Earth Worms and Pillows and WOO WOOs, oh my!

There's a lot going on in this blog. It's kind of discombobulated. I'm talking about three four different thing at one time. I guess that is because that's how my brain works. It's a real busy place in that brain of mine. Most people would be terrified if they had to live even a few minutes in that cranium of mine. It all blurs together. Perhaps I need more medication. Or, maybe some chocolate. Or, perhaps chocolate covered medication. I think that might fix whatever ails me. 


Praise the Baby Jesus....a Throw-Pillow Intervention has been scheduled!  Our dear friend, Miss Keith Bischon, has staged an all-out-war on our throw pillow problem. That's good because I'm telling ya, the store employees were staring with mouths open while me and the wife argued--passionately and rather loudly--over couch throw pillows for the new leather furniture. Who knew finding pillows would be so hard? So taxing? So aggrevating? So full of opportunity to argue? The perfect couch throw pillows have eluded us for weeks on end. I hate it. I'll find one I love and the wife will hate it. She finds one to her liking and I can't believe it, as it is the most hideous thing I've ever seen. You would think we were trying to buy a house or a new car.

Miss Keith is a true friend, willing to take one for the team, brave enough to stare at pillows until one is determined the winner. She understands that we need throw pillows and we need help and we are certainly incapable of picking out a pillow. She has good taste and an artistic eye, so this means much to us. It will truly be a happening more than a shopping trip. The wife thinks it will be fun. I'm not sure that's the word I would use to describe this most-decidedly painful and eye-poking event. I vote that Miss Keith is perfect for the mission; thus, I will be staying home while the puffs of pillows team transverses the Universe in search of the elusive perfect couch pillows.

I'll stay home and fix our computer. I'll take a computer woe over pillow-picking every time.

The flash player thingy has been fighting back and that means the wife can't watch Oprah's website. THAT is grounds for aggressive attention and is rated much more troublesome than any throw pillow could be ranked. Insult to injury...the computer in question is the one from the Oprah show give-a-way. As you can imagine, this has led to overwhelmingly Oprah-fied stress for the wife. Not being able to peruse the Oprah website has been crushing to the wife. Crushing.

Oprah is number one. I'm number two. I'm okay with that. As long as I stay in front of the dogs on the wife's list, it's all good.

I've tried bigger and better anti-virus programs. I've used two forms of spyware, I've de-fragmented twice. I've deleted and re-installed flash players a bazillion times. I purchased PC registry program to work on registry problems, I've installed the latest version of Internet Explorer  and then uninstalled it and re-installed it. I've installed other browsers. I've re-booted that computer more in one week than I have in its tenure on earth. I've downloaded updates from the Microsoft site. I've patched this and that. I've un-patched this and that.  I've cleaned and deleted and swept and searched…all to no avail. No Oprah.

The wife, losing her faith in my compter prowess, had the audacity to call a computer store. Cheater! Cheater! Doesn't she know that it's more fun to push buttons than to actually ask for help?

As you can imagine, she didn't say hello when the computer guy answered. She burst out with: "We have a computer that doesn't do the Oprah!"

The guy instictly understood that this issue could not continue. Besides, No Oprah equates opportunity....he wanted money to look at the computer.  He must have mentioned a number becaue the wife's eyes widened....and...she was silent....and...

...she hung up.

I assured her I would give one last ditch effort to fix the problem. After that, the wife can address the mystery or go buy a new computer or give up on computer-ized Oprah and just watch Oprah on TV. After all, it's her Oprah, not mine.

Yesterday morning, the dogs and I went for our daily walk. It rained all night, so it smelled like worms when we went outside. Damn, I hate worms. It's dark out when we walk, so it's really tough to see the sidewalk....

Can I just say that there were FOUR MILLION earth worms on our driveway? Four million. Yes, I counted, their tiny little bodies shining in the street lights.

FORTY BILLION earth worms were hanging out on the sidewalks. There was no question that forty billions worms stood between me and completion of the half-mile walk. I don't know about you, but there aren't many grosser things than squishing-crunching worms while walking. The little ones aren't too bad, but those big ones CRUNCH and SQUISH when you step on them. It makes my toes curl just thinking about that. I try to avoid them but it's so dark that you really can't avoid all but the big ones (the ones bigger than the dogs, that it). I walked on the grass the entire way. It's hard on walk on the grass for the 1/2 mile jaunt and my shoes got soaked and I'm still walking on worms but I can't feel them squish and thus it's well worth the pain and wet shoes.


The cheesball neighbors had a party last night. I hobbled over on my sprained ankle (probably sprained from avoiding worms), wife in tow. The guest of honor, Coach Bandit, led the debauchery and seemed quite in her element. The wife and I were standing there, watching this drunken brawl of a party when Bandit yells,

"WHO'S READY FOR SOME WOO WOOS?" 

If you're like me, you're asking yourself, "What the hell is a woo woo?"

Bandit pulls out this huge pitcher of red stuff and starts pouring liquid into the dozens of shot glasses lined up on the kitchen counter. It looks like Kool-Aid but from the response, I'm guess that Woo Woos do not involve such a mundane liquid. Everyone is going on and on about Woo Woos. Everyone seems to know what a Woo Woo is. Everyone is sucking down Woo Woos like there is no tomorrow.

These Woo Woos seem to be a really big hit. The more Woo Woos, the merrier.

I finally ask, "What's a woo woo?"

And, Bandit, never missing a beat says,

"It's Whatever you Want it to be."

I shoud have known. My bad. I had to ask. This means what's in a Woo Woo is what's in a Woo Woo. That bottle over there? It's in the Woo Woo. That bottle found under the sink? That's been Woo Woo-fied, too. That unidentified bottle of alcohol brought in by the party goer? That's Woo Woo material.

I am WAY TOO old for Woo Woos.I am way too sober for Woo Woos. I am way too old to watch people drink Woo Woos.

I looked at the wife. She too is beyond her woo woo years. We may argue about pillows but we don't argue about woo woos.  I'd rather hang out with a pillowless couch and a broken computer and a pack of worms than be surrounded by Woo Woos. We returned to our pillow-free abode, woo-woo free.

There weren't any worms on the short walk home. To that I say Woo. Woo.
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