Yes, it's that time of the year in PA, where my trashcans require snow tires. Where there's a snow storm every Monday (plus Wednesdays and the occasional weekend). When Niagara Falls freezes. When Seasonal Affective Disorder is at its worst. When we long for the ninety degree, high humidity, soaking days of summer.
As a result of the near-constant snow, the entire area could be (and has been declared) a disaster area. I have learned a new way of driving: with my eyes down, looking for rogue potholes. Most of the area is one huge pothole. We have small ones but Philadelphia has potholes that can swallow your car (and your house).
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It's also time for all sorts of international festivities, like Ash Wednesday. This was the day, when my wife was little, when she skipped church and smeared cigarette ashes on her forehead. Her parents probably knew (although I can't figure out how one can tell the difference).
Then there's Fat Tuesday, named for what happens when you consume all of those donuts. Not to mention Brazil's Carnaval, where everybody dresses in bikinis (including the men). But be kind to Brazil, for that is where we get many of our Victoria's Secret models.
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You're probably asking, "Hey lefty - how's your car?"
Interesting you should ask. Apparently the car had an argument with a bus. The bus won, but only because it scratched and dented the entire passenger side of my car. More interesting (in that lovely dark way of mine) is that the mirror is gone. This will be (approximately) our fourth passenger side mirror. The universe has a particular fondness for that mirror. It breaks away cleanly, which makes installation easier, but even a used mirror is about a hundred and fifty bucks. The last one was black, which allowed me to tell which car was mine in a parking lot, as the car and the other mirror are white.
As is their custom, my insurance company had an adjuster out post-haste and our check is forthcoming. It's kind of exciting because when it's done, my car will look almost like new. The challenge here is to crap up the rental car in the short amount of time we'll have it. The other challenge will be to find a body shop that will paint a bullseye on the car (right over the invisible one).
Interesting story about the rental car... the last time our car was hit, the rental cost us about seven hundred and fifty dollars. Why? Because yours truly refused to sign up for rental in his car insurance. Yours truly's wife discovered the increase in premium would be a dollar per month and signed up for it immediately. She's a wise woman (except for her choice in men).
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Speaking of boobies, have you heard about the woman who beat her mother with a vibrator? Considering the amount of damage, that had to be some vibrator.
Speaking of cars, how about that lady who drove her kids into the water in Daytona Beach? Beachgoers were running after the minivan, pulling the screaming children to safety. The poor kids were screaming that Mom was trying to kill them. Mom got a free trip to the Happy Place<tm>, where she was evaluated. Mind you, the police stopped her earlier for unrelated reasons.
She was accused of three counts of attempted murder.
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The pets are fine, thank you. Marshall has taken up sitting behind his mommy on the couch. Like all cockers, Marshall has abandonment issues (unless there's cat food about).
Ren has apparently spent too much time around Marshall and has started being clingy with me. This is new for the ten-year-old feline (monster). Normal clingy would be ok but this cat is becoming extremely clingy. He sits next to me, taking up my entire leg. Then he puts his head on my leg. Then he puts his head on my laptop while I'm typing. If I move, he adjusts himself closer to me. Even typing has become difficult. When I physically pick him up and move him, he turns around and comes right back. If I'm really engaged in typing, he sits there, purring loudly and staring at me until I pet him. Did I mention he purrs LOUDLY? He's impossible to ignore (and I do spend time petting him).
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Apparently some guy pissed off his neighbors by flying a KKK flag with a sign that said 'Members Wanted'. Personally I can't imagine why his neighbors were upset. On a serious note, he does have First Amendment rights, no matter how disgusting his sign is.
His wife became a spokesperson for him. It seems she tolerates his love for his fellow man but doesn't feel the same way herself.
The whole event spurred much discussion at work. We had to do a little research to find out exactly who the KKK hates. It turns out to be blacks, hispanics, Catholics, and of course, Jews.
With those happy thoughts, I bid you farewell, until next time.
Wow! A lot to digest in just one sitting. I may have to come back and re-read, particularly anything prefaced by the term "boobies".
ReplyDeleteI thought you were dead, Lefty. Good to see that you're not, though. This blog would be boring as hell without your posting an occasional article.
Enjoy your springtime... once it finally gets there sometime in 2016 or so. ;)
~Eric, not so Nocturnal these days, but still Slackin'.