How to alienate your neighbours

I need to cut the grass.  Pretty badly.  It’s been like a month since I last did it, and the grass has now decided it can just relax because it’s probably never going to happen again.  It has adopted a laid-back posture that only adds to the shaggy appearance of my lawn.  Any mowing effort at this point will require an enormous effort on my part, akin to blazing a trail through the virgin rainforest with a machete, with only my wits, pith helmet and my trusty sidekick Perkins to assist me in mapping the Amazon, only just barely escaping from a misguided but particularly amorous gorilla.

But I digress.

I was talking about the lawn.  Which is rather overgrown.  But as bad as it is, my yard is not quite as bad as this gentleman’s. 

I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to say that he doesn’t get along with his neighbours much.  These trees are called leyland cypress trees and they are notoriously fast-growing (known to grow a meter per year), and they are the perfect tree to plant when you have decided that talking sociably to folks on your street is pretty much the last thing on your list of things to do.

In fact, this particular gentleman already lost a battle over a concrete wall he had put up for privacy in his backyard.  Wow.  This guy pretty much defines grumpy.  Or curmudgeon.  Or perhaps axe murderer, if Hollywood movies are right.

Right.  Perkins, my helmet!

Nerd Humour Alert

I try to keep the hardcore nerd content off the radar here, since it probably only makes sense to two other people I know who might even casually glance at this blog.  Anyway, I will make an exception today just for fun.  In my current contract I’m back to full on mail server nerd and was doing some documentation this morning when I came across this antivirus scanner option:

Illegal MIME header action

Cue immature nerdly snickering and snorting, while pushing up my horn-rimmed glasses.  Fnar fnar fnar.

Caffeine + sleep deprivation + early morning = giddy geek

I know I’m a geek, it pays the bills ok?

Procrasti-nine

I can take delaying work to new heights.  I have done it today, in spades.  I know I’m doing it, there’s no fooling myself.  I have to read about 450 pages of really boring technical material.  I gave myself a deadline to get it all done, there should have been lots of time to do it.  It’s still not done, my deadline is down to about 5 hours of remaining time.  This morning I have wasted about 2 hours of reading time doing the following:

  • Tidy the kitchen and house so the cleaning lady could come in and do a good job.
  • File some papers
  • Clean off my desk
  • Facebook check
  • Carefully select some reading music in iTunes
  • Chat with Nikki who was stuck in an enormous traffic jam
  • Scratch four dog ears and two dog bellies
  • Tidy up some dangling cables in the office
  • Send four emails
  • Write this damn blog post

My book remains open beside me as I type this.  Oh, page 298 why do you look like a huge boulder?  There’s no reason why it’s so hard to read this crap, besides the fact that it’s boring, and I know most of it.  Ok, so there are two fairly big reasons.

Alright, that’s it, square the shoulders and just grab page 298 by the horns.  It’s on, Mother-booker!

Wait, what’s that shiny thing over there on the web?  Oh, it’s a cute video of an otter….  awww.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5usIxO_beYw

What the?  CRAP.

Kiko, eater of toe, and hero. Not so Roscoe.

Dogs and toes have been discussed on the blog before of course.  There’s pages of dog blogs, and the toe stuff is also starting to rack up.  The subject of today’s post however has to do with both, which really has only happened once before that I can recall.  In that post we heard about a miniature daschund that chewed a woman’s toe off while she was sleeping.  The little rascal Roscoe managed this feat (ahem) because the woman had diabetes and couldn’t feel it due to nerve damage.  The story ends with the dastardly evil little creature being put down, for fear that his awakened taste for little piggies would result in a continued buffet every night.

How strange that today’s story is so completely different in tone and ending, and yet be so similar.  Here’s the gist for you:

A stubborn obstinate man refused to go and see the doctor about his infected toe for months, despite his wife’s suspicion that he had diabetes.  Said man drinks (exactly what is a bit fuzzy, man thinks it was four or five beers, wife’s quote says it was “all of these margaritas”, this reporter suspects it was both), and passes out.  Faithful family dog proceeds to eat man’s infected toe, man awakens screaming, my toe’s gone, my toe’s gone.

That dog is a goner, right?

Nope, he’s a hero, credited with saving the man’s life.

The strangest thing of all is the original story is actually referenced in this story, and said man (who is hilariously described in the article as “a well-known wheeler-dealer” in the area) was actually going to destroy his dog too, until someone pointed out that he would be a jackass to do so since the dog essentially saved his life.  The man remains a jackass, but at least the dog still lives.

The final quote of the story is the winner for me, as is the dog’s name.

And as for falling asleep, Douthett said he’s not taking any chances. “I don’t think Kiko would do it again,” he said, “but I wear shoes to bed now.”

The dog’s name is Kiko.  Which I cannot help but pronounce Kick-o.  Kick-o, eater of toe.

Thoughts on exercise this morning

Some random thoughts that occur to me this morning after Nikki and I decided to suddenly start exercising this weekend after a rather long break from anything resembling exercise.

  • After apparently laying about like a gelatinous slug for the past millennia, muscles actually atrophy to the point where my body actually has to re-evolve the ability to have muscles.  It doesn’t like that, forced evolution of muscle in the span of a few hours hurts like a mother.  My splendidly-muscled laptop typing fingers excepted, of course.  My glide-pad finger has a six-pack.
  • I no longer have legs, I have pain-sticks upon which I totter about like a drunken circus clown on stilts, unfortunately afflicted with Tourette’s.
  • Sneezing has turned into an explosive shout-bark, especially hilarious in the middle of allergy season.
  • My recent habit of camping in a Starbucks to work when I am not at a client’s site is now some form of purgatory since sitting on a wooden chair on my recently punished glutes is agony.
  • The older I get, the more intense this period of “discomfort” is after re-starting exercise.  I thought we were pretty sensible about what exercise we did, taking it relatively easy.  It now seems likely that while I was asleep on the weekend I was drugged and beaten with sticks by a whole rugby team as I lay in bed.  There is no other explanation that makes sense.

The sad thing is the horrible horrible realization that I have to actually exercise again soon, or this will all be for nothing.

This just in from the “Now I feel much better about myself” department:

Think you were a badass partier in your youth?  Nuh-uh.  Not so fast there, bucky.  You have never partied harder than this:

20 year old Laura Hall is banned from buying alcohol in the entire country of England and Wales, and banned from every bar and pub in the entire nation.  Link

She wins, folks.  Unless someone else can take it up a notch and terrorize an entire continent?  Also, her parents must be tremendously proud.

On a completely unrelated note, my Mom must also be tremendously proud since her unemployed son hasn’t even really bothered to blog anything of substance for weeks….