07 July 2010

i'm still kickin'... and chillin'

[click image]


Maybe can relax a little now with the walls full of books and the Cairn Terrier from hell who thinks I'm his pack leader... doesn't mind anyone else... and has at least doubled in width in the years since I've seen him... I'm getting myself a double depresso despite the hour... and going out on the the deck in the starlight with a cigarette and just soak up the silence here.

Do you realize I just now realized how AMAZING the speakers are on my iMac? Struth. I hope you have good speakers so you can hear the pretty things I try to find for you.



  1. I stand corrected - the lightning videos I was telling you about was apparently in very slow motion:


    And yes, sometimes it does go up!


  2. Dude. I know it's silly, but I still feel a giddy pleasure when I've managed to know stuff like that, be able to speak of it. I so much of the time know amazing things, but they all went into my no-language language, became literally unspeakable things that help me KNOW the answers to all sorts of questions it takes a long time for people to look up and consider about. I'm so frickin' fast in my no-language, it still BAFFLES me I can't just pft, get it straight across.

  3. Dog out playing protector. Gotta kill him now. Already. S'cuse....

  4. Oh. He was just showing off. Pretending there were marauding hordes he was singlehandedly fending off for my sake. His name is Harley, after the motorcycle. I told them we should switch it Harleigh to give the little fucker some dignity, but turns out his papers say Harley. Think Toto, only much wider and crazier. Ungovernable by anyone... except... me. I haven't laid eyes on him in well over four years. No sweat. Just like I was never away.

    Goofy little maniac. Probably going to pull this lifesaving thing at six ayem... and then we're REALLY going to have to make some arrangements....

  5. Harley thinks he's a hyena or one of those space critters from "Alien". It's really about that ridiculous. He out alpha'd everyone who had him and no one could stand it and so Jim and Peggy ended up with him. He ran their lives... made life hell around here for a long time... EVEN after they took him in and had his water cut off. Didn't want to do it, but it was OUTTA hand testosterone poisoning. Didn't work. Didn't miss a thing. So I finally told them to give him to me for a few days.

    I taught him the basics of decorum by acting like an "Alien" scary creature cross with a hyena, made him think the sky was falling every single time he did ANYTHING obnoxious or didn't mind. Tied him to my two-ton desk leg with just enough slack to lie down and let him wear himself out trying to run berserk around the place.

    Three days. You have to have iron resolve, make the dog think he's being torn limb from limb, even though you don't actually touch him... or only bop him with a rolled up newspaper that makes a lot of noise... but you have to make sure you go for the butt or they get head shy even with that. You make them submit to every mortifying thing. Grooming. OMG... baths! Combing out mats. The INSTANT they start to go postal you go RADICALLY more postal. After three days, almost to a dog, you have a well-adjusted pooch.

    There are other approaches that are not so florid, but take longer and don't work any better. All the damn dog wants is to know his place in the pack. When you're his pack, he's gotta know which of you is boss and WON'T stop driving you batshit crazy until you let him know.

    Of course... that left me having to train Jim and Peggy.... So, bottom line, Harley's the pack leader until I show up.


  6. I'm talkin' the quick fix for problem pooches... full grown... when yer gonna take him to the pound to try to save yer sanity.

  7. Well, I'm yammering on here just like it isn't waaaaay past yer bedtime! Dang, it rocks to have a machine that just spits out a double depresso with the push of a button. That contraption is going to be my ruin. All you have to do is make sure there are enough coffee beans in the hopper. That's IT. Holy shit.

    You wonder why people want to be so wealthy... how they could forget about the starving plebes. They can press one button or another and have things that take us all kinds of labor.... If something is more daunting than button pushing... they can hire a peon for chump change. Not that my friends are that kind of wealthy, but they have some of the fun stuff, that's for sure.


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.