Crazy bugs on the freeway last night. They smashed against the windshield like a rain storm. I ran out of wiper fluid trying to wash the smear of their bodies off the windshield. It was so bad I had to stop to get more fluid. The grill of the car looks like I drove through a plague of locusts. Some “homers” were hanging out in front of the gas station and commented, “Yup. It’s that time of year” when I called Bee to look at the mess. Bugs swarmed around the Homers as they spoke. They didn’t seem to notice or mind. When back in the car, I kept feeling phantom bugs crawling on my legs, hands and ears.
Bee decided we needed to get our finances in order. This had been bugging her for some time. Personally, I didn’t care. So long as we pay off the bills and have some money left over, I’m pretty much content. She purchased Quicken and spent the afternoon color coding our expenses. “What color should I be? You are blue.” She said as I vegetated in font of the TV.
“Orange.” She agreed. Orange is her favorite color.
“This is great.” She said. “It’s going to make a pie chart of who spends what, and where.”
“Un huh.” I absently agreed.
A few hours later she finished without much fan far.
“So, let’s see the pie chart.” I said rousing from my seat.
While visiting my step-mother for a holiday, Bud came out of the mud room. His jowls were crusted with cat litter. The grin on his face said, “Dude. This place rocks! There are warm horderves all day long.”
Bee was disgusted.
I laughed.
Later, over the weekend, Bud had the cat cornered under a cabinet. “Bud, leave the cat alone.” Bee said. “OG, Do you think he’ll hurt the cat?”
“No. Honey. It’s okay. He just wants to compliment the chef.”
“That’s disgusting.” She said and put Bud out side.
Been busy the last few weeks. Opened an office and I am scrambling to hire people. Every nit-wit that I hire has not worked out for one reason or another. Mostly, it’s because they lack the skill I need within a limited budget. I’m starting to get worried. Here, I just tripled my over head and have a very nice office space with views of Manhattan, and empty desks. My work load is about the same, which means I’m continually falling behind and making clients angry with my inattention. Swell.
Dream.
Was at a bookstore with some dream friends. I was flirting with Scarlett Joe Hanson, or the like. Apparently there was some big drama going on her life, that I decided to rescue her about. Another friend was there and something occurred that involved a stolen car, reckless driving, stolen books and property damage. No one was killed, but the severity of my actions made me a criminal. The manager of the store wanted to arrest me, Scarlet for book theft and our friend for being an accomplice. The police, graciously, allowed us to go home for the weekend. Monday, we decided to take the books back like it was just a return of purchased merchandise. We forgot all about the criminal activity of the Friday before. While waiting in line to return the books, a small bug started flying around us, viciously zooming into our faces, behind the counter, over the cash register, I caught it. Upon examination, the insect was actually a remote controlled flying camera. The technology amazed me. I wanted to speak to the owner of the machine and find out how they made such a small little wizardry. I spoke into the bugs face. ‘Hey, who owns this? Come out from wherever you are. This thing is cool.” From the employee’s only door a squad of cops burst out. They arrested the manager for embezzlement, and reminded us it was time to go to jail. We had forgot about our obligation to the law over the weekend. We stared at one another woefully as the handcuffs were put on and we were escorted away in shame. I tried to rationalize that my actions had been honorable and worth it. I received an eleven year sentence. The worth of my actions quickly disappeared, but I hung on to the brief memory of reckless nobility as it was the only hope I had.
Mountain house. 9am.
Windy day here, but sunny. They said it was supposed to rain all weekend, but it isn’t. So much for accuracy of the weather people. In general, they seem to be right about 60% of the time.
EmCee sent me a link to this fat little sucker skateboarding. Watch the way he shifts his weight to turn. It's so cool, I knew there was a reason I loved bulldogs. I'ld like to let Bud chase after him to see what happens.
This gets ten stars in my my book of favorite home videos.
