This edition of Bob’s Posts will be a wonderful hodge-podge of things, without the overcooked onion rings and soggy fries. I demand more chicken tenders in my hodge-podge, and some of those fried mushroom would be quite yummy too!
So the Super Bowl is going to played with a bit of controversy eh? Shocking, and to the fans of New Orleans I say with a terse smile….tough. Yes, you got screwed, but then a lot of teams get screwed. And occasionally you get to the be the beneficiary of a nice screw. Always glad to be the beneficiary, I think it’s just plum willy-nilly to complain when the officiating/ball doesn’t go your way. But then again…hey, here’s an idea. Let’s have 22 officials doing to game, and 22 cameras focused on individual players? 1 official per player with a yellow hanky and the willingness to use it? That would be so cool, and 1 camera per player to overrule any errant calls by said official. The NFL is a 13 billion dollar a year industry…they can afford it! And maybe, just maybe they’d get every call right? Then every game would be without controversy and we could focus on the really important things…like world hunger, peace, and why the Mexicans won’t pay for the stupid wall!!!
My cat (Manfred Freisner von Richofen) is a small critter. We got him as a cute little kitten who played nicely when you went to pet him, will lay on his back and let you rub his stomach (which is completely unusual for a cat), and eats dog food like it’s porterhouse steak. Purrs to beat the band, likes to munch mice, and beats the shit out of the chihuahua. My kinda cat…
Shortly into his stay in our home we purchased a low budget facility for Manfred (dubbed Manny) to let go his waste. And he’s been quite reliable in this activity, only pooping once in the bath tub, and that was when we shut him in the restroom so he couldn’t get outside when the door was open. Okay, now I gotta stop for a clarification moment. The crap he left steamy in the tub was sizable on a par with a fat guy who ate a double quarter pounder, two large fries, and three twinkies yesterday. And that was his snack between meals. I’m dead serious here…we had our grandchildren, children, and those of us who reside in the home on premises. When the longish turd was sighted an hour or so after poor Manfred’d been shut in, the initial thoughts leaned toward it being a long line of feces extruded by a human. It had the girth, the length…you get it right? Once a questioning round (akin to the Spanish Inquisition) had been performed on the grandchildren (despite tales to the contrary, no waterboarding was administered) it was compared to the elongated models on display in the litter pan. In true Hercules Poirot voice De Anna (the beautiful wife in this story) announced to the gathering that the only logical explanation for the bath tub feces was poor little Manfred. And then she cleaned it up, for which she get a small verbal prize.
I cleaned out the litter pan four days ago…mask on face, small chest upheavals, hand washing afterwards on a par with the Brain Surgeon just before plying their vocation. And it was full. I just walked past it today, and it’s full again! Oh My Goodness, how does a slender creature who sleeps 23 hours a day produce that much shit? Seriously…if you weighed the amount of food going in, and the amount of poop going out, you’d find a discrepancy! There is no way!
To put this in perspective; if the lions of the plains pooped this much you’d see giraffes and zebras head down in a effort to high-step their way around the feline poo! I’m not kidding…the plains would look like a crap graveyard with little tombstones the dung beetles couldn’t move! NASA would put up a satellite (the BM-429) to monitor the migration of the poop-piles, and I’m quite damn sure the excess fumes would put a sizable hole in the ozone layer.
I’m learning to dislike the damn cat…
So I have to tell you a story here. It’s kinda funny, and kinda “you gotta be kidding” sad.
We live in a home that has half the running water plumbing going along the wall of the garage…on the inside of the garage and away from any available heat source. Which has never been an issue in July I might add. Nor in June for that matter. But in January??? And when the award winning De Anna stopped the dripping water in the kitchen sink she didn’t realize how fast those pipes would freeze. And so we found ourselves with frozen pipes in the garage; pipes that are long and most assuredly will have cracks in them when unfrozen. Okay then. Also, we have a wonderful wood stove in our dining room and in a effort to keep the fuel oil burning heater from running non-stop we had it blazing all day. That makes us great self-sufficent Americans and I want a small flag sent to us when the government re-opens for business. Anyways…long about 11 o’clock in the evening, at bedtime, dear De Anna turns the heat back up to keep us toasty through the night. And…nothing. The furnace has decided it does not feel compelled to do its job. Now it’s the night its going down to zippo degrees. Mind you, a non-working fuel oil burning heater is still not an issue in July, or June. But it’s damn sure an issue in January! Once I’d trekked out into the night to check the fuel gauge (1/2 tank thank you) I realized the four electric heaters and the wood stove could work in unison to keep my family alive through the night. And they did.
Who knew fuel oil could gel? Raise your hands here…1,2,3. Okay smart-asses, I didn’t. Nor did I recognize that the couple inches of rain water that’d frozen over the fuel oil line would enhance this freezing…I mean seriously, who had thought a burnable substance that is only used when it’s colder that a witches tit in a brass brassiere could freeze? It’s like having water that evaporates when it’s hotter’n shit and you need a drink…silly huh?
Do you remember when you were a kid and it snowed on a school day? Oh the heart-pounding joy at the thought that they may leave those wide doors closed and the teachers would have to stay in their small caves where they spend their time hurting squirrels and growing warts! And on a Tuesday of all things….there are so many wonderful things to do on a Tuesday. You could go back to sleep for a couple of hours, read a book, make hot chocolate, pick boogers, annoy your siblings, raid the fridge, get up a snowball fight with the neighbor hooligans, read a book, watch television, take a nap, go ice skating, cure cancer, play cards, daydream of killing a bully, watch dust particles in the sun coming through the bay window, listen to music, or just lay in a warm bed and do nothing all damn day! And when a snow plow came by I’d give him the finger while hoping he popped a tire or something ’cause Wednesday is also a good snow day from school. Oh the joy!!!
I just tipped the snowplow guy that comes past my house a twenty dollar bill, and told him there’s more where that came from if he jumps her up a gear and gets that thing a movin’! And there better be tons of that rock salt/slushy shit coming out the back too…get these roads clear. Oh yeah, and when I go out and measure with my yardstick you better have at least six inches on the ground before you even think of keeping my kids home! I have the Superintendent on speed-dial, and every 36 seconds I call to leave an update on the weather condition in my sector of the “kids better be going to school” quadrant. And my neighbors do too…we all function as a well-oiled machine in the educational virtues department…no missed school! And I listen to the radio while watching local news on three different screens in my bedroom…and I watch the scrolly thingie because, while rubbing my Rosary and saying my Hail-Marys, I truly want my wonderful children to have the benefit of a great education.