Walmart Is A Comedy Goldmine

People have been asking me if I was ever going to blog again.

Okay, fine, I'm back.

I spent most of the summer in a pretty bleak state of mind, and nothing kills my creativity faster than depression. But I finally found something that was so effing ridiculous that I couldn't stay in a funk.

I was walking down the aisle at Walmart - yes, I know, they're reprehensible corporate bastards, but there are some things you can't buy elsewhere, not here in South Alabama.

Anyway, I was in Satan's Discount Den, looking for socks or bug spray or some damn thing, and I overheard the following snippet:


God strike me dead for laughing at some poor bastard who's about to be unemployed, but that's funny right there.

So I'm back.

I have more to say about work and mythology and soap and Walmart, but I don't wanna blow it all in one day. Stay tuned.

Bite Me.

Well, crap.

I’ve managed to get behind on ranting again.

I had been putting off some long-needed dental surgery, because I was reserving money to make someone an offer. That fell through, so off to the periodontist I went, and had the surgery done.

I regret it, of course.

Let me start out by saying that I had somewhere between 25 and 30 shots before they even got started. I got twelve – TWELVE – shots in the roof of my mouth. I was a wreck before they even started the procedure.

With a wind-up that bad, you know the actual work was horrific. To keep from disgusting everyone, I will just say that it’s been two weeks and the sutures are really really bothering me, plus I am concerned because my supply of Vicodin is getting a bit low.

Furthermore, dammit, I am getting mighty tired of mashed potatoes and squishy overcooked pasta. I want some actual food, something I can – you should pardon the expression – sink my teeth into.

I want a crunchy salad.







I want a nice crusty loaf of French bread.






I want an apple, and my sympathies are completely with Barbossa when I watch Pirates of the Caribbean.


So I’m drugged and cranky. Jesse and the dog are both somewhat pleased about this, because the drugs slow me down and make me confused. So I haven’t found their new hiding place just yet.

I hate the damn dentist.

A Quick Bander Update

It's been a few days, and he's gone through a couple of splints. He's like the rest of the family, tough on things. He's not as sad as he was, although on his last trip to the vet, they decided to try and used a couple of sheep worth of padding and a bit of green tape to keep it together.

So here he is all happy, on the way to the vets.

Since then, he's been more tired. But I think that's because without the splint, he feels the ankle/paw soreness more. I guess it keeps him from doing further damage; it must be working, because he certainly has spent more time not trying to drag me across the planet.

In fact, he's spent all his time doing what he does best; being a doorstop. This is where he stayed for about an hour, before I had to carry him down the stairs. He's not allowed up or down them, so if he wants to hang out with me while I do stuff, I've gotta carry him.

But he's adapting. I mean, he found the most comfy place in the house, and staked his claim.

So if'n you're wondering how he doing, he's a little better and a little more shrweepy.

It'd be nice if I could work this hard.

Update on Bander

He's not broken, anywhere. Sprained, bruised, and drugged out of his mind, but not broken.

'El Doggo' has gone around the block and sat in the grass for a while, so he's doing o.k., albeit he's slow and awkward. In fact, he snuck upstairs while I'm posting this and is lying down behind me right now.

I think he has a knife or a machete in his good paw.

I don't want to look and find out.

Pieceing all the information together, he climbed over the computer desk, chewed through a drawing board that was propped against the window, busted through the screen (that was the crashing noise everyone heard) walked to the corner of the roof, and jumped down.

He left his mark in the asphalt.

I need to put a sock or something over the bandage; a one block walk has begun to wear through already, which you can kinda see in the main pic.

Thank you, everyone, for your well wishing and kind words.

We'll keep you updated on his progress!

Crazy comes on four feet, too.

I am posting this quickly while I wait to hear from the emergency vet. I had some fun stuff planned for today, but I didn't get to it, because I've been entirely focused on Bander.

And here's what Bander did to distract me: while I was gone doing a massage, and while Jesse was at work, he jumped out a second floor bedroom window. I'm pretty sure he broke his right front leg. At the very least, he has some pretty heavy bruising and sprains.

The neighbors heard breaking glass, and ran out to see what the noise was. They called Jesse at work and told him what happened, and then took care of Bander until I could get home and drive him to the emergency animal hospital.

I was pacing too much, so they sent me home, but he's getting pain meds and xrays and a splint and all sorts of expensive things. I get to go pick him up in an hour or so.

What kind of crazy dog jumps out a second floor window? He had to get up over the top of the computer desk to do it, too. And he launched himself right through the screeen, and broke a couple of roof tiles. I know he landed on his feet because there are toenail divots in the asphalt.

This is not the kind of crazy I enjoy. Poor dog.