The butane guy showed up. I gave him the check. Item#1-done.
The packages arrived. Item#2- done.
No further transmissions from south of the border.
I’m free at last.
Maybe.
Now, on to planning my outing. Heh!
Yep. Spoke too soon. One of the packages is a new ‘foot’ for the deep well. Some folks are coming to pull the whole rigamarole out of the well and install this ‘part’. Son-of-a-wrek needs to be present for this. I ain’t dealing with these guys. He’s talking to them to get them pinned down when they’re coming so he can adjust his job to be here. Such a PITA.
Dear Jesus - confused as hell by all this back-and-forth about corndogs, I just googled them to find out what they are (they ain’t native to these parts, see?). Holy Crap, Beck, that’s not a food group, it’s a biological weapon. I’m a poor innocent kid, and I shouldn’t be exposed to what I just saw on google images.
In this country we have, in fish-and-chip shops, something called a sausage in batter. Yeah, that’s just what it is, deep fried too. Appalling - haven’t eaten one in thirty years. But up against a corndog it is as nothing; it’s diet food - your nutritionist would almost approve.
Hell’s teeth - and now I’ve found out that Tesco are selling corndogs. There’s a huge Tesco less than a mile from here. Now what do I do?
j
You must head to Tesco immediately to test drive a corn dog!
For scientific purposes only, of course!
~VOW
Buy some, baby. You’re life will change. Get the good mustard. 
Now I wanna go to Sonic. I got overwrought by all this corndog talk!!
The Well service people are coming in the morning to put that part on. Son-of-a-wrek will be dealing with them. He told me to get water for drinking and he came in and unhooked my under counter ice maker. So I’m prepared.
YOU HEAR THAT, Mr.Wrekker? We’re taking care of business
The thread title is misleading: there’s nothing plain about Beck.
If Mr VOW ever went on a trip and left me a “to-do” list, the first thing on the list would have to be funeral planning.
His.
Mr VOW was Sgt VOW when we first got married. He told me right from the get-go that his uniforms would be HIS responsibility. I fell in love with him all over again. Through the years, I did wash (and sometimes even iron–bleah) his uniforms. But that was something completely voluntary on my part, and he was always extremely grateful.
He also explained that twenty years in the Army had exceeded his capacity for camping, so sleeping bags and other paraphernalia would never darken our door. I decided that was fine with me.
~VOW
But what if your brother isn’t playing in the match but you’ve already written your letter home???
He’s not mean about it. It’s deceptive. We all want these nice things…like…freakin’ water. So we all pitch in and do our part. But, seriously VOW I never ironed. Ever.
The outdoor stuff I knew when I came on this boat. I have no problem with his hobbies. He can do them all he wants.
Jeez, Beck? Are you waiting up for them to show? Or are you some kind of Arkansas Vampire? Isn’t it 4 in the morning? And why the hell am I still up?
Sod this! I’m off!
Okay, Mom. I’m going to bed. I swear.
Band name! “Please welcome Beck and the Arkansas Vampires!”
Meh, I 'm up too. And SOMEbody has to keep me entertained. LOL!
ETA: We’ve reached that point in the wee hours where I should probably clarify that I am not up already, I am up still.
Such things aren’t common around here*, but as someone who’s been treated for coronary artery disease, I must say that corndogs sound appealing. The idea of random pieces of dead animal byproducts compressed into the shape of a cylinder and then thickly coated in greasy batter and deep-fried to oblivion with a stick inserted in it sounds like just what the doctor ordered!
Beck, you are bad, bad, bad!
- But we do have poutine: French fries, cheese curds, gravy, and a secret substance that instantly clogs up the arteries like glue, so that locals fondly refer to it as “a heart attack on a plate”. They laugh heartily at this droll witticism before keeling over, clutching their chests.
Update:
The well is opened.
A snake was on the little concrete ledge in there, they had to deal with that first. Son-of-a-wrek came in and got my 410 shot gun. They flipped the snake out with a hoe and he shot it. One of the workers got in the truck and refused to get out after that. Yep. He’s fired.
The whole pump line is out hangin’ from the crane truck. And of course we gotta stop for lunch. They’re drinkin’ up my bottled water like fish. Thirsty bunch. One of the trucks has an igloo cooler. I know they have their own water. I don’t mind really. Scaredy-cat shouldn’t get none though.
My son came in and dug around in my fridge for his lunch. He said this was ridiculous all I had was corndogs and hot-pockets. I found him a frozen burrito. He ate it and was fine. Shhh! Don’t tell him I’m glad he didn’t eat my last 2 corndogs.
I’m watching the whole well pump ordeal from the comfort of my window seat in the cool AC. Better than TV. Eatin’ my corndogs.
Exciting day here in Dump-truck, Arkansas!!(stole that from Nellie)
I saw a statistic the other day that said that there are 200,000 feral hogs in Arkansas. Glad to know you’re doing your part to reduce that.
Yeah about half of that number live in this county.
So far:
Beck: 12 feral hog piglets &1 big Mama hogzilla.
Mr.Wrekker: 2 Texas feral hogs.
I win!!