Before we get started today… remember that November 1 deadline I set for myself, to have my “book” finished? Well, today is October 13, and the clock is ticking. So, I’m returning to the yurt colony on Wednesday, where I will attempt to write myself into a state of full dementia.
(All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.)
And that means this will most likely be the final update of the week. I apologize, but we’re nearing the end of all this. Unless I’m sucked into a street sweeper during the next few weeks, or fall victim to spontaneous combustion, or some other unlikely tragedy, I will have written a book soon. A friggin’ book.
Notice how I didn’t even put it in quotes that time? Man, I’m starting to get downright cocky…
I’m excited, in all seriousness. I’ve been carrying around the premise for years, and still believe in it. The writing has been hard, but I think it’s turning out OK. I doubt Ernest Hemingway is feeling threatened on the other side, but I’m confident it’ll be a fun read. …Reasonably confident.
I appreciate you guys sticking with me through this. If all goes well, I can move on to some other crackpot obsession soon. Maybe I’ll get into those tiny Japanese trees you have to prune with tweezers for, like 60 years? Or possibly extreme clogging? Who knows? My options are unlimited.
Please stay tuned.
Our dog Andy (Mr. McDingles) was acting weird on Sunday. He was lurking around, staying close to the ground, and yelping whenever someone would make a sudden move. Nobody was near him, mind you, he’d be all the way across the room, and cower and yelp if someone scratched their arm or reached for the remote.
He did this once before, and we rushed him to the vet. His temperature was slightly elevated that day, but it was the only thing they could find wrong with him. And he was fine the next morning, completely normal. So we’d paid two hundred bucks for a man in a lab coat to twist a lubricated thermometer into our dog’s ass… Simply fantastic.
And, just like last time, everything was back to normal on Monday. What the hell, man?
Our instincts told us to save our money, and just let it go. But I can’t do it. This is Andy we’re talking about! One of the best people I’ve ever met. So, we (Toney) will be taking him to the vet again on Thursday. It’s been almost a year since he’s been there, so it’s time, anyway.
And – get this – they want us to bring along a stool sample, AND a urine sample. How do you get a urine sample from a dog?! I’ve never even heard of such a thing.
Toney asked this very question to the woman on the phone, and she suggested we sneak up behind the hound with a soup ladle. I busted out laughing when I heard this. I can just see me chasing him around the front yard with a big spoon: “Piss on this, goddammit! Piss on this ladle!! …Hey, where are you going??”
It would probably end up on YouTube, at the HalfShirt channel.
Have you ever had to provide a veterinarian a urine sample from a dog? How did you collect it? I’d like to know, I really would. The whole thing seems… unlikely to me.
Over the weekend I added three new Smoking Fish photos to the big swollen gallery. And you can see them here, at the top of the page. Very cool! Thanks, folks. Keep ’em coming… Our logo, man, he gets around.
Here’s a “joke” I wrote while driving to work yesterday: I’m thinking about opening a store that caters to flamboyant gay men who love sports. Our first product will be a replica jersey from the New York Jetth.
What do you think? Too 1970s Shecky Greene Catskills supper club? Yeah, I sorta agree.
And a couple of quick things before we get to the Question…
I guess there’s something wrong with the RSS feed, on the email side. The folks who signed up to receive the updates via email are no longer receiving them. I haven’t had a chance to dig into it too deeply, but something is certainly askew. The feed will not validate properly, which makes me unhappy and mildly anxious. I’ll get to the bottom of it, ASAP. Sorry for the hassle.
And the t-shirts… I get sick to my stomach whenever I think about them. Not the shirts, exactly, but my half-assery as it pertains to them. They’re still boxed-up in the family room, and haven’t been mailed. I apologize, sincerely. I’ve let it go too long, and promise to pull an all-nighter after the yurt, to get everything caught-up.
I suck, God knows it’s true, but I think everyone will be happy with the finished product (eventually). They look great, both the retro and miscommunication models. I’m on it, I promise. Sweet sainted mother of Mister Creosote…
And speaking of upset stomachs, I’ll leave you with a Question we ponder once a year or so. It usually leads to some great, disgusting stories, and I’m confident this time will be no different.
In the comments section please tell us about the last time you, you know, vomited. What were the circumstances? How long ago did it happen? I think it was late 2000 for me (I’m an infrequent vomiter), a horrible night when it came exploding out of every hole — give or take a few.
Also, we’d like to read your all-time favorite upchuck story. So, that’s yer question. Pretty classy, huh? I’ll probably jump in and ask a new one on Thursday, so that it’s not just wall-to-wall puke around here until Monday. Heh.
Have a great week, my friends.
I’ll see you soon.