Picture taking commences. And suddenly I’m sad. This will probably be my last rescue in Arizona. I’m looking forward to my new life, its going to be very good and there will be cats to rescue in Houston. My club is international, and I’ve already met some of my new road brothers and sisters. There are just times when I get kinda weepy about what I’m leaving. Then I think about Bill and I’m happy again.
Brags…as to the fall…I’d engineer it again if I could. After I went over backwards, skirts flying and a startled eep, I was surrounded by handsome Marines in their dress blues. All of them concerned and wanting to help me up, offering to bring me water, asking if I was hurt and needed to be carried to a chair.
Once I was back on my feet with my skirts where they should be (getting up off the floor without ripping long skirts can be a challange, btw), the attention didn’t waver. I spent the night dancing with handsome, buff, attentive Marines in dress blues. Dang…that was a very good evening
I invited a friend to come along with my family since we usually go out on Sunday and she’s had a shitty week and could probably use a distraction. I told her that my kids eat lunch early, around 11:30 or so, so we usually go out fairly early. Plus, my youngest still naps, so I need to be able to toss her in bed at some point in the early afternoon. She said, great, I’ll text you when I’m almost ready. We live about half hour from each other, so I was expecting to hear from her around 10 or 10:30 to give us time to decide on something and meet in the middle. So we wait, and we wait. And finally, I text her and say, “Hey, we’re about to go to lunch. Want to come?” At 12:15 she finally texts me and says, “Hey, I’m up and have had some lounge time and coffee - ready to go?” Urhg. So I text back, “I’m sorry we missed you! Kids couldn’t wait. Want to do coffee later?” And now she’s annoyed at me.
Also, my son did something pretty ridiculously idiotic last week and is still being punished for it. He’s 6. His best friend is 7. Best friend comes over to my son, who’s playing baseball with a wiffle bat and says, “Hey, hey, hit me with the bat.” And of course, my son does it. He didn’t do it hard, but that’s not the point - he hit some other kid with a fucking bat. Apparently the aftercare director saw and heard the whole thing and was able to confirm that yes, his friend asked and yes, my son said, ok. I swear to god, it’s like hearing about someone acting out the movie Jackass, only worse because it’s my son. So now I’ve taken away his baseball stuff for a while. Why the fuck do kids do such stupid shit? I can understand why kids are so damn spoiled sometimes. I hate disciplining him. Hate, hate, hate it. But it’s the right thing so I do it. Doesn’t make it any easier, though.
I know it won’t make you feel any better, but wild mice/rats actually live very short lives. It’s just that a combination of being a lot of them, and their ability to reproduce a lot, makes it seem like they might live long. What you think is the same set of mice could be an entirely new generation.
My condolences for your little buddy. Rodents are great pets, and it’s such a shame they’re so fragile.
I remember hanging out at a girl’s house when I was 18 or 19. She had a lot of younger siblings and her house was always kind of messy, and there was a single right hand boxing glove in the middle of the hallway. My friend said “hey man, do these really hurt? It looks like it’s all padded.”
“Yeah they hurt. People knock each other out with them.”
“I bet you couldn’t knock ME out with it.”
“You’re right, because I’d have to HIT you to knock you out and that would be really stupid.”
The girls we were hanging out with got involved in the discussion and things escalated and somehow I got talked into hitting him. I also got talked into taking a running start. I’m also a very big guy, weighing in at a very lean 215lbs at that time.
I hit him like a train. I followed through. His feet left the ground. He lost a tooth. He remained conscious but was uncoordinated and speaking gibberish and he couldn’t stand. He wouldn’t talk to me for about an hour.
After that it was his absolute favorite story in the world for as long as we kept in touch. It probably still is.
Are you sure it’s someone actually walking the dog, and not someone who just lets their dog out everyday to crap where it wants? That’s what goes on in my neighborhood. Bonus points for getting in trouble with animal control because no one was there to clean up our yard while we were on vacation. :smack:
One of my buddies used to love to tell the story about hitting someone in the mouth and knocking teeth out, then getting a terrible infection and almost dieing. The guy he hit bragged that he only lost a couple of teeth, but he almost killed my friend while doing it.
I’m happy to see you posting, I had wondered where you were. Did you have a good vacation?
There is a lady who walks her dogs next to my culvert and they poop there every day. She never cleans up. I’ve seen her doing it a couple of times and offered her some bags to clean up, but she just ignores me and walks away.
My evil side says to pick up all the poop and fling it into her yard, but my rational side says that I need to take pics and turn her in. (acutally…that’s Bill speaking…that man is so rational that he ticks me off…mostly because he’s usually right.)
I’m so tired gossipy, back-biting little rodents who seem to mark the high point of their day as the time when they can get online to talk shit about people they know. At first I try to remind myself that the time they spend online is probably only a small fraction of their waking “lives” but then I have to also remind myself that the online communication I see probably only represents a small fraction of their daily output of bile. I also have to remind myself that such behavior is characteristic of their personalities in general and therefore is almost certainly expressed in every manner of interpersonal communication.
I do have to admit however that over the years I have turned it into something of a sport inasmuch as I often bait such people for the sole purpose of later turning around to demonstrate to them in the most graphic way possible what little regard I have for their opinions. Unfortunately it is mostly a solitary if generally rewarding sport as it’s exceedingly rare that they ever get the message.
Now that it’s cooling off finally, I am really loving sleeping with my windows open. You see, I’m one of those people that gets the best night’s rest when my room is akin to an Arctic tundra. Needless to say, this weather pleases me.
The rant?
I live on a lake. One of the duck’s outside has what might actually the creepiest quack of all time. This fucker is loud, too, and he apparently never sleeps. Sporadically throughout the night I’ll wake up to a very loud, very flat something that sounds like he’s saying, “HA. HA. HA. HA. HA.” like some sociopath who is going to torture me and then turn me into a coat.
You come spend Christmas with my mother, I go to spend Thanksgiving with your in-laws. You won’t understand a word Mom says, I will do my best to act as if I don’t understand a word they say. Mi no comprende señoooooor…
It’s a loon, I think. They are fucking creepy and I hate them. And I am a big bird lover.
I also like my room cold when I sleep, btw. Last time I went to my in-law’s house they had the heat set to 70. And they gave me a big fucking down blanket. I looked at them like WTF but didn’t make a fuss and ended up sleeping on the floor with a single sheet.
TheKid has a nasty virus that’s going around. Laryngitis, throat hurting miserably, runny nose, ear pain. Doc says she has to wait it out, drink lots of fluids, use a throat spray.
Bad mom. I am so tired of her mewling. She kept waking me up last night, got maybe four hours of sleep total. I know that I will end up with this crap, too. Now she is positive the doctor was wrong (despite knowing she got the crud from her boss and that we know a few other people who have had it).
I just want to close my door and bury my head under my blankets. I want quiet. Yes, obviously I want her to feel better, but for fucks sake why make everyone else miserable.
The receptionist this morning was an ass. Dude managed to turn a friendly heads up into a very pissed-off customer who’s sent a complaint to central. I didn’t ask him for a form, of course, I sent it via the corporate webpage. I realize that having someone tell you first thing in the morning that something wasn’t working well isn’t nice, but cutting them and telling them that they should have done something else than what your coworkers said to do, and snorting “I see you’re not used to hotel internet” to someone who’s spent 5 nights/week in hotels for the last 3 months isn’t a good policy. Our usual hotel is from the same chain, no internet problems and the workers are helpful and nice - this guy needed iron shoes, tho.
Me too, except my neighbor has an Australian cattle dog who barks like a Yorkie terrier getting kicked. Seriously, how does a dog that big yap like a little purse dog?
Earplugs, baby. Earplugs. Also: turn up the volume on your wake-up alarm, if you go that route. Trust me on that one …
There are at least three dwellings surrounding my house that are full of people who do nothing but screech at each other all day every day. It’s miserable. Call me insensitive, but if I were that perpetually unhappy I’d eat a bullet before becoming the person who makes it impossible for an entire neighborhood to enjoy opening their windows.
Also, why are there constant banging construction-type sounds coming from the apartment next door? It’s a rental ferfucksake, what is he doing in there?
Heh, in my last place (rental townhomes), my older neighbor would be working in the garage under my bedroom or in his unit (next to my bedroom) every Sunday morning at 7am sharp. Of course, when I complained to the office (located like 40’ from their front door), he repeatedly denied it. At some point it stopped, so I dunno if another neighbor complained or the manager came by to check after I complained, or what.
Again, rental unit, so no fucking clue what the constant banging was about.
