Beer Hound doesn't read my blog. I should be offended but I’m not really because it’s times like this that I can tell stories without any fear of on coming heart attacks on his part. I’m not sure why he doesn't read it. He’s incredibly intelligent but I do know that he likes pictures and evidently we don’t post enough of those for him plus he’s more of a science nut and although I teach science I don’t really like writing about it or talking about it or for that matter reading about it, god forbid watching hour after hour of it on the Discovery Channel or listening to Podcasts, one of his favorite things to do.
He can watch a show on the string theory or black holes and then come find me and wax poetic about all the things he has heard or learned. My contribution to that discussion: “Will it do my laundry? Create floors that sweep themselves? Kill off Duncan, the anti-christ of all cats? Force Carol to be nicer to me? Find me a Keith Urban ticket- CAROL?, tell Bonnie to clean her room?, stop Rue from chewing all my furniture?, Make Emma stop eating MY ice cream and then putting the empty carton back in the refrigerator? NO, then why do I care?” Beer hound just gets exasperated, “It’s science, it’s important (I still don’t get that part), it will lead to more significant discoveries, (I just listed some, so far nil, nada, zip is all I can say) and ultimately it could suck our universe into nothingness.” Now that does pique my interest. Being sucked into nothingness, hmmm., no hot flashes, no tongue tingling, no body aches, no fatigue, no overwhelming need to go on a murderous rampage that would lead me to a life of incarceration, no children demanding the car, no daughters crying over the latest boyfriend who won’t commit or the latest boyfriend that wants to commit, no whining students, no adults throwing tantrums. This is beginning to sound really good but…,
This isn’t what this story is about. You should of known that.
This story is about Emma and the purchase of a Fossil wallet, yes, a Fossil wallet, with my money.
But it will have to wait because beer hound just made guacamole, yes, holy, fucking guacamole. We’re California people. We love, adore, crave, avocados and guacamole but here in lil ole Virginny, home of Confederate History month, avocados are $1.00 to $2.00 a piece and when beer hound makes guacamole, it’s every man for himself. So I need to go fight the hordes. I promise I’ll finish the story this coming week. You’ll enjoy it and I don’t get paid for every time you come to my site (like some bloggers I know whose name I will not mention but who trick you into coming to their site so they can make more money – let’s just say they live on a ranch) and now I’m losing out on my guacamole so come back and read Emma’s story, “Why I Can Never Have a Credit Card”. If you don’t gasp, I’ll owe you…., something.