Disappointed, and Disowned

It's no secret that Val is a fan of reality TV. Not embarrassed to say so. Won't pretend that she threw out her TV twenty years ago, to climb upon her high horse and gallop across the Blogosphere, proclaiming that she is a highbrow who would never deign to waste time in front of the boob tube, preferring instead to grow her own wheat, harvest and thresh it, and bake artisanal bread to show her superiority to the heathens who purchase the sliced storebought variety.

One of my non-guilty pleasures is the reality survival show Alone. Contestants are dumped into the wilderness with only 10 items of their choosing, to build a shelter, find their own food, and outlast the other nine contestants.

Imagine my excitement upon viewing the first episode this week, to see that there was a MISSOURI contestant! Welp. Of course he was the first one to tap out. But now I must disown him!!! His name is Cubby, 34 years old, and upon reading his bio on the History Channel, it turns out he only moved (from Arkansas) to Missouri when he was 32 years old! I cry shenanigans! Plus, he lives in Barry County, which might as well be in Arkansas, because the only thing separating us is the imaginary state line to the south!

Anyhoo... Cubby started out being quite industrious, building the framework for his shelter. He decided on Day 4 that he was hungry, and took his bow and arrows on a trip through his territory, to assess the wild game available. While walking through the brush, an arrow fell out of his quiver, and as he took a step, in pierced his left inner leg near the knee. 

THAT SUCKS!

Anyhoo... Cubby had to PULL OUT THE ARROW, and put a compression bandage on the wound, and try to get back to his camp 30 minutes away. Then he decided to tap out. I don't blame him for that. You don't want to hobble around in the wilderness with a four-inch-deep puncture wound in your inner knee area.

However... I DISOWN Cubby as a Missourian! He's from Arkansas, born and raised. Hasn't even been in (borderline) Missouri for two whole years!

Also, I (in my own challenged way) find it IRONIC that Cubby, who earns his living making bows, was felled by an arrow (that pierced his leg) made by Cubby himself!

Anyhoo... I'll still watch Alone every week. I'll have to pick a new favorite. Probably the one with the least amount of agenda to promote.

Strange Fruit

On the way to town last week, I got a sense that something was not quite right. I was on the gravel road, getting ready to turn onto the county blacktop road down by Mailbox Row. You know how your eye catches something that is different, even if you are daydreaming and not paying attention to your everyday surroundings.

A glance to my right assured me that I was not yet ready for a chorus of crazy temple twirly fingers. Indeed, something was amiss. Something bright red, where no bright red should be.

I took a picture through T-Hoe's window:

What in the Not-Heaven??? It looked like a not-very-sophisticated purse stapled to a tree. There was writing on that purse. A person's name, perhaps? Nope.

That was no purse!!! It was an INSECT TRAP! Did you ever hear of such a thing? I think of a trap like a heavy metal snapper designed to catch bear paws. Or a cylindrical clear mini-barrel with a funky opening in one end to trap minnows. Neither resembles this purse-like 3D plastic envelope.

I suppose there are holes in it somewhere, to let the insects in. Maybe something sticky to hang onto them so they don't get out. Apparently, signs saying PRIVATE PROPERTY do not deter insect-trappers. 

Not saying it's a conspiracy... but their little purse flat-out claims they are government workers.

Val is Once Again ASTONISHED at the Gumption of Everyday People Who Park in the Handicap Spaces

It's almost to the point where the majority of people I see park in the handicap spaces DO NOT HAVE handicap plates, nor placards. I must goad Hick into setting up my proposed handbasket factory! This certainly must be the beginning of the end. 

Thursday, I parked T-Hoe at the gas pumps at the Sis-Town Casey's. I was waiting to cross the parking lot when a car pulled into the HANDICAP space. Oh, and they were way over the line, too, taking up part of the striped walkway I use to avoid stepping up or down from the sidewalk.

Anyhoo... those scofflaws were out of their vehicle, and inside the store before I hobbled over there to pre-pay for my gas. Inside, I saw them at the case by the deli, getting slices of pizza from the round warmer thingy that rotates. Neither of them appeared to be differently-abled. They were late-30s, and argumentative with each other. 

Heh, heh! I was NOT sad that they got in line behind me, dealing with a new cashier, who was quite slow in getting my scratchers, and ringing up the transaction. In fact, she skipped one of  my $5 crosswords, and I had to remind her that I had TWO, and to scan another time, so I didn't STEAL again!

Back at T-Hoe, I pumped my gas, cleaned a squashed bug off the windshield, and climbed inside. The Scofflaws had just returned to their car. In fact, they were making their getaway as I tried to get a picture.

There they are, backing out. When they parked, there was a car next to the white one. But still, a space next to it. So it's not like the handicap space (and the striped walkway) were the only spaces available.

There they go, having procured their pizza slices, for which they could not park in a legal space to shop. Can you believe these people took up a handicap space??? Yes. I know you CAN.

It's not like I wanted that space. I never park in it, because close-parkers will put their car too close to me on the left, and I won't be able to get my door open. I park across the striped walkway, in the space that is not designated as handicapped. Unless I'm at the gas pumps, where I don't need a parking space at all. 

However, you don't know when somebody might need that space, rightfully theirs, being taken up by inconsiderate pizza-eaters.

Back to Wednesday Night Bingo

FINALLY! Hick has returned to playing bingo on Wednesday nights! That's after a few weeks of not playing at all!!! I'm pretty sure I am happier than Hick. His people decided to switch nights, since the Tuesday night version did not have good prizes, and not much of a crowd.

I asked Hick to send me pictures of his food, and the big prize. Of course that's not a simple task for someone like Hick.

"Shrimp and chess sticks"

A typical Hick response. I'm pretty sure he meant CHEESE sticks.

"Mmm. Why do the shrimp look sticky?"

A normal person might have responded with the name of the shrimp. But not Hick.

"They are but they are good"

"I MEAN what flavoring makes it sticky?"

"It's spicy something head sweating"

"Well. I guess you could have read the menu."

So I still don't know what kind of shrimp Hick had for his supper. He said the big prize was 2 tickets to Fort Lauderdale Florida. Which he did not win. However...

"I won a sign"

"WooHoo! At least you won something!"

"It's actually a pretty nice sign"

Yes. Since it was FREE!

The Deed is Done

Val is FREE! Free from arrest, conviction, and incarceration for her shoplifting of two six-packs of Diet Mountain Dew from 10Box! Tuesday, I went in to buy bananas and onions. But the onions released a mini-swarm of some kind of wide-winged gnat when I picked them up. So no go! It wasn't even the Vidalia onions that I had wanted, but a 3-pound bag of "sweet onions" that I would have settled for. Not when I saw something fly out of them!

Anyhoo... I picked up my bananas, and went to the right end of the store to get two 12-packs of Shasta Diet Cola, and one six-pack of Diet Mountain Dew. As well as some sturdy paper plates, because we are running out.

On my way across the front of the store, I saw the Older Lady with long gray hair. She speaks to me on occasion. She is also a frequenter of the lottery machines. I motioned to her when she caught my eye.

"I have a problem. I was here on Friday, and took items I did not pay for. I would like to pay for them now."

"I can do that. What was it?"

"I had three six-packs of Diet Mountain Dew, and was talking to the cashier, and did not tell her I had two more in the cart when she scanned my soda. I figure the EASIEST way to do that is to charge me for THREE of them now, while I'm buying ONE. I know it would probably never show up, but by doing this, it will even out the money and inventory in the long run."

"That's right. I probably wouldn't show up. I can help you."

"Should I go over to the service desk?"

"Yes. That will be fine."

She might have been on her break. She stopped to talk to a young cashier I have rarely seen. I went to the service desk and waited. When Older Lady arrived, she said she could ring up my whole order there. Which was only ONE six-pack of Diet Mountain Dew, two 12-packs of Shasta Diet Cola, six bananas, and a pack of paper plates.

"Thank you for being honest."

Thank YOU, Ma'am, The Universe, and Even Steven. I prefer to be judged on the content of my character, rather than the ampleness of my rumpus, the length of my lovely lady-mullet, or the stickiness of my fingers.

The Universe is Not Only a Narc, But a Harsh Taskmaster

Well. Not only did The Universe tattle on Val to Even Steven concerning her (inadvertent)  crime of stealing two six-packs of Diet Mountain Dew... but it also levied an unpleasant penalty on our (mostly) innocent Val!

Monday, I went in Country Mart while over in Sis-Town at the bank. I picked up Hick's Little Debbie Zebra Cakes, and saw that Diet Mountain Dew was on sale 3-for-$11. They even had it on the shelf! So I BOUGHT three six-packs. Paid for all three!!!

Once home, I opened up T-Hoe's rear to retrieve one to carry in the house. What I saw was a punishment from The Universe for my (accidental) thieving ways.

One of the Diet Mountain Dew six-packs had turned over. It happens all the time. But this one was LEAKING!

What in the NOT-HEAVEN??? I got a stack of Puffs Plus Lotion from up front, and tried to sop up part of the mess. At least it was diet soda, so not a sticky stain. I set that six-pack on the metal chair on the side porch. I noticed that one of the middle bottles was almost empty of liquid.

Of course Hick came up the driveway as I was climbing the steps with the grocery bag and a box of my own Diet Shasta Cola. He has a knack for arriving right after I've carried everything in. As I was setting that stuff down, the kitchen door open to gave my dogs a treat, here came Hick carrying that six-pack of soda.

"Don't bring that in here! It's leaking! Take out the leaky bottle."

Hick's solution was to set the whole thing on top of my Dear Departed Juno's dog house. You know, because it's easier to let ME take it apart and bring it in later.

When I went to look at it closer, I saw the problem. The cap on that middle bottle was not put on straight at the factory. Of course The Universe made sure that's the six-pack I grabbed off the shelf, and the one to turn over in the car.

Not such a bargain after all, I suppose. Seeing as how I didn't get 18 bottles for the $11, but only 17. A lost value of 61 cents. I figure there's still over $9 worth of retribution for my ill-gotten gains left before The Universe is done meting out justice.

Perhaps my debt to society will be paid when I return that shoplifted windfall to 10Box on Tuesday. Then I can return to my regular luck, and spill-free shopping.

Apparently, a Life of Crime DOES Pay. Until Even Steven Catches You.

One day after Val's crime spree stealing two six-packs of Diet Mountain Dew from 10Box (a $9.71 value), she fell rumpus-over-teakettle into a fortune at the Gas Station Chicken Store.

I was joshing with my Favorite Clerk about how her counterpart on the other three days of the week had just sold me a $100 winner two days previous.

"You really need to step it up! She puts you to shame lately."

"I'm trying!"

In fact, Fave had set out my daily Cash4Life draw ticket (that I get for The Pony), and my crosswords, on the counter. She'd seen me drive in. Wasn't busy. So had gotten my tickets ready. She had also pulled out the $10 ticket I always buy, but hadn't torn it off yet.

"I saw you coming. Let's see if I'm right. I didn't tear off the ten, because sometimes you switch things up."

"Well. That is what I was planning to buy. So you did good!"

Back home, I had just sat down to scratch when Hick came fuming through the door, his nose out of joint over shoddy treatment at Walmart automotive department when trying to get a battery for SilverRedO. I lent him an ear, then went back to finish scratching my $10 ticket when Hick sat down in his recliner.

WHOOP-TI-DOOOOO!

 

Usually, Hick's presence is the kiss of death when it comes to my scratcher luck. He's like a "cooler" in a casino. But not this time! See that 50X symbol on the second row, right side? 

I knew I had a good one!

That's a $1000 WINNER, by cracky! I was shocked. 

Sunday, I was on my way to The Pony's house to gather up his half of the flip house costs, plus his monthly house payment. I stopped by the Gas Station Chicken Store to show Fave what she had done.

"Ooh! Take THAT, [Redacted]!"

"Yes. Now you've outdone her. She might as well tie a bandana on a stick and hit the road."

Of course I will be treating Fave to a couple of extra scratchers when I next see her on Thursday. No good deed goes unrewarded by Val. 

I DID, however, have to tell her to put back the $10 ticket she had torn off when she saw me drive in. No way I'm buying another one of those for a while at this store. 

I suppose The Universe ratted me out to Even Steven about the stolen soda. Because when I scratched my Sunday tickets, I only won $5. I shall be repaying my debt to 10Box forthwith.