Diesel: May 12, 2007 - March 13, 2009

I went to the vet clinic just before lunch to visit the inmates, Diesel with his broken pelvis, and Lucy with her 7 puppies. Saw Lucy first, she's doing so great and the puppies are fat little burritos. Thought they were going to be all white at first, but one has eye patches and two look like they're going to be a very light tan. Hopefully I can have a place ready for her at the new house real soon and bring them all home.

Went to visit Diesel, and couldn't find him. Thought they moved him to another building, but he was nowhere to be found. Checked the horse stalls, the lamb pens, nothing.

Went back inside and asked, where's Diesel? The girls got real quiet and stared at me, and I guess I knew the answer but it didn't sink in until one said, OMG I'm so sorry.

When I had gone to check on him the day after he was run over, we thought the prognosis was good. He was young, he'd heal up in 6 weeks or so, and be fine other than some arthritis that would likely set in as he aged. Unfortunately, Diesel never stood up again after he arrived, and he had lost control of his bowels. The clinic couldn't find my cell number to call me and the decision was made to put him to sleep.



When Deez was younger he was so awful at his job. He preferred to play with the lambs rather than protect them. His first year I think he killed 20 lambs. Everyone said to get rid of him but I kept trying, thinking he'd grow out of it. I tried to work with him, and he was great when I was around to keep an eye. Not so great when I turned my back. He took to killing chickens too, though he ate them down to the feet and beaks instead of just played with them until they died. Even though they weren't mine (the neighbor lets their chickens run wild) I didn't want him killing them. One day while watching TV I heard that god awful squawk a hen makes when she's about to be sent to Jesus, and I ran outside in time to catch him in the process of killing the last chicken left standing. All of his past crimes came flooding into my head and I thought, you rotten SHIT everyone told me to get rid of you and I kept saying no no we'll get past this, and here you are doing it AGAIN! Another thought regarding the futility of spanking a 120 pound dog with my hand surfaced, along with something about yelling being equally pointless, and then my eyes landed upon a brick lying on the ground beside him. For a moment I thought, OMG I can't do that, but as that horrified sentiment was being formed, a much darker, angrier one took hold and I did unthinkable. I grabbed the brick and knocked him upside his big stupid head and yelled NO ASSHOLE!

For a moment he stared at me, stupified, the chicken dropped to the ground in front of him. For a moment I thought, I'm going straight to animal abuser hell.

Then he shrugged and grabbed the bird again.
I whopped him in the head again and asked him what part of no and a brick on his head was confusing to him.

This time he yelped and dropped the chicken, glaring at me before taking off to the barn. I felt like shit. I kept telling myself, he's lucky he's still alive, any other rancher would have shot his stupid ass months ago. But it didn't matter. I'd just had a Come To Jesus meeting with my dog, but with a brick instead of a chick tract, and I felt about an inch tall.

Deez never looked at another chicken again. The black hen he was in the process of eating that day is still running around here somewhere. The brick still lies on the ground where I dropped it after I realized what I'd done. I still feel like shit for it, but he forgave me the next day and remained my bud, always putting himself between me and whoever showed up at the house. He would stay by my side as I walked up the porch steps, letting me lean on him for support on those nights when my back hurt so bad that I had to take the steps one at a time. I pretended I wasn't that attached to him but the truth is he was my favorite dog of all time.

Gonna miss you buddy.

garden chaos

Let me start off by saying I LOVE my new house. No broken out windows, no busted plumbing, no nests of scorpions hiding in the closet. LOVE IT.

I don't, however, love the haphazard landscaping the former owners installed. A 10 ft gold flame Euonymus beside a 3 ft Gulf Stream Nandina beside a 15 ft Photina. No flow, no style, basically no sense involved. I'm no fan of the west Texas staples of Euonymus and Photinas anyway so they're coming out. A massive shrub rose is hidden on the side of the house that faces another, along with a good sized crape myrtle, and between them another tiny Nandina. I'm yanking out almost everything the former owners put in. Some will be relocated, like the crape myrtles and a few variagated privets, the rest will be stuck in buckets by the side of the road with a sign that says FREE SHRUBS.

I've gone through a few designs for the front of the house, each design becoming more and more Japanese in style. Not sure how that will work with a boxy, brick ranch from 1960, but I think I can pull it off. Azaleas, mugo pines, hydrangea, a bloodgood Japanese maple, and a few golden sedges are on the list. Need to find some stones first though, to anchor it, before I go to planting.

What I really want are a few of these but OMG look at that price tag. I think I can make my own using styrofoam forms and concrete though. Maybe.

In other news, last week the wife of the couple who are leasing my place stopped by to visit, and when she went to leave she did not see Diesel under her truck and ran over him. Broke his pelvis in two places. He's staying at the clinic for a while until I can get a place at the new house set up for him. Had intended to leave him with the sheep but not now. Also, Lucy my teenaged tramp is at the clinic with her new litter of 7 puppies. Yes I know this is my fault, should have gotten her spayed. Anyway, now I have 7 puppies to find homes for. Akbash, Anatolian, Pyr, and half Labrador. What a mix.

Playing The Game

New house means new neighbors, and the first two appeared on our doorstep day before yesterday bearing gifts of yummy brownies. Both seemed quite nice, but it reminded me that new house, new town, also means it's time to choose. Do I play The Game, or not. Normally I eschew The Game, as I don't really give a crap whether I fit into other's ideas of right. In a town THIS small, however, I'm thinking it might be a wiser course of action to just play The Game. At least for a while.

The Game (which should be trademarked but am on the fiance's PC instead of my Mac and can't remember the key combo for that) is essentially created by, overseen, and enforced by women. It is basically a huge set of rules that dictate what you can wear, eat, say, and do, and the rules are subject to change at any given time and without any notice. Take for example the ultra low rise jeans. If you're 13 and a size 4, they're cute. If you're 19 and a size 4, you're a tramp if you wear them. If you're 40 and still a size 4 with a rockin body, you're just too old for it. Now on the surface you think, hey if you have the body for it, you can wear it no matter how old you are, right? Wrong. Truth is it has nothing to do with the clothing or woman wearing it, and everything to do with the rulemaker herself. The 13 year old poses no threat to the rulemaker. If her husband/boyfriend is staring at the 13 year old, he's just a pervert. The 19 year old is a HUGE threat. She's young, she's attractive, and if the husband/boyfriend looks at her no one will condemn him. So, the rulemaker has to step in and condemn the girl instead by calling her a tramp for wearing those pants. And the 40 year old? Well, her only crime is still having a body worth showing off, while the rule maker's own physique is showing the wear and tear of childbirth, lack of exercise, and way too many Ring Dings. Or is it Ho Hos? Anyway, no one will condemn the man for looking, so the rule maker condems the woman by saying she's too old to be wearing those jeans and at her age she should be in elastic waistbands and loose fitting slacks.

But what if the wearer is less attractive than the rulemaker? No matter, now the rule maker can bring in the "You're Too Ugly/Fat/Short/Tall For That" rule. This allows her and other women nearby to ridicule the wearer for daring to be seen in such attire, and by extention feel superior in the knowledge that they look better. One of my very few female friends is so bad about the "too fat for that" rule that sometimes I want to shake her. My own rule on this is if you don't like what you see then look somewhere else, but I understand that rule isn't in print yet.

Of course the rules of The Game go far beyond clothing. They cover the car you drive, the church you attend (or don't), your hairstyle, and even how much you eat. Think I'm exaggerating on that? I've known women to refuse to drive a luxury car because they're afraid of the talk that will spread about how they got the money to pay for it. Likewise have known a few who would drive nothing but, even if it meant not being able to afford food, so their "friends" would not dis them for driving a hoopty. If you're really stuck for entertainment, go watch a group of women eating out. First they all discuss their diets. Then they commiserate about how they can't seem to lose weight. Next is the competition. I only had a salad at lunch. Oh well I just had a yogurt. You ate the whole yogurt? No just half. Oh well I had 3 almonds and a green tea for lunch. I ate nothing at all. I'm on the cabbage soup diet (also known as the firehose shits diet). Then they order, and trust me, they pay attention to who orders what and how much of it they eat. This is why a lot of women get a salad when they go out to dinner, pick at it the entire time, then go home and raid the fridge when no one is looking.

Maybe my new neighbors aren't independant rulemakers of The Game. Maybe they just made up a big batch of brownies because they're nice people and wanted to welcome us to the neighborhood. Maybe they went home and said, they sure seem like nice people. I hope so.

Or maybe they're like every other female who has ever welcomed me or my family to a new neighborhood, more interested in sizing us up than befriending us. Maybe after they met us and returned home, they commented on how they shouldn't have brought brownies given how the poor new neighbor so clearly doesn't need them. It will just be so much temptation to her when she's trying to watch her weight. Maybe a nice plate of fruit would have been better.

Either way, I ate 3 of those bitches and they were GOOD.

What a shock.

Needless to say, my unreliable friend called to tell me he couldn't get the money for the truck, so it's back on the market. Of course I lost the original buyer, he found something else.

Anyone in the market for a 95 F250 XLT powerstroke diesel? $2500 takes it home!

I am a bad person because I finally said no

I have a long time friend, let's call him Angel (because that's his name), who alternates between saving my ass and completely pissing me off on a regular basis. He is COMPLETELY unreliable, always promising to do something and then never delivering. He borrows things and never brings them back, or else brings them back after months of me asking for it, broken or otherwise messed up. To date he's borrowed a water heater, a sprinkler, some trailer tie downs, two baby goat blankets, a large dog carrier, a tri folding ladder, and a bunch of other crap I've long since forgotten about. To date, I've gotten the dog carrier and ladder back, and the ladder was covered in acoustical ceiling spray and green paint, and the base was broken. I gave him money to buy pasture seed with so we could partner on some hay, never got the seed OR grew the hay. I bought firewood off of him, only to have him dump a bunch of 6 ft long branches in my driveway and promise to come back later to cut and stack it. Never did. When I ask him, when are you going to do that thing you said you'd do, the answer is always the same. "I'll do it when I have time."

Here's a public service announcement. You have to MAKE time to get things done. Time will never just fall into your lap, and even if it did, something else would come along and take it.

Here's another public service announcement. Don't tell me you will do something on a specific date if what you really mean is, you will do it when that magical free time appears and you have nothing else more entertaining to do while it lasts.

On the good side, when I'm in a total bind because no one else is answering the phone, I can get him to water sheep or catch them if they've escaped. I've borrowed car dollies and trailers from him and his family (and brought them back promptly and with new tires on them I might add). They've jump started my truck and pulled it out of a mudhole a time or two, and gave me a decent discount on some fence work they did for me. I give them free sheep and goats for bar-b-q and breeding. It evens out.

I put him in the catagory of Person I Like, But Don't Count On. I have a lot of friends like that. They're not bad friends, just not ones I like to rely on in a pinch, or bend over backwards for. Great for hanging out with over the grill though.

Over a month ago I told him I was selling my truck. He asked how much, I said 2500 (a full 2250 under book), he said "Oh", and I took that to mean "Oh, I'm not paying that much" because typically he doesn't pay much for anything. Thinking he was not interested, I listed it for sale on Craigslist and Thrifty Nickel. Around the first of Feb, he texts me out of the blue, asking again how much. I tell him, 2500. He wants to know what sort of "deal" I will make him, seeing as how we're friends. That kind of ticked me off. I told him, 2500 cash for a truck that lists at 4750 is a pretty good deal in my book. No no, he wants to know about me letting him pay it off.

I don't know about most people, but I am not a bank. I am not in the business of making car loans. Furthermore, the fastest way to ruin ANY friendship is by letting money come into the mix. Given I already knew how this particular friend was about doing things he said he would do, I was not inclined to let him pay the truck out, especially when you figure I need the money to pay for the wedding.

The next morning my boyfriend texts me to tell me he sold the truck, for 3000, to a guy at work. I figure Angel would understand that 3000 cash makes a lot more sense than 2500 in drug out payments, so I text him and tell him I got a cash offer that morning.

He loses his mind. I am promptly treated to almost 2 hours of guilt tripping text messages, the jist of them being I care more for money than my friends, he thought I was a better person than this but clearly I'm not, I don't appreciate his friendship, I don't care about all the stuff he's done for me over the years. I point out that he is completely unreliable and never does what he says he will, which he tries in vain to argue with his "I'll do it when I get time" logic. At this point he retreats to the "I thought I knew who you were" argument. Tells me to "have a nice life". Oh the drama. It was like arguing with a woman, constantly trying to make me feel bad so that I'll forget why I said no in the first place. I got fed up and told him that he was being childish, and the first time I tell him no he goes off on me, and if he wanted to think I was a bad person, so be it.

Well, after much more whining and bitching, I finally cave in. I told him, 2500 cash by the end of the month, and the truck stays with me. Oh, suddenly we go from I'm a money hungry a-hole to love ya baby. Uh huh.

He's been Johnny on the Spot ever since. Moved a round bale for me without my asking, which was nice. But I've yet to hear anything about any money for the truck. I suspect he will show up at the end of the month with half the money, and want more time. This time, however, I'm going to say no for good. I turned down a cash offer for more money to give him a chance, I won't do it again.

His dad gave me a go to hell look the other day when I drove by. Still wondering WTF that was about.

No I did not fall in

Been a while since I fooled with this. I don't know why I start blogs. First of all, who really gives a crap what I have to blather on about. Secondly, updating a blog is about as attention holding as painting my house, and if you'd seen how many unfinished colors have been applied to my house, you'd understand.

SO, new events unfold. As of Christmas eve I am officially engaged. Imagine that! I had pretty much chalked myself up to a long solitary life spent at the computer eating Triscuits and EZ Cheese with no one but my dogs to complain about the crumbs in the keyboard. I know, I exaggerate. As if dogs complain about crumbs.

Now I'm in wedding planning mode, and OMG these things can rack up a tab. I set up an unused domain in the Google advertising program to help with the expenses, so feel free to head over to www.texas-hunting-dogs.com and visit some of the businesses that are advertised there. I'm hoping between now and Sept 12, that site will make enough to at least pay for all the songs I'm downloading on iTunes to play during the afterparty... er, I mean reception.

Anyway the wedding/reception will be held on a boat out on the lake, how totally cool is that? No stuffy church wedding, no uncomfortable monkey suits, no endless holding in of the breath. Sunshine, a breeze, and unlimited pina coladas. My kind of wedding. And did I mention to wander over to www.texas-hunting-dogs.com and visit the various businesses on there to help fund those pina coladas? :D

I am heading to a sale late March to unload a bunch of the rams to help pay for this, hopefully the market will be good. Sadly I don't have much to take, mostly the dregs, although there's some really nice Dall rams in the bunch. Wish they were a year older though.

WTF McCain's Corky Impersonations

Granted I am no McCain fan but even his most die hard followers have to do a WTF at his apparent penchant for sticking his tongue out. I've seen less tongue hanging on a Saint Bernard after a hard run.






Looking at these pictures, I am suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to find a photo of the latest Palin offspring....





I just want someone in office who will say, look we've got to focus on ourselves for a while. Let's be like Sweden. Let's mind our own fucking business and clean up our own mess here at home, rather than get our knickers in a twist all over the damn globe. Iran? Iraq? North Korea? Fuck 'em. Let those living next to them worry about them for a while. We have our own mess here on the homefront. We got illegals streaming in like it's happy hour at IHop, we got meth on every damn corner, people are losing their jobs right and left while big execs get 45 million dollar severance packages, our kids can't string a fucking paragraph together and think handing out blowjobs on the school bus at 14 is acceptable. No one can afford insurance and no one cares if we get sick, unless of course we've got 4 kids by 3 guys and no job, and that's not fucking right. I want someone who can say, I don't care if you own a gun for self defense or choose not to have a child you know you won't take care of anyway. Someone who can say, let's treat each other like adults for a change, instead of a bunch of homeroom mommies trying to make everyone else on the playground mind us. And preferably, I want someone who can say it without his tongue slapping him on the collarbone.

Dow Panic Will Make Me Rich

Week after week, the stock market is all over the chart. Americans who are only familiar with getting rich in the short term have lost their minds and sold off tons of stock thinking they'll avert a personal financial disaster. I say, keep selling fools. Your panic is causing stocks to drop to lows I've not seen in years, and while you're screaming SELL SELL SELL, I'm burning up the keyboard buying shares for half what they traded for this time last year. Color me Kennedy, cashing in during a crisis, but I prefer to be able to afford to dine on the better quality cat food in my old age, vs that mouse in a can crap, and the way my portfolio is swelling it's looking like Fancy Feast may be on the menu.

I'm holding out buying on one particular energy company, hoping it will drop just a *little* bit lower than it's current $11 a share. It was at $44 before all this panic at the disco ensued, so I suppose I should not be greedy and just snatch it up now. The Asian markets are taking a tumble as well, so I've quadrupled my stock in a Hong Kong based semiconductor manufacturer for what my original handful of stocks cost me back in the spring. I was going to buy into Game Stop, after their stocks dropped from $44 to $21 but I waited too long and they rebounded to $32. I bet they'll drop again though, and that stock should be trading around $66, so it's well worth the price.

Oh my freakin golden god

In what I suspect was a drug induced stupor, a UK artist felt the burning need to deify our most famous example of anorexia and cocaine addiction with a statue made of gold. Contorted into a yoga pose that I doubt she could pull off even if she were flying on an 8 ball of heroin, Kate Moss is now immortalized yet again, just in case the 235,892 newspaper, magazine, and online articles didn't succeed in searing her image and arrest record into your brain. The artist, a Mr Marc Quinn, stated "For Kate, she thinks it lifts into her into a mythical level." I don't know about that, but I am sure she was awestruck at the prospect of all the coke that gold could buy.

Mr Quinn was also quoted as saying "If there was a war or anarchy this will be melted down and turned into bullion..."

One can only hope.

Time to clean house

Finally got photos taken of some rams I need to move out. I could just turn them out back and let them grow out for a few years but I need Vegas money. We've already spent $1500 on the trip and we're not even there yet. Airfare, 3 nights at the Luxor, tickets to Criss Angel and to Excalibur's Tournament of Kings, and *poof* there went $1500. Now I have to start stashing for slots and blackjack.

Waxed the hood and front fenders on the Cruiser today, too sunny and hot to finish up the rest of the car though. The bra is on now and looks pretty good. I need to get some pics. There are two others in town the same color but one is a base model. The bra will at least set mine apart a little. Hate having something a million other people have, but at least there's a ton of stuff out to customize these guys so it won't be much work to make it "mine".

Kashi GoFart

My recent attempt at healthier eating led me to bring home a box of Kashi cereal, specifically the Kashi GoLean high fiber. The cereal is as good as can be expected of a cereal devoid of sugar, chocolate, peanut butter, high fructose corn syrup, or any other wholesome ingredient designed to impart taste. I like that it stays crunchy in the milk for a long time. However, it took me a while to realize it was also providing me with an unwelcome parting gift.

Apparently the increased fiber content of the cereal leads to increased gas content of the digestor. I'm not talking little hoopty poots that can be hidden with a faked bout of coughing. These are The Second Coming Is Here trumpet blasts, accompanied by a stench that is a cross between rotten eggs and despair. Even worse, it lasts for hours upon hours, which would be great fun if I were riding a bus on a daily basis, but as I have no captive audience to victimize it's quickly lost it's amusement factor.

Actually I find it hard to believe it's all due to the fiber. I could eat 2 gallons of barley, 2 cups of lentils, a gallon of broccoli, a cart full of bran flakes, a truck load of oatmeal, two loaves of rye bread, and a barrel full of corn and turnip greens and not have as much gas as I do after one of these. There is something unholy lurking in that box of cereal.

Upon Googling for "Kashi farts", I found I was not alone.

I have a new addition to the family, a young Pyr/Akbash/Anatolian bitch named Lucy. Lucy escaped the day after she arrived, and managed to get herself hit by a car. Thankfully the driver was kind enough to take Lucy to the vet, where her broken leg was set and cast. She'll be staying at the clinic for a little bit, giving me time to get the hot wire up and running. Hopefully that will put a stop to the escape act.

iJoy indeed

This is the funniest thing I've seen in a while. As I watched the video, I could not help but thinking I could achieve the same motion with my boyfriend, for free.

In other news, I must have been completely tweaked out at the dentist, as the blood pressure reading today was a yawn inducing 119 over 74.

Fear of Mouth Rot and Hail Damage Turns Me From Dark Side

After more decades than I will admit of having issue free teeth, I was treated to having 5 cavities filled this week. My first ones ever, and 5 in one shot. This of course led to the dropping of much money on dental hygiene items such as floss, floss picks, new toothbrushes, mouthwash, tongue scrapers, etc, and many hours pouring over various websites and articles devoted to the maintenance of perfect teeth.

The other thing that freaked me out at the dentist was a blood pressure reading of 140 over 85. For the majority of my life I've enjoyed naturally low blood pressure reading around 114/54. At first I attributed it to being twitchy about having my teeth drilled, and assured myself that it would be considerably lower at the next visit.

141/90

A friend of mine suggested I might have "white coat syndrome" where apparently your blood pressure shoots up at the mere sight of a doctor or dentist. As much as I would like to cling to that theory, the truth is all of those absurdly low readings were also done by the evil men (and women) in white, so it doesn't wash.

I've managed to cut the sodas out for the most part, only having had a handful of them in the past few months, but I guess it's time to accept that I'm no longer 18 and the equivalent of a human trash compactor when it comes to eating whatever I want with no ill effects. For the next two weeks, it looks like I'm on the Dr Mirkin "Show Me" diet and then will attempt to eat along his DASH diet as much as possible. I don't believe in "diets" in terms of Lose 20 Pounds By Labor Day™ because I'm well aware that the instant you quit the "diet" and resume your old eating habits you just blow up all over again, which is why I never bother with "dieting". However, that 90% of my brain that is not used for normal functions likes to entertain itself with worst case scenarios, usually something along the lines of what it would be like if I lost control of the vehicle and slammed into that concrete retaining wall at 84 mph. Lately it has been showing me what my teeth could look like should I continue on my soda and snackies path, along with what my ass could potentially morph into should I refuse to get back on some semblance of an exercise program.

Time to eat my oatmeal.

Dog training

I went to a friend's house today and was treated to a good 10 minutes of their dog jumping all over me and howling like an idiot. This ALWAYS happens if I go over there. I hate going over there. I hate being jumped on and barked on. I have one thing to say to people who have dogs that jump all over people.

Even an idiot can teach a dog to stop jumping.

Dogs do every single thing that they do in their lives for a reason. Their reasons may make no sense to us, but it does to the dog. The dog jumps on me because he wants attention. He does not reason to himself, she is yelling at me and shoving me so I should stop. The dog is not that smart. Instead, he thinks SHE TOUCHED ME SHE SPEAKS TO ME YAY!!!

There is a common school of thought that says to step on the dog's toes when he jumps on you. It works, to an extent, but only because you are causing the dog to associate jumping on you with pain. It will not work when the dog decides he will accept pain in order to get your attention, and believe me many dogs will accept pain in their efforts to get what they want. Just watch some dog being choked to death as he drags his owner down the road. He can't breathe, but he doesn't care because he's doing what he wants to do.

Then how do I teach my dog to stop jumping, you ask me. Well I am going to tell you. It's extremely simple, but requires patience and restraint on your part. Can you do it? Well, unless you're an idiot, you can.

Ignore him.

That's right, ignore him. When you come home and your dog loses his shit and jumps all over you barking and licking and acting like he is demon possessed, stop what you are doing, cross your arms, do NOT engage in eye contact with him, and keep your mouth shut. Let him jump. Let him bark. Let him act like an idiot while you act like a statue. Don't scold him. Don't touch him. For godssake don't try to step on his feet.

At some point, and it may take 10 minutes, that dog is going to realize he's not getting anywhere with you. He's going to be confused, and at that moment he's going to stop acting the fool and just stand there staring at you in confusion. If you're lucky, he may even sit down. When this happens, break your statue impersonation and praise and pet him. If he starts to go all stupid again, resume the Michaelangelo pose and hold it until he goes back to silent confusion again.

This concept is known as Learn to Earn. Your dog must earn your attention and praise. He can't demand it by acting like a dumbass. It will take time, but a lot less than you think. I have broken hardcore jumpers of that annoying ass habit in a couple of days with this method. Your dog WILL figure it out, and believe me once a dog learns what to do to gain attention, he will do it every single time. It is your job to ensure that what he learns to do is something that makes him a joy to be around, and not a royal pain in the ass.

My final comment on this is that using pain as a training tool is just a piss poor way of training any animal. The easiest way to train any animal is to put them in a position where the right choice is also the most pleasurable one, rather than the least painful option. I could train my friend's dog to stop jumping, but since none of the other family members will follow through, it's pointless. So, they continue thinking their dog is a hyper shit, when all the while they themselves taught him to act that way.

On a separate note I dropped off Jack & Diesel at the clinic for shots and grooming and OMG I'm so embarrassed at how nasty Jack was. His coat matts up, that Kommodor in him really makes it ugly, and I had no idea how many ticks he'd picked up under there. Frontline says it's good for a month but it's really only effective for about 3 weeks, and he is overdue by about a month so ugh. So embarrassed.

Walmart does NOT save you money

I sat down the other day and actually figured up my budget, something I haven't done since I was 9 and mom made me save 10% of my allowance for college. After figuring and refiguring a half dozen times, I came to the realization that somewhere along the line, I was blowing anywhere from $600-800 a month with no clue where it was going. A quick check of my debit card transactions, however, showed exactly where that money was going.

Walmart. I simply cannot go into that place and come out with just the 50 pound bag of dogfood I went in for.

This is hardly something unique to me. Half a dozen comedians talk about how you go to Walmart for Q-tips and come out with $800 worth of crap. The truth is, Walmart wants all your money. I mean ALL of it. The really big ones look more like a mall than a single store, with the idea that if they can keep you there all day, you'll spend every penny you make on worthless crap that won't last a month anyway.

Therefore, I have a new policy regarding Walmart visitations. In the interest of saving money, I now buy groceries at United. Sure that Bambino watermelon is .50 cents cheaper at ChinaMart, but if you factor in the additional $8 I spent on a bargain bin DVD and another 6 pack of socks, it's not so cheap after all. If I absolutely HAVE to go there, I only take enough cash to cover the item I'm after.

I've always thought Walmart sucks. I would not work there unless I was starving and my only other option was to walk the boulevard in Amarillo looking for tricks... and even then it'd be a hard decision. I know a lot of people who work there, and they all hate it. The only reason they can give for staying is the insurance, and it's not even good insurance at that. THEREfore, I have an added incentive to no longer shop there.

This really doesn't go anywhere except it's the end of the first month of not shopping at Walmart and I actually have a surplus of cash in my account, something that has not happened in many years, and I feel like telling someone, ha.

cloth toilet paper

Lately I've been Googling about for ways to save money. Of course I get page after page advising me to "cut up those credit cards!" and telling me how to pay down my credit card debt.

I don't have credit cards or credit card debt. I wised up to my inability to use them with discretion a long time ago. Ditto a checking account. Unless I have cash in hand, I do not seem to grasp the reality that my money is not infinite, so I limit myself to cash and a reloadable VISA. The money I've saved in interest, late fees, overdraft/over limit fees, and just fees in general would pay for a phat vacation to Thailand. I seem to be in the minority of Americans though, considering the dozens of bloggers and posters who complain about how they've maxed out all of their cards and try to pawn the blame onto the credit card companies.

However, what caught my attention was not the usual mundane advice but the disgusting suggestion to use "cloth TP". I had to reread that one a few times before I accepted they meant cloth TOILET PAPER. Never mind the fact that you're wasting water and laundry soap and bleach just to be able to reuse your butt wipes, it's a money saver AND eco friendly! Ahh baloney. There's no damn way I'd be washing shit covered rags with my regular laundry, so that's an extra wash load, and unless you're ok with crap smeared cloth festering in your laundry basket until Saturday, it's more like an extra 3 or 4 wash loads a week. Laundry detergent isn't cheap, so tell me again how that's saving money?

Just thinking about that makes me wanna go squeeze the Charmin.

Gunpowder and propane

As I pulled in the driveway this evening I saw my Himalayan cat, Jazz, batting at something under the propane tank. As the truck's headlights swept across the tank, the object of his affection turned out to be a small rattlesnake. I parked the truck, leaving the headlights on, and headed for the house to get my shotgun.

Now I know what you're thinking. I'm about to use a shotgun to kill a snake... under a tank full of propane. Essentially the snake is hiding under a 500 gallon bomb. I wasn't thinking this far ahead at the time though.

I reach in the door just enough to grab the shotgun, when the hanger it rests on breaks, and the gun slips from my grasp, hits the floor, and goes off.

It took a moment to realize why I was deaf. Blinking stupidly I peer up at the ceiling to see a 2 inch diameter hole where the #7 birdshot hit. Oops. I could have sworn the safety was on.


Back outside at the tank it became obvious the snake was not going to leave the protection of the propane tank any time soon so I laid the shotgun down (this time with the safety on) and grabbed a hoe. I am still surprised that he never tried to make a break for it. Instead he held his ground and repeatedly struck the hoe as I tried to pull him out from beneath the tank. Eventually I got him out and went to cut his head off, but the pile of crap hoe wouldn't hack a dandelion in half so it took a few hits.

Hailstorms and tornados

This week has been rather trying for me. First the last goat I had left managed to get into my garage (long story), wedge herself behind a broken down washing machine, and die of old age. Of course she did this while I was out of town for a few days, so by the time I discovered her, she'd been marinating for a bit in the June heat and was too soupy to remove without the use of a wet vac and a spatula. Then my sewer line backed up, causing the washing machine to flood the damn house when it tried to drain. Sunday I and everyone else where I live was treated to a 30 minute hailstorm with 80-100 mph winds and a couple of tornados tossed in for added effect. The end result of that is the roofs on the hay barn and my house are destroyed, every window is broken, my french doors were blown open allowing the dining room to flood (and now they won't close), and every sheep shed I have is in someone else's yard. Hail killed a few lambs, but considering all their shelters had blown away it's a miracle any of them survived. My Nissan has more hail damage than Michael Moore's ass and is littered with broken glass, dirt, and grass thanks to the hail busting out a window. I was at work with my truck, and it took the full brunt of the sideways flying hail on the passenger side, but amazingly enough did not get a single dent. However, the driver side view mirror shattered despite being on the protected side. Hrm.

There is no vegetation left standing, only shattered stalks remain. Trees were stripped bare of leaves and bark. None of my fruit trees will survive, and only the oldest of my pines came through ok. My flowerbeds are blasted almost down to the ground and one massive cactus that had been nearly as tall as me lies on the ground looking like someone used it for target practice with 00 buckshot.

However, I came out pretty well compared to others. A friend of mine's roof first turned into a swimming pool before finally caving into her house and flooding it.

I took a ton of photos of the damage the next morning. Last year we had a tornado come through and my insurance company tried to say that despite the broken windows and raised off the rafters decking, there was no damage. This time you can see the stripped and broken shingles from the road (and even see half the shingles still IN the road), so they better not EVEN try to pull the "Oh it looks FINE" crap again. They tried to tell me that my house is crappy so unless the house is a total loss, they won't be paying anything. Funny, I don't recall seeing a "Since your house is a POS we won't pay anything unless it's razed to the ground" clause on the policy.

What do sheep count when they can't sleep?

Somehow I have been relegated to sleeping on the couch while my bottle lamb sleeps on my waterbed. At any given time he can be found snoring away on it, head up on a pillow, one leg draped over a teddy bear. Even when he is awake, he prefers to recline amongst the pillows while surveying his domain. Meanwhile I come home from work, shower, and head to the couch.

I read a story once about a dairy farmer who had a bunch of stalls with huge waterbed bladders in them for his dairy cows, and how the cows would actually take turns napping on the beds. He said the cows loved their waterbeds and were producing more than ever so plans were underway to add more stalls with waterbeds so the girls wouldn't have to wait their turn.

Than Shwe Antoinette

This may only be funny to me but after reading an article about Than Shwe kicking refugees out of the camps and sending them back to the delta with the excuse that they could eat frogs, I decided to have a little fun.

While it is generally accepted that Marie Antoinette never said "Let them eat cake", there's little doubt the Burmese junta wouldn't even be that generous with their starving, dying population. They are, however, loudly condemning all of us for not coughing up 11 billion in aid for them, in cash paid directly to the ruling junta natch. No doubt that is why they've had to resort to stealing aid intended for their victimized populace. Hard to afford things like million dollar weddings on a small country's budget. Doubtless that 11 billion would go a long way towards finishing up the renovations at the junta's new bunker... er, capitol.

Sooner or later the Burmese people will rise up and slaughter him and his ilk just like the Romanians and Italians did to their own despotic leaders in years past. Their total lack of weapons won't matter. They'll simply lose their minds from all the crap that's been inflicted upon them for decades, and tear the bastards to shreds with their bare hands.