November 04, 2011

The Week In Review

After an unusually horrendous last week of October in my Missouri hometown, I spent this week getting back to my normal routine ... and it was good.

About a year ago, I had what I thought at the time was a great idea to develop my very own website. So, after researching all of the pay-for-play web hosting companies, I chose one and bought my own domain name and site.  And that's about as far as it went.  Of course, I kept this site ... and once in a while I'd half-heartedly work on the other one, more out of guilt that I had actually PAID for it than anything else.  Today, I received a renewal notice from the hosting site, and rather than dump another 90 dollars down a rat hole, I decided to cancel it.  I think I've finally faced the fact that I barely have enough ideas pop into my head to contribute to this blog, let alone a second one.  I guess I'm just not a multi-tasker.

The kid next door has rung the doorbell every afternoon this week soon after he comes home from school.  I don't answer the door because I know what the kid is hawking.  Christmas wreaths.  Every year for the past three, I've plunked down 25 dollars to this kid for a wreath, and every year I've been disappointed by the shitty quality of the product I get in return.  Not this year.  I suppose rather than avoid the doorbell for the next week, I should just man up and tell him no thanks.  After all, what's a few more steely stares from his parents than I already get.

The New Jersey Blogger guy that I made fun of in this post outdid himself the other day.  Seems that the cheese shop in his town where his girlfriend/fiance/whatever assistant manages is going out of business.  So, he took the opportunity to blast his friends, relatives and readers for not patronizing the shop.  Way to alienate your audience asshole.  I should take this guy off my reading list, but sometimes he's so out there that I just can't give him up.

For about the last month, I've been clearing almost a quarter century's worth of clutter out of our basement.  In the mess, there are furniture items that we've replaced that are in good condition, and I hated to set them out by the garbage to be thrown away.  Worse, I learned that most of the the things that I had  been putting out were being snarfed up by my next door neighbor, Hillbilly Ron, and either stuffed into his already trashy garage or along side of it, where I could enjoy looking at them in a new setting.  So, I've been donating a lot of items to charitable organizations.  And I've learned a few things.  Goodwill doesn't pick up.  The Salvation Army doesn't take console sewing machines. The Cancer Federation picks over your donations and leaves what they don't like.  And Habitat For Humanity Centers look like auto junkyards for homebuilding materials.  And in all cases ... NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT.  Don't want anyone sniping at me like that asshole who was offended about my comments on Harry Shearer.

I mowed the lawn for the last time in 2011 on November 1st.  Yay!  Today, I need to get the snowblower ready for it's first use, which should be in about 3 weeks.  Boo!

I'm getting really annoyed at taking a walk in the morning in pitch-fucking-blackness.  The other morning I tripped over an uneven part of the sidewalk because I couldn't see where I was going and fell flat on my face.  And besides, even though I'm adult ... I'm still afraid of the dark.  Thank God it changes back to standard time this weekend and I'll be able to go out into some kind of light.

So, don't forget to set your clocks back one hour this weekend, and remember ... you absolutely have to stay up until 2:00 a.m. to do it.  Otherwise it doesn't take.


  1. I can't even tell you how much I'm looking forward to that extra hour of sleep.

    Oh, and I can't walk in the dark either - I'm afraid the boogeyman will get me. Or that dude with the creepy rape van who lives two streets over.

  2. Rape van? You have to describe it. Never heard that term :)

  3. It's basically any type of old, rusty minivan - the kind that you can picture a child molester driving. "Hey, kid, wanna see a puppy? Come on over to my van!"