The only Italian in Bingo I'm ever happy to see.

I've been jonsing for pizza for weeks, and a turkey sub from here is birthday girl's alternate choice for dinner. And we got meds to treat a UTI too! Yay!

The only Italian in Bingo I'm ever happy to see.

I've been jonsing for pizza for weeks, and a turkey sub from here is birthday girl's alternate choice for dinner. And we got meds to treat a UTI too! Yay!

Amazing what 10 minutes can change.

So, I go to the store for some baking stuff, expecting to fire up the grill to cook the chicken and zucchini for tonight's birthday dinner when I return. I'm gone literally 10 minutes, but return to see smoke billowing out from either behind the house or the house. Am I really the only carnivore in captivity who knows you never grill chicken with the lid down if it still has its skin and fat? The grill, undoubtedly choked with chicken fat, caught fire and then rapidly overheated. About 90 seconds after I get back and 20 seconds before I start to comprehend what the fuck is going on, the volunteer firemen arrive in a big hurry, quickly disappointed that it's a slightly out-of-control fat fire that's been inexplicably left to annihilate the chicken. Two sprays with the firehose and it was fine. Then I got to hear the lecture about grilling and fire safety that I'm probably the only person in my entire family who doesn't need to hear -- a half hour later, I lost a debate by participant
vote as to whether or not the fireman was taking his life in his hands by using water to put out a "grease fire." The grill seems to have survived to ruin chicken another day, although I now believer that we are too ignorant collectively to be trusted with fire. At least the two State Troopers had a good laugh explaining things to our neighbors.

Another guest, this afternoon

This squirrel has been edging around the trap for days, trying to figure out how to get the apple without going inside the trap. With a little unexpected prompting from me, he went inside today. The nicest birthday present I could produce this year, I'm afraid.

What begins in comfort

Will end in discomfort and multiple cowlicks/bites along Little Man's neck and spine.

Little man hates pen

Also, straw paper. Taken on the 24th.

The 1863rd step on the last road home.

Another day, another guest

This one was much younger and smarter, making hir much more stronger and scared. Fun. The trap's going to need to be hosed down, however.

If there is a God, s/he/it used to be an incredibly mediocre story editor.

We can always count on businesses siding with other businesses other their customers [see also: the first generation or two of Tivos having a one/two-minute skip feature, making them perfect for skipping commercials, quickly dropped by the company after after complaints from television broadcasters, DRM protocols that couldn't be more inconvenient for consumers if they had to win three out of five games of Simon Says before the content would play .... on the one and only computer it could be registered to play on, etc.] but this one is too perfect not to be deeply annoying:

So, it was only a matter of time before we would learn that Amazon's Kindle had some sort of assholic hidden process for keeping a stranglehold on the content it displays. They mistakenly sold e-books that weren't properly licensed, so they went into the Kindle memories of the people who had bought the books, and deleted them without a how-do-you-do. I'll give you three guesses which author had his e-books dropped down the memory e-hole. E-George E-Orwell.

Amazon did give refunds, which was awfully nice of them. I wonder if they're going to have staffers in their Seattle and NYC offices break into the homes of local customers who bought the "unauthorized" print copies of the books, reclaim them and leave refund checks. That would be cool -- Amazon employees are higher than UPS drivers but lower than clowns on my people-I-wish-I-could-legally-shoot-just-once list.

Extra-value irony: I was going to link to the WALL STREET JOURNAL article where I read about this, but it's already been archived behind a subscription wall. The page even auto-refreshed itself to show just the typical two-paragraph teaser, so I can't even read the full piece from my browser's cache. Class, nothing but class; I really, really want to give the WSJ my money now!


By the way "Eeyorewell" is a band or Web-site name that someone who's not me has to take and use immediately. Thanks for noticing that what's in front of one's nose needs a constant struggle.


Also, from now on I'm going to pronounce "s/he/it" as "shee-it" and I think you should, too.

The 1858th step on the last road home.

Oooooh pretty flowers photo #159358

Yes, pretty, indeed. Front yard, taken yesterday.

Even more products I won't buy

Don't have to buy these to know I won't like them. Well, I might buy a neon-colored ham, clear-varnish it and use it as a lava-lamp stand. It's still kosher so long as I don't eat it, right?

Come to think of it, the spotted-dick can would be hilariously effective for birth control next to my bed, either as a recptacle for condoms or just as a visual deterrent to interested women who somehow manage to clear enough of my psyche's gauntlet to reach my bedroom's doorway. Actually, forget the see-if-s/he-unlocks-your-car-door nonsense; I just discovered a much better litmus test for you miserable people who are looking for a quality spouse: One can of Spotted Dick on your bedstand. You're welcome.

(p.s. You can also thank me for not making a joke about how if you feed a woman enough treacle, she'll be eager to eat spotted dick. De nada, innocent blog visitor.)

Horn Melon Kiwano

The five bucks was spent for the knowledge that these things are essentially inedible eaten straight -- huzzah, one less exotic vegetable I have to stare at and not buy every time I see it at the grocery store -- although I wouldn't be surprised to learn that they're OK juiced and strained. Taken on the 18th.

Kirby senryu Tuesday

New Gods fool's errand:
The Anti-Life Equation.
Where's Our Mother Box?

The 1856th step on the last road home.


First, our overnight guest, who was remarkably mellow (probably because his species no see so good in the daylight) and That Furry Dirty Bastard, who's been treating the flower beds and crop planter as his personal salad bars for weeks. He seemed much bigger when he was free and sitting upright, munching on a tulip bulb and ignoring my A-material insults I fired for effect from my office window. Not a bad haul for two apples and half a tulip in bait.