On the other hand, I get a kick out of the blood pokey dealies and the little monitor and keeping a record. If clinical depression and asthma had been this structured I would have been MUCH better at them. As it is, I only had to return to the eating habits of my hippiehood and voila! Normal-nay, fucking excellent numbers! Lost weight-5 lbs is weight-and I feel better.
Of course, eating like this will do very little to reduce the virtual Matterhorn of Red Meat in my freezer. See, and here I thought I was being all frugal and shit stocking up when I hit the sales, when what I was actually doing was accreting a BEEFY DEATHBERG.
Animals are stupid 1.
Driving down the road two nights ago. It's dark, you know, it's rural, I'm following the base of the foothills, so there's forest....and up ahead in the distance my headlights catch the twin eye-reflections of an animal in the center of the road. I slow down. I am smart like that. Hitting shit can just fuck with your whole day; especially given that out here there is the very real possibility that the animal in question could be REALLY BIG. Like a big stoner, or a cow, or a black bear, or a bull elk BIG.
It turns out to be a skunk. Medium sized, about as big as a housecat. And this skunk is right on the center line of the road, too. Playing with something with it's front paws. Just like a cat will play with a bug.
Yes. There is a wild animal, a wily wild beast of the woods, which is supposed to be all cunning and crafty and sly? Dicking with a bug in the middle of the road, in the middle of the night, IN THE HEADLIGHTS OF AN ONCOMING CAR.
I slowed down and went waaaaaaay around it. It ignored me.
Having anal glands filled with the animal equivalent of napalm saved his cocky little ass this time, that and the fact that I drive a compact car. Little bastard is going to try that with a gravel truck one night and leave nothing but a grease spot on the road.
Animals are stupid 2.
My girl dog, Jett, desperately hates bees. Any kind of bee. Flies, she can snatch out of midair like a sniper. Bees she will chase and bark at and attempt to bite, or crush under her paws. Not a good plan as, being a dog, she spends most of her time barefoot. She will stand in the middle of the rug looking frantic with one paw buzzing and I will have to get a piece of tissue and dig a hornet out from between her toes, again, where it has been stinging and buzzing frantically.
Bumblebees she hates the worst. To her a bumblebee is a big, flying mouse and all mice and mouselike balls of furry evil must die, die die. She will close her jaws on a bumblebee, and the bumble will sting her, of course. Opens her mouth in shock, bee flies away, lands on a clover, and the dumbass BITES IT AGAIN. The first time I realized this was happening the poor thing came trotting up to me with her skinny little Lab-type face swollen up like a chow dog. When I opened her mouth to find out what the odd noise was, two huge bumblebees flew away. And I had to grab her collar to keep her from chasing them. The goofturd must have been stung in the face more than 50 times or more in her life. Hasn't learned a thing.