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Chicago

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 Something a little different today

Mark's Malady

Earlier this year Mark and I went to the Antiques Road Show. They were filming in Miami Beach so we dragged a few pieces of our crap down there. I never got the painting I schlepped along appraised because the line for that was the longest, and the estimate was it would take four hours. Mark, however, got right in and found out that the lunch box he had was worth a hundred dollars. That isn't what a hoarder needs to hear, that their sickness has finally paid off.

A couple of weekends ago, Mark and I took some time and visited the flea market they put on once a month, here in town. I like it because we can take the dogs, and I often run into folks I know. As for all the things people have spread out for sale, it just looks like bulk pickup day to me. Mark on the other hand, has to take his time strolling between the sellers, and pawing through each pile of crap. This time he came over to me, all excited, with something he called Broadway window cards.
"They were only five dollars a piece!", he squeaked.
"You could have wiped your ass with a five dollar bill, and I'd be just as happy for you.", I said encouragingly.

Well knock me over with a feather. When we got home, Mark got on the internet, and looked up the Broadway window cards he had bought. The very first one he looked up turned out to be worth anywhere from eight hundred dollars, to two thousand. Excitedly he continued researching them. Turns out the least valuable one is worth sixty dollars. Like I said, sometimes the sickness pays off.

Sasha Goes To The Vet

On my calendar it said, 'Sasha, Vet, 9:30, bring poop'.  One of my favorite things is to walk into the veterinarian's office with my bag of dog poop, and ask, "Who ordered a bag of shit?".  They all politely smile, and a few of the employees even chuckle. I've been going to the same vet for over twenty one years, and I'd hope they would at least pretend my joke is funny. I know it's not.

Unfortunately for Sasha, this time I forgot the poop. Earlier I had thrown her morning dump into the garbage can, thinking at the time how convenient it was that today is garbage day, and that the can is right out front. For Sasha it meant that they'd have to dig for it. It was a procedure that the vet techs had done over and over, but I got the distinct impression they didn't like it. 

One tech lifted Sasha up onto the table, while the other tech took a long slender spoon out of a wrapper.
"What is that for?", Mark asked.
"They have to dig some poop out of her butt."
Mark is a very squeamish man. He gags at the sight of any bodily fluid, so just as the tech started digging, Mark gasped and ran out of the room. This was followed by a loud yelp from Sasha, and a equally loud yelp from the tech. Sasha had bitten her.

I felt really bad. It was after all, my fault. If I had remembered the bag of dog shit, Mark wouldn't be out in the waiting room wretching up a lung, Sasha wouldn't be standing there with a spoon up her butt, and the vet tech wouldn't be bawling me out for consoling Sasha.
"By doing that you are just rewarding her for biting me .", she scolded.
At least with all this ruckus, it's been burned into my memory. The next time I will definitely remember to bring the poo bag. And when I do walk in with it, I expect that vet tech to at least pretend my 'Who ordered the bag of shit' joke is funny.

Power Trip

I am always amused by Hollywood clichés. One that I find particularly stupid is the power failure. In movies, as the power fails, they first show a room full of lights flickering, then going out one at a time. They then back out and show a view of the city as chunks of the grid slowly fail. That is not how electricity fails. It is sudden, and certain. In the blink of an eye everything is dark. You are not given time to look around and see lights in the distance blink off. Most of all you don't conveniently have a match in your pocket, and a candle next to you. No, you have to stumble around in the dark trying to find that flashlight you were certain was left on the top shelf, while cursing and shouting for some goddamned help.

This evening I was sitting at my desk, working away at the computer, when 'blip', the electric went out. My immediate reaction was, 'Damn, I've lost that game of bubbles I was so close to finishing'. Then I started inventorying all the other things no electric means. Number one, no air-conditioning. It was ninety two degrees outside, and even though it had only been seconds since the power failed I was already sweating. Then I realized there would be no steak dinner that Mark had promised, and no television, which meant no Jeopardy, no baseball games, nothing.

After calling Florida Power and Light, and throwing a temper tantrum, I grabbed Mark, and dragged him out to a nice cool tavern with satellite television. FPL had estimated that they would have the power back on in two hours, and like a fool I took them at their word. when we returned home after the two hours, there was still no electricity, and the FPL repair men were standing around chatting under the power pole in my back yard. I probably shouldn't have told them they were incompetent, and shouldn't have called their office and demanded a crew who knew what they were doing, but I had been drinking for two hours. I was crabby. I honestly think they purposely wasted another two hours out there, for a total of four hours of no electric on one of the hottest days of the year. I'm going to call FPL tomorrow, and demand that the electric company deduct thirty nine dollars off my bill for the cost of cocktails. Of course tomorrow I won't be drunk and I just might forget about the whole thing.

Photo Friday

The Pit Cruiser, spending more of my money.

Video Thursday