Danger Close to Getting Their Wish

Yesterday Josh was kind enough to offer to stop at CVS to pick up my prescription.  Inevitably, it was screwed up and there was mass confusion on all fronts.  The situation required several phone calls to my doctor while Josh waited somewhat patiently.  What follows is a texting conversation between Josh and I.

Josh: Dr Bianchi never called back, he is trying again now hooray

Tiff: Jesus...

Josh: Think he is filling it now

Tiff: Sweet

Josh: Calling your Dr again

Josh: In other news, my bp is 111/78

Josh: I'll check again in 20 mins

Tiff: At least you're getting the chance to check on your health.  Sorry about the goat rope.

(20 minutes later)

Tiff: They get it straightened out?

Josh: I think so, but they are jackassing around back there like its their job.

Josh: Jerry could work here.

Josh: They're bitching that nothing cool ever happens, even so close to the "hood" no gunshots or nuthin.  They are danger close to getting their wish.

Tiff: Nice, complain to the manger. That would be cool.

Josh: The cane display may become a weapons cache. I think they filled your rx wrong, starting the count over.

Tiff: They are total idiots.  It's not like there should be more than a few pills.

Josh: I'm in a mood dave (Editors Note: This is a reference to the movie "Anger Management")

Josh: Pretty sure I could take the whole staff with a 4 prong cane and back massager.

Tiff: Don't see how the back massager would help you but okay...

Josh: Racking dudes and gouging eyes

Tiff: That's what the cane is for.

Josh: Cane is for creating distance and death, I figured the massager would be nice for close quarters combat.

Tiff: You could always go Tires Plus on them and tell every customer how much CVS sucks.
(Editor's Note: Once Josh got brand new break pads on our Dodge Neon upgraded free of charge by sitting in the lobby of a Tires Plus for 2 hours telling everyone who came in they were about to get screwed.  The manager finally came out and told Josh he would replace them if Josh went away.)


Josh: I think everyone knows.  I'm finally done here.

Fraggle Rock Guts

Disclaimer: it is with great hesitation that I post this one but Josh insists so here it is.

Tonight, after a delightful dessert of creme brûlée, Josh suffered the inevitable digestive consequences. We were laying in bed when he says, "I just had diarrhea 3 times!! How can I need to pee!"

I replied, "Why would you expect to not have to pee?"

"I just assumed it would all come out my ass."

I made the mistake of further questioning his logic by asking, "Do you think you have little elves that build pipelines from your bladders to your rear?"

"I just assumed that its like Fraggle Rock in there. My intestinal distress is the Fraggles doing their dance in there. Then when they arer done with their little song, the Dozers came out and rebuilt it all - scaffolding and pipes and shit."

The conversation ended here. What more could I say?

White Trash Karate

While at Target to buy dog food and diapers, Josh spotted a child of probable white trash DNA with a bandana tied around his head karate chopping the air.

"Holy shit, do you see that kid? It's like white trash karate! I don't know what that entails but I imagine it involves dodging beer bottles for training. I bet he is a level 7 in beer bottle dodging and a brown belt in taking cigarette burns on the back of the neck. His dad's mullet didn't help matters either. 'Someday I'll be able to cut my daddy's hair with these karate chops.' He'll just lay that Billy Ray Cyrus mullet out on a board and chop it to the length he wants. I bet he opens a barber shop someday. He'll call it 'Bobby's Macho Karate Hair Cut Dojo and 8-Track Exchange'. Jesus..."

Florida Ave. Beyond Thunderdome

Josh shared his observations about his drive home one day last week:

"Florida Avenue was a freak show on the way home today.  There was some weirdo dressed in all black wearing a breast plate and shin guards like it was something to do.  In the same block there were a bunch of other weirdos wandering around without shirts on looking confused.  It was like 'Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome' out there."

The Queen Bee

I made the mistake of relaying a warning I read on the back of a jar of Tucks.

Me: "Did you know that you're not supposed to insert Tucks into your rectum using your finger, mechanical device, or other applicator?  Who would actually do that??"

Josh: "Hmm...  I suppose there could be a situation wherein you would be so desperate for hemorrhoidal relief that you would want to go directly to the source.  You gotta get the Queen Bee while she's still in the hive."

Trashimus Prime

As we were pulling out of the parking lot on our way to Nordstrom's today, Josh again noticed that the neighbors on the corner need to replace the ceiling fan on their porch and this prompted the following rant.

Josh: "Is it wrong that I want to go buy a ceiling fan and sneak over and replace that floppy piece of shit on their porch?  They are so trashy!  All they do is drink beer and shoot cans with BB guns in their backyard."

Me: "They shoot cans?!?! I've never noticed that."

Josh: "YES!  OH MY GOD!  It's like Trashimus Prime over there.  They are out there every day starting at 8 o'clock in the morning shooting at Busch Light cans and bottles while listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd.  AND there's always some dumbass 10 year old over there learning how to shoot cans!  I moved out of Zephyrhills to get away from that.  I'm going to set up a tactical shooting range in the backyard and teach Laura how to shoot at cans because that's apparently the thing to do in this neighborhood!"

After watching the Lightning win a playoff game, Josh and I started watching the pre-show for the Preakness horse races.  While watching footage of some obviously arrogant jockeys prepare themselves before the race, I postulated that jockeys fight a lot.  This prompted Josh to make the claim that he could handily kick a jockey's ass while I claim that it wouldn't be as easy as he believes. 

This discussion has been going on for three days now and has followed this general pattern:

Josh: "I would destroy a jockey."

Me: "I wouldn't be too cocky about that.  They have to be strong enough to handle a thoroughbred racing horse."

Josh: "They weigh 85 pounds!! I have at least 90 pounds on them!"

Me: "First of all, jockeys usually weigh about 105 pounds.  And secondly, a race horse weighs half a ton.  If they can handle a half ton horse, they can handle you." (Don't ask me how I know the weights of racing horses and jockeys - it's just some of the stupid, useless knowledge that clogs my brain).

Josh: "No way.  I could pick up a jockey over my head and snap him in half.  Besides, they just whip the shit out of the horse with a stick - that doesn't take any strength.  A baby can do that."

Me: "So you can dead lift 105 pounds over your head with your crap shoulder?"

Josh: "Yes.  I could only fight hard for about 30 seconds but those 30 seconds would feel like an eternity for that jockey due to the ass beating I would put on him.  I can't believe you don't think I can kick a jockey's ass!  No faith!  I have specialized training."

Me: "I don't doubt that you could kick a jockey's ass... eventually.  I just don't believe it would be as easy as you think it would be.  They're strong and fast, like little leprechauns."

Josh: "Let's go to the horse track.  I'm going to find a jockey and pick a fight just to prove to you that I can kick a jockey's ass."

Me: "Let me know which jail I need to pick you up at."