not for the faint of heart [ 2005-04-10, 6:35 a.m. ]

Here I am at dark-o'clock again. Just cannot get off the weekday schedule for the weekends anymore.
So I let the dog out for her morning constitutional and whatnot. And since it's dark I turn the back porchlight on (I'm not sure porchlight is one word or two, and I don't feel like looking it up, I just think it has more cache as one word so therefore it is a word dammit)...due to the parenthetical interruption let me start this sentence again since any reader would have nodded off during it. Oh no, should this be in parenthesis as well? Or is this like Zack talking to the camera on Saved by the Bell? Actually, I am able to speak in parenthesis in conversation. That must be unnerving. No wonder no one talks to me...
Where was I?
Yes, dog goes out blah, blah. I turn on the porchlight (well established now as an actual word right?) since it's still dark. Now I think, why? Here is my fierce huntress canine, going into her domain to make sure it's safe for democracy and defecation and free of varmits and I turn on this bright light. Is the dog thinking "Geez, guy who feeds me, what the hell?!? Why don't you just put a friggin spotlight on me and have a siren going off? How can I hunt wild beast like this? you friggin dork!"
Kind of like when you were a kid going out to play and your Mom yells out the door at you something that embarrasses you in front of your friends and the whole neighborhood.
But Ol' Nikki is a good pal, she wouldn't verbally abuse me too badly even if she could. Now the cat?
E.B. (offically the world's loudest cat four years running it has been recently announced) gives me or the Sig Ot remonstrative words all day long. I figure if E.B's utterances could be translated to human form, it could only be characterized as "salty, sailor language". One of her speeches broadcast would send members of Congress running for their bible like Armageddon itself had begun. The FCC would have a hissy fit.
I could go on and on about how much I became tired and well even enraged at the mindless constant "Pope is Dead" marathon of the last week. It interrupted golf coverage! I could but I won't. I respect the dead even if the dead lost all respect by being laid out on a table for a week like some sort of macabre buffet while necrophiliacs stood in line hours to see the body. So I won't mention any of that.
Nor will I mention the idiotic mass coverage of Prince Charles and Chamomile or Carla or whatever is the name of the horse that he rode in on. This is important, why? Oh he's in line for a ceremonial title that means nothing. Oh, ok.
I won't mention that because my forefathers fought a freakin' war against the bloody royals so we wouldn't have to watch them marry their cousins on TV. That's why I won't mention it.
Although, it's unlikely any of my forefathers fought in the war, they were probably in prison at the time.
But still...
Let's see. Dog and porchlight. Cat cussing like a sailor. Pope on a platter. Charles marries horse. Yes, I think I covered it all.
Ahh, the dawn arises and so shall I.

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4 - 2006-07-04

The bacon rebellion - 2006-06-25

scattergories - 2006-06-19

once more into the breach boys - 2006-06-05

not so famous last words - 2006-01-06

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