Breaking News Alert: Photobucket Shamed Into Submission

Well, my little tirade last night must have worked because, today, Photobucket has retreated from my blog. They did, however, leave behind a little GO button near the top that I've yet to figure out. So feel free to treat it like your own little genie with commands such as:

Fit back in to my prom dress GO

Erradicate the mice that chewed a hole in my patio furniture GO

Turn the clock back to August 2001 and cash out all my investments GO

Or better yet, turn back the clock to 1941 and invent velcro GO

You get the picture. But if you wind up in some parallel universe don't come crying to me.

Honoring The Fallen

Today I’m thinking about dead deer. Mostly because some deer hunter keeps flinging them out of his pickup truck on to the road leading to my house.

I hate it when deer hunters fling dead deer out of the bed of their pickup trucks on to my road. Seriously, I usually have kids in the car and they’re all SLOW DOWN or RUN IT OVER or CAN WE TAKE IT HOME?

So, in honor of the three dead deer I’m currently enjoying on my road home, I’ve named them. I got this fabulous idea my freshman year in college when Lisa and I enjoyed the rotting corpse of a giant pigeon named Spunky who met his untimely demise on the ledge right outside our unopenable dorm room window.

It’s now a little hobby of mine. Naming dead stuff.

First, we’ve got “The Godfather”.

“The Godfather” is missing his head. Only his head. The rest of his body is sitting on my road while somebody else is enjoying his head. I’m not enjoying his body. If I ever find out who left “The Godfather” to me and my road I will most certainly go all BRANDO on him and sneak what’s left of his body into a certain deer hunters bed.

Next we’ve got “Haggis”.

Hmmmmm. How to describe this fella. Well, let’s start with Scotland.

Haggis is probably the only reason I’ve never visited Scotland. Haggis is like the pizza of Scotland, except it’s made of organ meat and all other kinds of nastiness. And I, personally, find it necessary to say NO NO NO to Haggis. While, at the same time, saying YES YES YES to pizza.

I’m pretty sure the deer hunter who left dead deer on my road isn’t Scottish, OR ELSE HE WOULDN’T BE LEAVING ALL THAT YUMMY ORGAN MEAT TO BLOAT AND DECOMPOSE IN THE SUN ON MY ROAD.

You see what I’m sayin’ here.

BUT WAIT, you ask. WHAT ABOUT THE BUZZARDS? DON’T THEY EAT HAGGIS?

Well, NO. They’re over in front of Elmer’s Place at “#1 Chinese Buffet” completely ignoring THAT.

“#1 Chinese Buffet” or, as we affectionately call him: “Nummawonchineebuffay”.

Mercifully, this guy is covered in buzzards. Big buzzards. I love buzzards. They’re like the little Waste Management crew of the country. And I really love the way they actually stand on top of “Nummawonchineebuffay” while they’re pecking away at him. They’re all jostling elbows and giant beaks. Fighting over the good stuff. Except for Haggis. They don’t like Haggis.

But, big wings and big bodies mean I can let my imagination soar without seeing much more than a hoof and a tuft of fur being tossed in to the air.

In all fairness, “#1 Chinese Buffett” may not have been the victim of my nemesis, the dead deer dumping deer hunter. But given his proximity to “The Godfather” and “Haggis” I’m pretty certain I’m right.

Surprise surprise.

So, here's an open letter to the dead deer dumping deer hunter of Old Fred Road.

STOP IT. There's a good chance I'm driving with my left knee with a serious case of hyper sensitive gag reflex and the last thing I need is to throw up a Filet O' Fish sandwich in my car.

photobucket

please, someone clear this up for me:

who is PHOTOBUCKET and why have they taken over my blog?

i've changed the template.

i've checked all the layout settings.

i've unloaded and reloaded my lovely pictures.

and yet PHOTOBUCKET remains ... demanding that i "Upgrade To Pro Today".

um, no. not until you remove your stupid, stupid pictures from MY highly sophisticated home on the internet.

i'm obviously not smart enough to have a blog.

"the clarification you require to get through your day"

a thought occurred to me in the car yesterday.

on our little road trip to explore the miles and miles of country roads we've so nicely transplanted ourself in to.

on our way out to visit our friends bill & tammi and their kids mckenna and grace.

on our way out to surely overstay our welcome by not leaving until 8 o'clock last night.

on our way out to sponge pizza and cheesey bread off of them.

on our way out to hug their necks and tell them how much we've missed them.

on our way out to laugh manically at everyone who chooses to remain in frozen colorado while those of us with two brain cells to rub together have moved ourselves to the land of warmth and fire ants.

on our way out to sit on a swing underneath the oak trees, to feed deer, watch our kids play in the sand, and to plan gardens.

this is the very thought that occurred to me and the very one that i must now convey to you.

urgently.

riley is NOT the boss of wyatt's belly button.

how do i know this?

because wyatt informed us of this exactly 3,963 times in the car yesterday on our 160 mile roundtrip roadtrip.

so allow me sum it up for you again - in the event you're still operating with the confused notion that riley is, in fact, the boss of wyatt's belly button.

RILEY IS NOT THE BOSS OF WYATT'S BELLY BUTTON.

now you may get on with your day.

i'll take the chapstick for two thousand pat

this better be dang good chapstick.

you see, we recently purchased a CAR, which is pretty cool given that we'd spent 20 years taking things like snowdrifts taller than our house in to consideration when buying vehicles. this fact pretty much kept us in the SUV/4WD category for a lot of years.

after we bought our new CAR the nice car dealership people sent us packing with the grownup version of a birthday party treat bag ... a bottle of wine ... a couple of nifty coffee cups ... john got a baseball cap and i got a $25 gift card to Saks Fifth Avenue.

cool.

now, as you know, we live pretty close to the Bass Pro Shops but not too close to a Saks.

Bass Pro Shops tossed me out on my hiney when i tried to cash in my $25 Saks gift card on a camouflage teddy. you know, to give john a little valentine's thrill. so, this evening, i resorted to shopping at http://www.saks.com/ with the clearly defined mission of spending no more than the $25 on the gift card. including tax and shipping and the oh so mysterious "handling" charges.

HA

HAHAHHAHAHA

i looked. i mean i really, really looked. then i looked some more.

then it became an obsessive mission ... find the ONE THING on http://www.saks.com/ that costs less than $25.

chapstick.

yep, chapstick.

"sugar" chapstick to be specific.

i was so excited ... evidently sugar chapstick will only run ya $22.50.

tax on sugar chapstick is gonna cost ya $1.41.

shipping and "handling" clocks in at a low low price of $4.00.

"but wait", sayeth you math wizards. "that adds up to $27.91"

well, yes, i did have to put $2.91 on my credit card in order to have my sugar chapstick delivered right to my homebound lips.

i was feeling pretty good, and all, licking my chops in anticipation of my new sugar chapstick jetting its way to my poor chapped lips.

sugar chapstick. i bet brad pitt wears sugar chapstick.

and then i reached for my trusty tin of carmex in order to soothe my newly chapped lips and realized i just spent $27.91 on CHAPSTICK.

$27.91 on CHAPSTICK. oh yeah, i got a smokin' deal.

all i've got to say is it better taste better than the grape Bonnie Bell lipsmackers i used to wear on a cord around my neck in grade school. well, i wore it looped around my neck until the day i left it hanging on my mirror and my little brother dustin broke in to my bedroom and ate the entire tube of grape Bonnie Bell lipsmackers and got sick.

i'll let ya know how my newly sugared $27.91 lips turn out.