We’re almost halfway through April, and I just had the third idiot this month try to crash into me. Unlike the last one, this guy (gal?) wasn’t yapping on a cell phone, but still refused to accept that the little yellow lines that are drawn on the pavement have any meaning. What’s so tough about actually following lane lines and only turning onto the freeway where you are supposed to. It is possible that these folks can’t see me, but considering that each time it has occurred while I was driving a crew-cab GMC Sierra 1500 (a.k.a. Big-Ass-Truck), and my lights were on, I think it might be time to revoke a few licences if that is the case. I suppose it could be my fault, since I refuse to ignore traffic laws and turn only after I reach the limit line (or whatever that white line at the end of the lane is called) rather than cutting across the double yellow line and taking the corner as sharply as possible, but I don’t think so. C’mon, folks!– put down the phone, the curling iron and the breakfast burrito and open your damned eyes while driving!

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Ugh. Rough day. Rough week. Rough month. Where the hell are my pennies from heaven and all that (and adjusted for inflation, wouldn’t it more likely be $20 bills from heaven?)? Two more work days to go, and the weekend is here, and I get to wish I could relax. Between soccer for the boy-child, volleyball for the girl-child, taking the wife out (why do I open my yap and act like I actually like spending time in public?) and the inevitable flood of household chores and maintenance, relaxation is not bloody likely. Enough about the weekend, let’s talk about me!

So, what’s up with me, you ask? My new trainer is evil. I can’t use humour to quadruple my rest periods between exercises, so I basically have a full hour of actually doing unpleasant sweaty stuff on various machines, unlike my time with Jessica (silly rabbit!). Anway, I’m not so sure I will still be able to move by this weekend, which might work to my benefit — how can I be expected to operate a gas-powered post hole digger if I am incapacitated? Hey, things are looking up already . . .

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Is it just me, or has the phrase “Jumping the shark” (and it variations) jumped the shark? When local columnists start using it as part of their common dialogue, I think the shark has been jumped, we’ve reached a tipping point, Elvis has left the building and it is time to consider the phrase clichéd and move on to the next great thing. Or try writing some original descriptive text. Harumph!

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Bummer — there’s no room at the inn. More precisely, local jails are over capacity and trying to export their inmates out of state. Personally, I’m all for it (isn’t that what Australia’s for? . . . ), but apparently there are rules, regulations and basic human rights involved, so we’re stuck with all our dealers, druggies, rapists and jaywalkers. What’s the brilliant plan so far to deal with this situation, now that jail expansion has been voted down?– convert the laundry rooms into cells and have the laundry done by outside companies. Cool, so now when I stop by the dry cleaner, I can expect to check out the latest in prison fashion.

I have a better idea: Let’s institute an adopt-a-con program. Only the non-violent felons would be eligible, and only those on the outside who voted against jail expansion would be required to participate. As the jails get crowded, some lucky low-level criminal gets shipped off to the loving home of a jail nay-sayer. Jails become less crowded, the adopter gets a handy household/yard worker and a (low) stipend to cover part of the cost of feeding and bathing their bouncing bubbly con, and we can all rest easy knowing we’ve come up with a humane solution to the problem of jail/prison overcrowding. You can all thank me later.

And on a completely different testicle, did the Idaho property tax relief bill get signed into effect or not? Spokesman-Review states that it passed and the governor will sign it into law as soon as it reaches his desk, the Post Falls Press (not known for editorial excellence, so I might question their reporting acumen as well) states that it was rejected by the House. Or maybe the Senate. It’s too early in the day to be faced with this sort of confusion and contradiction, dammit!

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It’s been a long day (any day where I put in more than an hour of work is a long day, right?). I think I’ll go toss a football at my son for a bit and then see if I’ve managed to avoid having to set the table. It’s good to have a plan in life . . .

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The fish refuses to die, but it looks like we’ll be losing a dog soon. It’s sad, but since our big dog refuses to quit trying to eat the small dog, I think it is time to find a no-kill shelter for her. Damn. So far, she’s cost us just over a thousand dollars for jaw surgery on the chew-toy (also known as Mango-Tango), and if she’d been a bit quicker yesterday, I’m sure we would have been looking at another thousand or two for new hips on the Mango-mutt. If only they’d put in bionic parts, I would be happy — another few visits and I’d have my own Aibo/Pom hybrid.

If we go back to fish, however, things are looking up! Lots of baby guppies, everyone in the tank healthy. Now if only somebody in the tank would just realize that baby guppies are tasty, I’d feel a bit better about the little buggers breeding like Mormons.

And yes, I AM pissed that Adam Felber has decided to visit Arcata now that I’ve left. I am pretty sure it is an intentional snub on his part. If this keeps up, I am going to have to ban WWDTM from my radio.

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It’s hard to do right when you’re married to someone so wrong. I’ve tried weaning her off the habit, tried making her go cold-turkey, tried shaming her, but nothing has worked. Yes, my wife shops at Wal-Mart.

Why Wal-Mart? Because it is close, and because the things she wants are cheap there (and unlike the local grocery store, the milk isn’t likely to go bad in the next day or two). Arguments about discriminatory hiring practices, low wages and subversive health coverage (hey, let’s make the state pay for our workers’ health care!) fall on deaf ears when Wal-Mart is the closest store. Ugh, I’m going back to bed and hope next time I wake up to a non-WM world.

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Oh hey, a busy news day today! Sure, most of it is yesterday’s news, but I like at least scanning it again in my morning paper. Immigration? Yeah, sure, already read it, don’t care because I haven’t a clue as to what to do (except maybe fan the flames occasionally and say “Well, it was THEIR damned country before it was our’s . . . “). Jill Carroll? Who cares what she said in her video? Idiots: If you’re being held hostage, are you going to refuse to make a video that may possibly save your life and let you be free again? If so, more power to you, but the rest of us kind of like life. Ah, local news.
Read all »

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It’s been a rough month or so in the pet world. First, there was the small dog playing chew-toy for the brute-dog, which resulted in a broken jaw, lost teeth and a massive vet bill. Now it looks like the blue gouramis have reached their final moments. I know I shouldn’t have housed two males together, but the kids insisted on the pair. I guess they were hoping for a tender brokeback moment, but this pair never moved beyond the sweet “beat the crap out of each other” phase. One was resting sideways when I turned on the tank light yesterday morning. By mid-day, the rest had turned into a full-fledged dirtnap. The other one was resting this morning . . .

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I signed up for an “Extreme Shapeover” contest at my gym today. The idea is to lose as much (excess) body fat as possible in the next 6 weeks or so. There are various activities, and you get your BMI (body mass index) measured at the start and end. I just wish they’d announced this when I first started to get into shape — I’ve wasted 14 BMI points or so getting into shape already that could have gone towards prizes, dammit! You participate as a team as well as individually. Hopefully I’ll get stuck on a team of really motivated fatties.

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