"We just can't have nice thangs!"

I do almost all our grocery shopping and pride myself on never running out of anything.  I know when we're getting low on something and add it to my weekly list.  When we empty a jar of something, for example, you can check the pantry and 99 times out of 100 you'll find another new one ready to go.  "Always Prepared Scott", that's me.

A few days ago I fixed something to eat and couldn't find the Tabasco.  *Gasp*  I know....Tabasco is considered legal tender here in the south, and I had NONE.  Hmm....

Today I was going to fix myself a quick PB&J for a snack on the run and found we had no J.  No jelly?  How could that be?  No strawberry, no grape....none.  What the....?

That's when my CSI-like mind deduced K had been on a refrigerator cleaning spree again.  And I don't mean clean as in "dirty" (it's spotless), but clean as in "I'm tired of looking at this stuff".

DOH!

The next time you get the urge to clean out the refrigerator, dear wife, don't, OK?   JUST DON'T!

Make your list of what you deem not fit for purpose, and I'll make mine, and then we can call in trained negotiators to decide.  

And just for the record, Twinkies have a shelf life of at least 100 years.  Don't even think about it!  ;)

S

I'm a delicacy, someone to be savoured

I discovered this bit of flattering news yesterday as I was interrogating Luke the Wonder Dog regarding his participation in The Great Earbud Massacre of 2012.  (WARNING:  The squeamish might not want to view the photo that follows.)

As I've previously mentioned, I've been out of commission for a few days now following some surgery that requires me to keep a pretty large bandage over my face/right eye.  Because of that and the swelling it's difficult to keep my eyes open for too long at a time, so while I rest my eyes I listen to Pandora radio.

Yesterday I was walking across the room and stepped on a small piece of wire.  Further investigation revealed it was what was left of my earbuds.  A detailed crime scene investigation uncovered the rest of the carcass.

Luke quickly became the prime suspect.  The tip-off was the little piece of the deceased earbud he was chewing on.  I knew I had him cornered.  All I needed was a confession.

"So, Luke....I know you did it.  But why?  Revenge?  Abused childhood?  Some kinky lover's triangle?  What?"

"No, nothin' like that Big Guy.  It turns out I'm...whew...this is tough to admit.  I'm an addict.  No, not drugs or anything bad like that.  I'm addicted to the finer things in life, like your ear wax."

"Go on."

"Well, you know how I silently walk across the top of your big leather chair back cushion, get right behind your head while you're watching football on TV, then slip you a big, sloppy 'wet Willie' (tongue in the ear)?  Now I can't get enough of your ear wax.  It's 'to die for!'  Better than creme brulee, or a fine French truffle, or even a Twinkie.  You're delicious!"

But...how...

"You left your earbuds on the table by your chair, plugged into your tablet. A quick sniff and I knew....I had to have 'em!  I just couldn't help myself.  Sorry.  Am I gonna be away for long?"

Book him, Dano.  Case closed.  (Those CSI boyz have nothin' on me. :)

S

Yes, Luke can still talk.  No, I haven't found a freak show willing to put him to work yet.  I mean...Jeez...a talking DOG!  What more do they want?