Saw Aussie Lap Puppy licking my Wonder Woman’s cat’s butt again, and thought, “Hey! Could save $$ on toilet paper if. . . ” Nah. While it would be a $$-saver, I just think. . . nah. After all, I have enough problems with his “cat-butt tongue kisses” already.
[Censored pre-publication.]
“That’s too weird” — My Wonder Woman.
Dealing With SuckyInternet(and TV)® Provider
Called to remove one of two cable services subscribed to.
CS: I need to verify your account. (This after referring to me by name.)
C: Why? You already identified my account [by name] from caller ID; you know I called from a number that is registered to the account. What else do you need?
CS: I can verify the account with the serial number of one of your devices.
C: ?!? Specify “device.” Which of the fifteen connected devices are you referring to?
CS: [Mentions the ONLY device my network allows them to see]
Downhill from there. But at least it finally got done. Probably. Maybe,
Until just last month, the only other –semi-legit– Internet service has been our local baling wire and chewing gum telco’s “DSL.” Yeh, I watched ’em try to hook up their “fiber” line to our POTS service a few years ago. No. Completely outside standards. Crappy phone service anyway. Dropped their POTS.
Looks like I need to take down a couple of trees [junk elms I do not want, anyway) to effect best placement for a Starlink setup. Then I can cancel EVERYTHING with SuckyInternetCompany®.
The Joys of Life
When the top two “joys of life” are good bowel movements and a solid night’s sleep. . . I just don’t know how to even describe what that means.
Well, at least I have good bowel movements.
*sigh*
😉
Good Doc. (Scarcer Than Hens’ Teeth)
Always happy to visit my doc (a real rarity, let me tell ya!). Since I always identify aches, pains, symptoms, etc., by the correct terminology (and anatomical locations, etc.), he tends to treat me almost as a colleague when discussing my health issues. Oh, and occasional, “hoplite” conversations are a staple of visits, too (though I do tend to envy him his firearms collection). Last visit featured a discussion of my CC solution (which he kinda liked).
Here’s a first ever: I have a “prescription coffee mug” inscribed with his name for my next scheduled visit. *shrugs* Saw it and it just screamed, “The Doc needs this!” *heh* Only “Doctor Jim” (family friend in my childhood) and old Doc Paramore ever caused me to actually enjoy spending time around ’em before this guy. Just about every doctor apart from these three has been pretty much an ass. . . and I’ve experienced more of ’em than I’d ever want anyone to. (In fact, I’ve had sixty years of dealing with “iatrogenic” problems “gifted” me by an asshole orthopedist. Oh, well. He’s dead now.)
Pro Tip
If you are “tinning” cloth (for work clothes, outdoor fabrics, etc.) use toilet (gasket) rings for the beeswax, ‘cos you KNOW it can stand up to all kindsa shit.
YW
Room to Swing a Cat
Whenever I hear or read that phrase, I always catch at least a glimpse of my 5-y.o. self grabbing the tail of the mean cat from next door and hammer-throwing it back across the fence. Good times. . .
Petty Gripes
Trimmed my beard to be what is now called a “circle beard” (a term unknown to this 50-year beard wearer until recently) to better accommodate proper fitment of a respirator*. #gagamaggot Means shaving daily, a task I abhor.
Oh, well. At least what remains of my beard easily accommodates my “scary mask,” now. *heh* (That’s the name given to one of my respirator frames by my Wonder Woman.)
(Yes, the pic was converted to grayscale and deliberately blurred. So? *heh*)
Filed Under “Things I Do NOT Want to Do”
I don’t like to travel out of the county, much. Oh, if “out of the county” is no more than 30 miles or so (INCLUDING miles in-county), I can manage it, and have as chauffeur for Son&Heir’s recent back injury (compression fracture of T-12 vertebra), but I do not like it. I consider an arduous trek to WallyWorld (15 miles away from TWC Central) to be far enough, most times, now.
Some of the places I like to visit are as far away as the mid-20s in miles from TWC Central (A.K.A. “Ye Olde Homestead”), so there’s that. But. *profound sigh* My sisters are trying to promote a family get-together next fall in Branson for a “gospel music extravaganza” type thing. *sigh*
#1 I HUGELY dislike Branson, “The Vegas of the Ozarks.” Even w/o the gambling and the other “Sin City” activities (at least in the open; there’s plenty of sin anywhere one goes, even if it’s just to the kitchen and back *heh*), Branson is just. . . tacky, IMO.
#2. Crowds. For me a crowd is more than somewhere between 2-5 people (and my sisters and their spouses, let alone brother and his spouse, not to mention children and grandchildren) exceed my capacity by themselves, and that’s before Branson-level crowds. (Didn’t use to be like this; being in/performing for large crowds used to be enjoyable. Touchy old bear, now.)
#3. The activities they are touting are NOT my cuppa, not in any way, shape, fashion, or form. I like real gospel music well enough, but done for a performance? No. Just no.
#4. And then there’s all that travel to get there. Must be 80 miles or more! *heh* (Yeh, yeh: all of them would be coming from out of state, but they LIKE travel and do it a lot.)
*shrugs* Happy to offer a cookout for ’em on their way through, though. Limited crowd exposure (time and numbers); no glitz and faux “gospel” singing. If they wanna see me, they can look at my profile pic. Visit? Sure. Drop on by, one (or two)-on-one, or use email or phone. Mass get-togethers? Please, no. Last one was Mother’s funeral, and while the funeral service itself was a blessing (apart from being forced to lead the congregational singing–multiple reasons that was a bad idea at the time), the travel and “family meal” afterwards was not. I took my fellow travelers and di-di-maued as expeditiously as possible.
I Don’t. . .
. . .talk about how humble I am very often. . .
Go ahead, y’all. talk among yourselves, then.
?