You know what a ham balloon is, right? A soft pack of wafered ham with a ziplock top, sealed up full of air, all poofy, by the man of the house, and put back in FRIG II. Uh huh. I knew that you'd understand.
I can't say I was shocked to find the ham balloon in FRIG II. Only the night before, I'd caught Hick twisting up the bag of rolls full of air. With a flair like a casino cashier counting back change. Or a magician grandly gesturing to take your attention off his trickery. Or a Benihana chef showing off his mad skillz.
Yes, Hick was making exaggerated movements, spinning that bag of rolls full of air, holding it at face height while standing in front of the corner cabinet as I was at the other end of the counter, chopping up mushrooms, red onion, boiled eggs, romaine lettuce, chicken breast, and tomatoes for a big salad.
"HEY! Don't be sealing that up with air in it!"
"I'm NOT!" lied Hick, putting the twist tie on the bag like a rodeo cowboy hog-tying a calf.
"You are TOO! I just watched you! It's poofy!"
"At least I'm not blowing air in it like you said your dad did," replied Hick, thinking that made it right.
Still...Hick had closed up that bag of rolls with air inside, rather than squeezing it out first. AIR! The arch-nemesis of freshness! Maybe he's planning a ham-and-roll party, and needs those balloons.
______________________________________________________________________
Let the record show that my dad actually blew into a bag of Wonder Bread before twist-tying it, stating that air is the best insulator. For heat transfer, people. NOT for the freshness of edibles.
Tuesday, June 12, 2018
Monday, June 11, 2018
Val Broke the Buffalo
No, Val did NOT break the Buffalo with her big butt. In fact, the record does not show that Val was the original perpetrator.
Wednesday night, after taking The Pony to a steakhouse for supper (where he was looking for medallions of beef, but settled for chopped steak with lobster), we all went to Riverwind Casino. Don't you worry about The Pony ending up in the hoosegow. Gambling age for slots in Oklahoma is 18. The Pony is 20. He didn't even get IDed.
Isn't that a pretty ceiling in Riverwind Casino? The bar is on the left, where that fringe is hanging. Not that any of us utilized the bar. It's not like we had Genius with us. I had to rush this picture, because taking them is frowned upon in Riverwind. I DID get the top of Hick's balding head in my picture, while he was sitting at Wonder Woman.
The Pony hung out with me most of the night, making a few forays to slots that are not to my liking. I was losing big-time, The Pony had a tickets worth $190 to cash in, and Hick was $140 up. We had agreed to meet at 9:30 up front. However...The Pony was a row behind me, and Hick was with my sights at a carousel of Wonder Woman machines.
I had been playing Buffalo Gold, hitting three bonuses, which paid me $4.00, $1.80, and $3.80. Sure, I was only betting $.60. But I expected a bit more from a bonus. They're fun to play, but I would be leaving in ten minutes. So I hopped over two machines to another Buffalo Gold to try my luck. The Pony wandered over as I was putting in my money.
"I know we're leaving in a minute. So I'm high-rolling. Do you think? I might as well. That's how I won $600 on it the last time we were here. On this very machine. Playing it fast, at $2.40 a bet, until I had to quit and meet you and Dad."
"Sure. Why not? Wait a minute. Does it go higher?"
"Yeah. It goes to $3.60. I never play that."
"Change to $3.00 a spin."
I had been betting hurriedly at $2.40. The SPIN button was stuck, and I was pushing the $2.40 button in the line of buttons showing the bet amounts. You can do it either way. I often use the amount buttons, because there's not a lag between when you press them, and the spin starts. With The Pony's advice, I pushed the $3.00 bet.
COIN...COIN...COIN!
Those are the symbols that put you into the bonus! Way to go, Pony! It's all a matter of timing, you know. Random number generator. If The Pony hadn't said wait a minute, or if I hadn't answered him back, a different random number would have triggered my spin. It's a matter of nanoseconds. Same with pushing the SPIN button to start your bonus, I think. I sometimes wait a second or two after the dramatic music. I'm not sure if your bonus result random number is triggered by the bonus itself, or by the instant you spin to start the bonus.
Anyhoo, when those three coins came up, I threw my hands in the air, and said, "YEAH!" Because, you know, I had a bonus coming to me with a $3.00 bet. Not a $.60 bet. I was expecting great fortune. I pressed the SPIN button to start my bonus.
Nothing.
That SPIN button was jammed. I knew that when I started playing, but I figured it would still work for the bonus. I touched the screen. NO! The bonus could not be screen-activated!
"NO! It won't let me start my bonus! NO! That's not fair!"
"Here. Let me try." The Pony gave it a go. Still jammed. He tried to get a fingernail in the groove to pop it out. Nope. Too tight.
"NO! The CALL ATTENDANT button is stuck, too! What am I supposed to do now?"
By this time, Hick was walking over from Wonder Woman. "Oh, you got a bonus?"
"YES! But it won't let me start it! Go get an attendant and tell them!"
Hick looked all put-out. Like how dare I expect him to go find an attendant. As if I could just walk away from a slot machine ready to play a bonus, with $76.40 in it of my own money! The Pony had taken a couple of jabs at the SPIN button and the CALL ATTENDANT button. And then we saw the light on top of the Buffalo start flashing.
A little blond gal in a casino polo shirt, with a radio, walked up. I explained the problem, and she started pounding on that SPIN button. Tried to pry it up with HER fingernails. Nope. She called for a service technician on the radio. Made some small talk. Was very polite and apologetic. A tech in the same uniform with the same radio came out to look at my Buffalo. He pounded on the SPIN button. And tried to pry it up with his fingernails.
"I'm going to have to get another screwdriver." And he left.
That Casino Gal chatted with me a while. Talked into her radio, which I couldn't hear clearly. I finally said, "I guess maybe he's making a new screwdriver?"
"Oh. You might as well sit down in that other chair. This might take a while. The distributor for that game is in town, and we're calling him."
"Oh. This kind of takes all the excitement out of my bonus."
"I'm so sorry. Some of these games are really touchy. He might have to take the whole front apart, instead of just aligning the sensors to make contact again."
"What happens if you can't get it working?"
"Well, of course we would give you your $76.40, and the $6.45 the bonus shows right now. Then we would see what your bonus would have played out to, and call you so you can pick that up tomorrow."
No thank you. I'll wait and get it NOW. No matter how much they're regulated (which isn't AT ALL in the Indian casinos of Oklahoma), I just don't trust what might happen when I'm out of the picture. Seriously. Would YOU walk away from a slot, and then be satisfied with what someone TOLD YOU was the bonus? Not this ol' Val.
A scrawny guy came out and crawled under the machine. Yes, he first pounded on the SPIN button, and tried to pry it up with his fingernails. He took the whole front ledge off of it. The part with all the buttons. Fiddled around for quite a while. Then he put it back on and put some kind of key in it, and the screen showed my three coins coming up, and played the bonus music. He apologized for my wait, and said I could spin my bonus any time I wanted. BUT that I couldn't cash out until the machine was done running its reactivation program.
MY BONUS! I pushed the SPIN button and it started. Not great. It retriggered to give me five more games. But I was lacking BUFFALO. Do you know what I won on my bonus, after waiting 45 minutes for that slot to be repaired?
$30.00
Only 10x my bet. I had been hoping for more. But that gave me my money back for that game, almost Even-Stevenly, plus a few dollars. Hick had lost $40 of his winnings back on Wonder Woman while waiting. The Pony was sighing.
Those exceptionally polite casino workers must have been exceptionally tired of being polite. If I was one of them, I'd have been thinking: Buffalo Val, won't you get out tonight?
Wednesday night, after taking The Pony to a steakhouse for supper (where he was looking for medallions of beef, but settled for chopped steak with lobster), we all went to Riverwind Casino. Don't you worry about The Pony ending up in the hoosegow. Gambling age for slots in Oklahoma is 18. The Pony is 20. He didn't even get IDed.
Isn't that a pretty ceiling in Riverwind Casino? The bar is on the left, where that fringe is hanging. Not that any of us utilized the bar. It's not like we had Genius with us. I had to rush this picture, because taking them is frowned upon in Riverwind. I DID get the top of Hick's balding head in my picture, while he was sitting at Wonder Woman.
The Pony hung out with me most of the night, making a few forays to slots that are not to my liking. I was losing big-time, The Pony had a tickets worth $190 to cash in, and Hick was $140 up. We had agreed to meet at 9:30 up front. However...The Pony was a row behind me, and Hick was with my sights at a carousel of Wonder Woman machines.
I had been playing Buffalo Gold, hitting three bonuses, which paid me $4.00, $1.80, and $3.80. Sure, I was only betting $.60. But I expected a bit more from a bonus. They're fun to play, but I would be leaving in ten minutes. So I hopped over two machines to another Buffalo Gold to try my luck. The Pony wandered over as I was putting in my money.
"I know we're leaving in a minute. So I'm high-rolling. Do you think? I might as well. That's how I won $600 on it the last time we were here. On this very machine. Playing it fast, at $2.40 a bet, until I had to quit and meet you and Dad."
"Sure. Why not? Wait a minute. Does it go higher?"
"Yeah. It goes to $3.60. I never play that."
"Change to $3.00 a spin."
I had been betting hurriedly at $2.40. The SPIN button was stuck, and I was pushing the $2.40 button in the line of buttons showing the bet amounts. You can do it either way. I often use the amount buttons, because there's not a lag between when you press them, and the spin starts. With The Pony's advice, I pushed the $3.00 bet.
COIN...COIN...COIN!
Those are the symbols that put you into the bonus! Way to go, Pony! It's all a matter of timing, you know. Random number generator. If The Pony hadn't said wait a minute, or if I hadn't answered him back, a different random number would have triggered my spin. It's a matter of nanoseconds. Same with pushing the SPIN button to start your bonus, I think. I sometimes wait a second or two after the dramatic music. I'm not sure if your bonus result random number is triggered by the bonus itself, or by the instant you spin to start the bonus.
Anyhoo, when those three coins came up, I threw my hands in the air, and said, "YEAH!" Because, you know, I had a bonus coming to me with a $3.00 bet. Not a $.60 bet. I was expecting great fortune. I pressed the SPIN button to start my bonus.
Nothing.
That SPIN button was jammed. I knew that when I started playing, but I figured it would still work for the bonus. I touched the screen. NO! The bonus could not be screen-activated!
"NO! It won't let me start my bonus! NO! That's not fair!"
"Here. Let me try." The Pony gave it a go. Still jammed. He tried to get a fingernail in the groove to pop it out. Nope. Too tight.
"NO! The CALL ATTENDANT button is stuck, too! What am I supposed to do now?"
By this time, Hick was walking over from Wonder Woman. "Oh, you got a bonus?"
"YES! But it won't let me start it! Go get an attendant and tell them!"
Hick looked all put-out. Like how dare I expect him to go find an attendant. As if I could just walk away from a slot machine ready to play a bonus, with $76.40 in it of my own money! The Pony had taken a couple of jabs at the SPIN button and the CALL ATTENDANT button. And then we saw the light on top of the Buffalo start flashing.
A little blond gal in a casino polo shirt, with a radio, walked up. I explained the problem, and she started pounding on that SPIN button. Tried to pry it up with HER fingernails. Nope. She called for a service technician on the radio. Made some small talk. Was very polite and apologetic. A tech in the same uniform with the same radio came out to look at my Buffalo. He pounded on the SPIN button. And tried to pry it up with his fingernails.
"I'm going to have to get another screwdriver." And he left.
That Casino Gal chatted with me a while. Talked into her radio, which I couldn't hear clearly. I finally said, "I guess maybe he's making a new screwdriver?"
"Oh. You might as well sit down in that other chair. This might take a while. The distributor for that game is in town, and we're calling him."
"Oh. This kind of takes all the excitement out of my bonus."
"I'm so sorry. Some of these games are really touchy. He might have to take the whole front apart, instead of just aligning the sensors to make contact again."
"What happens if you can't get it working?"
"Well, of course we would give you your $76.40, and the $6.45 the bonus shows right now. Then we would see what your bonus would have played out to, and call you so you can pick that up tomorrow."
No thank you. I'll wait and get it NOW. No matter how much they're regulated (which isn't AT ALL in the Indian casinos of Oklahoma), I just don't trust what might happen when I'm out of the picture. Seriously. Would YOU walk away from a slot, and then be satisfied with what someone TOLD YOU was the bonus? Not this ol' Val.
A scrawny guy came out and crawled under the machine. Yes, he first pounded on the SPIN button, and tried to pry it up with his fingernails. He took the whole front ledge off of it. The part with all the buttons. Fiddled around for quite a while. Then he put it back on and put some kind of key in it, and the screen showed my three coins coming up, and played the bonus music. He apologized for my wait, and said I could spin my bonus any time I wanted. BUT that I couldn't cash out until the machine was done running its reactivation program.
MY BONUS! I pushed the SPIN button and it started. Not great. It retriggered to give me five more games. But I was lacking BUFFALO. Do you know what I won on my bonus, after waiting 45 minutes for that slot to be repaired?
$30.00
Only 10x my bet. I had been hoping for more. But that gave me my money back for that game, almost Even-Stevenly, plus a few dollars. Hick had lost $40 of his winnings back on Wonder Woman while waiting. The Pony was sighing.
Those exceptionally polite casino workers must have been exceptionally tired of being polite. If I was one of them, I'd have been thinking: Buffalo Val, won't you get out tonight?
Sunday, June 10, 2018
Hick's Quest For Big Tips
Our drive to Oklahoma to visit The Pony took 9 hours. Hick was planning to stop by Bass Pro Shop in Springfield on the way home. That would have added at least an hour to our trip, by the time he drove across town, browsed, and drove back. Probably more like 90 minutes. As you might imagine, I was not keen on the idea.
Hick said he needed some metal tips to repair three fishing poles that he'd bought at the auction, and wants to sell at his Storage Unit Store. Big fishing poles, for big fish. He said that Walmart has tips for the regular poles, but not for the big ones. I figured that a city the size of Norman, Oklahoma, would likely have a store that sold fishing supplies. We tasked The Pony with searching for one on his phone.
He found Jones Bait and Tackle, in Midwest City. It's on the way to Oklahoma City, where Hick wanted to go on Thursday. It's only about 25 minutes from Norman. So...after dropping off The Pony's Rogue for a new set of tires, off we went, taking Hwy 77 instead of I-35, for the scenic route. We were within five miles of the bait shop, according to our Garmin, when the weather deteriorated.
This was at 10:47 a.m. But still, the weather was fine for driving. Just a little dark. That "good" weather didn't last long. The rain slammed A-Cad's windshield, and our phones kept going off with weather alerts. At least mine, and Hick's. Go figure. The Pony, who LIVES in that area, got no alerts. Maybe he needs to update his phone or something. Anyhoo...the alerts were for flash flooding. We soon saw why. The roads were running with water. Storm drains built into the side of the sidewalks could not keep up with the downpour.
The Pony and I begged Hick to pull over. I couldn't see a thing out the windshield, even though Hick had slowed down, and had put the wipers on HIGH after three requests. Hick said, "I WILL pull over, Val. As soon as I can see a spot where I can turn in." Yeah. Visibility was that bad.
Finally, Hick made a right turn, and then a quick left, to put us on the parking lot of a lumberyard. The rain slammed into my side of A-Cad, but at least we could see stuff out the windshield now. Then I made the mistake of glancing out my own window.
"That's just great. Of ALL the places you could have pulled off, you park us next to a giant tower that's going to fall over and crush the car!"
"Val. There was nowhere else."
"Right across the road! It's a freakin' WALMART parking lot!"
"I couldn't see what was on that side when I was driving."
Meanwhile, the wind was blowing so hard that A-Cad was a-rockin'. Hick got out his phone, to look at the radar.
"We're right in the middle of it."
"I don't feel safe here. This is scary! Now there's HAIL! We're going to get hail damage on THIS car, too! Go pull under that tree."
"Val. It won't help. The tree doesn't hang out over the parking lot."
"If you pull sideways over three spaces, it will cover part of us. It will at least slow down the hail. This is not safe."
"Well, you ARE about 20 minutes away from the Tornado Capital of the World...Moore, Oklahoma."
"You're not helping, you know! I think you just made that up! I know there was a big tornado in Moore, but I don't think it's the tornado capital."
"Here. I'll park under the tree. Will that shut you up?"
"I doubt it. But at least we won't be where this tower is going to fall."
So we parked closer to the road, and watched cars hit the big lake of water that came halfway up their tires. They really slowed down then, but mainly because the water splashed up like a breaking wave over their windshield. After about 20 minutes, the rain slowed enough that we could go on up the road to the bait and tackle shop, less than a mile away.
Hick got his fishing pole tips for $3 apiece. More than he wanted to pay, because he says he can get the regular ones at Walmart for $.75.
"Well, you forget that Walmart doesn't have the big tips, and I'm not spending 90 minutes on a detour to Bass Pro."
"Yeah. I need them to fix my poles so they'll sell. I'll still make money off them."
We headed to Steak N Shake for lunch, but aborted the trip to OKC, due to the weather. Which was sunny in Norman. As The Pony said, "This was a long way to go for just the tip..." I don't think Hick caught on to that reference. (And if you didn't, don't ask me!)
The floor of Steak N Shake, those little black-and-white tiles, was so slippery that I could hardly stand. In fact, it was worse in the restroom, where even gripping the handicap bar on the wall, my feet started to slide in opposite directions. I had to sit back down (on the toilet, people!) and try again. SinceI'm I was a physics teacher, I know all about keeping my center of gravity over my base of support. I managed to get upright without falling down. What a calamity THAT would have been! Nobody would come looking for me, and I'd be flopping around on that questionably-clean bathroom floor of Steak N Shake like a hog on ice, unable to stand up. I held onto the walls like a beginning ice-skater on my way out of there.
After a tasty lunch of burgers and fries and the dregs of The Pony's caramel turtle fudge shake, we headed back to sunny Norman, where Hick went Goodwilling, The Pony and I reminisced in A-Cad, and then we all headed to Riverwind Casino to try our luck again. Which turned out to be better than that of the previous evening for me.
That's foreshadowing, people! To let you know that a casino story is imminent. It isn't about the money...
Hick said he needed some metal tips to repair three fishing poles that he'd bought at the auction, and wants to sell at his Storage Unit Store. Big fishing poles, for big fish. He said that Walmart has tips for the regular poles, but not for the big ones. I figured that a city the size of Norman, Oklahoma, would likely have a store that sold fishing supplies. We tasked The Pony with searching for one on his phone.
He found Jones Bait and Tackle, in Midwest City. It's on the way to Oklahoma City, where Hick wanted to go on Thursday. It's only about 25 minutes from Norman. So...after dropping off The Pony's Rogue for a new set of tires, off we went, taking Hwy 77 instead of I-35, for the scenic route. We were within five miles of the bait shop, according to our Garmin, when the weather deteriorated.
This was at 10:47 a.m. But still, the weather was fine for driving. Just a little dark. That "good" weather didn't last long. The rain slammed A-Cad's windshield, and our phones kept going off with weather alerts. At least mine, and Hick's. Go figure. The Pony, who LIVES in that area, got no alerts. Maybe he needs to update his phone or something. Anyhoo...the alerts were for flash flooding. We soon saw why. The roads were running with water. Storm drains built into the side of the sidewalks could not keep up with the downpour.
The Pony and I begged Hick to pull over. I couldn't see a thing out the windshield, even though Hick had slowed down, and had put the wipers on HIGH after three requests. Hick said, "I WILL pull over, Val. As soon as I can see a spot where I can turn in." Yeah. Visibility was that bad.
Finally, Hick made a right turn, and then a quick left, to put us on the parking lot of a lumberyard. The rain slammed into my side of A-Cad, but at least we could see stuff out the windshield now. Then I made the mistake of glancing out my own window.
"That's just great. Of ALL the places you could have pulled off, you park us next to a giant tower that's going to fall over and crush the car!"
"Val. There was nowhere else."
"Right across the road! It's a freakin' WALMART parking lot!"
"I couldn't see what was on that side when I was driving."
Meanwhile, the wind was blowing so hard that A-Cad was a-rockin'. Hick got out his phone, to look at the radar.
"We're right in the middle of it."
"I don't feel safe here. This is scary! Now there's HAIL! We're going to get hail damage on THIS car, too! Go pull under that tree."
"Val. It won't help. The tree doesn't hang out over the parking lot."
"If you pull sideways over three spaces, it will cover part of us. It will at least slow down the hail. This is not safe."
"Well, you ARE about 20 minutes away from the Tornado Capital of the World...Moore, Oklahoma."
"You're not helping, you know! I think you just made that up! I know there was a big tornado in Moore, but I don't think it's the tornado capital."
"Here. I'll park under the tree. Will that shut you up?"
"I doubt it. But at least we won't be where this tower is going to fall."
So we parked closer to the road, and watched cars hit the big lake of water that came halfway up their tires. They really slowed down then, but mainly because the water splashed up like a breaking wave over their windshield. After about 20 minutes, the rain slowed enough that we could go on up the road to the bait and tackle shop, less than a mile away.
Hick got his fishing pole tips for $3 apiece. More than he wanted to pay, because he says he can get the regular ones at Walmart for $.75.
"Well, you forget that Walmart doesn't have the big tips, and I'm not spending 90 minutes on a detour to Bass Pro."
"Yeah. I need them to fix my poles so they'll sell. I'll still make money off them."
We headed to Steak N Shake for lunch, but aborted the trip to OKC, due to the weather. Which was sunny in Norman. As The Pony said, "This was a long way to go for just the tip..." I don't think Hick caught on to that reference. (And if you didn't, don't ask me!)
The floor of Steak N Shake, those little black-and-white tiles, was so slippery that I could hardly stand. In fact, it was worse in the restroom, where even gripping the handicap bar on the wall, my feet started to slide in opposite directions. I had to sit back down (on the toilet, people!) and try again. Since
After a tasty lunch of burgers and fries and the dregs of The Pony's caramel turtle fudge shake, we headed back to sunny Norman, where Hick went Goodwilling, The Pony and I reminisced in A-Cad, and then we all headed to Riverwind Casino to try our luck again. Which turned out to be better than that of the previous evening for me.
That's foreshadowing, people! To let you know that a casino story is imminent. It isn't about the money...
Saturday, June 9, 2018
I'm Sure There's a Centsible Explanation
Doo doo doo doo! Doo doo doo doo! No, that's NOT something Hick has had his hands in before not-washing them to make a sandwich. It's the creepy Twilight Zone ditty, due to what I heard when finding my first penny of the week at the Backroads Casey's.
On MONDAY, June 4th. Just inside the door, I spied this penny.
It was obviously waiting just for me! On the light-colored tile instead of the penny-colored tile. Near the middle, not on a crack. And when I bent over for its close-up...
Ol' Abe was lookin' right at me! Not all cattywompus. And FACE UP! A 1979 edition. When I started taking my first picture, the clerk was in the back room. The "office." I know that, because a long time ago, I worked at a Casey's. Val is an insider. Anyhoo...she came out and I pushed my winners across the counter, and finished taking Abe's close-up. Then dropped him in my shirt pocket. After my transaction with the tickets was complete, that clerk said...
"Okay. I have to ask. What was with the picture?"
"Oh, I collect pennies that I find. I always take a picture. That's weird, I know..."
"Well, I have a penny story I have to tell you..."
She waited on the next customer, who was buying a slice of pizza, and revealed her experience. Let the record show that this is not a clerk I'm friendly with. We've never made small talk before. The clerks at Casey's are usually busy, and don't have time to chat. This gal is personable, though. Always friendly.
"Years ago, when we bought a new house, we did a walk-through inspection. The previous owners had cleaned everything out. When we went into the basement bathroom, there were pennies all over the floor! Weird, but we picked them up, thinking they must have fallen out of someone's pocket. A few days later, we started moving our stuff in. There were MORE pennies all over the floor of the basement bathroom. I said, 'Ooh! Someone is trying to tell us something!' But it gets weirder. We sold that house, and bought a new one over here. When we moved in, there were PENNIES ALL OVER THE FLOOR! I said, 'Looks like that spook followed us here!'"
The gray-haired old lady clerk was coming up to the other register. "Don't forget to tell her about the one that's after me!"
"Yeah, that one's in the store."
"I was stocking the cigarettes." She pointed to the area behind the counter, under the display of lottery tickets. "I was just standing here, and a carton of cigarettes shot out of the shelf at me! I don't know how it could have moved by itself!"
Indeed. The front of the counter is closed off, with a display of gum and candy. Doo doo doo doo!
I told Hick this story later that evening. As with most things I tell him, Hick pooh-poohed this tale. "Huh. If you pack those cartons of cigarettes in there wrong, one's going to fall out."
"It SHOT OUT AT HER! It didn't fall out."
"You sure have some funny ideas. I might as well start calling you Neighbor Bev."
"Okay. You're so smart. You know it all. Just wait until it happens to YOU!"
Don't go feeling sorry for poor put-upon Val. She's used to being belittled by Hick. I descended to my dark basement lair, the time being 7:45 p.m. Hick remained in the La-Z-Boy, although I heard him up and down stumping around from bedroom to kitchen, doing his laundry. At 9:50, I heard footsteps on the stairs. What in the not-heaven? Hick NEVER comes downstairs at night. No mistaking it though. That was his stumping.
"You're not gonna believe this! You know how you said it was fine until something happened to me? I put two pairs of brown shorts in the washer. I just got my clothes out of the dryer to fold, and there's ONLY ONE PAIR OF BROWN SHORTS!!!"
Seriously? This is what Hick considers SPOOKY? He was actually flustered.
"I'm sure you just put them somewhere else."
"NO! I looked all over the laundry room. They're not in the washer, and they weren't in the dryer! Where could they go?"
"Um. You're wearing a pair of brown shorts."
"No, not these. I put these on so I could wash the others. They're not plaid like this. They're solid. They had a kind of buckle thing at the waist."
"I hope they didn't get sucked into a pipe and clog the drains."
"There's no way they could do that. I don't know where they went. It's impossible!"
Yeah. My poor little non-believer seems to be a believer now. Although I'm sure there's a perfectly centsible explanation. It's not like Hick found a bunch of pennies on the laundry room floor.
______________________________________________________________________
Good penny-fortune followed me to Norman, OK on WEDNESDAY, June 6th. I was talking to The Pony as I sat down at an 88 Fortunes slot to play a $10 ticket. The Pony was antsy, having cashed out a couple of big tickets to save, and wanting to find a different game with the $20 I'd given him when I hit a $19.46 progressive bonus. He sat down on the stool at the machine next to mine, and
I spied a PENNY on the floor as I pulled out my chair. Well! Of course I had to snap a pic to prove it happened!
This 2017 was obviously meant for me to find. Face down.
________________________________________________________________________
But wait! On the trip home on FRIDAY, June 8th, Hick and I stopped by Downstream Casino. As we approached the exit, MY SONG came on the radio: "How Can I Help You Say Goodbye." (That song by Patty Loveless that makes me think of my mom. I've heard it leaving the cemetery, and when thinking about Mom, and talking to Hick about her.) Cool. As Hick drove past our regular parking lot, due to it being blocked off with metal gate thingies making a fence, I was happy, because that meant I might get to hear the whole song. Hick started to park in the lot closest to the door, but decided that it would probably be full. So he turned left, into the one next to it. He passed up three parking spots to his left, saying, "This one will be good," turning right, parking next to a light pole and a car that was straddling two spots.
I stepped out of A-Cad to see THIS:
Whoop-ti-doo! I couldn't believe it. I was taking the picture when the shuttle bus pulled up, but I told Hick that we'd walk. And snapped my phone photo. Couldn't have been positioned any more perfectly for me to find it! What a coincidence, huh?
Face down again! It was a 2012. Genius's senior year. Poor Genius. We'd been discussing The Pony the whole drive. You can bet I picked this up for my Future Pennyillionaire collection.
_________________________________________________________________________
So there you have it. A spooky penny tale from a convenience store clerk, and my trip to visit The Pony bookended by penny finds on the first day and the last day.
_________________________________________________________________________
For 2018: Pennies # 46, 47, 48.
For 2018: Dimes still at # 8.
For 2018: Nickels still at # 2.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this was Penny # 124, 125, 126.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this was still Dime # 14.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this was still Nickel # 2.
_____________________________________________________________________
On MONDAY, June 4th. Just inside the door, I spied this penny.
It was obviously waiting just for me! On the light-colored tile instead of the penny-colored tile. Near the middle, not on a crack. And when I bent over for its close-up...
Ol' Abe was lookin' right at me! Not all cattywompus. And FACE UP! A 1979 edition. When I started taking my first picture, the clerk was in the back room. The "office." I know that, because a long time ago, I worked at a Casey's. Val is an insider. Anyhoo...she came out and I pushed my winners across the counter, and finished taking Abe's close-up. Then dropped him in my shirt pocket. After my transaction with the tickets was complete, that clerk said...
"Okay. I have to ask. What was with the picture?"
"Oh, I collect pennies that I find. I always take a picture. That's weird, I know..."
"Well, I have a penny story I have to tell you..."
She waited on the next customer, who was buying a slice of pizza, and revealed her experience. Let the record show that this is not a clerk I'm friendly with. We've never made small talk before. The clerks at Casey's are usually busy, and don't have time to chat. This gal is personable, though. Always friendly.
"Years ago, when we bought a new house, we did a walk-through inspection. The previous owners had cleaned everything out. When we went into the basement bathroom, there were pennies all over the floor! Weird, but we picked them up, thinking they must have fallen out of someone's pocket. A few days later, we started moving our stuff in. There were MORE pennies all over the floor of the basement bathroom. I said, 'Ooh! Someone is trying to tell us something!' But it gets weirder. We sold that house, and bought a new one over here. When we moved in, there were PENNIES ALL OVER THE FLOOR! I said, 'Looks like that spook followed us here!'"
The gray-haired old lady clerk was coming up to the other register. "Don't forget to tell her about the one that's after me!"
"Yeah, that one's in the store."
"I was stocking the cigarettes." She pointed to the area behind the counter, under the display of lottery tickets. "I was just standing here, and a carton of cigarettes shot out of the shelf at me! I don't know how it could have moved by itself!"
Indeed. The front of the counter is closed off, with a display of gum and candy. Doo doo doo doo!
I told Hick this story later that evening. As with most things I tell him, Hick pooh-poohed this tale. "Huh. If you pack those cartons of cigarettes in there wrong, one's going to fall out."
"It SHOT OUT AT HER! It didn't fall out."
"You sure have some funny ideas. I might as well start calling you Neighbor Bev."
"Okay. You're so smart. You know it all. Just wait until it happens to YOU!"
Don't go feeling sorry for poor put-upon Val. She's used to being belittled by Hick. I descended to my dark basement lair, the time being 7:45 p.m. Hick remained in the La-Z-Boy, although I heard him up and down stumping around from bedroom to kitchen, doing his laundry. At 9:50, I heard footsteps on the stairs. What in the not-heaven? Hick NEVER comes downstairs at night. No mistaking it though. That was his stumping.
"You're not gonna believe this! You know how you said it was fine until something happened to me? I put two pairs of brown shorts in the washer. I just got my clothes out of the dryer to fold, and there's ONLY ONE PAIR OF BROWN SHORTS!!!"
Seriously? This is what Hick considers SPOOKY? He was actually flustered.
"I'm sure you just put them somewhere else."
"NO! I looked all over the laundry room. They're not in the washer, and they weren't in the dryer! Where could they go?"
"Um. You're wearing a pair of brown shorts."
"No, not these. I put these on so I could wash the others. They're not plaid like this. They're solid. They had a kind of buckle thing at the waist."
"I hope they didn't get sucked into a pipe and clog the drains."
"There's no way they could do that. I don't know where they went. It's impossible!"
Yeah. My poor little non-believer seems to be a believer now. Although I'm sure there's a perfectly centsible explanation. It's not like Hick found a bunch of pennies on the laundry room floor.
______________________________________________________________________
Good penny-fortune followed me to Norman, OK on WEDNESDAY, June 6th. I was talking to The Pony as I sat down at an 88 Fortunes slot to play a $10 ticket. The Pony was antsy, having cashed out a couple of big tickets to save, and wanting to find a different game with the $20 I'd given him when I hit a $19.46 progressive bonus. He sat down on the stool at the machine next to mine, and
I spied a PENNY on the floor as I pulled out my chair. Well! Of course I had to snap a pic to prove it happened!
This 2017 was obviously meant for me to find. Face down.
________________________________________________________________________
But wait! On the trip home on FRIDAY, June 8th, Hick and I stopped by Downstream Casino. As we approached the exit, MY SONG came on the radio: "How Can I Help You Say Goodbye." (That song by Patty Loveless that makes me think of my mom. I've heard it leaving the cemetery, and when thinking about Mom, and talking to Hick about her.) Cool. As Hick drove past our regular parking lot, due to it being blocked off with metal gate thingies making a fence, I was happy, because that meant I might get to hear the whole song. Hick started to park in the lot closest to the door, but decided that it would probably be full. So he turned left, into the one next to it. He passed up three parking spots to his left, saying, "This one will be good," turning right, parking next to a light pole and a car that was straddling two spots.
I stepped out of A-Cad to see THIS:
Whoop-ti-doo! I couldn't believe it. I was taking the picture when the shuttle bus pulled up, but I told Hick that we'd walk. And snapped my phone photo. Couldn't have been positioned any more perfectly for me to find it! What a coincidence, huh?
Face down again! It was a 2012. Genius's senior year. Poor Genius. We'd been discussing The Pony the whole drive. You can bet I picked this up for my Future Pennyillionaire collection.
_________________________________________________________________________
So there you have it. A spooky penny tale from a convenience store clerk, and my trip to visit The Pony bookended by penny finds on the first day and the last day.
_________________________________________________________________________
For 2018: Pennies # 46, 47, 48.
For 2018: Dimes still at # 8.
For 2018: Nickels still at # 2.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this was Penny # 124, 125, 126.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this was still Dime # 14.
Since 2017 (the beginning), this was still Nickel # 2.
_____________________________________________________________________
Friday, June 8, 2018
Back-of-the-Book-Blurb Friday #103 "I Wish I Was Oskar Meyer's Wiener"
Blog buddy Sioux is hosting Back-of-the-Book-Blurb Friday
again. I have 150 words to convince you to fake-buy my fake book. This week's fake book is close to Val's cold, cold heart. It's about dachshund doggies, like her very own (formerly known as "Puppy") Jack, a dachshund/red heeler combo. Those long little doggies are dynamite. Loyal and loving, but with minds of their own. Go fetch your fake money, and fake-order this fake book before you're in Val's dog house!
Oskar Meyer loved wiener dogs! He had a whole pack. Each dog was a little different, but they all shared a dachshund parent. Oskar took his pack of wiener dogs for walks several times a day. Being independently wealthy, he could use his wieners to leisurely spread love around the city. Oskar gave homeless guys first shot. His dogs loved the companionship. It was almost as if Oskar's wieners were made for bums.
Wieners throughout the city's animal shelters were frank about their desires. It was no secret they would relish becoming Oskar Meyer's wiener, and grow steamed if denied the opportunity. Will Oskar Meyer be able to fit each wiener with a bum? Or will he be unable to cut the mustard? (125 words)
__________________________________________________________________
Lake Pontchartrain Causeway..."Fewer people have driven across me than have been driven mad by this fake author's fake books! Thevictorian is all wet, and should fling herself off me at every mile marker until she has dampened her spirit and is willing to accept the fact that she's all washed up!"
Stretch limo..."I have a feeling that more vomit has landed on Thevictorian's fake pages than on my upholstery during a typical prom season! This gal needs to put the brakes on the fake-writing. She veers off course more often than Hick sweaving down the interstate."
Nathan's..."This fake author is such a hot dog that there should be a contest every summer to see who can stomach the most fake books fake-written by Thevictorian."
June 21st..."Oh, my days! This book seemed to go on forever! I felt like it would never end! Thevictorian has made this the summer of my discontent with her fake writing. I felt like overdosing on Country Time Lemonade, just to escape the bad taste this fake book left in my mouth."
Atlas, speaking for his buddies War and Peace, The Stand, and Gone With the Wind..."I must say, we all agree that June 21st called that one! This has to be one of the longest fake books ever fake-written. Before I was even halfway through it, I just shrugged. This fake author's fake work shows no rhyme or reason. It's as if Thevictorian fake-writes and fake-writes, trying to fill her life with purpose...yet she achieves nothing."
Rapunzel's hair..."Thevictorian, Thevictorian...let down your ego! Cease the fake-writing of the fake books! As my friend the miller's daughter says, 'You cannot fake-spin a fake story to save your first-born child!'"
A First-Time Mother's Labor..."Whew! Push, push, push! This excruciating pain has gone on for sooo long...and I'm not talking about childbirth! I'm talking about my feeling after trying to fake-read Thevictorian's fake book that I brought along to pass the time. If I could, I'd PUSH Thevictorian right out of the literary world. And I wouldn't be saying 'hee, hee, hee' as I did it!"
A Long Day's Journey into Night..."This fake book is so terrible that to avoid fake-reading the rest of it, I can't decide whether to drown my sorrows in whiskey, morphine, or just waste away from tuberculosis. I'm sorry I fake-spent my fake money on this fake book! I hope I'll not see Thevictorian in the poorhouse. Even though that's where SHE should end up!"
The Long Way to Tipperary..."It's a long way to Tipperary. It's a long way to go. But if you all get moving now, you might be able to give this fake author the slip, and avoid ever having to fake-read another of her fake books again!"
The Ride From Backroads, Missouri to Norman, Oklahoma..."I, myself, am a long way to go. Good thing these fake reviews came out while Thevictorian was on the road! Her fake-writing falls as flat as the landscape on the last 1/3 of my trip. I'd sooner read Baker Mayfield's old playbook than one of this fake author's fake tomes."
I Wish I Was Oskar Meyer's Wiener
Oskar Meyer loved wiener dogs! He had a whole pack. Each dog was a little different, but they all shared a dachshund parent. Oskar took his pack of wiener dogs for walks several times a day. Being independently wealthy, he could use his wieners to leisurely spread love around the city. Oskar gave homeless guys first shot. His dogs loved the companionship. It was almost as if Oskar's wieners were made for bums.
Wieners throughout the city's animal shelters were frank about their desires. It was no secret they would relish becoming Oskar Meyer's wiener, and grow steamed if denied the opportunity. Will Oskar Meyer be able to fit each wiener with a bum? Or will he be unable to cut the mustard? (125 words)
__________________________________________________________________
Fake Reviews
for Val’s Fake Book
Lake Pontchartrain Causeway..."Fewer people have driven across me than have been driven mad by this fake author's fake books! Thevictorian is all wet, and should fling herself off me at every mile marker until she has dampened her spirit and is willing to accept the fact that she's all washed up!"
Stretch limo..."I have a feeling that more vomit has landed on Thevictorian's fake pages than on my upholstery during a typical prom season! This gal needs to put the brakes on the fake-writing. She veers off course more often than Hick sweaving down the interstate."
Nathan's..."This fake author is such a hot dog that there should be a contest every summer to see who can stomach the most fake books fake-written by Thevictorian."
June 21st..."Oh, my days! This book seemed to go on forever! I felt like it would never end! Thevictorian has made this the summer of my discontent with her fake writing. I felt like overdosing on Country Time Lemonade, just to escape the bad taste this fake book left in my mouth."
Atlas, speaking for his buddies War and Peace, The Stand, and Gone With the Wind..."I must say, we all agree that June 21st called that one! This has to be one of the longest fake books ever fake-written. Before I was even halfway through it, I just shrugged. This fake author's fake work shows no rhyme or reason. It's as if Thevictorian fake-writes and fake-writes, trying to fill her life with purpose...yet she achieves nothing."
Rapunzel's hair..."Thevictorian, Thevictorian...let down your ego! Cease the fake-writing of the fake books! As my friend the miller's daughter says, 'You cannot fake-spin a fake story to save your first-born child!'"
A First-Time Mother's Labor..."Whew! Push, push, push! This excruciating pain has gone on for sooo long...and I'm not talking about childbirth! I'm talking about my feeling after trying to fake-read Thevictorian's fake book that I brought along to pass the time. If I could, I'd PUSH Thevictorian right out of the literary world. And I wouldn't be saying 'hee, hee, hee' as I did it!"
A Long Day's Journey into Night..."This fake book is so terrible that to avoid fake-reading the rest of it, I can't decide whether to drown my sorrows in whiskey, morphine, or just waste away from tuberculosis. I'm sorry I fake-spent my fake money on this fake book! I hope I'll not see Thevictorian in the poorhouse. Even though that's where SHE should end up!"
The Long Way to Tipperary..."It's a long way to Tipperary. It's a long way to go. But if you all get moving now, you might be able to give this fake author the slip, and avoid ever having to fake-read another of her fake books again!"
The Ride From Backroads, Missouri to Norman, Oklahoma..."I, myself, am a long way to go. Good thing these fake reviews came out while Thevictorian was on the road! Her fake-writing falls as flat as the landscape on the last 1/3 of my trip. I'd sooner read Baker Mayfield's old playbook than one of this fake author's fake tomes."
Thursday, June 7, 2018
Hick Has Been Hired!
Hick has a job! He thinks. And you'll never guess who he's working for. Or maybe you will.
Hick has been hired by that unmarked pharmacy at a storefront with no sign in the mostly-abandoned Backroads Plaza. Uh huh. That's right. The one where Hick got an application from a clerk who works at Casey's General Store. Except that gal no longer works at Casey's. But Hick tracked her down, and found out this unmarked pharmacy is hiring.
I KNOW, RIGHT! What could possibly go wrong with such connections?
Hick picked up an application at the storefront. He filled it out, and dropped it off on a SUNDAY. He had an interview last Thursday. Problem was, Hick can't find his social security card. He knows it's here somewhere. He just can't find the where. The first guy, who gave him the application, said that a passport would do instead. Hick has that. Then he went for the interview, and THAT guy said that no, Hick needs a social security card. But that he can bring a letter from the social security office.
Anyhoo...while Hick was waiting for the weekend to pass so he could go to the local social security office...HOS (Hick's Oldest Son), who has also applied there, called. This was on Sunday, while Hick was selling at his Storage Unit Store. HOS said that the guy at the storefront wanted to know if Hick could come for his drug test at 11:00. No. He was selling. But he said he'd be there at 2:00.
That's right. Hick went to an unmarked storefront to do a drug test on a Sunday at 2:00. But there's more!
"I went in and two ladies were there, and they give me a cup to pee in. They waved me towards the bathroom. Anybody could have cheated on that drug test! They could take in a sample of somebody else's pee! Like, HOS could have had his wife pee in a cup--"
"WAIT a minute! I don't think that would work. HOS's wife is pregnant. I'm pretty sure they would notice that it wasn't HOS's pee. Just like when Elaine had Jerry's mom pee for her, because of the poppy seed muffins, and J. Peterman said she couldn't go to Kenya because her urine analysis showed she was menopausal."
"Well, yeah. But you know what I mean. And when I came out, they were testing it, and one said, 'It's only 93 degrees!' I told them, 'I don't know about that, but I just now peed in the cup.' And the other one said, 'Remember, we've been having trouble with the thermometer being off several degrees.'"
"Heh, heh! Did you have somebody pee for YOU?"
"No! I would have peed right there in front of them if they wanted me to. I don't care! I'm just saying, at work when somebody had to take a drug test, the tester went in with them so they couldn't cheat."
Anyhoo...Hick pretty much has the job, since he got his social security letter on Monday. He told the guy that we'll be gone this week to Oklahoma, but that he's ready to work. The guy was real disappointed, according to Hick, because he was ready to put him to work right away. The advantage being that Hick lives 10 minutes from that place, and can be there when they call, whereas the other workers right now live 25 miles away and have to get to the storefront first.
Oh, yeah. The job is delivering drugs. According to Hick, there are regular routes, and emergency routes. The deliveries are to nursing homes or hospitals. He will get 20-30 hours a week, driving the company car, with a gas credit card. Hick has told them he prefers evenings. He says he can earn up to $17,000 a year without it interfering with his social security benefits.
"Great. What if this is a front for illegal drug couriers? You get stopped, you'll take the rap, and go to the big house!"
"No. If the package is sealed, I'll have no way of knowing what's in it! I won't be in trouble. The company will. The ones who gave it to me to deliver."
"Tell that to those people I saw on LIVE PD. The ones in Arizona, who were hauling people or pot. They said they didn't know what was in there. That they were only told to drive the truck to a certain place. If you're in control of the package and the vehicle, you're responsible!"
"Val. There's a big difference in what I'm doing, and what they did. I'm delivering to established businesses."
Sorry. I'm still suspicious.
Hick has been hired by that unmarked pharmacy at a storefront with no sign in the mostly-abandoned Backroads Plaza. Uh huh. That's right. The one where Hick got an application from a clerk who works at Casey's General Store. Except that gal no longer works at Casey's. But Hick tracked her down, and found out this unmarked pharmacy is hiring.
I KNOW, RIGHT! What could possibly go wrong with such connections?
Hick picked up an application at the storefront. He filled it out, and dropped it off on a SUNDAY. He had an interview last Thursday. Problem was, Hick can't find his social security card. He knows it's here somewhere. He just can't find the where. The first guy, who gave him the application, said that a passport would do instead. Hick has that. Then he went for the interview, and THAT guy said that no, Hick needs a social security card. But that he can bring a letter from the social security office.
Anyhoo...while Hick was waiting for the weekend to pass so he could go to the local social security office...HOS (Hick's Oldest Son), who has also applied there, called. This was on Sunday, while Hick was selling at his Storage Unit Store. HOS said that the guy at the storefront wanted to know if Hick could come for his drug test at 11:00. No. He was selling. But he said he'd be there at 2:00.
That's right. Hick went to an unmarked storefront to do a drug test on a Sunday at 2:00. But there's more!
"I went in and two ladies were there, and they give me a cup to pee in. They waved me towards the bathroom. Anybody could have cheated on that drug test! They could take in a sample of somebody else's pee! Like, HOS could have had his wife pee in a cup--"
"WAIT a minute! I don't think that would work. HOS's wife is pregnant. I'm pretty sure they would notice that it wasn't HOS's pee. Just like when Elaine had Jerry's mom pee for her, because of the poppy seed muffins, and J. Peterman said she couldn't go to Kenya because her urine analysis showed she was menopausal."
"Well, yeah. But you know what I mean. And when I came out, they were testing it, and one said, 'It's only 93 degrees!' I told them, 'I don't know about that, but I just now peed in the cup.' And the other one said, 'Remember, we've been having trouble with the thermometer being off several degrees.'"
"Heh, heh! Did you have somebody pee for YOU?"
"No! I would have peed right there in front of them if they wanted me to. I don't care! I'm just saying, at work when somebody had to take a drug test, the tester went in with them so they couldn't cheat."
Anyhoo...Hick pretty much has the job, since he got his social security letter on Monday. He told the guy that we'll be gone this week to Oklahoma, but that he's ready to work. The guy was real disappointed, according to Hick, because he was ready to put him to work right away. The advantage being that Hick lives 10 minutes from that place, and can be there when they call, whereas the other workers right now live 25 miles away and have to get to the storefront first.
Oh, yeah. The job is delivering drugs. According to Hick, there are regular routes, and emergency routes. The deliveries are to nursing homes or hospitals. He will get 20-30 hours a week, driving the company car, with a gas credit card. Hick has told them he prefers evenings. He says he can earn up to $17,000 a year without it interfering with his social security benefits.
"Great. What if this is a front for illegal drug couriers? You get stopped, you'll take the rap, and go to the big house!"
"No. If the package is sealed, I'll have no way of knowing what's in it! I won't be in trouble. The company will. The ones who gave it to me to deliver."
"Tell that to those people I saw on LIVE PD. The ones in Arizona, who were hauling people or pot. They said they didn't know what was in there. That they were only told to drive the truck to a certain place. If you're in control of the package and the vehicle, you're responsible!"
"Val. There's a big difference in what I'm doing, and what they did. I'm delivering to established businesses."
Sorry. I'm still suspicious.
Wednesday, June 6, 2018
Croc Attack
Val is under attack!
Saturday, I noticed a pain in my foot when I put on my broken-in old red Crocs. It was on that fleshy area where your foot turns into toes. Not a bad pain. More like uncomfortableness. Well, crap! I thought. Are my Crocs worn out? Did the sole crack? Is it pinching my foot when I walk? I didn't take time to look, because I was headed outside to carry in the rest of the groceries, after slipping into something more comfortable after putting away the cold foods.
I took off the Crocs to lounge around in the La-Z-Boy while recovering from my shopping. Then I slid my feet back into those Crocs to head down to my dark basement lair.
Huh. That still hurts. I don't guess there's something IN my shoe...feels like it. Or maybe a crack. Once downstairs, I kicked off that Croc to look inside.
Nope. Here's a treat for you, the actual view into the chasm. Nothing in there but little dirty spots, from wear. C'mon, people! Don't think you're going to lecture me on foot hygiene. FEET go in there, you know! At least mine are most often sheathed in black Doc Ortho socks. Ten years of wear is going to leave its mark on the inside of a shoe. And believe me, you don't want to wish for smell-a-blog. Trust me. No evidence of a crack, either.
Huh. What's the deal? I turned my Croc over. What in the not-heaven?
A SPOT! On the sole of my Croc. Did I step on something foody? Maybe a drop of ice cream on the kitchen floor. You know (thanks to my excellenttattletale reporting skills) that Hick can be quite a slob in the kitchen. But this looked hard. Like a piece of Sugar Daddy stuck to my sole.
Wait a minute! It won't peel off!
BECAUSE IT'S A FRIGGIN' TACK, people! A TACK!
I blame Hick. I know you didn't see that coming! It's not like I would ever wear Crocs to school. WHO DOES THAT? Besides, I've been retired for two years. It's not like I'm volunteering, or breaking in at night to relive my glory days (heh, heh, I first typed that as gory days!). I traverse the same real estate day in and day out. Tackless. I can only surmise that Hick was up to something, and dropped a tack. Seriously. You don't think I could have brought this calamity upon myself, do you?
It looks like I was not so much under attack as I was on a tack!
Saturday, I noticed a pain in my foot when I put on my broken-in old red Crocs. It was on that fleshy area where your foot turns into toes. Not a bad pain. More like uncomfortableness. Well, crap! I thought. Are my Crocs worn out? Did the sole crack? Is it pinching my foot when I walk? I didn't take time to look, because I was headed outside to carry in the rest of the groceries, after slipping into something more comfortable after putting away the cold foods.
I took off the Crocs to lounge around in the La-Z-Boy while recovering from my shopping. Then I slid my feet back into those Crocs to head down to my dark basement lair.
Huh. That still hurts. I don't guess there's something IN my shoe...feels like it. Or maybe a crack. Once downstairs, I kicked off that Croc to look inside.
Nope. Here's a treat for you, the actual view into the chasm. Nothing in there but little dirty spots, from wear. C'mon, people! Don't think you're going to lecture me on foot hygiene. FEET go in there, you know! At least mine are most often sheathed in black Doc Ortho socks. Ten years of wear is going to leave its mark on the inside of a shoe. And believe me, you don't want to wish for smell-a-blog. Trust me. No evidence of a crack, either.
Huh. What's the deal? I turned my Croc over. What in the not-heaven?
A SPOT! On the sole of my Croc. Did I step on something foody? Maybe a drop of ice cream on the kitchen floor. You know (thanks to my excellent
Wait a minute! It won't peel off!
BECAUSE IT'S A FRIGGIN' TACK, people! A TACK!
I blame Hick. I know you didn't see that coming! It's not like I would ever wear Crocs to school. WHO DOES THAT? Besides, I've been retired for two years. It's not like I'm volunteering, or breaking in at night to relive my glory days (heh, heh, I first typed that as gory days!). I traverse the same real estate day in and day out. Tackless. I can only surmise that Hick was up to something, and dropped a tack. Seriously. You don't think I could have brought this calamity upon myself, do you?
It looks like I was not so much under attack as I was on a tack!
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