If it was you, you’d want to move your bowels.
March 17th, 2008 by Dusty
Well, what’s been going on? I’ve gotten a bunch of emails from folks axing me when I was going to write something. I’ve been axing myself that question as well, so here goes.
Basically my life is as follows (and after you read this, you’ll understand why the creative well has been a bit dry) – Wake up at 6 or 7 am, make breakfast. Eat breakfast. Work out for an hour or two. Study flying stuff. Take a nap (I’m not lazy, nor do I think I have earned said nap. What I do know is that there is not a human alive who can read anything written by the FAA and stay awake longer than 2 hours). Make lunch. Eat lunch. Study some more or borrow an airplane and practice flying around with one engine. Come home. Make dinner. Eat dinner. Go to sleep.
So if the flying thing doesn’t work out, I think I’d make a decent monk. The flying Monk - what with all of the exercise and studying, but with none of that pesky enlightenment. I’d have the robes with the rope around the waist, but I’d have a silk scarf tucked in and I’d constantly wear a pair of ridiculously large Ray Ban aviators; my eyes hidden behind their mirrored surface, scanning the horizon for signs of poppycock, shenanigans, monkeyshines and/or carrying-on. If trouble was a-brewing I’d hop in my De Havilland Chipmonk (if you’re an airplane freak, that was funny. If not, then maybe you should skip your next communist party meeting and start learning about airplanes) and blast off to save the day.
I’ve lost almost 20 pounds, which I think I have to do if I expect myself to continue making fun of fat people in good conscience, and if you have any questions about single or multi-engine piston aircraft, aviation regulations, or what endorsements you need in your logbook for any stage of flight training, I know a guy who can answer them. His name is me.
I’m also broke again for the first time in six or seven years. I’m adapting to it, but for the record it still sucks. The main difference between me and most broke folks – or maybe I should say the difference between being broke and being poor – is that my reaction to dwindling funds is not to shit in the dark, shower using only cold water and try to make my own toothpaste so I can save $7 a month, but to figure out how to make more money. That’s pretty much the delineating factor when it comes to the difference between losers and winners.
If anyone has any ideas as to how I can pull in an extra grand or so a month without doing any work, I’m all ears.
Although my day-to-day may seem like hell, I still have never once gotten up in the morning and said, “Jeez, I wish I could just go sit in a cube and take orders from a retarded manager to complete a project that should never have made it out of his ass.”
Someone sent me a very nice email last week telling me that they had been reading my site for a while and decided to grab life by the taint and own it for a while. I try almost daily not to sound like a cockgobbling homo, but it really did mean a lot to me to know that I had something to do with someone changing their life for the better. To the guy in Australia who is living his dream (and this time it’s not Judd, by the way), you have my respect and admiration for making shit happen instead of letting shit happen.
I’ve been watching the presidential race, too. I really don’t have much of an opinion on it. Most people become more passionate about this stuff as they get older, but I seem to care less and less. With every president I have seen since I was old enough to notice, I have heard the retarded warnings of imminent doom from the retarded worriers across the entire retarded political spectrum, and not once have I seen any of their retarded prophecies come true. I know that 99% of the people in this country have the brains and ability to do what they need to do to keep themselves and their families fed, medicated, and educated. I also know that about 40% choose not to do so and cost the rest of us money and time.
So until a politician runs on the “birth control for the non-motivated” platform and starts dropping chemical sterilization gas bombs into the homes of people who should not be parents, I don’t see myself getting too involved in the process.
Think really hard. Is there a single problem in this (or any) society that could not be solved if morons were prevented from bringing more morons into the world?
I hear the typical “Obama’s church has Muslim ties” and “McCain ate a live kitten on stage” and “Hillary has a vagina” stuff, and my only response is a feeling of apathy that is ironically intense.
I flew a guy up to Knoxville yesterday for a checkride and I was sitting in the little terminal idly commenting on the news with a couple of crusty old guys. Obama was blowing his “Hope prosperity change revolution freedom” number to a large audience, and one of the guys said “That guy…we elect him, and next thing you know the blacks are going to take over.”
Here’s what you do when stupid people say stupid things – ask them to explain it.
“Really?” I asked. “Blacks are going to take over? What do you think that will lead to?”
“It’s right there. All over the place. You just wait. You’ll see. This place is going to hell in a paper sack.”
So if I’m hearing all of this right, the blackening of America is a foregone conclusion that I’m too stupid to understand and soon we’ll all be getting Government issued rims for our cars and crack will become our currency.
Here’s a tip to use any time you form a hypothesis – ask yourself if it makes sense. The dignity you save may be your own.
I listened for a few more minutes and started to feel like I was going to forget how to read if I sat there much longer, so I went outside and watched airplanes land. I am really sort of glad that this guy’s cholesterol was eclipsed only by his blood pressure and he’d only be part of the voting population for a few more months. Not to say Obama is the best candidate, but if you think he is or isn’t, at least come up with a valid reason.
In feline news, I did not have the heart to have my cat put to sleep as punishment for not using the litter box. The Skirt disagrees with me on that one. At times I question it as well. I took her to the vet last week and they told me she had infections in every orifice and charged me $400. Ever since I bought into that $25 a month pet insurance scam, it seems that furry little whore needs something done every week.
“Yes, Mister Scott, your cat has a urinary tract infection and some kind of mung in her ears, and she’s constipated. We’re giving you some drops and some other drops and some oily stuff that you have to give her thrice daily. That’ll be a bazillion dollars.”
“Sweet. Glad I got insurance.”
“Well, the insurance did cover one of the vaccinations and the Swedish massage, but the rest is on you.”
“hmm. So I paid $25 a month for the past year…better known as $300, and it saved me…um…let’s see…carry the four…multiply by one…fifteen dollars?”
“Yes sir.”
“Awesome. How ‘bout you waive the fee and I give you a free cat for your trouble?”
“Haha. No, it doesn’t work that way.”
“Okay. Well, the way I see it, her being constipated just means fewer little piles of tootsie rolls next to the dryer for me to clean up, so keep the laxative and I’ll just buy the ear stuff.”
“Well, come on. If it was you, you’d want to move your bowels”
“Yes, that is true. In fact, I’d like to move them right here and now to express my displeasure. But the difference between my discomfort and hers is that I am human and I have worth.”
“Haha.” (I love how they think I am not serious)
“Whatever. So do I give her an injection or administer all of this stuff rectally?”
“Oh, no. It is all oral.”
“Do you have the other kind? I mean, I’m getting it in the ass, so it seems like…you know…circle of life and all of that.”
They sent me home with a veterinary pharmacy and later that night I gave her the first dose. She was snoring in the corner, so I loaded all of the droppers, pinned her empty head against the wall and gave her a gut full of antibiotics and whatever it is that makes cats shit. It was surprisingly easy.
What I didn’t count on was the cat’s ability to learn and avoid.
The next time I gave her the meds, she was much less cooperative. She gagged and spit and foamed and left 3 cc’s (or $40 worth) of medicine sprayed on the walls and ceiling of my closet. I need to decide if I really hate this cat more than I enjoy the challenge of overpowering her 7 pound frame.
Every time I do it I have to use a new plan, but it always turns out the same. I wrapped her in a towel and held her stupid nose, but she learned to push it out with her tongue. Now she has a yellow oily goatee. It has come to the point where The Skirt has to immobilize her while I shoot it down her esophagus with a super soaker and then hold her under water until she swallows. The only logical next step is to put her in the freezer for a few hours beforehand so she can’t move as fast.
We had a tornado come through town the other night. I know you were collectively fearing for my safety as evidenced by the single email I received from a guy I assume is your spokesperson after what I assume was a 36 hour candlelight vigil and prayer circle.
The Skirt and I were watching a movie and it suddenly went crazy. There were trees and pieces of metal and stuff flying all over the place, everyone was scared, and it was deafening. Then her phone rang and we put Twister on pause and someone told us that a tornado had broken a bunch of stuff about three blocks from our house. We had no idea anything was even going on. It was raining and there was a little hail, but it was far from the worst weather we had seen here. My dad called and I asked him if he knew how to get a stop sign out of my skull. He then told me to call my brother and tell him that I was okay, which I did not do because it was midnight and my brother was asleep. Further, I guessed if he saw the news the next morning he’d assume he would have heard something if I had been killed.
But I also thought it would be kind of funny if I had been killed and my brother didn’t find out for a couple of weeks.
“Sorry we missed you at the funeral.”
“Whazza? Funeral?”
“Yeah. Your brother’s funeral last week. Did you have to work or something?”
As official spokesperson for, well…everyone…Welcome back!
Circle of life… Hilarious.
We seem to share the same view of these fuzzy little puke machines. They should be treated like tissue… Soft, a place to wipe things, and disposable. I can’t figure out why my wife doesn’t feel that way.
Awesome… you’ve managed to trigger adds for baby stool softener, irregular bowel movement treatments, and a quiz to find out if you are stupid. Talk about all-inclusive. Welcome back.
Good to hear from you and glad you made it through the recent storm unscathed.
Am I the only person rooting for the cat? Poor Queasy……….
(I have a fuzzy white retarded cat named Wheezy.)
“…Government issued rims for our cars and crack will become our currency.” Thank you for that phrase.
you one funny mofo. Made my monday.
Thank you for the tears of laughter. I’m glad you are back and sorry you are broke.
I, actually, did think about you and hope you were okay and then promptly mailed my other blogging friend in Atlanta to make sure she was okay. Because we’ve e-mailed each other and I didn’t want you to think I was some kind of freak. Ah, cats are so fun to medicate, aren’t they?
Oh my, you had me practically peeing my pants first thing in the morning…I know exactly how a cat can be when they need medicine…that is hilarious. And I might have to quote you on your hypothesis statement…that is just too rich.
I am so incredibly glad you wrote today. My friend and I were about 2 days away from forming the aforementioned search party, coming to Atlanta and knocking on doors until we found yours.
Seriously, that was the topic of our lunch at Crapplebee’s.
We also had an argument over whether you’d gotten rid of Queasy yet. It seems I was wrong and you’re slightly more caring than I initially assumed.
*Hits: 32144614
*Your Visits: 390
Sad?
Yes.
Yep, I thought of you too, but the rational part of me said that I had better things to do than emailing a stranger with a 0.00001% chance of having his roof blown off (even if that stranger is my favorite blogger).
Apparently, when it comes to commenting on said blog, I don’t have anything better to do.
Hm, I just remembered, I’m flying through Atlanta tomorrow. When that happens, I secretly hope I see you in the cockpit when I’m entering the plane, and I get to give you shit and tell everyone in the cabin how klutzy you can be.
In the words of one of my favorite authors: “Every technique for getting a cat to take medicine works. Once. Like the Borg, they learn.”
Glad you’re not dead and stuff.
I was lying in bed on Friday night thinking of you when I saw the footage from the Georgia Dome. I was also happy that my father and I were too lazy to drive down there for the SEC Tournament.
“The blacks are going to take over”. Makes me think of I Am Legend. Are all the blacks hiding in buildings, staying form the light, until its their time to pounce on all us whitefolk? If it’s that way, I need to get me some UV lamps. Of course, in the movie, the bad guys are exceptionally pale and black folk tend not to be.
I have no point.
Some advice on medicating cats- pulverize the pill and mix it in with some wet cat food- not the shitty $0.40 kind, but the prime-rib-with-carrots-and-peas expensive kind- that way, they won’t care how bitter the medicine tastes…hopefully. Luckily for me, my cats are retarded and they eat it up.
Ear medicine, on the other hand…you just have to attack them while they’re sleeping.
Good luck, man.
Cats aren’t supposed to be medicated! they are disposable like lighters or kleenex! that is why there is always some dirty little kid with a box of free ones outside the piggly wiggly every week!
Get rich quick … write more and hang out the tip jar! You’d be surprised at how many people will volunteer to pay for content they enjoy. I think there are at lease 2 of them out there.
PIMF lease - least. Ugh.
Extra grand a month without doing anything? Easy…come up with an idea for another reality series. They seem to be paying big bucks and obviously NO thinking goes into any of them (except how to rathole all the cash they are making before the IRS crucifies them).
every story about that pet of yours (1) makes me laugh and (2) reaffirms to me that cats make the worst pet. At least my dog won’t make me bleed if I shove a pill down his throat.
I like to do that same thing with racists…ask them to be more specific…
good to have you back….
Phil
Jax, FL
Ya know, I actually did think of you when I heard about the great Atlanta tornado. But, what good is being a procrastonator if you don’t procrastonate and say nothing. Glad u and yours are ok!!
You are such a wuss, lol. That vet saw you coming a mile away. He must have had those cartoon dollar signs in his eyes…did you hear the KA-CHING! sound when you forked over $400? hehehe
Intense apathy? The imagery in that pairing is purest spun gold.
You’re right on calling people on their illogical shit though. If more of us did it, surely people would start to realise that they sound like pea brains every time they open their mouths and maybe not do it so much.
Oh and by the way, cats, love em or hate em, damn they make good copy.
Tornado sounds interesting.
Don’t get them in my part of the world (didn’t mind Helen Hunt all wet t-shirty in the movie you mentioned - although that and the flying cow may have been the only redeeming features of the whole movie) and don’t watch the news much so your rant was the first I’d heard. Glad you made it with only your pride a little the worse for wear.
We really all do love you though, honest…..
I’m suplementing the whole live-the-dream thing with some part time singing (weddings and stuff) maybe you could give that a go. I mean if it worked for Adam Sandler why not you?
I freaking love my cats. They’re like my kids. I’m two cats away from being the crazy cat lady. That being said, I can say that I would not spend oodles of money on them if they got ill. First of all, although I love them and they love me, I cannot explain to them that the painful procedures I am subjecting them to as their Mommy is making them better. All they know is I am hurting them. Mean. Also, if I send them to the big litterbox in the sky comfortably, I can use that money to adopt a new kitten that needs a home before the shelter makes them sniff gas to save the 33¢ a day it takes to feed them. I can’t imagine animals don’t have souls and although I’d miss my babies, I know I’d see them again.
Well I must say that it is certainly fantasmic to have you back, Dusty.
And I shall admit that I was getting a tad worried (just as everyone else has). I figured you’d been preoccupied with going batshit over buying a new pad, butchered a bunch of PETA loving asshats then shoved organic tofu in their lifeless mouths.
Or you know… you were busy with things.
I choose not to choose the latter, but we all have our dreams.
Keep it up, Mr. Scott. You have more stalkers/devoted readers than you could possibly think/be mentally ill over.
–Bekah
Dusty,
If you want to make a little money, maybe try linking to some Amazon books that would be of interest to your readers. At least then you get a little more control over the click throughs than what Google is giving you.
“Normal Bowel Movements”
“Bowels”
No way in hell am I clicking one of those, even on a dare.
“Sleep Cycles” how do you ride one of those?
“I lost 10 lbs. in a month” I drowned my cat.
I grabbed my balls like life and moved my family to Arizona. No deep sea fishing here, but there is a new motorcycle shop in the works. I wish you the best Dusty and thank you for the chuckles.
-Danny
My cat has a problem with constipation also. She was on the same stuff they gave you for your cat. Trying to get her to take it was a NIGHTMARE, and it totally didn’t work. I started mixing FiberSure into her canned food, and ta-da! Poops almost every day. FiberSure (or Benefiber or whatever) doesn’t taste like anything, so she has no problem with it. And it’s a helluva lot cheaper than the medicine.
So, you never called your brother?
You bastard!
Call me.
Love, DAD
My nickname at the flight school is the “flying nun” because I’m Catholic. We should team up and rescue orphans.
Curiously enough, I thought about you last Friday…my friend drove up here to NY from ATL on Thursday and as we viewed the wreckage I said, “this is gonna make good Dusty material.”
That was after speaking to my brother who claimed that his neighbor was sucked out of the window and being tossed around like a rag doll. Good times, that tornado.
And pets are cute (i guess) until they become sick. Then they’re disposable.
1. So glad you’re back. I’m tickled you’re still tickled about going for the gusto.
2. If her meds are liquid, smear them on her somewhere she can groom easily. She grooms the meds off and voila! She’s taken them. If she has pills, go to the nearest vet and have them made into elixirs. Then see above about smearing.
Thanks for making me spray coffee all over the new laptop…FYI cats like pumpkin meat, raw or canned and it makes them unconstipated. I discovered this one halloween while simultaneously trying to carve a jackolantern and fight off the cat from the innards. One time my mom messed up and put the cat eye drops in the cats nose and the cat nose drops in its eyes and the cats problems cleared up quickly and never had those problems again. Truly so glad you blog for all of us. (insert happy huggy emoticon here)
Woot! You’re posting again! Welcome back, and I’m glad to hear you were unscathed by the tornado.
I did actually think of you when I saw that a tornado hit Hotlanta. My girlfriend and I were in a bar. I proceeded to tell her about you and now she thinks we’re both stupid. Cheers
It’s really hard to recreate the “you could tell how old she is by counting the rings” story…
Oh man, I’ve had to listen to the “blacks are gonna take over the country” rant from someone I live with. After many sore throats and headaches I stopped trying to reason with the person.
I had a patient tell me that “when Obama gets in office he’ll make everyone change over to his religion.”
Uh, he’s a Christian, right?
Oh, yeah. He went to a Muslim school so he’s automatically a terrorist fanatic. My bad.
Please join me in a mandatory birth-control-for-all-citizens-until-one-can-pass-a-parenting-screening-exam crusade. I’ve been jonesing for one for years.