Tuesday, August 22, 2006

It's the blind leading the blind
It's the stuff, the stuff of country songs
If god will send his angels
If god will send a sign

Sorry about those pictures being so huge below.

I guess paying for the premium photobucket service for my thousands upon thousands of pictures doesn't get you shit when it comes to editing.

Side-scrolling is one of my pet peeves.

Thanks for your comments and emails.

It means a lot that complete strangers (as well as old friends) will reach out and say nice things, simply because they have read a bunch of words I have written, or looked at some pictures I have taken.

The internet is a bizarre, wonderful thing.

It truly is.

If it makes any difference, we're about to set the record for the friendliest divorce ever. No lawyers (unless you count me), no fighting, still hanging out and being friends. It's really easier that way.

But enough of that, even though I could write volumes.

On the plus side, this blog could get a lot more interesting when I start dating.

Um, yeah.

We'll just have to see about that, now won't we?

Hey, let me take a second to let you know that Quagmire is back and he is posting again.

Check him out if you have a minute. He is a very entertaining guy and an excellent writer.

I ate dinner tonight for $ 1.50.

At CostCo.

A hot dog and a soda.

I think I am cut out for this bachelor life.

I love CostCo.

I love that it is in a warehouse.

I love that the carts are extra-ginormous.

Everything about it is extra-ginormous.

You can buy a plasma t.v., 15 new york strip steaks, 5 gallons of soy sauce, a king size bed (natch), a tub of vitamins and 56 rolls of toilet paper.

Mind you, I don't actually buy that much there.

Very little, actually.

When I was a lawyer in the Dam, I would take a day off to get my fancy car serviced an hour away in Milwaukee and use it as an excuse to spend the day shopping with my mom.

Jesus, those were fun days.

We'd hit Target and drop a couple hundred bucks, just because.

That was kind of like the appetizer, so you didn't gorge on the main course.

Then we would go to Sam's Club, which is the Wal Mart version of CostCo.

(I see little difference between the two and cannot detect the evil, small-town-destroying-fully-operational-Death-Star power of Wal Mart at Sam's Club. Let's face it... they make cheap shit and sell it to us cheaply. They do what they do, and they do it well. Kinda like the Yankees. You gotta hate 'em, but ... respekt.

Hey, motherfuckers, before you bitch... remember how fuckin' great AT&T was?

Actually most of you probably don't. They gave you phones that you could beat a rhino over the head with, great service for free- from the pole to the phone, and everything worked... all the time.

That was a monopoly.

It worked great.

And The Man busted it up into a bunch of fucked-up "Baby Bells" like SBC, PacBell, Lucent, etc... that are are slowly failing and merging back together. e.g. SBC + ATT = ATT. SBC wasn't failing, but Lucent damn near did.

O.K., that is enough of a tangent for this schizophrenic post.)

So, my mom and I would go into Sam's Club and just giggle at the people, the products and the scene.

I would only buy the same things- pur water filters, vitamins, supplements for my dog, toilet paper, garbage bags, razor blades (like 50 of them) and one or two random items, like 85 pounds of pistachios, or a 50 gallon drum of ketchup.

The last item could always be chalked up to the "CostCo/Sam's Club Buzz."

Fortunately, we had the Target appetizer, so we didn't end up buying 54 chicken breasts or something we would never use.

I just thank my lord and savior, Charles Bukowski, that I never walked out of that place, all High on Coscto, with a fucking trampoline or a 7 foot high safe.

Because they have that shit there.

Which is what makes it great.

Anyway, India always hated that place, and I kinda need to re-stock the house now.

So, I went, just because I guess I wanted to catch a buzz and feel a little better about the situation.

But I really didn't have anything in mind to buy.

So I flashed my card, and then looked at the plasma televisions.

I already have one. 42". I bought it there last year. So, why was I looking at them?

Because of The Buzz.

Then I walked around, marveling once again at the 55 gallon drums of motor oil.

You gotta be really fucking serious about your oil to buy one of those.

Since I have changed my oil exactly once in my life, when my dad insisted I learn how to do it in high school, I refrained from making that purchase.


I also stood, in awe, as if it was a burnt-toast image of Jesus that was weeping actual blood in East L.A., before a ten pound bag of shrimp.

Ten pounds.

I'm thinking, "I like shrimp. Shrimp tastes good. Fuck, that's a good price."

I shook my head, mesmerized.

Then I looked into my cart.

I had an IPod.

(I already have one.)

I also had six pounds of "Pub Mix," which is some kind of pretzel/nut/weird-orange-thingies-with-sesame-seed mix that sits in bowls, stale, in disgusting bars.

(Know why it's stale?


I also seriously spent some quality time, staring at a hottub that was tilted on it's side.

It was a two-seater design.

(If those were two 450 pound people.)

There were (of course) 63 jets, and 274 bubblers.

And then, later, when I was standing there, looking at the automobile display, learning that as a member, I was entitled to WHOLESALER DISCOUNTS on autos, and thinking about buying a truck (because I actually do need one... not joking... I live in Montana, and I actually do truck-type shit in MOntana, like drive on fifteen mile of gravel road to find a hidden lake) when I came to my senses.

I left my full cart, Pub Snacks and all, and walked out.

And on the way out, I noticed the sign.

"$ 1.50 1/4 pound hot dog + 20 oz. soda."


Who could resist that?

Not this guy.

Not this guy.

Is it over now?
Do you know how
To pick up the pieces and go home?

I live alone now.

Well, not entirely alone.

I do have a very helpful little calico cat, and an old yellowdog who views me as the sun, the moon and the stars in his world.

So, there is that.

I've hinted at it for the last few months, but I didn't really want to write about it.

In fact, I still really don't.

I know you are curious, but there was no drama, no cheating, not even any fighting.

It's sad. I'm sad.

That pretty much sums it up.

It was a key time to have T-Rex and Bells around to keep me company.

(I have some more pictures from Sunday, but until Photobucket ceases and desists its near-fraudulent picture-sizing practices, thereby causing me severe and potentially permanent emotional distress, I will not post them. In fact, I will pursue every remedy available, both at law and in equity.)

(Fuckin' A, I am glad I don't do that for a living any more.)

In other news, I sprained my thumb last Wednesday.

Thumbs are useful.

So is electricity, but you really don't stop to notice it until it is gone.

Kind of like my left thumb.

For a week, every button has been a chore, every item retrieved from my left front pocket has been agony, and this fucking space bar is killing me.

See you around the campfire.