Monday, December 29, 2008

right to bear arms



There is more irony in the following blurp than I can actually include. But as far as I'm concerned, any story involving a rabbit & a shotgun has a good ending(You know I'm from Tennessee, and this should come as no surprise. My accent sounds like I just got off an aluminum fishing boat with Bill Dance)

I am forced to retract my early rash statement about the killers, my 2 little cats. I previously said that they fake it and actually don't "kill" anything. They just pickup on the misfortune of mice that have frozen to death or birds that ran into the glass. My wife awoke me this morning in a bit of panic, "Julian, please wake up, one of the cats is killing a rabbit outside, and the rabbit is not dead." My immediate reaction is --- fantastic, these cats are finally becoming contributors to the house. Heck, there are 4 frozen rabbits in the freezer. However, for peace in the family, I took the higher road(note, not the high road. we were already on that one). I put on my shoes and went outside to find 2 cats who had cornered a rabbit who had a pretty nasty bloody wound on the hind quarters. Apparently he had been involved in some sort of altercation. My guess would be a nasty knife fight. You have to keep your head on a swivel. Those things get out of control pretty fast.

Immediately, I did what a man should do. I walked in the house on a mission. It's almost like an odd midst of "can'thearyourwife-itis" comes over every man who knows that he's about to be able to shoot his gun. I think Kim was saying things like, "let's take him to the vet," "this is terrible," "I cannot believe those cats would do this," and "do you think he'll just die on his on?" Now, I had answers for all of these questions. I will quote a popular song from everyone my age's high school years, "I've got a problem solver and his name is revolver." Except in my case sub in "410 bolt action" for "revolver," and we have a top 40 hit. Kim actually seemed ok with me sending the bunny on to another land after she broke down a few times. I went to the secret hiding place for shotgun shells and was on my way back into the house when we noticed that there was a wrench in our plan. (update: by this point the cats had drug the mangled rabbit to a new place in the drive way while he tried to run away. even from my point of view, this was sad)

There was a member of Huntersville's Polica squad sitting down the road from my house trying to take down all the folks who left for work late this morning. You all know that I only really like British Policia, but I decided that I'd go down and have a word. So imagine you are an officer of the law, playing solitaire on your laptop waiting for lunch, and you see a 6'0" male with hospital pants and a sweatshirt sprinting down the road towards you with bright orange GO ROCKY TOP crocks on. What's your reaction? I think he finished his last hand of solitaire and then without rolling the window down heard my case. I told him that I needed discharge a firearm inside the city limits(although we are actually only 300 ft from the sign). He suggested a shovel. I told him that was not my kinda thing. He asked if it was going to die, and I told him "yes" with "assistance." He was enjoying the jokes and good times, so he said as long as I could do it quickly to have a go. I ran back, loaded up, scared the cats off, apologized to the now aptly named "Mr. Bad Day Bunny" out of respected, and said goodbye. Since, I'm on vacation, I got to come inside and enjoy an espresso after my morning kill.

Remember kids, you buy cats to kill things. Don't be upset when they drag something undesirable into your front yard. They are just doing their job. The cool thing is when they slip up, I show them how's it's done. The cop did stop by later to ask, "How things went." I love America.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

restrooms on mile 12






marathons...i wish there was some honest person out there to write an article about marathons that would let the folks running them know what they were truly getting into. allow me to give you the run down really fast.



8am - start time. you're on the line with more folks that are out of your league than you can even imagine. most of them will be done, home, and asleep before you even cross the line. your sweet new shiny shoes, and running shorts are clear signs that you are the rookie who in about 2 hrs will be the guy hugging a light pole faking like you are stretching out.



8:30am - at this point you realize that this was probably a really bad idea. your thighs and calves are burning a lot more than usual. you realize that you started out way too fast. the excitement was high, lots of people were passing you, and you know that you still have @ LEAST 3+ hrs left



9am - the ipod is blaring the new Coldplay which is not really the best running music. you have to use the bathroom, and you're freezing because you spilled water all over yourself at the last water stop.



10am - what happened to 9:30am? who knows. you are pretty sure it got lost when you jumped the median ran past the porta potties IN USE, and posted up on a row of trees. your restless bladder is not the only one in the bunch. when you look around there are some 20+ guys gasping with relief.



11am - you realize that the winner of the race finished about 40 mins ago. you also realize that your knee hurts, and neither GU nor poweraide are appealing. the music has gotten better on the ipod, and the woman who was running beside you convinced you are that you are not running all the slowly. also, you now feel like a champ considering all the people who passed you were part of the half marathon crowd.



12am - that knee thing got nasty. you just peed in a bush beside some business with little shame, and your face looks like you've been slapped around by a Turkish monk. you were hoping that you'd only have about 15 minutes left in this race, however; the truth is that since your left leg is nearly worthless, you are just shuffling your feet



1am - done(well a little before this...but when you walk 9 miles, your wooden legs don't care what the clock says --- you survived)






and, after all that, you decide that you'll get revenge on the marathon and do it again.