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Everything was going as planned as I turned right onto Adams from Ontario. Just a block later, I'm greeted by a soldier pointing an M-16 at my car. Immediately I defecated myself and slammed on the brakes. He came over to my window and let me know that the Army was running exercises in the downtown area again, to which I responded by offering to play the insurgency, since I'm an expert with fireworks. He regretfully informed me that they've already got that covered, but to check back in next time. Before scurrying off to devour a chili dog and a plate of fried pickles, I drove around for a while taking photos of the first armed occupation of Toledo that I had heard of since 1835.
If you're thinking of using a cliched joke about how Brokeback Mountain almost sounds like Bareback Mountain, ask yourself this first: Is that your final answer? Chances are that if you've called someone a "Brokeback Mountain Boy", I don't like you as a person.
And it's not like it was at all unwarranted. If you're a consultant and you don't know how to use Outlook's calendering feature, you suck at your job.
Also, if you get the dot near a couch and turn it off, the dogs will instictively paw at the couch until they forget what they were digging for.
Why am I writing this? Because I want confirmation that his dad should be in the running for the 2005 Douche of the Year Awards. The jackass waited until all the kids were 18, then filed for divorce. His mom's lawyers discovered that he was seeing not one, but two women, one in Ohio and one in North Carolina. On top of all that, the other kids are both in college and their tuition is in one of the accounts that was frozen. I believe there's a special place in Hell for people who screw with their families like that. I may be wrong, but I doubt it.
When I worked summers at the Street Department in my hometown, I had to fill in once or twice as a garbageman. The thrill of hanging off the edge of a truck going 40MPH is quickly negated by the perma-squishiness in my boot from the garbage squeezins that leak out of nearly every garbage can.
And the shitbuckets. Don't get me started on those.
Seriously, the riots started because some teens though the police were after them, when in fact the police were sitting on their butts back at HQ. That's even dumber than the riots in Benton HarlemHarbor, Michigan a few years back that started because residents were upset that a motorcyclist was pursued through the city by State Police. The organ donor on the crotch rocket 10-50'd in someone's front lawn, then all hell broke loose. At least in Benton Harbor the police were actually giving chase.
In honor of that great victory for the consumer, the credit union rented a popcorn popper and is giving out free bags to anyone passing by. So far, I've passed by three times today. Stick that in your taco salad bowl and smoke it.
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Monday August 18th
- I'm free as a bird now but with Dick Cheney in the house, I'm not so certain I should fly (54 comments)
- on plans (15 comments)
- What's pink and tastes of rosemary? (32 comments)
Sunday August 17th
- Who pickled a peck of picked peppers? (23 comments)
- Bees! (27 comments)
- A diary to remember (7 comments)
- Part of the furniture (20 comments)
- "Before the Beginnings of Time... (July 1991)" (2 comments)
Saturday August 16th
- Doing the photo challenge over at Photographica (8 comments)
Friday August 15th
- It's sunny so it must be raining (12 comments)