That's disgusting apache. That happened to your husband's workmate just then?!
Hey that was a cool coon cat! The flash redeye is delightfully spooky. ;-)
I am trying to decompress from work right now. How can FTP disconnects drive you crazy? Let me count the ways...
Brayden maybe you could be nice enough to your neighbors that even if they do catch your cats they will like you well enough not to do anything bad. I can't imagine why anybody would think a tame cat outside would give them fleas inside. Like fleas don't live in the grass and dirt? What, do they think the cats manufacture them or what? Sheesh. Neighbors are weird.
This reminds me of Jack. My favorite ex-neighbor.
So one night I was doing an unusually robust round of self hypnosis techniques and waking myself up at time points. And somewhere around oh, 3am maybe, my brain clicks together a pattern, and it says, "Someone is sawing away at something furtively; they only saw when a car passes and makes noise; hence they are trying to be quiet." That sounded like something illegal to me. Ooohhhh!
I could tell it was coming from the south side of the house by the driveway. We had parked there a trailer-RV, and the door and lock were on the other side. AHA! I think. SOMEONE is trying to get through the lock! Not to be outsmarted, I snuck out of the house (in flowery little nightgown and bare feet... yes, I have a brain, but apparently I left it on the bedside table...) to 'sneak up and see' who was doing what, planning to then sneak back in and call the police, once I knew what was up. ("RECON, SIR!")
So I sneak out and I lean one eyeball just around the corner of the trailer. And there is nobody there. Because the sawing is coming from Jack. Jack, who is sitting about 18 feet high in the tree in his front yard.
"Jack!" I demand to the sky, hands on my hips (very imposing in a nightgown I'm sure). "What the HELL are you doing?!"
He looks at me like I'm pretty dense not to have figured out what the saw is for. "I'm sawing the branch off!" he explains.
"Why?" I say.
"Well.... ah... you know, it's in the street, near the lines, I want to take it down," he says, and he was right, this was a perfectly reasonable explanation.
"But why are you sawing it at 3 AM in the morning?!" I insist.
"Oh. Oh. Well you know, I um, I'm wide awake you know, and I had all this energy, and I just..."
"Jack. You're doing drugs again aren't you?" says I in that disapproving motherly tone only Virgos can do properly, who knows Jack because my brother, former king of all drug knowledge in my city and the life of all the most expensive parties, had been known to stop by Jack's now and then.
"Ah. Aheh. Um. Well you know, I was TRYING to be quiet. I was only sawing when cars went past, so it wouldn't get anybody's attention."
I really liked Jack. I don't know why. I just did. He just always seemed like a decent guy at heart.
Jack, jack... he had about 500 empty beer cans in his back cement patio, so if anybody ever tried to sneak in, he would hear them.
Creative Jack... my stepmother liked wind chimes. So she put several pretty chimes people kept giving her, out on the back porch. Which just happened to be not far from Jack's sliding glass side window, by the TV where he lived his life.
We didn't know that the windchimes bothered him. Would he be so impolite to complain? Never!
Jack installed a 140 decibel windchimegongthing outside his house. The sound of it it shook the ground like a small seismic tremor. Its roar frightened cats for blocks.
My dad, a charming fellow when he wants to be, goes to talk to Jack. "Jack," he says, "That's a helluva wind-uh... gong-thing you got there."
Jack glares at him balefully.
Dad starts laughing. "Jack, if you didn't LIKE our windchimes, you could just tell us, you know. You didn't have to go to so much trouble. But HAHA, that's a HELLUVA windchime!"
He and jack had a helluva laugh, and a helluva beer, and Jack said, "I'm sorry I'm such an ______. Yeah look!" he says like a proud little boy showing dad his model airplane, "I had this string rigged up to it so I can just ring it now and then from my armchair!"
Jack took the Seismic Wind Gong down.
The police didn't like Jack. Much to their annoyance, he owned his house and paid his taxes and only rarely could be caught doing anything illegal. Jack's main problem was that he desperately, I mean really REALLY, wanted a woman to love him. Unfortunately, something about his complete lack of charm where women were concerned, sent them all screaming into the night or something. He was so lonely, I felt for him.
One night I assume in desperation, as I honestly think he was an ok guy most the time, he slid over the fence and peeked under the blinds at my stepmother, who he'd seen starting to undress by the light at the window. Wrong woman, babe. She pulled dad's .45 on him and it took about, oh, 17 seconds from the time she called 911 for at least half the local police force to dogpile Jack out on the front lawn.
There apparently weren't enough of them so more of them came. By the time it was over all you could see was Jack's bare feet sticking out from underneath the pile, and his cuffed hands out the other side. The cops hadn't had so much fun in days. They were joking with him while they were smashing him. You just couldn't help but like Jack. He was just such a fuckup, but not in any meanspirited way, just one of those wacking the forehead kind of ways.
Frankly, I miss Jack.
I know it's twisted but the guy had personality. I appreciate personality and offbeat people.
I really liked that movie "Pirates of the Caribbean" and there was actually something about Depp's Jack (the 'permadrunk' as EricT calls it?) that just a tiny bit reminds me of the guy...
PJ
Hey that was a cool coon cat! The flash redeye is delightfully spooky. ;-)
I am trying to decompress from work right now. How can FTP disconnects drive you crazy? Let me count the ways...
Brayden maybe you could be nice enough to your neighbors that even if they do catch your cats they will like you well enough not to do anything bad. I can't imagine why anybody would think a tame cat outside would give them fleas inside. Like fleas don't live in the grass and dirt? What, do they think the cats manufacture them or what? Sheesh. Neighbors are weird.
This reminds me of Jack. My favorite ex-neighbor.
So one night I was doing an unusually robust round of self hypnosis techniques and waking myself up at time points. And somewhere around oh, 3am maybe, my brain clicks together a pattern, and it says, "Someone is sawing away at something furtively; they only saw when a car passes and makes noise; hence they are trying to be quiet." That sounded like something illegal to me. Ooohhhh!
I could tell it was coming from the south side of the house by the driveway. We had parked there a trailer-RV, and the door and lock were on the other side. AHA! I think. SOMEONE is trying to get through the lock! Not to be outsmarted, I snuck out of the house (in flowery little nightgown and bare feet... yes, I have a brain, but apparently I left it on the bedside table...) to 'sneak up and see' who was doing what, planning to then sneak back in and call the police, once I knew what was up. ("RECON, SIR!")
So I sneak out and I lean one eyeball just around the corner of the trailer. And there is nobody there. Because the sawing is coming from Jack. Jack, who is sitting about 18 feet high in the tree in his front yard.
"Jack!" I demand to the sky, hands on my hips (very imposing in a nightgown I'm sure). "What the HELL are you doing?!"
He looks at me like I'm pretty dense not to have figured out what the saw is for. "I'm sawing the branch off!" he explains.
"Why?" I say.
"Well.... ah... you know, it's in the street, near the lines, I want to take it down," he says, and he was right, this was a perfectly reasonable explanation.
"But why are you sawing it at 3 AM in the morning?!" I insist.
"Oh. Oh. Well you know, I um, I'm wide awake you know, and I had all this energy, and I just..."
"Jack. You're doing drugs again aren't you?" says I in that disapproving motherly tone only Virgos can do properly, who knows Jack because my brother, former king of all drug knowledge in my city and the life of all the most expensive parties, had been known to stop by Jack's now and then.
"Ah. Aheh. Um. Well you know, I was TRYING to be quiet. I was only sawing when cars went past, so it wouldn't get anybody's attention."
I really liked Jack. I don't know why. I just did. He just always seemed like a decent guy at heart.
Jack, jack... he had about 500 empty beer cans in his back cement patio, so if anybody ever tried to sneak in, he would hear them.
Creative Jack... my stepmother liked wind chimes. So she put several pretty chimes people kept giving her, out on the back porch. Which just happened to be not far from Jack's sliding glass side window, by the TV where he lived his life.
We didn't know that the windchimes bothered him. Would he be so impolite to complain? Never!
Jack installed a 140 decibel windchimegongthing outside his house. The sound of it it shook the ground like a small seismic tremor. Its roar frightened cats for blocks.
My dad, a charming fellow when he wants to be, goes to talk to Jack. "Jack," he says, "That's a helluva wind-uh... gong-thing you got there."
Jack glares at him balefully.
Dad starts laughing. "Jack, if you didn't LIKE our windchimes, you could just tell us, you know. You didn't have to go to so much trouble. But HAHA, that's a HELLUVA windchime!"
He and jack had a helluva laugh, and a helluva beer, and Jack said, "I'm sorry I'm such an ______. Yeah look!" he says like a proud little boy showing dad his model airplane, "I had this string rigged up to it so I can just ring it now and then from my armchair!"
Jack took the Seismic Wind Gong down.
The police didn't like Jack. Much to their annoyance, he owned his house and paid his taxes and only rarely could be caught doing anything illegal. Jack's main problem was that he desperately, I mean really REALLY, wanted a woman to love him. Unfortunately, something about his complete lack of charm where women were concerned, sent them all screaming into the night or something. He was so lonely, I felt for him.
One night I assume in desperation, as I honestly think he was an ok guy most the time, he slid over the fence and peeked under the blinds at my stepmother, who he'd seen starting to undress by the light at the window. Wrong woman, babe. She pulled dad's .45 on him and it took about, oh, 17 seconds from the time she called 911 for at least half the local police force to dogpile Jack out on the front lawn.
There apparently weren't enough of them so more of them came. By the time it was over all you could see was Jack's bare feet sticking out from underneath the pile, and his cuffed hands out the other side. The cops hadn't had so much fun in days. They were joking with him while they were smashing him. You just couldn't help but like Jack. He was just such a fuckup, but not in any meanspirited way, just one of those wacking the forehead kind of ways.
Frankly, I miss Jack.
I know it's twisted but the guy had personality. I appreciate personality and offbeat people.I really liked that movie "Pirates of the Caribbean" and there was actually something about Depp's Jack (the 'permadrunk' as EricT calls it?) that just a tiny bit reminds me of the guy...
PJ
