Evil supermarket...

...thy name is "Sweetbay."

Once in a while, I require a grocery-type item after 10p.m. OK - quite often, since I'm damn near nocturnal. Tonight I wanted crackers and apples and root beer.

My local Publix closes at 10, and it was 10:15. So off I went to "Sweetbay," a happy grocery store that took over a less-successul Publix and seems to be angling for a slightly snooty demographic. Whatever - you're open late, I'm there.

But Sweetbay drives me INSANE. I cannot for the life of me wrap my head around their aisle arrangement. I went there one night to buy Grape Nuts - you know, that cereal that's like eating gravel? I like it. Anyway, I wandered until I found the cereal aisle. But there were no Grape Nuts. In fact, I noticed as I trooped the cereal line, there was precious little that didn't have loops, marshmallows or free toys inside.

I was befuddled in the truest sense of the word, and was about to give up. In fact, I started wandering away. Then I saw the other side of the aisle. It even had a sign. "Adult cereal." WHAT THE HELL IS "Adult Cereal???" Bran flakes shaped like hookers? With penis-shaped marshmallows?

No - apparently "adult cereal" is gritty stuff that resembles gravel. I found my Grape Nuts.

So tonight I was looking for root beer. I found the soda aisle. And there was Barq's, and there was Mug. No A&W??? How can a damn grocery store not have A&W??? I walked back and forth, building a steady seething rage. Decided to give the Mug a shot, so I grabbed a 12-pack and turned to go...

Yep. You guess it. A&W, other side of the aisle.

You do not even want to hear about trying to figure out which "hispanic" section the tortillas are hidden in. I give up. The worst part of it is, Sweetbay is filling me with self doubt. I stand in the aisles, then whip rapidly around to ensure the item I'm after isn't lurking behind me, dagger in hand. Making me crazy...

Swear to God...

If Mr. Abby makes one more SLLLUUUUURP while drinking coffee or eating cereal on the other end of the couch tonight, I'm going to mount the bayonet on my Mauser and get all World War I on his ass.

Note to any male readers: If you're happily shoveling chow into your mouth and you glance at your wife, and happen to catch her looking at you with a slight detachment and the faintest hint of distaste, and if you ask her, "what?" and she pauses before saying, "oh - nothing,"...if that exact thing happens, she's thinking about running a bayonet through your liver.

Work in Progress

We're trying our hand at HTML editing, as you can see by the first pathetic attempt at a collection of links down below the Archives.

Yes, apparently everyone in the world can build websites from scratch using HTML (whatever the Hell that even is), but please cut me a little slack. I haven't tried to communicate with these here "computers" in their own language since...1993? It was BASIC.

Again, your tolerance is begged. We're learning here.

Maybe I'm just bitter

So I took Mr. Abby for a car ride tonight, to return some movies. I explained my ongoing music issue to him, then proclaimed that he was getting a ride with the "Happy Oldies" CD.

I skipped around from "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay," to which I'd been listening obsessively earlier. I found one that was happy - "Leader of the Pack." And I figured he'd enjoy that because it has motorcycle sounds, and he's kinda like a slow five-year-old about engine noises (aren't most men?).

Anyway, I assume you're familiar with "Leader of the Pack." Happy music - vroom! vroom! - then her father disapproves of him, and orders them to split up, and, in his grief, he crashes his motorcycle (complete with sound effects) and dies.

Mr. Abby looked at me. "That's happy?"

Well....yeeeeah?

Maybe I just need to buy another Merle Haggard boxed set and a crate of booze and stop trying to be cheery. I don't think it's me.

Update

Casey's hotspot is drying out. She looks phenomenally stupid in her licky colllar, and she knows it. It took her all day to muster the self esteem to go out in the yard. But it's a beautiful day here and so I just spent 15 minutes sitting in the sunshine petting her and telling her she's wonderful.

However, dogs are shallow beasts, and I think she'd really feel better if I made Sparky wear a licky collar, too.

Grasping at straws of sanity

Sometimes things get a little out of control.

1 - a job. I've applied for a great one and I think I've got a chance at it. But it's a government job and the process takes forever. Don't want to commit to anything else big until I know about this one.

1b - a job. Gotta do something. Dog toys don't grow on trees, yo. Mama needs some new toys of her own.

1c - a job. The Forest Service is hiring for some weird writer position on a small island in Alaska. And I've always wanted to go to Alaska. And I'm having this early midlife crisis...

2 - the Marine Corps. They're gonna send us somewhere. Fairly soon. Sounds like it's gonna be somewhere sucky. Don't know for sure until they send orders. Don't know when they'll do that.

3 - the Army. They finally think they might really be done with me. That's great - right? RIIIIGHT? True, I define myself more that way than any other and last time I got out I hated myself every day for it, but everyone who loves me thinks it's GREAT. So it is. RIIIIGHT?

4 - the house. In Minnesota. That we still own. The renter wants to buy it, which is great. But how do we get from the rent-to-own contract to the part where we have money and aren't making mortgage payments? Better figure THAT out... And when is that gonna happen? Because that might be...kinda important.

5 - my dog. She's itchy and her hair keeps falling out. If it weren't for my dog, I'd have changed my name and fled to the islands months ago. DAMN IT - heal thyself, canid!

6 - assorted personal shit I don't feel like detailing here but that gnaws at my brain.

So I found myself driving around today, gritting my teeth again (I swear I have no idea how I have any teeth left) and chainsmoking and taking deep deep breaths to keep from screaming. The radio was NOT helping. Neither was my current favorite driving CD.

(never listen to a custom driving CD when you feel like fleeing your life - unless you really really want to end up in Fort Smith working at a diner under an assumed name)

BUT! But - in one little apparent moment of good judgement back when I made my driving CD, I put a Beach Boys tune (Wouldn't It Be Nice) on it.

So I played it. Then played it again. Then went into PetSmart. Then played it again. Then went into Publix. Then played it again. Then I went home instead of just driving north and shedding my entire existence like a rat snake that's tired of its old skin.

So, since life in general doesn't look like it's going to sort itself out neatly anytime in the near future, I downloaded a bunch of HAPPY oldies tonight. More Beach Boys. The Supremes (the upbeat shit). The Crystals. The Chiffons. All that stuff.

And tomorrow I shall take out the music that makes me want to make excessively rash decisions, and I shall put in the Happy Oldies, and it shall remain in my CD player until I'm not mere fractions of an inch from going totally batshit.

Product Endorsement!

OK - this is a weird one, and it doesn't involve any dog pictures, so you may want to skip it. Unless you're into the internet and live in the middle of nowhere.

There was a post over Christmas about a new type of connectivity up at Bad Dogs (North).

Abby's Mom and Dad live in the boondocks. Now, I don't mean the total, like charter-a-seaplane-to-get-in boondocks, but from the internet connection options, you'd almost think so.

Mom's been using dial-up (Dad does not use the internet) for years now. And, as most of you know, dial-up had just sucked in comparison to the other options out there for quite some time.

And Abby's Mom wanted Real Internet. She wanted to be able to view photos larger than 50k without a ten-minute wait. She'd heard something about these "internet videos" and thought they might be interesting. Mostly, being Abby's Mom, she wanted to be able to rapidly switch between travel sites to find the best deal on plane tickets OUT of the boondocks.

But she was thwarted at every turn. DSL from the phone company? "We're sorry, ma'am, but that's just not available in your area, and won't be anytime soon." Cable internet? Ha! Like there are cables out there?

How about the satellite TV provider? Umm..sorry, not in that location. She thought she had a good lead on a different satellite access system, but alas, the boondocks have oak trees, and they are such healthy oak trees that apparently they block out the line of sight to outer space. Or some such idiocy. It wouldn't work, the technician gently explained, before he drove away.

Abby's Mom was pissed. Highly. By the time Mr. Abby and I made it there for Christmas, she was eyeing Dad's chainsaws and thinking of solving oak tree problem. Dad was quietly pulling me aside and asking if there was anything that could be done "to get that damn internet or whatever in here," since he was starting to get vibes that she might burn the house down and insist on moving somewhere with FIOS.

So we scratched our heads. Then saw it on TV. Sprint/Nextel offered some sort of magic "card" that, when attached to a "computer" would enable the user to get to "the internet" through the magic of something related to cell phones.

So we called them. Well, they had card and some internets, but...(come on, say it with me)...it wouldn't work in the boondocks.

However...Mom has an Alltel phone...so we called Alltel...and then Mom and I went to the Alltel store...

And a week later, after Mr. Abby upgraded her RAM, installed Windows XP instead of Windows Boondocks and added a new graphics card...and after we found a magic adapter so you could plug a PCMCIA broadband card into a desktop expansion slot...we had VICTORY!!!

It's not quite FIOS fast, but it IS a huge step up from dial-up. And it's really not too expensive, when you compare it to a second, dedicated phone line and dial-up subscription. It's a WAY better deal than the satellite providers.

Props to Alltel. If YOU live in the boondocks and want to escape dial-up, it's worth a shot.

Why yes...

that IS a flower pot on my dog's head.

WHAAAT???? We're poor, yo.

And I'm a tree hugger. So we saved money AND recycled.

Some day I'll tell you how, using only duct tape and 550 cord, you can turn old uniform Tshirts into new underpants for the man in your life.

Woe is Dog...Dog is Woe...

Well, here's one I haven't had to do before. Casey developed a "hot spot" on her tail while we were at Bad Dogs (North). This was treated successfully w/ Benadryl and cornstarch. However, when we got back, she began working one up on the left side of her back.

It's been getting worse, and today it finally showed itself - a large patch of raw, hot, apparently itchy as HELL skin. And of course, being a Bad Dog, she was licking it wildly, in the futile Dog Hope that licking would fix the problem.

I brushed the hell out of her. Then, when Mr. Abby got home, we bathed her with special anti-itch/anti-skin bacteria shampoo. Then we cornstarched the spot. And she immediately licked it off. That was okay, since I'd forgotten the peroxide. So I rewashed the affected area, then peroxided it.

Meanwhile, Mr. Abby was at work on the licky-collar. Which she's wearing now, along with a healthy dose of foot powder on the area. We shall see...

She doesn't appear to be able to lick it. She does, however, apppear highly pissed at us.

Ah, shit...

Bad news from Baghdad.

We know the surviving Airman. His wife (also an Air Force NCO) worked with Mr. Abby here in Tampa. I met her husband a couple of times when he came down to visit. He's a very good guy - an EOD tech with a ton of experience. A true, dedicated professional. When I met him, he was working in a R&D type capacity here in the States. Even before he returned to actual EOD field work, he's probably done as much as anyone to keep our folks in the Sandbox alive, by learning how to better handle and mitigate the goddam bombs.

Anyway, he's headed to Germany and, depending on how long he's going to stay there, his wife may or may not join him. They currently live in the DC area and if he heads to Walter Reed, she'll be there. I'll refrain from over-sharing someone else's personal business, but it does look as though he will recover.

I didn't know any of Bill's teammates, but our condolences go out to their families and friends.

If you feel the need, Soldiers' Angels is a fabulous organization that cares for our wounded from the moment they hit the ground in Germany until they're discharged from stateside hospitals. I invite you to give till it hurts - our men and women certainly have.

Since you asked...

Yes, Sparky DID receive a haircut after we returned to the Humid Bog that is FLORIDA.



Fortunately, hair grows BACK. I have GOT to get a job...

Open letter to my MOM

Dear Mom,

Thank you very much for hosting the entire Pack for a fabulous Christmas. Thank you especially for all the thoughtful gifts. About one of those gifts, though... I deeply appreciate that you thought of Sparky and his passion for squeaky toys. I also appreciate that you took the time and expended the effort to find the Orange Dude.
Sparky ALSO enjoys the Orange Dude. In fact, he enjoys it for several hours a day. Normally in the evening when we're both home and trying to watch the news, but often later in the evening when we're trying to eat dinner and chat.

His enjoyment of the Orange Dude is, in fact, so extreme that when we try to TEMPORARILY take it away from him, he yaps and paws at us hysterically. Sometimes he brings Orange Dude to bed, which can be...well, either awkward or amusing, depending on the specific evening.

Did you know that Orange Dude is totally indestructible? No matter how vigorously it's chewed, even if it's passed off to CASEY for some chewing, it JUST KEEPS SQUEAKING.

So, in short, Mom - thank you for the Orange Dude. In response to your thoughtful selection of this toy, I'm already shopping for some Squeaky Slippers that you can wear around the house to amuse Sarge.



Your loving daughter,

Abby

Ahhh...self esteem boost

You know what makes me feel good about myself? Going to the laundromat. For those of you who are still unaware, the Crackhouse does NOT feature laundry facilities. Or even the possibility of such facilities.

So every ten days or so, it's off to the laundromat I go. It's normally an annoying and expensive experience, but it DOES make me glad to be me. For instance:

A - the laundromat makes me feel THIN. Ever observe the normal patrons of your local laundromat?

B - the laundromat makes me feel as though I've made GOOD LIFE CHOICES. That is, I'm not surrounded by squalling brats clutching fast food packages. Further, I'm not surrounded by a pack of squalling brats, EACH OF WHOM LOOKS JUST DIFFERENT ENOUGH that you know that if they all belong to the same woman, they also all belong to different men.

C - the laundromat makes me feel FINANCIALLY SUCCESSFUL. Yeah - I know, it's a stretch but observe:
1. I have actual laundry bags. True, they're Army issue, but at least I'm not toting our dirty clothes in plastic Publix bags.
2. I drive to the laundromat. Nothing more depressing than someone who rides up on a bicycle with the plastic bags on the handlebars.

So, although normally I'm not into inflating MY self-image at the expense of others, the laundromat reminds me that even though I feel that this stage of my life is the "impoverished, white-trash, living under a freeway overpass" stage, it COULD be worse.

You might be an old NCO if...

you're cleaning out your closet and decide to throw away several of the many pairs of combat boots.

But FIRST, you remove the laces and tuck them away in the "gear bin," just in case.

Because, you know, it's so hard to find boot laces here in the USA.

Favorite quote from Christmas

Just for any of you out there who don't know me, I am NOT the Queen of Fashion. Not even close. However, having the Bad Pups around this Christmas forced me to ennunciate something that I think we can ALL agree is a Basic Rule of Fashion.

"If you wore it squirrel hunting this morning, it is NOT acceptable for Christmas Eve!"

Keeping that one basic rule in mind will probably stand us all well in the long run.

Random cool shit

So all the Bad Dog Faithful out there know I have a little...thing for firearms. Most of you also know I have a thing for cool containers and kits. I own an Otter Box, for god's sake. And a Pelican case.

Recently I've noticed an incredibly cool trend of firearms coming from the manufacturers as part of a "kit." This trend seems to include cool packaging. I first ran across this from Smith and Wesson...



How cool is THAT??? Now, to be reasonable, I cannot imagine EVER buying a S&W 500 - it's an insane firearm for anything other than big game hunting - and I can't imagine why ANYONE would buy one with a 2.75-inch barrel. Ouch. Further, after some reading about bear attacks, I'm not really convinced I'm going to shoot my way out of the jaws of a grizzly. However, if you're paranoid, or wealthy enough to spend $1,399 on something that amuses you, well, then, this is IT.

Then today I found THIS, from Mossberg...


Again - wouldn't buy one. 12 gauge shotguns aren't my thing.
Pistol grip shotguns are also not my thing. But for the truly paranoid, this ROCKS. The blued version comes in the OD tube and includes a "Survival in Can" kit. The stainless one comes with sort of folding knife/mulitool in a velcro pouch. I assume the tubes float. I don't see a price on this puppy, but I'd guess at an MSRP around $699.

This trend is fabulous. One of my biggest gripes when I buy a new pistol is the lack of cool packaging. Just a crappy little plastic box with a gun-shaped cutout. I'd get better boxes if I bought cigars. It's a little disappointing when you spend hundreds of bucks on a new toy to not even get a cool Pelican-style case. Maybe it's coming...

Home again...

much to our chagrin, the Bad Dogs and I have returned to Tampa (we brought Mr. Abby home, too). A wonderful Christmas up north.

Tampa is, of course, hot and damp and generally foul. More to follow, but it's New Year's Eve and I have beer to drink.

Merry Christmas from the family!

TEAMWORK is the key to a successful Christmas celebration!



First, Casey must PATROL the Christmas area, ensuring a fire is burning for proper ambience, and securing the living room from roving bands of dog treats.



THEN, Sparky must MODEL his Christmas neckwear, while at the same time warming the legs of one of the Bad Pups (the Bad Dog stepkids).



Finally, all Christmas chew toys must be LICKED into shape. An aside, what Abby learned this Christmas: If the BOXER receives a squeaky moose puppet, it's a BAD IDEA to put the puppet on one's hand, then SQUEAK it. Good way to get one's hand CHOMPED by said boxer.

Oh well. Merry Christmas to all the Bad Dog Faithful! Bonus points for you if you know the song from which the title of this post came!

So sorry...

for the lack of posting recently. We're up at Bad Dogs (North), with the stepkids, having a grand old time. Abby's Mom is progressing with her Full Frontal Assault on breast cancer, and is handling her chemo very well (she's had one round).

Also, posting has been impeded by....well, a picture would describe this best.



See? How can I be expected to work under these conditions?

Testing...

testing...ahem...one...two...three...

we're trying a new connection service from Bad Dogs (North). Real updates to follow shortly. Please stay tuned.