Good morning. AOBTD: Another One Bites The Dust. The third ASUS in fifteen months gave me The Black Screen of Death yesteerday. I blew up so bad. OUt of proportion possibly. I added up what it cost us to have these three cheapos, and told Hubby "This is our budget for *one* new laptop, okay? Let's go." I called my ucnle in IT and Systems Admin up at Big Poobah State University, got a list of three of his best choices, found the third one (drat), and pounced. Today and tomorrow, I transfer my lfie to that, and this time, I anted up and got the two-year warranty. (Hubby is such a freaking cheapo, he never got one on these! OMG! I swear the laptop knows when it's not under warranty.)
Meanwhile, I dreamt of cats. I know, a shocker, right? LOL. Actually, I dreamt I saw the Big New Mean Cat that has the rest missing fur and terrified in my neighborhood. I think it's a real dream, if that makes sense. It had this odd feel to it that I've had before that means there's an angel whispering in my ear, as my grandma would say. (In Polish, unfortunately. Took me till her da*n funeral to find out that's what she was saying.) Also, I probably subconsciously put togehter "corner of my eye" glimpses and assembled the "portrait"....
The short version is, we have ourselves a badass. How bad? Lil Miss and Shadow won't leave their house, and their owners are the ones who never even let them *in* hardly. Even Meanie-Whiskers the feral and Fraidy-Cat the feral are keeping scarce. Methinks a neighbor has a tomcat. Time for me to stick notes on everyone's doors reminding them that a tomcat in the house is like a big smelly unwelcome tornado, but a neutered kitty is much calmer and their litterboxes are less smelly. (True, btw. It's the hormones. Tomcat pee is *rank*.) And to list the dates of the local shelters that run free spay-neuter programs. I miss my friend who lived a few houses up. She used to help, but since she moved? *sigh* I'm that person. The Animal Lady.
Case in point:
Yesterday morning, in the relative cool (only 80* F with a heat index of 84* at the stunningly "late" hour of 8 AM)... We went for a long walk in the woods. Oh, soul-refreshing!
Right until the jogging fanatic neighbors went by and let their golden retriever off-leash. Against state law and common sense. Hello? We have deer. With half-grown fawns. Also, skunks and raccoons and possums, but the creek path goes right through a deer herd's territory, and they're not shy letting us humans know we're on their turf.
Cue the ominous music, folks.
Golden Retriever jumps in the creek, runs around, and off its owners job. Yep, they left the dog to its own devices. *facepalm* In the woods *doublefacepalm*. Among deer with attitude. *hides face entirely*
Not ten minutes into our walk, I heard the golden give that bark of "Let's play! I'm bored and kinda stupid right now!"
I told Hubby, "Sh*t, I give it to a count of ten before we hear the yip of pain."
Hubby, being a city guy, was all, "Huh, what?"
I counted, aloud, btw, "Ten, nine. eight, seven, six, five, four, three..."
YIP! YIPE YIPE YIPE YIPE!
The golden ran to us. (Me. Who're we kidding. Wild tortoises will nest by my back door.) Yep. Caught a kick right in the ribs. Nasty gash, but not as bad as if it wasn't a furry breed. A shorthair like apointer? Oh, that'd have bled worse. So I did some first aid and told the dog how great it was, and eventually its owners reappeared (about nine AM, gasping with incipient heat exhaustion, I suspect), and they were like, "Oh, that's okay, it happens a couple times a year."
And these nutjobs vote. OMG. Your dog gets kicked by angry deer a couple times a year and you don't modify your behavior to protect the dog a little? Oh, I hate being a human sometimes. Truly.
In other trivia, we finally have Mom's place almost to the point where professional cleaners will touch it. *sob*
"Another One Bites the Dust" is a B-side quasi-hit from Queen. A lesser-known Queen song in the US, at least. I had Canadian radio growing up and this one station played it every flippin' hour. Then my high school tried to adapt it for marching band to play at the opposing teams. Oh, that was *painful*.
Her'es one for the sports nuts. We all know the Stanley Cup is the NHL's trophy, but who gets the O'Brien? C'mon, you can do it.... OK, I give. It's the NBA. Yep, the basketball champs get the O'Brien. (Larry O'Brien, to be precise.)
Speed skating originated in the Netherlands. For those of us who watch the winter Olympics? They are skating on blades that can and will cut to the bone. When speed skaters tangle and go down? Oh, it's ugly. But watching them? Hypnotizing. Whole-body skating speed.
We all use it (I presume) but who invented toilet tissue? (Toilet paper. TP. Whatever.) Commercial TP was given to us (for a price, obviously) by Joseph Gayetty. It beat having ink smears from the farmer's almanac, and that's a quote from my late hillbilly gramps.
So what does the name "Pinocchio" mean anyway? It's Italian for "Pine Head". (Not, as a few people think, Pin Head, altho' one does wonder now and then.) So what's GEpetto? Probably a dialect variant meaning "Little Joseph". The term is now used by some to indicate a pedophile.
If you're from Down Under, or remember the song by "Men At Work" back in the 1980s, you'll ask, "What is exactly that they make Vegemite from?" Well, to be blunt, it's some vegetable and spice stuff mixed with the leftover brewer's yeast when the beer is done. Oddly enough, IMO, it's classed in the "Nut Butter" section at the food mart. Um. No. Been there, tried that, it's nto a nut butter. It's a sludge. If Hubby's veggie drinks ever solidified and had a coating of salt and fungi, that'd be Vegemite. IMHO only, of course. No offense to our friends from OZ, just... I'm guessing that it's like "Tang" or similar here in the US. If you're raised with it, you're okay with it. Otherwise, possibly not.
OK, arm is killer again. I overdid yesterday. Got rid of 60 pounds (we weighed) of old papers, via shredding. I didn't htink it'd irk the bad arm but feeding the shreddder? Whoops. Ice and ice and heat and rest. Two loads of laundry today, and talking to a soacial worker (this is the eighth one) about Mom. This one is specific to neurological-oncology department. Hopefully, they can get a neuro-psych eval on Mom. She's needed one for years, but she keeps evading and avoiding. I'm done with that crap. Puma Prowl time.
Luck and love to all:-)
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