Eight Feet Deep

It finally happened. My head finally exploded.

My afternoon’s labors have been spent on the project from hell, a tech writing job on which I cannot or, at least should not, elaborate. Let me just say it is quite mentally taxing.

I have a little bit more to do today on the project but I thought I would take a break before I go bat s**t crazy. So I walked outside a few minutes ago. They started back renovating a house across the street that they were renovating when I first moved in. I can’t remember if they stopped before Hurricane Rita or after Rita but they just recently started working on the house again. Some kind of machine was going over there, a saw or some other contraption with a high-pitched, irritating sound that almost made me as bat s**t crazy as my work assignment. The worker bees across the street were shouting, I suppose so they could be heard over the noise. I’m not sure what they said since I know very little Espanol. I think they either said: “You go inside and shut off that damn saw or I will hit you with a hammer,” or “The sparkle in your eye only matches the beauty of your smile.” Damned if I know.

Oh well, break time’s over. Everybody back on their heads.

Osama bin Joe Bob returns from the dead.

The news today is that Osama made a video and that the CIA says it is really him speaking. And he supposedly wants a truce. I really see that happening.

I am really surprised that, if he really is alive, the United States military has not yet captured him. Osama is not in the best of health, reportedly, and you got to figure if he’s been hiding out in the rugged Afghan or Pakistani mountains then he probably hasn’t been living large.

I’m sure all sorts of explanations exist why Osama has not yet been caught. But I would think at some point in time his smell would give him away. I just figure the man has got to have some B.O. if he has been living in the mountains all these years. I mean, there probably are places to take a bath but you wouldn’t want to do it outside, even at night lest a drone launch a Hellfire missile up your butt. Odor is a pretty noticeable thing and a big, stinking beanpole should stick out at the very least. Yet he remains elusive. That’s all I’m saying.

In the words of Jim Morrison: “People are strange.”

Face Transplant Patient Smokes Again

I noticed today that this business in a nearby town was looking for a “feedloader.” I racked my brain trying to figure out what that was until I realized the company was a feed store. They wanted someone to load feed. Yes, that would be a great job for me. When pigs fly in a hell that’s frozen over.

Actually, when I first saw the employment notice I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I thought it said “freeloader.” I said now that’s a job I could sink my teeth into — making my living by living off others. As long as you don’t have any pride being a freeloader can be quite the career move.

It’s funny. I don’t hear the term “freeloader” so much these days. I wonder if it has become an archaic term? I wonder if I have become an archaic person? I’m sure there is probably a politically correct term to describe one who lives off the fortune of others. Wait, isn’t it called a politician? Yuk, yuk, yuk.

The cat in the picture. It may or may not be a freeloader. It probably has all sorts of big ambitions, especially chasing those mice in its peaceful slumber. Sweet dreams kitty.

Methinks this pipe looks into a black subterranean hole. But then, is what I think really important?

Today was very windy. It was a lot windier than Christmas day when my friend Sarah and I went to the beach. That was also when I took the above photo. I don’t know what the pipe is about. It’s a rusty pipe but it seems pretty firmly planted in the ground. I still wonder just how far down that pipe goes. I bet if I really wanted to, I could find out when and why that pipe was placed there on McFaddin Beach, Texas. But I have more pressing things to do. Like watching NCIS. I know, I know. That’s pretty pathetic. I only went out once today, by the way, and that was to run down to the corner store. My absence from outside didn’t have anything to do with it being a blustery day. I was tied up on a project that seems harder than I thought it would be after I thought it wouldn’t be hard right after I thought it would be damn near next to impossible. Got that? Good. Later dude and dudettes!