Off To Kentucky!

Yes boys and girls, I’m travelling to the country of Kentucky tomorrow. Seems my cousin who helped me put the trusses and siding on my garage last year (ahem…in September) feels that I should help him put siding on one of his rental houses (in July) over in Ol’ Kentuck!

Paybacks are a bitch. But actually, it’ll be fun. And it’s a small house.

Since we’re both extremely early risers, we figure we can knock out 4-6 hours per day before noon, and then fuck off the rest of the day fishing and pontoon boating and generally messing with folks.

This has been planned for weeks, and I’ve (naturally) spent most of my time thinking of ways to fuck with him and the neighbors and the locals. I’ve devised several little setups that should amuse me. A full report will follow.

Unlike most of my travels, this time I will have ready access to high-speed wireless (my cousin is a modern fellow) and my digital camera and the link cable – so I can post photos of our progress – not that you’d be interested.

I will also document the total tonnage of fish we (I) catch. I’m bringing plenty of dynamite, as I plan on catching a LOT of fish.

Thoughts About The Pons

Check this out!

I had a cat that did this exactly! No shit. Every time I went into the bathroom (or anywhere else in the house), she followed me. And if I dropped the ol’ drawers to pinch one off or wee, she would immediately crawl in there and curl up and get comfortable. And – no – it wasn’t a smell or scorch mark issue – she would even do it first thing in the morning when the undies were all fresh and tidy.

I think it was because a) it was warm in there, and b) she just got in the habit of doing it. She started doing it as a wee (heh – I made another funny) kitten so there was a history thing there.

I was over at Break.com, as you all can see. Looking for cheap posting material.

Hope waned perceptably when the police found Berts hat and gloves inside the elephants back passage. This did not bode well at all…

And, in keeping with my recent preoccupation with muddy females:

Young Bert was terrified of getting still another of those dreaded teen curses: the tights boner!

So, you two want to play tag? I’ll be it!

Yep! It’s The Week From Sh*t!

I don’t know  why, but the above photo seems to me to be symbolic of my week thus far. That it is apparently a hot chick in boots, mud, and not a whole lot more is a bit confusing to me, but I’m sure there’s some symbolism in there somewhere.

My week started off innocently enough on Monday, with me indulging in a bit of innocent procrastination in delaying mowing the lawn.

But then on Tuesday my Innertubes crapped out.

I got a hold of my Innertube Repair Man – who is (are?) actually my cousins  Willie the Wire – and Muffin the Tower Bitch*,  who actually own the fastest Innertube service in Southern Missouri – on Wednesday! Yay!

The reason for the delay is that Willie checked the Innertube air pressure on Tues and found it to be fine, so he thought the thing self-healed (or that I was full of shit). That – and he sorta forgot, and was busy on the barbecue…

But the fucking cunning piece of Latvian Lust-Fungus that is the tower router was tricking everyone except me – who still didn’t have service! It was actually delivering service to everyone but me, because I get mine (heh!) via the Ethernet comm&control cable (which was kerpow, you will recall) and everyone else gets theirs via wireless broadcast. Rats.

Anyway, they came out last night (Thursday) and Muffin climbed the tower and pluggy-plug-plugged electronically, whilst Willie did a great deal of to’ing and fro’ing and a not-insignificant amount of yelling.

I was extremely pleased, and patted myself on the back for – once again! – not having to lift a fucking finger to help.

*Muffin the Tower Bitch climbs 500+ foot towers routinely. I mean like every few days she is way up there where the helicopters dwell!** And after seeing my tiny 100-ft backyard tower, she sniffed disdainfully, slapped me around a bit and mooned me ruthlessly, and proceeded to climb my tower sans underwear!

** It’s true. Helicopters fly around wherever she’s climbing, trying to get a peek under her skirt. I suggested she wear pants – or at least underwear, but Willie will have none of it.

Willie the Wire & Muffin the Tower Bitch – or a reasonable facimile thereof!

While I was waiting for the Tower Team last evening, I noticed my air conditioning unit outside was behaving strangely.

Yes, boys and girls – the same A/C unit I had a pound of freon shoved into a few months ago is misbehaving already. I hear the flatulent sound of dollar bills (pbbbbbt!) fluttering away out of my wallet and into that of the undeserving – i.e. anyone elses wallet but mine.

Soooo….I am now waiting for precisely 8am so I can call the HVAC folks and see if they can haul their rich indolent asses out here and fix my coolie-pump! When I talk to them, I need to remember the following – taken from Daver’s site Ruining the Internet:

Aw, Sh*t! Next Week’s Gonna Suck!

I just got the news from Sargon The Magnificent – over at Mitchieville - that this week is gonna suck like a Hoover.

My horoscope for next week is:

Aries: Space aliens take a fancy to your genetic code and will seek to seduce you and carry off your seed for their own purposes. As space aliens have shape shifting technology, you really cannot be sure whose hands are caressing your body. Avoid having sex in the dark, or in janitorial rooms this week.

It’ll probably be this bitch – the Ancient Space Twat – that cbullitt was warning me about earlier last week.

She’s been hanging around the barn. I bet she sucked that snake right outa his skin for practice. Now she’s gonna suck my DNA right outa my … well, you know.

No sex in the dark? No problemo. I don’t get any anymore – in the dark or the bright light of day – and couldn’t do much with it even if I did.

But I do have a fondness for janitorial closets. You often meet a better class of folks in janitorial closets. I met a girl in college in a linen closet. Damned near married her, but I caught her banging my best buddy in a Colonial American china hutch with side tables. But I digress….

‘Course, the threat to my honor and DNA could be this bitch, too.

One good thing, though! The way I figure it, I’m screwed no matter how it goes, so I’m just not gonna mow the lawn next week. Fuggit!

Snakeskin Condoms!

Just. Look. At. This.

Now pay attention to me, boys and girls!

That is an 18-inch ruler! Not one foot!

And:

You can enbiggen it to check my veracity – which is probably a wise thing to do.

That fucking snakeskin is over 4 1/2 feet long.

I was out tending to one of the thousand things I need to be tending to, when I spotted the skin before it crawled away!

I’m gonna make something out of it! Maybe a condom! Hell, I bet I can make maybe TWO condoms! Then if I am ever foolish enough to resume dating, I’ll be ready!

Fucktard Gas Can-ography And Pliocene Copralite Statistics!

This – boys & girls – is my new gas can! Yay!

Below is another view:

And another:

Look up above at all that mechanical shit in there! I had to pay for all that! I bet it tripled the cost of the can.

Here is a closeup of the warning page:

Now, you can enbigggen the photo by clicking – as I left mickle pixels (Heh – another funny) in there for your reading enjoyment.

That first section on the left with the green background states in no uncertain terms that I should never use gas to start a fire.

Well, I fully intend to violate that rule.

Then it says that before I use it I need to set it upright (like it was tipped over prior to my use?) and operate the lever to “burp” it before pouring it.

Well, it seems to me that any pressure buildup present would simply help propel the gas (diesel) that I’m going use to start a fire on brush piles out of the can faster and in a more neat, fun way. It stands to reason.

So I’m gonna break that rule, too.

Just in case I missed the first rule, they print it again in near-unreadable lettering embossed directly into the can plastic – shown below:

.

Finally, here is the extra bit they include with the can:

The flip side of that cap thingy says – firmly! – that I should not use it to seal the can.

Then what’s it for? I don’t dare remove the lever spiggot and snap this thingy onto the threaded orifice – it might inadvertently seal the can!

And if I simply attach it there and then re-install the lever spiggot, it’ll just be one more thing to dangle there and get in the way of proper gas can utilization?

I wonder what it’s for? It could be snapped over the the ultra-short spiggot to seal it, but if it needs sealing, what’s the lever and valve there for?

And why is that spiggot so fucking short? Does a longer spiggot give Liberals some kind of spiggot penis envy, or sumpin? I bet it does!

Anyway, below is the dove pigeon(?) that’s been sitting deep in my driveway tree on a pile of dead twigs for weeks. I don’t know why. Probably hiding from the law.

Rice! It’s Twice As Nice!

I just had to go get some more rice field photos.

The following are east of Bloomfield – not too many miles from the McGoo Acres, which wouild be my residence, i.e. the place I park my sorry ass when I’m at home.

The above photo is a young rice field. That thing that looks like a serpentine moat-like border is in reality a serpentine moat-like border to keep in the water. It is serpentine for very good reasons – which conveniently escape me at the moment.

More rice.

And still more rice.

That’s enough of rice fields!