Something I never told anyone, and I'd forgotten about it until the other day. I spotted a small, cloth, draw-string bag washing down the gutter during a monster thunderstorm soon after the race. I picked it out of the gutter just before it washed into the sewer. I untied its strings and the snake and the spider fell out, dead. I'm sure it was the same ones we had raced."
Tonight - Lucky 13.
Because we're lucky to have our city back after a good majority of it vacated to the Nevada desert.
Also, wishing Miss Heather Lake (aka "The Cupcake Queen") a very happy birthday this week. Come on out and buy her a drink to celebrate!!
whrr ... clik!
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