Molten shower gel of death

Decided to get ready to go see The Hobbit, do some shopping, hit CostCo. First step was to take a one-degree-below-first-degree-burns shower.

Wash hair....Check!
Wash face...Check!

Grab the Crab Nebula Showergelloofascrubbything and apply an ample amount of shower gel. Tap the lid to close it up.

At this point, things go badly. It seems there was a small glob of shower gel sitting in the lid. As I snapped it closed, the glob was launched into the air. The glob was launched at such a high rate of speed, the friction of the air passing over the surface of the glob superheated it to a molten state.

Milliseconds later the glob has entered my eyehole. At first it was a tingle. I figured I could endure the pain. Rinse it out a tad. Proceed with the shower. A couple of seconds later, I discovered why they referred to the gel as invigorating as it was invigorating the shit out of my eyeball nerves.

In an act of desperation I spin around and attempt to rinse my eyeball with the shower water...the one-degree-below-first-degree-burns shower water. Quickly deciding that this was a bad idea after partially scalding my eye socket, I resort to flinging water from my hands into my face. This goes on for a bit until most of the pain is gone and I am able to get to the next step of shaving my face.

I have to ask why every time something that is "invigorating" or "minty" is launched from a bottle, tube, etc...almost always seems to end up in your eyeball. Putting toothpaste on the brush has two consequences. If you are wearing a shirt that is black, a tiny glob will shoot off the brush and land on your shirt. Any other color shirt and the tiny glob will rocket towards your eyeball.

Strange dream

Woke up last night around 3. Had to take a leak. I then remembered the dream I was having.

The dream ended just when I was done strangling a women with a belt.

Where did I get a belt?
The belt was used to tie me up.
Who tied me up?
Two males tied me up and shoved me in a corner.
The corner of the cabin of a boat.
They were going to do something bad to me eventually.
They had already beat me up pretty good.
I escaped my bindings.
I found one of the guys doing naughty things with a different female and left them alone.
I found another female.
She woke up and was about to scream.
That is where the belt was used again.
I woke up.

What the fuck is wrong with my brain?

Anywho, as I went back to sleep I realized that if the dream started again, I needed to kill three more people and learn how to drive a boat.

Daily routine

Today I started the daily routine. I typically don't start so early on a Wednesday since I work at home, but I have to go to the office to let some guy in to test a circuit.

As I am going through the motions of cleaning myself in my morning shower, I start to think about my daily beautification routine and how any missed step can lead to disaster.

6am - Wake up
6:05 - Let cat out to go pee
6:07 - Make coffee
6:10 - Get first cup of coffee
6:15 - Let cat in to eat
6:25 - Let cat out to go poop
6:26 - Second cup of coffee
6:40 - Let cat in so he can sleep on bed and fuck with Hans
7 - Finish coffee
7 - 7:45 - Do work. Answer emails
8 - Shower
8:02 - Wash hair
8:05 - Wash face
8:07 - Wash body
8:10 - Shave
8:13 - Get dressed
8:15 - Lament my lack of coffee

Today I screwed up my routine. I was washing body and decided to scrub my entire back. As I was rinsing off, I noticed a complete lack of soap in certain areas. My decision to alter my routine nearly ended up in lightly rinsed body parts. Another time I put goop in my hair before deoderant. Left the house wondering why my pits felt funny.

I have also, in the past, screwed up other parts of the routine. Once I was too tired to "let cat out to go poop". He pee'd on the floor right behind me in protest.

I have decided that if anyone fucks with my routine, I will find out where you live, hunt you down, and pee on your floor.

Floors can kill

So, last Saturday...not this one that just happened, but the one before...I decided to do a bit of cleaning around the house. At some point I decided that something under the bed needed to be moved. I laid down on the floor and made the mistake of having my right arm tucked under my body as I used my left arm for reaching.

After a few seconds of reaching for stuff, I hear and feel this loud pop. This pop seems to be emanating from my right rib area. Suddenly a cavalcade of pain encompasses my torso and I think I let out a little squeak. It would have probably been a bigger squeak had it not been for the excruciating agony that my ribs were now introducing to my body.

Anywho, cleaning was now complete! I suffered through the day by finding a comfy position on my couch and used liquid pain killers to dull the shattered ribs.

Coughing...holy shit monkeys.

Poopin' and peein'...I will never eat or drink again.

Lifting anything...it can stay where it is.

Monday was work. Made it through most of the day, but headed back to couch land early.

Tuesday was work at home, so I was able to suffer through it a tad better, but the couch was my friend.

Wednesday I was searching teh intarwebs for home rib-ectomy procedures, but decided to call the doctor instead. Sunofaonvacation!

Thankfully, my umpteenth visit to Instacare was better. Seems not many people decide to injure themselves on Wednesday, so I got in quick. Suffered through the nurse and doctor giggles regarding me injuring myself by laying on the floor. X-rays show nothing broked. Got my meds and headed home to blissful doping.

Friday...oh god, Friday. Hans decided he was Humpasaurus Rex and went to town on his teddy bears. I was too doped up to notice. Wake up Saturday to Hans looking and acting like me. Seems he threw out his back with his love making session. He tried to bark but it hurt too much. He couldn't lift his head to look up. Cried each time he had to move. Teddy bears will now be locked up when he gets that sparkle in his eye. We both used the couch for our recovery.

Saturday...decided that I would accompany Jason on a search for his fridge and I would get my closet doors while out. Forgot to take pain killers. This wouldn't have been a bad idea had it not been for the mode of transportation. Pickup trucks and a shattered rib cage do not mix well. As my body tensed and contorted to prevent my ribs from crunching against each other as Jason seemed to locate each and every bump on the road, my entire body started to hurt. Quick trip back to the house and a Lortab later and I was a rambling giddy mess of a human being.

So...floors can kill. They are dangerous, evil, rib shattering hellspawn.

Rob Zombie concert and some other band

So, last night I went with Dane to see Rob Zombie at Usana. Had a beer before we left.

We met some of his friends and... oh look, beer!

Once the mile long line of people had entered the stadiumthing, we made our way in. 20 feet past the gate... oh look, beer!

20 feet later... oh look beer!

10 feet later... oh look beer!

This continued every 10 or 20 feet all the way down to the concession stands which had... oh look, beer!

After a while, some music started playing. It was loud. It eventually ended. I think it was a DJ or something. Oh look, beer!

After another while I heard some more music. At some point during the first song, a dying walrus started to groan into the microphone. During the next song I think they duct taped a microphone to a penguin and started to kick it around the stage.

Dane and I headed to our seats in the lawn area and noticed that Marilyn Manson was actually the source of the noise. We endured one song from their expansive and multifaceted repertoire and headed back down to... oh look, beer!

Listening to Marilyn Manson live is like watching a 400lb quadriplegic try to climb over a fence.

Anywho, eventually Rob Zombie came on. It was quite amazing.

I don't want to be awake today.

Damn cat goes to the vet again

As I may have mentioned in previous postings, my asshole cat, Poopsqueek, likes to wake me up every day at around 5am so he can go outside to relieve himself and sleep on the pavement. Yesterday I heard the meowing and scratching again. It was unusually dark when he started this. A quick check shows that it was 3am. I throw a pillow at him and doze off to blissful sleep.

That morning I wake up and notice he is somewhat lethargic and overly sweet. He is usually a spaztic asshole at this point in the morning. I go about my day normally and notice on occasion that he is just not acting normally. Around 9:30pm I settle down for the night on the couch to watch me some Daily Show. Poopsqueek is acting cute in his cat climbering thingymabob. I pick him up and squeeze him as usual. He screams like a gut shot whore as he always does. I sit down, put him on my lap, and proceed to pet him.

Suddenly I feel my legs getting a tad warm. Hmm. What is this strange moist warmth? Damn cat peed on my lap. I hop up, carry him to the back door, plop him outside. I shower and head to the couch. Hmm. What are these pink droplets on the floor.

Today I wake up to take Poopsqueek to the vet. Whine whine meow meow whine hiss hiss whine meow. Twenty minutes later I am at the vet. Vet squeezes the cat and there is the blood again.

So, damn cat is apparently too fat, eats too much, has a fucked up PH balance, all blood stuff tests are fucked, and has crystals in his bladder. He how has to take antibiotics, prescription cat food, and lose weight.

I will miss his chubbiness.

Hans and the house keys

Yesterday I was driving home and heard a commercial talking about HVAC and they mentioned that you must change your filter. Oops. I decided that I must go get a new filter for my HVAC. A quick trip to Home Depot and filter is in the car, in the house, in the HVAC. I then realize that I must run another errand. I grab my wallet, grab my phone, grab myself, hop out the door to go to my car, pull the door closed...

Motherbitchfuckerballgoddamnit! Keys are still inside the house.

It is now starting to get windy. The temperature is hovering in the 90s. Humidity is approaching sauna levels.

A quick call to Mitzi at work and she says that she will leave early to let me in. "I will leave in about 20 minutes after I finish eating." *sigh*

Fast forward to bedtime. I pass out but am awakened by Hans adjusting his sleep spot. Seems Mitzi is still up and decided that Hans and I can snore together. That dog can put me to shame on occasion. Anywho, I waddle to the restroom, then head out to say hi to Mitzi. At this point Hans has woken up and noticed that he is alone...so so very alone. I hear a whine, a jingling of his collar, feet walking around on the bed. A minute later it sounds like there are half a dozen dogs having some sort of kinky sex orgy on the bed as Hans tries to figure out if he will survive the drop to the floor to make sure that we have not deserted him for a new family.

I wander back in the room, see a dog that seems to have survived some near death experience, slither back into bed. Hans is quite traumatized and decides that wedging his butt into my armpit is the only way he will feel safe. I allow the snuggling, settle into my pillows, begin the process of sleeping.

A few minutes later I hear something. It isn't loud. It was quite brief. My best attempt at spelling out the sound would be something along the lines of "pfffff". Fucking dog farted in my armpit.

Hans slept on the far corner of the bed for the rest of the night.

No more unsupervised home improvements

This weekend there is a possible plan to proceed with some home improvements. Based on previous projects involving power tools, normal tools, and my skin...there is a very good chance of injury. Thinking about the possibility of another emergency room visit, I thought that I could detail my life and the injuries that I have inflicted upon myself.

As a child I was a tad top heavy...well...heavy all over during my toddler years. I tended to fall a lot. I have had quite an amount of needles sewing up gashes in my skull. One that I remember well was the "run home quickly" fall. I can still see the threshold of the door racing at my face immediately after tripping on the cement stair. I can call to mind the images of the needle approaching my forehead to sew up yet another open wound on my cranium.

There were plenty of other injuries. I have had a gravel pit worth of rocks embedded in my hands. I still have a black spot on my leg from another incident. I was in school and tossed my backpack on the desk. For some strange reason it stopped sliding across the desk. I decided that a forceful nudge with my leg would solve the issue. Sadly, the eraser on a pencil under a book was wedged against the edge of the desk. The other end of the pencil...the really pointy side...was at the bottom of the backpack patiently awaiting my leg. Not sure how far it embedded into my flesh, but far enough to leave a graphite tattoo.

Over the years I was able to smash my finger between a box of liquor travelling down some rollers and the steel beam they connected to. I ripped off a few finger and toe nails. I fell off a swing that unhooked at the top and opened a floodgate of blood on the back of my head. I can't count the amount of times that I sliced parts of my body with box cutters. I popped my knee out of the socket lifting a gallon of milk out of the back of my car. Five cracked ribs from snowboarding. Two cracked ribs caused by a bear hug from a giant Mexican.

Amazingly I have never actually broken a bone that required a cast.

So, fast forward to my years of home improvements. A while ago we decided to finally replace the stove/oven thing that was made in the 50s. This required me to put in a cupboard above the new stove. I bought the thing, cut a hole in it for the vent, got it on the wall, screwed it in, put on the doors, it was awesome. I then realized that it required knobs. I got my trusty drill and some knobs and went to work. I measured where the knobs would be put and proceeded to drill the hole. Now, when you are drilling a hole in a piece of wood, you should make sure that the hand you are holding the piece of wood is not located directly on the other side of the drill bit.

They said I didn't hit the bone in my finger.

This next one wasn't done at home, but I found I am able to injure myself with anything you find around the house and office. I was trying to shape some foam packing for a router I needed to ship. I almost had it cut to just the right size but still needed a little bit more taken off. I was slicing through the last part of the foam with the scissors. Now, when you are slicing through things with anything sharp, slice AWAY from your body.

After I squirted blood all over the office carpet and everyone in the office drove me to the emergency room, I ended up with five stitches in my wrist and some loss of feeling in my thumb.

One day I decided to replace the carpet in my basement and put in some wood laminate flooring. The install went well. I got all the flooring in and proceeded to work on the trim. I was working on the last piece which required some cuts that required the jigsaw. I got the first couple of cuts in just right and had one last one to go.

Remember the drillbit in the finger. Yeah...same finger. They said I missed the bone again.

Hopefully, for me, nothing will go wrong with the closet organizer and door install. Sadly, most people I know are looking forward to hearing about another emergency room visit.

Raspberry Pi

So, I finally received my Raspberry Pi that Jason ordered for me. The one I ordered will be here in 12 weeks. Anywho, I excitedly grabbed my HDMI cable, found an 8gb SD card, borrowed Jason's wireless keyboard (which I replaced later along with getting a 32gb card), and proceeded to geek out.

First step was getting the image for the OS. I listened to the suggestion and grabbed the Debian image. Hmm...how do I get this on the card. TO TEH GOOGLE! Ah, I see...I have to download a program that will image the card. Complete!

Plug card into the PI and boot up. Success! Found the login on the site and I am at a prompt. Hmm...what is the root password? TO TEH GOOGLE!

Root password "changed"! There actually wasn't a root password.

"apt-get update"! Hmm...not enough space on my disk. TO TEH GOOGLE! Another site explains how to fill up the SD card since the image creates a tiny drive. Easy enough!


What the fuck!?
printf "d\n3\nd\n2\nn\np\n2\n157696\n\nw\n" |sudo fdisk -cu /dev/mmcblk0
sudo shutdown -r now
And then:
sudo resize2fs /dev/mmcblk0p2

Complete!

Create my username! I actually know that one! Complete!

startx

Hmm. Not too fond of the xwindows version. I shall try full fledged Gnome!

apt-get install gnome

Pages and pages of scrolly stuff saying it will install everything including the kitchen sink from the house I grew up in. Wait a while. Wait more. Notice it is stuck on some gconf2 thingy. Hmm. Doesn't appear to want to finish. Oh...there is the error. Not finished. Well, I shall install things I know.

apt-get install vim

gconf2 error

apt-get install emacs

Hmm...gconf2 yet again. It appears that the Gnome thing fucked up gconf2 and everything in the fucking world requires it to be installed correctly! New IMAGE!

First step.
Second step.
Third step.
Skip gnome.

At this point I can't remember what I did to screw it up again, but I did. NEW IMAGE!

Damnit. Screwed it up again. NEW IMAGE!

I decide I want Spotify. That goes about as smoothly as the nutsack on a chainsaw. NEW IMAGE!

I shall try to use Synaptic to get Spotify working. NEW IMAGE!

Decide to try Arch Linux. Create image, plug in card, type some shit, I have no idea what this shit is, power off, remove card, plug in Debian.

The Raspberry Pi is currently back in the static bag. I needed the charge cable for my phone upgrade. The phone upgrade that went ever-so-slightly smoother than the Raspberry Pi fiddling.

I have come to the conclusion that Linux geeks are assholes and they hate everyone. They tell everyone that they use Linux...like, incessantly....all the time. They tell everyone how much better it is. They explain how much Microsoft and Apple suck. They make Apple fanboys look like "meh?". They gloat about "open source", GNU, command line, rebuilding this and that, never rebooting, running Linux on a circuit board powered by potatos, how everything cool is based on Linux including electricity, the time-space continuum, Higgs-Boson, and where babies come from. However, they make it nearly impossible for anyone to actually use the shit. Dependencies, recompiling, make, make install, new kernel, wrong kernel, repositories, edit this file and that file, source, free, non-free, su, sudo, grep, fuck, shit, damn, hell, piss.

I will get around to it another day. For now, the Raspberry Pi shall remain in the bag. I just want to click on icons for a while.

Funtastic day

Oh what a fucktastic day.

Slither out of bed at 6:45am.
6:50am call from the "OMGEVERYTHINGISTEHBROKEDED!" people.
Read the emails to try and figure out what is teh brokeded.
See that our Manila and India teams are working on the stuff.
Get another call.
Get a "OMGJOINTEHBRIDGE!!"
Join bridge.
Put them on hold and call boss.
Talk for a bit.
Go back to bridge and tell them we are working on it.
Hang up.
Get another bridge number
Forward to teams working on it.
Get another bridge number.
Forward.
Get another bridge number.
Gee. What shall I do with forward.
Shit gets fixed.
Where is the RCA?
Forward.
NED RCA!
Forward.

A this point in the late morning I can finally consider that shower I was hoping to have. I realized that my daily butt massage has started from the construction that is going on in front of the house. They have a couple of pieces of machinery, but not much. I see that Jason's truck is parked in the street and may hinder their access to certain areas that they may need to be in. I wander outside and ask the guy working on the street "Do you want me to move that truck?" He rattles off, "Nah, we're good".

I head back inside to get my manscape and shower going. As I am happily scrubbing off, Hans starts barking. Thinking that he is just getting bitchslapped by the cat, I yell at him to shut the shit up. Bark bark bark bark. I finish up my shower, turn off the water, hear the thumping on my door. I rush to the door in my damn towel which exposes my chiseled ab and my amoeba hard moobs.

Motherbitchslackjawedyokle has now decided that the truck needs to be moved. I dry off, get dressed, move truck. They now have two dump trucks, some scoopy/bulldozer thing, a roadmaker thing, a steamroller, signs, pickup trucks, and a bunch of guys with shovels.

Fuck it. Fuck it in a Geo Metro.

Reply All

Step 1: Send a question in an email to wrong distribution list.
Step 2: Await the first "reply all" asking the same question.
Step 3: Let mayhem commence.

"Please stop replying to all"
"Can you please stop replying to all…"
"PLEASE STOP HITTING REPLY TO ALL…I HAVE RECEIVED FOUR EMAILS (SO FAR) INDICATING TO ADD YOU TO THIS LIST..SEND THIS TO THE LIST OWNER AND STOP SPAMMING THE ENTIRE LIST."
"Reminder, folks: respond “Reply to Sender” NOT “Reply to All,” please."
"Please stop sending these to everyone. Contact the help desk. Thanks!"

"EVERYONE – If you are not on the list, send a note to the helpdesk with the DL name and they will add you.

STOP REPLYING TO ALL AS THIS GOES TO EVERYONE IN THE COMPANY"

"Please remove me from your list"

"Please stop responding to the DL. The response are going out to all employees. Please communicate to the list owner directly." 

"Can folks please stop copying everyone in their response?  There are probably several hundred people on this distro."

"I think people are hitting reply all…everyone in the company is receiving these requests."

"Please exclude me from this distribution."

"YEAH!"

"Please stop replying to all"

"Please stop replying to all"

"Stop replying to ALL…."

"Please stop replying to all

Thanks you!"

As some of you may or may not recall, I have a zit. It is not acne. I don't look like Edward James Olmos. I don't need Proactiv. It is a zit.

Now, this zit only appears alone. He never has friends. His appearance is randomly located somewhere on my skin. He appeared again today.

Today I also decided to name him Mitt. He appears in places where he is not welcome. He spews rancid goop out of his mouth. No matter how hard you squeeze, you never get all that you were looking for.

A little history on Mitt the Zit. He has been hanging around in my genome for some time. Going back to early spring, he had a huge reception on my forearm. Much useless shit was spewed from his mouth. After a week or so, his time ran out and he went back to regroup for his next attack. A few days later he appeared on my neck. He must have really been planning something big because it was epic. I felt like a teenager again.

Mitzi decided it was time to do something. We went to the store and got some face washing stuff, some face moisterizering stuff, and other random things that I have yet to try. I diligently started using the new goodies and after a week or so, it looked like I had conquered Mitt.

I was wrong. Very very wrong.

Mitt decided that since my face was now off limits, my manboob was free game. After a short stint of making me think I was having chest pains filled with cancer and a cholesterol filled heart, he moved south to my belly. Once my belly was finished ejecting his vitriol, he went further south. Can't pop Mitt down there.

Mitt again showed up my my arm last week. I killed him dead with much squeezing. Thinking I had conquered him for a while, I went to enjoy a blissful sleep.

When I woke up, my nose hurt. Thinking I had bonked myself in the face, I crawled out of bed and looked in the mirror. Mitt was now on my nostril. Squeeze, scrape, wrangle, smoosh, bitchslap. Mitt took a beating.

Slow forward a couple days to today. Mitt seems to be defeated. My nostril seems better. Mitt has gone down to a small annoyance. I grab my coffee and head downstairs. Waking up I start stretching, scratching, yawning. After the bones stop the snap crackle pop, I reach to scratch an itch on my head.

Motherfucker Mitt is on my head...in my hair. I give up.

Today:
1.) Wake up
2.) Use restroom
3.) Stumble into kitchen
4.) Rinse out coffee pot
5.) Clean out coffee filter
6.) Fill coffee pot water thing
7.) Place coffee pot water thing in coffee maker
8.) Place coffee filter back in coffee maker
9.) Remove coffee filter and fill with coffee
10.) Put coffee filter back in coffee maker
11.) Turn on coffee pot
12.) Go to basement and wait
13.) Hear Mitzi wake up
14.) Hear Mitzi say, "Uh oh!"
15.) Stumble upstairs
16.) Grab some towels and the mop to clean up coffee all over the floor
17.) Hear Mitzi say, "The coffee pot was sitting in the sink"

I shouldn't make coffee without having had a cup of coffee. What a conundrum. Tonight I get to move the fridge to clean up the puddle of coffee that is underneath it.

My computer tried to kill me

Up until earlier today I had a set of harddrives in my computer. A 64gb SSD for OS, a 1TB for MP3/Movie storage, 500g for backup, 500g for random stuff, 500G for Steam.

I recently acquired a couple of 2TB drives and finally decided to install them.

Deconstruction was relatively simple. Removed screws, removed case parts, removed cables, removed more screws, removed harddrives.

I think I may have shortened my lifespan by a few years with the canned air and dust that was inhaled during the cleansing of the computer.

Now, many would think, "Upgrading a computer is very simple and could not cause an injury to anyone."

They are wrong.

Once the bits and pieces of stuff was safely tucked away, cables nicely stored in their respective cubby holes, screws tightly screwed into their receptacles, I was tasked with putting the case parts back onto the body.

As I was attempting to slide the side of the case into the slots, I found out that you can actually rip flesh from your body and leave a glorious blood blister on your arm by simply not removing your fleshy parts from the gap between the sliding door and the case.

Lesson learned. Computer upgrades are dangerous.

It sometimes amazes me when I purchase something and experience a complete lack of forethought in the design of said product. Today I will speak about the loofa bath fish net scrubby thing that is not so appropriately named, "daily Luxuries".

Now, I am sure there isn't a whole lot of thinking processes that goes into the manufacturing of a loofascrubbybathgelfishnet thing, but maybe they should use someone other than a sadistic window licking shithead.

My main gripe with the thing is the little thingamabob that you hang it up with. It is not a string/rope type thing as I have previously experienced. They decided upon a small strap like tag thing that you normally see on the back of a t-shirt. It is also the exact same color as the rest of the loofascrubbybathgelfishnet thing. Each morning I have to dig around in the soap covered thing trying to find that damn loop so I can hang the shit back up.

As we may have all experienced, after a couple of weeks with a LSBGFN thing, it starts to expand like the cosmos. It goes from a nice ball of fish net and turns into the crab nebula. This makes it even more difficult to find that god damn hangy strap thing. Once you combine my hypoglycemic lack of breakfast, my old man arthritic finger bones, shaving gell in my eye holes (don't ask), and finger tips that were recently shredded by the bathgel/shavingcreme/shampoo/facecleaner bottle opening razorblades of death, I am a bit out of sorts with the search and rescue procedure required to find the damn thing.

Six more days of vacation, BBQ on Sunday! Lots of cleaning to do, but at least Carlos got my yard cleaned up. Too bad they are going to be digging a trench in my front yard in the next 24 hours or so for a new sewer line. My entire street is a clusterfuckerball right now.

Asshole cat is sleeping in the dog's bed just to piss him off.

Last <redacted> I flew to <redacted>. I went out to help <redacted> do some "simple" things around the house, help with loading and packing of his stuff into the U-Haul, and do some of the driving out to Utah.

Day 1 started out OK. Some destruction of the garage wall, removing nails, screws, wood. As the day progressed, my skinny and weak body started to protest. This wasn't a small rebellion or coup, this was a freaking uprising. Hands started to give out, knees felt like they were trapped in a vice, elbows felt like a hammer was being used to move parts around. One injury occurred when my elbow sped into my knee at warp speed while removing a screw from a wall. Double injuries are a rare occurrence, especially when no tools cause the injury.

Day 2 was a nightmare. My body had not fully recovered. I eventually turned into a painting zombie and wandered back and forth between the wall and the paint. I fell into some strange mindset where I just blocked everything except for the path between my designated work areas. Thankfully there were spare percasets in the cupboard.

Day 3 was ohmygodkillmepleasewithaknifeinmyeyehole dump day. Back and forth loading and unloading crap, garbage, shit laying around. I have given up on ever feeling normal again. My body is wracked with pain and agony. I begin to hallucinate. I am unable to form complete sentences. I long for death's sweet embrace.

Day 4 was more dump day. After dump visit, it was carrying boxes downstairs. <redacted> needs to learn a thing or 50 about how to pack boxes. Writing "books" on a box is nice, but don't put every fucking book in the world into that damn box. Spread the shit out a bit. It should be "some books and light fluffy things" so I can actually carry it without my knees coming in contact with my ankles. I think my arms grew a few inches that day.

Day 5 was the "rearrange my horrid U-Haul organizational skills" day. After that it was the start of the drive. This will be covered in Part II.

So, from this point forward....

Dust - Something I do when cleaning. Not something I get covered in. Not something that forms mutant boogers in my cranial cavity.

Painting - Something I see in a frame hanging on a wall. Not something I do to a wall.

Standing - Something I do on occasion to stretch my legs. Not something I do for 14 hours a day.

Walking - Something I do to get from on point to another so that I can sit again. Not something I do back and forth for 14 hours a day.

Dump - Something I take in the privacy of my own home. Not something I drive to so I can unload a bunch of garbage.

<redacted> - Somewhere I shall never see again.

I was able to get some tasty tequila from the store. I think I used words that were too big for the girls at the counter with the blackened toofs based on the blank stare she gave me when I asked where the store was that had some in stock. I really didn't understand much of what she said either. In fact, I don't understand pretty much anything that anyone in <redacted> says. so, I just ended up looking it up on my phone and starting the GPS.

Now, <redacted>...a little advice. At the grocery store where you get your case of Mt. Dew for the crotch fruit, there is an aisle that has things for cleaning those previously white things in your face hole. You put this stuff on a tiny little brush, shove it in that face hole, and then vigorously move it back and forth. You can do this up to three times a day.

Poopsqueek goes to the Vet

So... Asshole cat, who is actually Poopsqueek, got into a fight a week or so ago. He got injured on his hindquarter. He didn't like anyone to touch it at first, so I just kept an eye on it. It eventually stopped hurting, scabbed up, seemed like all was going to be just peachy keen.

This morning he comes to visit me whilst making my morning delivery. I reach down and feel his wound. Of course it is now a lump on his backside. I call the vet and make the appointment. I leave work early to go to the vet. I get the cage. I place Poopsqueek in the cage and the fun begins.

MWOOOOOEEEWWWWW! HHIIISSSS! MEOOORRROWEOOWOROOOQOOROQQWWQWWWW!
Meow.
MEEERRRROOOOWWWOOOOOWWWWWW

Now, I have a relatively small car. The cage thing doesn't fit very well in the front seat. About 2/3 on the seat and 1/3 off. He decides to sit in the 1/3 part of the cage. Everytime I brake, the thing leans forward and thunks into the dashboard. The meowing gets louder. Each time I accelerate it flops onto the seat. The meowing gets louder. Thunk, flop, thunk, flop, thunk, flop. All the while he is screeching and growling and meowing and driving me batshit crazy.

15 minutes later, I arrive at the vet. The noise continues for a few minutes and we get in the room. Seems that Poopsqueek has gained a few ounces and now tops out at 18 pounds. They shave his butt. The scab comes off with the hair. We find two puncture wounds. It seems that my cat is a wimpasaurus and was probably running away and got bit on his ass. My 18 pound cat...ran away.

Of course, this is the cat that is incapable of jumping over a 4 foot fence. I have seen him chase cats across the yard. The other cat leaps over the fence with the toes barely touching the top. My cat grinds to a halt with a "foiled again!" look on his face. The other cat will stop on the other side and look back with a "you gotta be shitting me" look on his face. Not that I mind. He isn't getting into trouble and keeps all the cats out of the yard except for the scraggly white cat he seems to be friends with now. Maybe she offers him a tasty milkshake.

The vet says that we can give him antibiotics. Two options are me giving them to him orally, or they can give him a shot. They say that the stuff I would give him is liquid. I take the shot option. They laugh when they say it is charged by the pound. Damn fat cat.

Anywho, $102 later and a bald backside and we exit the vet.

15 more minutes of...
Thunk, flop, thunk, flop, thunk, flop...
MWOOOOOEEEWWWWW! HHIIISSSS! MEOOORRROWEOOWOROOOQOOROQQWWQWWWW!
Meow.
MEEERRRROOOOWWWOOOOOWWWWWW

Yes, my cat can pronounce words with the letter Q in them. He is talented.

A New Cereal

As all of you may remember, I recently had an interesting experience with a cereal that shall be forever known as Kashi GoShit. We did send that giganormous box of cereal to the land of the dumpster so seagulls may snack on it and hopefully explode as they divebomb someone's picnic.

Anywho, we made our way to Costco to try out a different cereal. 

It didn't go as planned.

This time we saw "Abundance Blueberry-Pomegranate Oat Cluster Crunch". Goodness gracious, that sounds tasty! All natural! No HFCS! Grains and shit! Fruits! Holy shit in a handbasket, I am buying this box!

I had a giant bowl yesterday due to yet another "fuckiforgottoeat" hypoglycemic pre-attack. This type of attack is where you kind of feel fuzzy in the head, your tummy gets kinda wiggly, and your skin starts to form tiny beads of sweat. Not a full out attack where you would literally eat the cardboard from a homeless person's bed, but close. So, I had this bowl of cereal in the late morning and continued on with my day thinking that I had consumed something healthy and tasty. My gums were not bleeding and I didn't feel like a dead cow on the side of the road in Close Encounters. All was great!

Or so I thought.

The rumblings started later that evening. Another horrid visit to the room of doom and I thought I was going to be OK.

Now, the Kashi GoShit was a horrid butt-trumpet of hell leading up to the dysentery. This stuff was the opposite. No warning about the rocket fueled explosion, just happened. This morning I wake up and I get the other half. It was like a baking soda and vinegar enema. After each one I am thinking "how the hell big is my intestinal capacity for this symphony of gas?!" After a while my thoughts were "what the hell?", "good god", "wow", "are you fucking kidding me?", "please let that be the last", and "I sure hope there wasn't any luggage in that one".

I have come to the realization that I should stick to what I know. Grease, McDonalds, microwaved, processed, or anything else as long it does not brag about how natural it is. If I want natural, I will buy some damn organic vegetables.

Asshole cat is having issues. He got in a fight a few days ago and hurt his butt area or something since he doesn't like it when you hold him. He seems to have found a new friend. Some scraggly white cat likes to sit outside with him. Asshole cat seems to be getting better. He let Gloria clean his noggin. Gloria would clean a piece of poop if you pet her with it.

Yesterday afternoon I got hungry. I ventured to the kitchen to see what tasty treats were available. Since Sunday is grocery day, the treats were limited. I checked to see if any of my tasty cereal boxes were there but alas, the cupboard was bare.

I then caught in my peripheral vision the lonely giant Costco box of Kashi Go Lean. Now, this box has been lonely due to previous attempts at eating some. I decide to throw caution to the wind and pour a bowl so I can avoid another hypoglycemic attack.

The rest of the day goes pretty well. I have a tasty adult beverage or 4 and head to sleep. Suddenly, around 1 or 2 AM, I am awoken by a strange feeling in my entire torso. Things are moving, making noise, and causing discomfort. Twenty minutes later, Mitzi asks if I am throwing up in the bathroom. I say, "no. it was the fucking cereal again." I couldn't feel anything below my manboobs once I got off the pot. I was slightly dizzy and felt as if I had run a marathon.

So...my take on Kashi Go Lean and the name behind it.

1.) After you eat a bowl, your gums are so shredded that the thought of eating anything else is painful to comprehend.

2.) After choking down a bowl, you are so bloated that you are incapable of consuming anything above and beyond a glass of water.

3.) 8 to 12 hours after forcing this gravel filled cardboard down your face hole, you experience a type of dysentery that feels like you are expunging your innards along with enough natural gas to power Las Vegas for a week.

So, after Mitzi and I used up a few bowls worth of this shit, the 3/4s that is left is headed for a landfill.

Sitting on the couch

So, I am sitting on the couch kinda half watching TV and I thought of something I found interesting. I figured that I may post about this subject to entertain all of you. In my beer addled brain, a small distraction occurred. After letting my brain mull this new thought over for a bit, I remembered that I was going to post about my original thought. 

Sadly, my brain was incapable of recalling my initial brain synapsis and it faded away. Frustrated, I attempted to recall this thing that seemed to be so interesting. Meanwhile, I was also thinking of other things. As I am attempting to think of the original thought, I started to think of why I was incapable of remembering it. After a bit of contemplating my inability to remember the original thought, I completely forgot that I was trying to remember it and was instead trying to figure out how I can forget something so quickly.

At this point the TV became semi-interesting, but it didn't last long. I then started to remember that I was thinking of something. At this point, I had gone so deep in trying to remember stuff, I gave up and figured I would confuse everyone on how my brain had done some sort of multilevel Inception type thing and forced me to stop thinking all together. I decided that 5 minutes of TruTV would prevent any thought processes for the time being.

I think I really need a vacation. I was watching something on TV and the phone rang on the TV. I muttered a few choice words and ran downstairs only to realize that the bitchdick on the TV has the same Avaya ringtone that my phone does.

Asshole cat has been avoiding me today. I think he is planning something.

I had more that I was going to post about a vertically challenged gangster I saw on TV, but I don't want to be butt raped by Hitler in hell. I think I am like one or two posts away from that.

Leave a Voicemail

There are people that will call someone, get voicemail, hang up.

There are other people that will call someone, get voicemail, leave voicemail.

There are assholes that call someone, get voicemail, call again, get voicemail, call again, get voicemail, call another phone, get voicemail, call first phone again, get voicemail. These people need to be stabbed in the butt with the phone they used.