It's a mere twenty degrees outside and the interstate is just about a sheet of ice (as evidenced by cars facing unseemly directions on the shoulder of the road). Everybody is moving at about twenty miles per hour with an occasional run up to twenty-five, and when there aren't emergency vehicles making you merge to the right to let them pass, the tow trucks have their lights flashing to get around and clear non-emergency spin-outs.
So help me understand this, Speed Racer: Why are you messing with the radar detector stuck to your windshield right now? Do you really think the Highway Patrol gives a rat's ass about you and your ... -chuckle- ... Honda Civic? I'm passing you right now fer cryin' out loud.
Get OVER yourself already!
Alice Cooper, Eat Some More
28 February 2007
20 February 2007
Down time
Unwind.
Kick back.
Take a load off.
Relieve yourself of mundane household responsibilities and bask in the glow of Slackerdom.
-or-
Spend a combined 24 hours over a weekend wrestling with new computer hardware before you come to the realization that maybe the marketing glossy wasn't entirely accurate "in your case".
A while back, this infernal machine started acting flakey. I did some scrimping and saving, and picked up some nice but not bleeding edge pieces parts. Replacing the motherboard meant a new CPU and memory. I could have gone with a motherboard with integrated video, but what fun is that? Hence, a new video card. Some people pester me saying I could have gotten a Dell (dude) or something similar for the same money, and have something that's already put together, no muss, no fuss. There are two problems with that for me.
First, I like building it. Pulling out the same Philips screw driver that I've used nigh on two decades for these projects (you may now gag on the nostalgia). Cutting open the static-protection envelope to see if the cat, who walked by ten minutes ago across the wool carpet in another part of the world, generated enough static electricity to zap the thing ANYway. Aligning the motherboard with the mount points. Plugging cables hither and yon, and on, and on... This is (mostly) fun to me. Occasionally, it's even challenging; Such as having a mid-tower case to cram everything into and hope it doesn't overheat.
Second, for the money they would spend on one of those pre-built systems, I can buy better components than Dell, et al., use in their one-size fits, well, somebody over there who only types in a text editor now and then. If they type slowly. I'm no hard-core FPS gamer, but I loath to have any game I load start to skip more than my Beatles album that my parents gave to me when I was five years old (and if you think about how your average five-year-old treats the black circle, you'll know what I mean). [Tangent: I wonder why my parents didn't like The Beatles?]
So about the assembly. Yes, your mileage may vary, but do yourself a favor and don't attempt to mess with Mother Nature. For if the optical drive were meant to be connected to the SATA port, it would have damn well been made with a SATA connector. Tread not into the blasphemy of "converting" the IDE port to mate in unholy union with the SATA!
Ahem... sorry about that. I'm not the boss of you, do whatever the hell you want. It can work with your IDE hard drive (that is, it's working with one of mine at the moment), but there's just something apparently not right when trying to do the same with the optical variety drives. Or, at least, with my optical drives.
And for the love of Mom's Apple Pie, ALWAYS...
No, wait.
NEVER try to update ANY software when you're only connection is of the dial-up variety. It hurts.
Megadeth, Disconnect
Kick back.
Take a load off.
Relieve yourself of mundane household responsibilities and bask in the glow of Slackerdom.
-or-
Spend a combined 24 hours over a weekend wrestling with new computer hardware before you come to the realization that maybe the marketing glossy wasn't entirely accurate "in your case".
A while back, this infernal machine started acting flakey. I did some scrimping and saving, and picked up some nice but not bleeding edge pieces parts. Replacing the motherboard meant a new CPU and memory. I could have gone with a motherboard with integrated video, but what fun is that? Hence, a new video card. Some people pester me saying I could have gotten a Dell (dude) or something similar for the same money, and have something that's already put together, no muss, no fuss. There are two problems with that for me.
First, I like building it. Pulling out the same Philips screw driver that I've used nigh on two decades for these projects (you may now gag on the nostalgia). Cutting open the static-protection envelope to see if the cat, who walked by ten minutes ago across the wool carpet in another part of the world, generated enough static electricity to zap the thing ANYway. Aligning the motherboard with the mount points. Plugging cables hither and yon, and on, and on... This is (mostly) fun to me. Occasionally, it's even challenging; Such as having a mid-tower case to cram everything into and hope it doesn't overheat.
Second, for the money they would spend on one of those pre-built systems, I can buy better components than Dell, et al., use in their one-size fits, well, somebody over there who only types in a text editor now and then. If they type slowly. I'm no hard-core FPS gamer, but I loath to have any game I load start to skip more than my Beatles album that my parents gave to me when I was five years old (and if you think about how your average five-year-old treats the black circle, you'll know what I mean). [Tangent: I wonder why my parents didn't like The Beatles?]
So about the assembly. Yes, your mileage may vary, but do yourself a favor and don't attempt to mess with Mother Nature. For if the optical drive were meant to be connected to the SATA port, it would have damn well been made with a SATA connector. Tread not into the blasphemy of "converting" the IDE port to mate in unholy union with the SATA!
Ahem... sorry about that. I'm not the boss of you, do whatever the hell you want. It can work with your IDE hard drive (that is, it's working with one of mine at the moment), but there's just something apparently not right when trying to do the same with the optical variety drives. Or, at least, with my optical drives.
And for the love of Mom's Apple Pie, ALWAYS...
No, wait.
NEVER try to update ANY software when you're only connection is of the dial-up variety. It hurts.
Megadeth, Disconnect
13 February 2007
:grunt:
I could feel it within. It was trying to emerge, but just could not make the transition. I tried to help it along, but my efforts only seemed to suppress its escape. Frustration began to build. So damned close, yet no relief. I stretched. I twisted. I tried all I could to secure its wonderful release.
Nothing.
I began to think I would just be tortured the entire day with it, just creeping into my train of thoughts through work. Distracting me on my drive home. God, will I know no peace?!?
And then I read this. Thank you Scott. That felt wonderful.
Megadeth, The World Needs A Hero
Nothing.
I began to think I would just be tortured the entire day with it, just creeping into my train of thoughts through work. Distracting me on my drive home. God, will I know no peace?!?
And then I read this. Thank you Scott. That felt wonderful.
Megadeth, The World Needs A Hero
10 February 2007
Oh, look
So there is this street corner I drive by daily, and recently there was a Little Caesers Pizza joint opened up. Initially there was some high-school drop out standing out there daily holding a sign up to get the attention of drivers to let them all know about some deal. I couldn't tell you what it was; Every time I saw it, the sign was being held upside-down... Every. Day. Note to the store owner: You get what you pay for. That's all I'm sayin'.
They apparently got the memo, for what do I see there this week? A Little Caesers characater walking up and down the sidewalk, waving his little stubby arms.
Now, these costumes are made to be a bit larger than life to gain appropriate attention. You've probably seen big ol' subway sandwiches walking around periodically for Subways, or maybe a big sponge with arms (not SpongeBob) walking in front of a car wash... You get the idea. Large. Or at least, Tall. Unfortunately this has the tendancy to distort the character. Even more than usual, I mean.
So here's a Little Caeser character, stretched massively in the vertical:
Is it particularly wrong that this seems to me to be an eight foot tall toga-wearing penis? Standing in front of a big-assed sign saying Hot and Ready for only $5?
I may never eat pizza again...
Pablo Gargano, Trance in Saigon
They apparently got the memo, for what do I see there this week? A Little Caesers characater walking up and down the sidewalk, waving his little stubby arms.
Now, these costumes are made to be a bit larger than life to gain appropriate attention. You've probably seen big ol' subway sandwiches walking around periodically for Subways, or maybe a big sponge with arms (not SpongeBob) walking in front of a car wash... You get the idea. Large. Or at least, Tall. Unfortunately this has the tendancy to distort the character. Even more than usual, I mean.
So here's a Little Caeser character, stretched massively in the vertical:
Is it particularly wrong that this seems to me to be an eight foot tall toga-wearing penis? Standing in front of a big-assed sign saying Hot and Ready for only $5?
I may never eat pizza again...
Pablo Gargano, Trance in Saigon
God made me cool
... and humble. Okay, now that we've all had a good laugh to clear the cobwebs away this fine morning.
This week has been an exercise at work. I was pulled from my daily duties to be a guest auditor. That is, I was asked... nay, I was expected to stab my nose into other peoples' bidness and sniff around to find any hint of impropriety. Invalid discounts on services rendered. Missing PO's or exposed credit card numbers. All that jazz.
I'm not sitting at their desk or calling them, but merely going through calls they've worked on to see if everything is there that is supposed to be. The idea being that I will gain some better understanding of process flow and how some things interact with other things in the company.
How about this: Apply the SOX audits to congressional actions. Yeah, that'd be a hoot.
Paffendorf, Be Cool
This week has been an exercise at work. I was pulled from my daily duties to be a guest auditor. That is, I was asked... nay, I was expected to stab my nose into other peoples' bidness and sniff around to find any hint of impropriety. Invalid discounts on services rendered. Missing PO's or exposed credit card numbers. All that jazz.
I'm not sitting at their desk or calling them, but merely going through calls they've worked on to see if everything is there that is supposed to be. The idea being that I will gain some better understanding of process flow and how some things interact with other things in the company.
How about this: Apply the SOX audits to congressional actions. Yeah, that'd be a hoot.
Paffendorf, Be Cool
04 February 2007
Oh, it's you.
The moon woke me about ten minutes ago. So full (well, just past full) and bright, there was apparently no way some measley window shades were going to keep it from prying my eyelids open.
Before I woke, I was roaming the forest. I don't recall now if I had excess amounts of fur, chasing down some hapless hiker, but it makes me wonder.
Damn though. Six in the morning on a Sunday? For a fence-sitting Agnostic? Just ain't right, I tell ya. I'm going (to try to go) back to bed.
Ludwig Van Beethoven, Symphonie No. 9 D-Minor 'Alla Gioia' - 1st Movement; Allegro Ma Non Troppo Un Poco Maestoso
Before I woke, I was roaming the forest. I don't recall now if I had excess amounts of fur, chasing down some hapless hiker, but it makes me wonder.
Damn though. Six in the morning on a Sunday? For a fence-sitting Agnostic? Just ain't right, I tell ya. I'm going (to try to go) back to bed.
Ludwig Van Beethoven, Symphonie No. 9 D-Minor 'Alla Gioia' - 1st Movement; Allegro Ma Non Troppo Un Poco Maestoso
01 February 2007
Memories of Fantasia
Um... Okay. I'll be looking for that sunrise then (Yeah, I'm wasting time here with a blasted "test").
Tool, Enema
You are Death
Change, Transformation, Alteration.
People fear this card, but if you want to change your life, this is one of the
best indicators for it. Whatever happens, life will be different. Yes, the Death card can signal a death in the right circumstances (a question about a very sick or old relative, for example), but unlike its dramatic presentation in the movies, the Death card is far more likely to signal transformation, passage, change. Scorpio, the sign of this card, has three forms: scorpion, serpent, eagle. The Death card indicates this transition from lower to higher to highest. This is a card of humility, and it may mean you have been brought low, but only so that you can then go higher than ever before. Death "humbles" all, but it also "exults." Always keep in mind that on this card of darkness there is featured a sunrise as well. You could be ready for a change.
What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.
Tool, Enema
31 January 2007
Just stay in bed
I wish I'd have said that to myself this morning. "Larry, just stay in bed, buddy. It's a fucked up world out there, and it's snowing shit. Just stay in bed."
Nothing catastrophic, just a bunch of surplus piss-ant things that chose today to show their greasy, puss-leaking faces. Among them?
The mystery cut at the very tip of my left index finger. Feels like a paper cut, but I usually remember those kinds of things pretty vividly. The point is, THAT'S MY TYPING FINGER DAMMIT, and so is extra annoying baceause the bandage on it is really fucking with my ten-word-a-minute typing velocity.
The new water dispensers at work here. They are built with the devil spawn "automatic sensor" that senses when the glass you want to fill is almost lined up with it's devil spawn spigot, and proceeds to dispense water down the OUTside of the glass. Once the glass is completely in place, the stream shuts off, pissing me off to no end. I'm sure somewhere in the marketing glossy that our management team was sucked in by are the words "efficient", and likely "saves water". I assure you, it does neither. Instead, it increases sales in paper towels from having to clean up the fucking mess... (insert Sam Kinison scream here) If you work in marketing, please take no offense when I say you suck big green donkey dicks, and I hate you.
I'm not even going to tell you about the adventure in parking my car today, save to say that I did fine; It was the idjit trying to reverse into the space next to me. Again, and again... and AGAIN. I couldn't open my door until she was done because I wasn't entirely sure that she wouldn't shear it off. (oops, guess I told you about it anyway).
Oh, and today is a twelve hour work day due to month-end. Hey, does that mean I can blame my demeanor on "That Time Of The Month"? ...nah, didn't think so.
:sigh: Just stay in bed Larry.
Candlebox, Cover Me
Nothing catastrophic, just a bunch of surplus piss-ant things that chose today to show their greasy, puss-leaking faces. Among them?
The mystery cut at the very tip of my left index finger. Feels like a paper cut, but I usually remember those kinds of things pretty vividly. The point is, THAT'S MY TYPING FINGER DAMMIT, and so is extra annoying baceause the bandage on it is really fucking with my ten-word-a-minute typing velocity.
The new water dispensers at work here. They are built with the devil spawn "automatic sensor" that senses when the glass you want to fill is almost lined up with it's devil spawn spigot, and proceeds to dispense water down the OUTside of the glass. Once the glass is completely in place, the stream shuts off, pissing me off to no end. I'm sure somewhere in the marketing glossy that our management team was sucked in by are the words "efficient", and likely "saves water". I assure you, it does neither. Instead, it increases sales in paper towels from having to clean up the fucking mess... (insert Sam Kinison scream here) If you work in marketing, please take no offense when I say you suck big green donkey dicks, and I hate you.
I'm not even going to tell you about the adventure in parking my car today, save to say that I did fine; It was the idjit trying to reverse into the space next to me. Again, and again... and AGAIN. I couldn't open my door until she was done because I wasn't entirely sure that she wouldn't shear it off. (oops, guess I told you about it anyway).
Oh, and today is a twelve hour work day due to month-end. Hey, does that mean I can blame my demeanor on "That Time Of The Month"? ...nah, didn't think so.
:sigh: Just stay in bed Larry.
Candlebox, Cover Me
27 January 2007
I can still count to ten.
How I Met Your Mother had an episode not too long ago that briefly made fun of opening some consumer packaging. Specifically, the plastic shells that surround electronics and other items. The farce was opening one of these shells containing a pocket knife; If only they had something to cut open the plastic ...
Yeah. Funny easily grows from truth. I was trying to open such an item yesterday. Not to get to a pocket knife though, oh no. I had a pocket knife already de-plastic'd to do the cutting into a new toy's shell. The shell appeared to be easier to open, having had the equivalent of tack welding in two spots to seal it up. Two tacks, and I had just the tool to cut through them. I even felt confident that I had the brains to do so, as well. Alas...
The first step, slide the blade between the two layers of the shell, beneath the weld, and pry out & away from me. The first one went well. Easily, even. Half way to my goal, I was looking forward to the bit of fun I'd have setting up the new gadget. That was my mistake. If you become distracted for even a moment, Karma will kick your ass. I was repeating step one: Slide the blade between the two layers and get ready to execute step two of prying out & away. Sadly the second weld was not nearly as strong as the first; I slid the blade right through to my waiting left index finger cum knife-sheath.
I guess I shouldn't have been so diligent in sharpening the knife a few days before, huh?
So the blade goes with no small force into the thumb-side of my index finger at the second knuckle (a little research says that would be the PIP joint, if you're really obsessed with knowing).
Being me, I immediately pull back on the knife and see the quarter-inch wound happily start dripping. Honestly I don't think I stopped the knife going in. No, I think that responsiblity fell to the bone in my finger. It was a very weird feeling (I can still feel a very deep pain in the finger now). So blood is flowing, Mario is smirking at me with that "I saw that one coming" look, and I go to the bathroom to throw my finger under cold water. After a bit of a rinse, I put pressure on it and go get some paper towel to do a better job than just my bare hand.
Have you ever tried getting a single paper towel off the roll while one hand firmly holds the other? Ain't easy, but I used my head. Literally. I held the roll still with my forehead while I clumsily removed a towel with my pinky & ring fingers. I'm sure it was quite a graceful maneuver. Really. So after the third or fourth try, the industrial-strength, tight-weave sheet of paper towel comes loose. I'm certain that my verbal encouragement helped, too. Lots of "*"s and "@"s and "%$^!!*#$"s.
I let go the finger to grab the paper towel, and by the time I look back to place the towel on my finger... things are messy. I think to myself that maybe I should go see what hospital is in-network for the stitches I'm gonna need, but the thought of trying to type in that search with my forehead nixes the idea. Eh, I just need to add more pressure. Yeah, that's it. So I wipe some blood away to see where the cut is so I'm pressing on the right spot, and hold it straight up for a while, as I peek under it every 10 seconds to see if it's stopped yet (hey, I'm a guy). Ten minutes later I cinched a band-aid on to sorta emulate a butterfly.
It's been under a bandage since then (no, not the same one). I can still flex it and have feeling, so no permanent damage. Yay for the home team.
Out of the Bleu, Tool Shed
Yeah. Funny easily grows from truth. I was trying to open such an item yesterday. Not to get to a pocket knife though, oh no. I had a pocket knife already de-plastic'd to do the cutting into a new toy's shell. The shell appeared to be easier to open, having had the equivalent of tack welding in two spots to seal it up. Two tacks, and I had just the tool to cut through them. I even felt confident that I had the brains to do so, as well. Alas...
The first step, slide the blade between the two layers of the shell, beneath the weld, and pry out & away from me. The first one went well. Easily, even. Half way to my goal, I was looking forward to the bit of fun I'd have setting up the new gadget. That was my mistake. If you become distracted for even a moment, Karma will kick your ass. I was repeating step one: Slide the blade between the two layers and get ready to execute step two of prying out & away. Sadly the second weld was not nearly as strong as the first; I slid the blade right through to my waiting left index finger cum knife-sheath.
I guess I shouldn't have been so diligent in sharpening the knife a few days before, huh?
So the blade goes with no small force into the thumb-side of my index finger at the second knuckle (a little research says that would be the PIP joint, if you're really obsessed with knowing).
Being me, I immediately pull back on the knife and see the quarter-inch wound happily start dripping. Honestly I don't think I stopped the knife going in. No, I think that responsiblity fell to the bone in my finger. It was a very weird feeling (I can still feel a very deep pain in the finger now). So blood is flowing, Mario is smirking at me with that "I saw that one coming" look, and I go to the bathroom to throw my finger under cold water. After a bit of a rinse, I put pressure on it and go get some paper towel to do a better job than just my bare hand.
Have you ever tried getting a single paper towel off the roll while one hand firmly holds the other? Ain't easy, but I used my head. Literally. I held the roll still with my forehead while I clumsily removed a towel with my pinky & ring fingers. I'm sure it was quite a graceful maneuver. Really. So after the third or fourth try, the industrial-strength, tight-weave sheet of paper towel comes loose. I'm certain that my verbal encouragement helped, too. Lots of "*"s and "@"s and "%$^!!*#$"s.
I let go the finger to grab the paper towel, and by the time I look back to place the towel on my finger... things are messy. I think to myself that maybe I should go see what hospital is in-network for the stitches I'm gonna need, but the thought of trying to type in that search with my forehead nixes the idea. Eh, I just need to add more pressure. Yeah, that's it. So I wipe some blood away to see where the cut is so I'm pressing on the right spot, and hold it straight up for a while, as I peek under it every 10 seconds to see if it's stopped yet (hey, I'm a guy). Ten minutes later I cinched a band-aid on to sorta emulate a butterfly.
It's been under a bandage since then (no, not the same one). I can still flex it and have feeling, so no permanent damage. Yay for the home team.
Out of the Bleu, Tool Shed
24 January 2007
Here, kittykittykitty
One thing I never have to do is call Mario the Wonder Kitty when he's getting the occasional serving of wet food. His favorite is Iams' Beef flavor, and they come in foil packets (yeah, it's relevant). Last night I pulled one off of the shelf. The mere sound of it in my hand was enough to bring the cat running to the kitchen, when a moment before he was in deep slumber in the far room.
Aside: He's got great hearing, right up until I'm telling him to get out from under my feet... Truly amazing.
So before I traverse the three feet from shelf to counter, Mario is standing right there with his front paws up against the drawers beneath the counter, eyes wide and meowing to the world that he's not eaten in weeks, pausing for a yawn since he just woke up. Yeah, it's a ritual.
Usually the foil tears away smoothly and easily, very much like those Heintz ketchup packets you get at your favorite fast-food joint. Sometimes it is more difficult, but still opens up with a quick tug. This time, the quick tug didn't do anything.
That's not entirely true. You know how the ketchup packets sometimes blow up if you're not too careful (or being extra mischevious, if you prefer)? Well... While the tug didn't completely open the packet, the extra pressure from that tug squeezed a quantity of the broth out at high velocity. Time slows down to a crawl as the beefy broth droplet soars toward the ceiling. I pull my best Neo-from-The-Matrix impersonation, twisting to move my face from the projectile's path.
SUCCESS!
Then gravity kicked in.
The droplet fell back to earth at an unfortunate time. That moment in time when Mario wasn't looking up at the counter, and so was unaware that The Beef Brothlette Of Death Or At Least Certain Splattering™ was headed right for him.
And splatter it did. Right on the top of his head, between the ears. You know how cats generally abhor "wet"? Mario is no exception to this. Were he a possum, he'd have lost a life right then and there.
At this point, Mario knows something tapped him on the head. Milliseconds later he is aware that it is not going away as he ducks and backs away. As feline anxiety builds, it continues to cling to him as he engages Mario Overdrive... on the linoleum floor of the kitchen. He is displeased that even the sudden acceleration upon grabbing carpet still does not relieve him from the grip of this wet thing on his head.
I don't know what happened immediately after this because my eyes were closed as I doubled over in laughter. Schadenfreude? I concede the possibility. ANYway, Mario is soon positioned under the end-table in the living room. He tries to scratch away the irritation with a back paw. One swipe is all he took. I cannot explain the look of disgust and horror on his face when he realized the stuff was now in the tuft of fur between the pads of his foot IN ADDITION to having just been smeared deeper into the fur on the top of his head.
It's not unlike what you'd do if you blindly reached into the breadbox and got a handful of mold. Quick, go look in a mirror right now. THAT'S the facial expression.
So Mario shoots his daggers of displeasure at me, and starts the arduous process of "bath time" licking his soiled paw. The surprised expressions just never end in this comedy, I tell ya. He wasn't used to paw-cleaning being so apparently tasty. Of course, adding insult to "injury", I had to wash the rest off of his head for him with a damp sponge. I wonder what's going to happen on the next wet food night? I'll keep ya posted.
Rush, The Big Money
Aside: He's got great hearing, right up until I'm telling him to get out from under my feet... Truly amazing.
So before I traverse the three feet from shelf to counter, Mario is standing right there with his front paws up against the drawers beneath the counter, eyes wide and meowing to the world that he's not eaten in weeks, pausing for a yawn since he just woke up. Yeah, it's a ritual.
Usually the foil tears away smoothly and easily, very much like those Heintz ketchup packets you get at your favorite fast-food joint. Sometimes it is more difficult, but still opens up with a quick tug. This time, the quick tug didn't do anything.
That's not entirely true. You know how the ketchup packets sometimes blow up if you're not too careful (or being extra mischevious, if you prefer)? Well... While the tug didn't completely open the packet, the extra pressure from that tug squeezed a quantity of the broth out at high velocity. Time slows down to a crawl as the beefy broth droplet soars toward the ceiling. I pull my best Neo-from-The-Matrix impersonation, twisting to move my face from the projectile's path.
SUCCESS!
Then gravity kicked in.
The droplet fell back to earth at an unfortunate time. That moment in time when Mario wasn't looking up at the counter, and so was unaware that The Beef Brothlette Of Death Or At Least Certain Splattering™ was headed right for him.
And splatter it did. Right on the top of his head, between the ears. You know how cats generally abhor "wet"? Mario is no exception to this. Were he a possum, he'd have lost a life right then and there.
At this point, Mario knows something tapped him on the head. Milliseconds later he is aware that it is not going away as he ducks and backs away. As feline anxiety builds, it continues to cling to him as he engages Mario Overdrive... on the linoleum floor of the kitchen. He is displeased that even the sudden acceleration upon grabbing carpet still does not relieve him from the grip of this wet thing on his head.
I don't know what happened immediately after this because my eyes were closed as I doubled over in laughter. Schadenfreude? I concede the possibility. ANYway, Mario is soon positioned under the end-table in the living room. He tries to scratch away the irritation with a back paw. One swipe is all he took. I cannot explain the look of disgust and horror on his face when he realized the stuff was now in the tuft of fur between the pads of his foot IN ADDITION to having just been smeared deeper into the fur on the top of his head.
It's not unlike what you'd do if you blindly reached into the breadbox and got a handful of mold. Quick, go look in a mirror right now. THAT'S the facial expression.
So Mario shoots his daggers of displeasure at me, and starts the arduous process of "bath time" licking his soiled paw. The surprised expressions just never end in this comedy, I tell ya. He wasn't used to paw-cleaning being so apparently tasty. Of course, adding insult to "injury", I had to wash the rest off of his head for him with a damp sponge. I wonder what's going to happen on the next wet food night? I'll keep ya posted.
Rush, The Big Money
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