vituperation

September 5, 2003

Congratulations to reader Jennifer, who told me the caterpillar from the last entry was a spicebush swallowtail caterpillar. She won herself a special prize for being first.

“Alrighty,” I said to Robyn as I left for work this morning, “I’m off to Atlanta Bread, then to the office.”

“Enjoy it,” she replied.

“Oh, I will.” I grinned. “I couldn’t decide whether or not I wanted a regular breakfast or cinnamon rolls, but after I thought long and hard about it, I decided I wanted cinnamon rolls.”

“I got your long and hard right here!” Robyn cried, with an appropriate gesture.

People, my victory is complete. She has joined the dark side.

The spud is a space invader.

At least, that’s what I call them. Those people who invade your personal space when they want to talk to you, getting right up in your face and shit. I hate that. Here’s the kicker: she only space invades me.

She was doing it Wednesday evening when we were leaving to take her to church for her youth group meeting –

Yeah, I know. That’s how we feel about it, too. This week, she learned how to hate gay people and how the youth minister was once hit on by a guy. He said it nearly made him vomit. Way to share that Christ-like love, dude.

Myself, I’m flattered when anyone hits on me.

– getting all up on me for no real reason. I stepped backwards, caught my heel on the end of the big bubba gym, and lost my balance. My arms pinwheeled and I staggered around the garage, much to the delight of the spud and my wife. They even kept laughing — like the bastards they are — when I put my full weight down on a thin rail of the bubba gym. My full weight, on the instep of my right foot.

I nearly cried, it hurt so bad. Now my instep is all purple, gross, and swollen.

They still laugh, too, the bastards.

I’ve made my first bestseller list. Of books of local interest to people who frequent one bookstore in Huntsville.

Hey, it’s a start.

I finally wrote Amazon and asked what was up with there being no reviews of my book, despite several emails I had from people who said they’d reviewed it. Within a matter of hours Amazon had updated their site, and reviews can now be seen right here.

My book was ranked #6,000 there today. I took a screen-grab in case it drops:

You know, if all you people who were holding out on buying the book went and bought it from Amazon right now, it might get up even higher. Not that I’d ask or anything.

Also, I’m available for radio, TV, newspaper, and magazine interviews if any of you are, you know, connected somehow to something like that. Again, not that I’d ask.

Yesterday, I saw not one but TWO different news items about Nelly’s new energy drink called “Pimp Juice.” Then, right before bed Robyn and I were discussing the big pimp coat the host of “The Joe Schmo Show” wears.

So what happens?

Last night, I dreamt I was sneaking out of the house for an encounter with a hooker, but her pimp kept getting in the way. I think it’s cool as hell when you can trace things in dreams back to events in your day.

Though I can’t figure out why in the hell anyone would give a tin shit about something called “Pimp Juice.”

Poor Johnny Depp. Poor, poor Johnny Depp. So misunderstood from his home in France.

Finally, I need your help. A local company is giving money to various and sundry charities, based on the number of votes they receive off the company’s web site. As most of you know, Robyn and I volunteer for Challenger’s House, the local adopt-a-kitty shelter.

We’d be most appreciative if you could follow this link, vote for Challenger’s House, and go on the whole quest thing.

The kitties love you for it.