Keith Blenman's Blog: This Worthless Life, page 5

A quick stab of fiction

Billy was one and a half and sole heir to the family throne. Standing unsteady in a hand-me-down bow tie and secondhand, patchwork suit he played the first game his Daddy taught him. Wall. It was a simple game, but Daddy's favorite. And if Billy played it well he got a cookie. It was so easy. All the boy had to do was keep himself still against the blotchy red plywood. "I wish your mommy could see this," Daddy said, throwing a knife underhand. The blade stuck the plywood next to Billy's leg and the child bounced, clapping his hands and smiling. "Now don't you move, son. This next one's done blindfolded." Daddy waved around his handkerchief and playing peek-a-boo. "One day, you'll understand. Three generations your family's run this rodeo. Three generations and you'll be the fourth. Your grampy threw knives at Daddy. His daddy threw knives at him." He tied the handkerchief over his own face and stuck out his tongue, making Billy laugh and coo. "That's right, son. Keep making noise. Sister Debby didn't make noise. Neither did brother Creighton." Daddy spun a knife in his hand and dropped it. Hushing a curse he took another blade from its sheath. "Sister Libby, she made noise. But she kept moving. You're not moving, Billy, are you?" Billy clapped. "Good boy," Daddy said. "Good boy." He raised the knife over his shoulder. He slowly went through the motion of his throw. "Your grampy said I should stick to the business side. After what happened to Grammy and all. But we're finally gonna show him, ain't we?" He threw the knife and heard it stick. "Ain't we, Billy?"

A list of things I'm bad at. (Part 1)

1. Lassoing


2. Standing up for myself


3. Handstands


4. Taking it.


5. Dishing it out.


6. Football (both American and International forms)


7. Raising a barn


8. Making sense


9. Comprehending life


10. Trusting tap water


11. Cooking


12. Baking


13. Warming up to new people


14. Anarchy


15. Selling books


16. Diving


17. Wine tasting


18. Being punctual


19. Fashion


20. Being a man


21. Being an adult


22. Being an aardvark and most other animals as well.


23. Lighting a set


24. Keeping up with the show 24.


25. Arguing


26. Persuading others


27. Bringing joy to the world


28. Singing


29. Writing longhand


30. Chewing (I have a horrible reflux and vomit at least three times a week)


31. Organization


32. Politics


33. Erecting sculptures


34. Fixing machinery


35. Fixing people


36. Fixing a bet


37. Magic tricks (except the one)


38. Peeling oranges


39. Predicting the weather


40. Driving


41. Making my bed


42. Painting


43. Remembering most things I've been taught in school.


44. Justifying my actions


45. Saving money


46. Rolling with punches


47. Taking criticism


48. Hatred


49. Whistling


50. Giving a fuck.


51. Not giving a fuck.


52. Quoting things that aren't movies or TV shows.


53. Staying consistent with punctuation when forming a list


54. Golf!


55. Spelling (the proper word for nunchucks in particular)


56. Grammar


57. Wounds of other people: healing and/or pouring salt on them.


58. Dancing


59. Giving speeches


60. Feeling comfortable around others


61. Treating depression


62. Chemistry


63. Saving the last slice


64. Sharing


65. Following through


66. Separating my distaste for Shia Labouff as an actor from my views of him as a person


67. Keeping my elbows off the table


68. Being a leader or role model


69. Being placed in positions where I could be thought of as a leader or role model.


70. Leaving doors unlocked


71. Counting to one million and probably all numbers above, as well as a majority of the numbers below


72. Math, beyond algebra


73. Being a woman


74. Keeping my shoes from untying themselves. They're out of control.


75. Time management


76. Following doctors orders


77. Keeping up with current events


78. Saving the world


79. Saving even small fractions of the world such as communities or habitats


80. Flirting


81. Practicing bushido


82. Having faith in my fellow man


83. Having faith in spiritual deities above my fellow man


84. Trolling (both meanings)


85. Assembling things more complicating than LEGO


86. Archery


87. Keeping secrets


88. Grooming pets


89. Horticulture


90. Folding laundry properly


91. Saying good-byes


92. Giving direct answers


93. Being decisive


94. Selecting the freshest fruits and vegetables


95. Twerking


96. Dieting


97. Eating gluten free


98. Being taken seriously


99. Reading, watching, and listening to all the things people recommend to me.


100. Reading, watching, and listening to all the things I'm interested in.


101. Getting others to read, watch, and listen to all the things I'm interested in.


102. Separating my distaste of Kanye West as a person enough to respect him as a musician.


103. Letting younger generations enjoy their shallow, egocentric idols without complaint. Even though the shallow, egocentric idols of my youth did it better.


104. Developing characters


105. Establishing settings


106. Most swimming styles (I dog paddle okay enough. But not great.)


107. Traveling, seeing the world (which I should do if I plan on saving it)


108. Piracy


109. Knitting


110. Growing a beard


111. Of the instruments I've attempted to learn: playing the harmonica, guitar, bass, violin, French horn, recorder, bongos, and ukulele (these are all the instruments I've attempted to learn)


112. Snowboarding


113. Surfing


114. Water skiing


115. Taking jumps on snow skis


116. Punching


117. Throwing shurikens


118. Chess


119. Hunting


120. Stepping on bugs that aren't centipedes


121. Getting the right amount of sleep.


122. Exercising and/or working out.


123. Knowing enough about physical fitness or grammar to know whether or not there's a difference between exercising and working out.


124. Bocce


125. Remembering names.


126. Smuggling


127. Getting away with murder (I assume)


128. Donkey punching


129. Feeling good about my birthday and growing older in general


130. Interrogating


131. Aiming firearms


132. Aiming rubber bands


133. Climbing (with the exception of ladders)


134. Revenge


135. Using Photoshop


136. Going on rampages


137. Moshing


138. Wearing purple


139. Mental math


140. Programming


141. Hacking


142. Saying, "No."


143. Keeping an open mind


144. Tennis


145. First person shooters


146. Judging others


147. Piloting (planes, helicopters, and ships)


148. Using a stick shift


149. Knowing which outfit looks better


150. Making things look easy


151. Finding the best deals


152. Being stubborn


153. Knowing when I have a good thing going.


154. Knowing when to leave a bad situation.


155. Tuning


156. Keeping a steady beat


157. Regularly checking the mail


158. Flossing (so the dentist tells me)


159. Shuffleboard


160. Dissections


161. Botany


162. Getting things off the top shelf


163. Running


164. Using fireworks safely


165. Shuffling cards


166. Calling people out on their shit


167. Getting wasted


168. Making snowmen


169. Prophesying


170. Changing the air filter in my car


171. Washing my hands before meals


172. Keeping in touch with distant friends/relatives


173. Accepting the Star Wars Prequel trilogy as canonical to the Star Wars universe.


174. Rapping


175. Wrapping


176. Rhyming


177. Saying what's on my mind.


178. Cartwheels


179. Prayer


180. Naming boats/ships/other aquatic vessels


181. Dropping a beat


182. Remembering birthdays (Thanks, Facebook)


183. Taking my vitamins


184. Getting stains out of carpet/clothing


185. Quitting while I'm ahead


186. Playing along with Jeopardy


187. New York Times crossword puzzles (beyond the Monday puzzle and it's just not worth subscribing to the app for that. Why can't you make Mondays free? Come on, guys.)


188. Telling that Aristocrats joke.


189. Euchre


190. Immediately changing light bulbs as needed


191. Protesting


192. Reading the fine print


193. Reading entire user agreements (Anything beyond the words "I agree" proves as too much)


194. Making clever picket signs


195. Remembering any of the three foreign languages I studied in school (French, Spanish, and Japanese)


196. Waiting for my computer to finish loading before clicking again.


197. Hocking loogies


198. Reading maps


199. Asking for help


200. Playing rough


201. Calibrating lab equipment


202. Making eye contact


203. Writing a concise list of things I'm bad at, evidently


204. Remembering that I do indeed have plenty of food at home


205. Refraining from using shock value as a gimmick in my fiction


206. Packing luggage efficiently


207. Understanding why I'm so insistent on having straws in restaurants when I never think to use them at home.


208. Slam dunks


209. Raising the roof


210. Doing impressions


211. Fighting games


212. Sponsoring a child for pennies a day, or other currency values at alternative time intervals.


213. Bringing it.


214. Keeping honey from dripping down the sides of the bottle


215. Knowing how long to hold my hands under an air dryer


216. Role play (this can include job training, D&D, and probably bedroom type stuff. I always giggle)


217. Going a day without low brow humor


218. Putting in contact lenses


219. Not worrying


220. Taking angry/genuinely hopeful Detroit Lions fans seriously.


221. Winning the lottery


222. Waking up without having to hit snooze five times


223. Knowing whether or not the ullage is high


224. Putting the clip on a chip bag instead of just rolling it


225. Parkour


226. Spreading some butters (although I sometimes blame the consistency of the butters themselves)


227. Making a fully informed vote


228. Taking notes


229. Turning down a tip


230. Giving a cold shoulder


231. Tolerating a cold shower


232. Skateboarding


233. Cosplay


234. Emptying the dishwasher


235. Making floral arrangements


236. Catching sucker fish without their fins getting caught in the net


237. Babysitting


238. Reading classic literature


239. Writing eventual classic literature (unless the people of the future really, really enjoy dick and fart humor)


240. Getting myself to donate blood ("Look. I hate needles, man. Can't you just punch my nose and plug my nostril with the tube?")


241. Finishing my proposal to Detroit that turns abandoned areas of the city into paintball arenas that also sell novelty t-shirts that say, "I got shot in Detroit!"


242. Staying classy


243. Slicing bread (I crush it)

244. Keeping my desk clean.

245. Summoning forth any supernatural forces

246. Knowing if I'm saying "ouija" properly.

247. Washing my car

248. Stopping myself from reading Orson Scott Card despite my distaste of him as a person.

249. Giving up hope on the production to a sequel for Advent Rising.


250. Using slang


251. Using toaster ovens


252. Teaching ICP how magnets/ignorance works


253. Keeping up with Stuff You Should Know podcasts


254. Knowing why bird is the word


255. Keeping that bird bird bird. Bird is the word song out of your head


256. Keeping promises to my five year old self. Promises such as, "I will be Robocop, Batman, or a god damn Ninja Turtle when I grow up. So help me."


257. Touching my nose with my tongue


258. Regarding Che Guevara for his work as a revolutionary and a role model whenever I see his face on mass produced t-shirts.


259. Transporting large televisions


260. Maintaining an aquarium


261. Refraining from snoring


262. Walking (I tend to trip over curbs, sticks, my own feet. Particularly when given sultry looks.)


263. Being intimidating


264. Cutting hair


265. Shaving my neck


266. Public displays of affection


267. Deciding whether or not I enjoy AC/DC (the band, not the energy current)


268. Probably my taxes


269. Making my ball curve when bowling


270. Writing short hand


271. Giving skerfers


272. Manscaping (although, are you truly a man if the things you do don't cause a little bleeding?)

273. Writing scholarship letters

274. Plate spinning

275. Socializing

276. Disc golf

277. Hearing

278. Keeping my glasses clean

279. Washing my car regularly or at all.

280. Knowing whether or not I can pet an animal or if it's dangerous. Eg: bobcats.

281. Knowing whether to use ie, eg, or ex.

282. Accepting any sort of mild cold, flu, ache, or cough as, "Not cancer."

283. Deciding on what pizza to order with new people (Is that just me? Does everybody go through the "I'm fine with just pepperoni" dance?)

284. Understanding why people revere Doctor Who. Are they watching the same show? Like, seriously, where's this awesome version you're all hiding from me?

285. Accepting that not all the movies today require a post-credit scene. Even though I did just sit through ten minutes of credits.

286. Showing restraint when it comes to ice cream, chocolate chip cookies, pizza, doughnut holes, ect.

287. Selling Domino's execs on pretzel crusted pizza. Seriously, not even a reply...

288. Using sex appeal to get the things I want. "You say the blu-ray is $17.99. But what if I undo a button? Hey- Stop calling your manager over! Unless it's for a price change override in which case I'll undo another button."

289. Refraining from giggling when hearing words such as hard, fist, erect, poop, ect.

290. Minecraft

291. Understanding why I have fond memories of Crystal Clear Pepsi when I don't even enjoy regular Pepsi.

292. Living in the now

293. Saving my virginity long enough to be sold on eBay (about eighteen years late there).

294. Packing a parachute

295. Using credit cards responsibly, although I feel the credit card company greatly appreciates this from me

296. Roller skating

297. Reacting appropriately to getting fired. "Oh, thank god. I was going to quit after the holidays anyway."

298. Quitting my job at GameStop. I haven't showed up for nearly a decade, but I was never fired, quit, or had an exit interview. For all I know they're still scheduling me and/or holding my last paycheck.

299. Graduating college in a timely fashion

300. Feeling inspired enough to follow through with sit ups after watching the movie 300. I can't see the flick without thinking I should work out and/or exercise more. But that's as far as a goes. Thinking about it.

301. Knowing which plants I can eat and which are poison

302. Fighting for my right to party. Seeing why others would do the same. "You can have a party. Just have one. You're rock stars. It's kind of expected. No battle necessary."

303. Untangling Christmas lights.

304. Transplants (plants in new containers. Fish in new tanks. Also, probably live organs)

305. Accepting when a pen is out of ink without trying to use it for another minute

306. Bisexuality (I wouldn't say bi-curious as much as bi-out-of-practice)

307. Finding shoes in my size

308. Bowing with appropriate depth (I either give a shit bow or overshoot it)

309. Trusting grammar check

310. Trust falls

311. Trusting other people

312. Taking in cans and bottles before I have a massive excess to get rid of

313. Accepting that other people's area/zip codes aren't strange or unusual

314. Not wanting to smack people who use the non-word friendzone. "It's a stupid word and you're a pussy, whining essentially around the issue that you're a pussy. Just ask her out, get rejected, and go cut down a fucking tree to restore both shreds of your manhood. Losing something you never had and moving on is a fuck of a lot healthier than pining over something you'll never get while ignoring the millions of other opportunities out there. Believe me. I'm a fucking neurotic pussy and understands your plight, but even I want to backhand you and your stupid Facebook status. It's for your own whiny good."

315. Studying math. Specifically the practice problems. I learn better with flashcards, which is a horrible way to learn math.

316. Understanding why John 3:16 is so popular at sporting events or other things that aren't church services. Also why nobody at church ever holds up a sign that says Josh 3:16 or their other favorites. I'm sure the priest will take requests if you try...

317. Accepting that using this many surge protectors and power strips on one outlet is unsafe.

318. Immortality (I assume. At least, not aging hasn't been working out.)

319. Not aging

320. Enjoying the later seasons of Dexter while knowing what the ending is and that it's stupid

321. Jamming

322. Fully appreciating the difference between jelly and preserves

323. Finishing an entire loaf of bread before it goes bad

324. Dribbling, shooting

325. Telling the whole truth when I know it'll hurt somebody (I still do. I just suck at it)

326. Treason

337. Accepting eels as natural creatures, not born of concentrated evil and then rolled out like noodles

338. Convincing friends that some of Jimmy Buffett's music isn't half bad. (Ex: Tin Cup Chalice)

339. Enjoying a lot of Tool's music despite their exemplary talent

340. Convincing critics of the world that Citizen Kane, while deserving of many accolades, is no Blade Runner or The Hudsucker Proxy. "If your friends wrote a favorable review of jumping off a bridge, would you do it to?"

341. Knowing when jazz is smooth or just being itself.

342. Making contact with alien species (Several times I looked up in the sky and waved, but to my knowledge received no response)

343. Speed reading

344. Vacuuming corners

345. Sales

346. Denying myself thin mint girl scout cookies

347. Blowing glass


348. Reading minds


349. Reading lips


350. Interpreting body language


351. Folding, rolling, or doing whatever it is I'm supposed to to get an inflatable bed back into its carrying case.


352. Looking cool


353. Changing a tire (probably sets of tires as well)

354. Explaining anything related to astronomy beyond the loose generalities exhibited on episodes of The Universe and Nova


355. Calling at a good time


356. Applying make-up


357. Applying for jobs


358. Flight (with or without a vehicle)


359. Leaving succinct voicemails that don't endlessly blather on


360. Drawing perfect circles


361. Meditating


362. Preventing Balrogs from passing


363. Accepting that Firefly just isn't coming back. (Browncoats unite!)


364. Convincing everybody to watch Almost Human so it will definitely come back seas- oh, it's cancelled.


365. Grave robbing


366. Filling out customer surveys when I've had an acceptable experience that was neither great nor terrible.


367. Matching my socks


368. Reading aloud


369. Concluding on whether or not my junk is getting smaller or that it only looks smaller because I'm gaining weight.


370. Pearl diving


371. Willingly making physical contact with bugs and/or snakes


372. Using mala beads for more than adornments


373. Making a point to skinny dip more often (although I don't really have anywhere to go that I could. I suppose I could just take more baths instead of showers but it's just not the same.)


374. Understanding emotes more complicated than this: :)


375. Knowing the Dewey-decimal system except that 500s are science


376. Taking charge


377. Digesting milk


378. Lying


379. Whittling


380. Remembering whether or not I previously included whittling on this list.


381. Designating other people as driver


383. Keeping everything in order.


382. Wearing belt buckles


384. Using a water pick


385. graffiti/tagging


386. Eating the worm


387. Also, probably blowjobs


388. Convincing my cats that running through the tunnel toy it got them is highly entertaining and worth their time.


389. Expressing my feelings


390. Discussing the important things that are bothering me.


391. Not discussing the stupid things that are bothering me. (Seriously, Michael Bay. We all love William Fitchner but Shredder? And the turtles redesign is a cross between Gears of War and complete bullshit.)


392. Enjoying any James Bond movie prior to Daniel Craig.


393. Keeping window blinds in working order, evidently. I still can't figure out how they ever break in the first place. Something cat related, I'm sure


394. Finding people to play board games with, and consequently, buying board games despite how fun they look.


395. Finding the fish in that Monty Python movie.


396. Rappelling


397. Stunts


398. Measuring prior to cutting


399. Growing back hair (Thank god!)


400. Knowing where to eat


401. Convincing my employer to let me come and go as I please and not by a schedule. (I have bills. The job will get done. Do you think it'll get less done if I show up and leave at differing times of the day?)


402. Scouting ahead


403. Belly flops


404. growling


405. Sowing


406. Starting fires by rubbing sticks together


407. Convincing my cats that they enjoy being held


408. Convincing my dog that he's too large for my lap


409. Sinking battleships (in board games or otherwise)


410. Loitering


411. Gossiping


412. Only buying healthy foods at the grocery store


413. Remembering important historical dates, names, events. Pretty much anything history related.


414. Evasive maneuvers


415. Hanging multiple pieces of framed art level to each other


416. Staying within the lines (both coloring and driving)


417. Reading facial expressions


418. Defining, quantifying love


419. Knowing if disco died because people grew tired of the music or because "Disco's dead" is a catchy thing to say.


420. Caring whether or not marijuana gets legalized


421. Resting on the seventh day of the week.


422. Giving up things for lent


423. Getting to the last level in Super Mario Bros without the aid of warp pipes.


424. Shaving with a straight razor


425. Chivalry


426. Being a mentor


427. Being a waiter


428. Walking in heels


429. Roughnecking


430. Chopping vegetables


431. Riding in a cab without assuming I'm about to be kidnapped


432. Swallowing large pills without choking/puking


433. Being in orgies


434. Quickly convincing the cat to stop hacking on the carpet whenever she starts hacking on the carpet


435. Knowing the difference between sneakers and running shoes


436. Running a successful publishing company


437. Ironing


438. Pretty much anything that would include the word clandestine.


439. Being water (only 60% of the way there. Sorry, Bruce Lee)


440. Growing facial hair


441. Flopping around like a fish


442. Being sneaky


443. Folding a sheet of paper more than eight times.


444. Making deus ex machinas appear natural in a narrative

445. Setting up Rube Goldberg devices

446. Keeping my desk clutter free

447. Using ottomans for only their intended purpose

448. Convincing myself that my red converse do not in fact look awesome with my black suit.

449. Begging

450. Using the force (I certainly tried throughout my childhood and briefly in my early twenties)

451. Scheduling book signings. (To be fair, most of my fiction is only on the Kindle)

452. Looking good in a scarf


453. Enunciating clearly enough for Siri to understand


454. Accepting Siri's limits


455. Giving voice commands to my phone without addressing Siri as though it's some actual entity.


456. Skitching


457. Exhibitionism


458. Upholstering


459. Reupholstering


460. Moonwalking


461. Identifying new species (and most old ones)


462. Crying on command


463. Tracking prey


464. Aiming a Frisbee


465. Knowing the names of various gun stances


466. Calling the shots


467. Making ice sculptures


468. Feeling confident in a kilt (or at all)


469. Dying my hair


470. Carving elaborate designs in pumpkins


471. Not laughing at the horrible writing on CSI and most other cop dramas


472. Packing cigarettes


473. Rolling a cigarette


474. Dog sitting

475. Putting the right amount of air in tires

476. Writing smut

477. Using chainsaws for appropriate purposes (not the best way to slice bread and/or spread butter)

478. Forgeries

479. Multitasking

480. Climbing trees

481. Getting game consoles to work by blowing at them (Although I do appreciate that the Vita has a cartridge slot instead of a disc drive so when it starts to break down, I can start attempting that again)

482. Distinguishing between tonfas and nightsticks

483. Continuing to keep on rocking in the free world.

484. Tweeting regularly

485. Coming up with six word stories that are actually stories and not just an event or random sentence.

486. Reaping

487. Coming up with good costumes for Halloween/Cosplay

488. Deciding whether people are debunking Joseph Atwill's Caesar's Messiah because it's a weak argument or because they're expressing extreme bias.

489. Getting a high score in skee ball

490. Online dating (Never, ever, ever again since that fateful summer of 2005)

491. Gauging just how dumb I am in comparison to everybody else.

492. Using fireworks safely (So I guess... about that dumb. That I would do that)

493. Asking questions even though I'm engaged in what people are saying

494. Not talking about myself (which is weird because I hate myself)

495. Taking one for the team

496. Being asked to be a part of a team

497. Reading Tender Buttons

498. Not locking up whenever I'm around a group of people

499. Walking in front (I don't know why. It just makes me uncomfortable and anxious)

500. Leaping across rooftops

501. Darts (both throwing and understanding the rules)

502. Pool

503. Operating GC/MS or other sophisticated laboratory equipment

504. Being presidential

505. Convincing other people to compromise

506. Convincing people that Roadside Attraction, Book 1: Siren Night is the next great American novel

507. Performing tricks on a wakeboard

508. Deciding where to go/what to eat

509. Laser tag

510. Finding a cure/effective treatment for chronic non-bacterial prostatitis

511. Not judging books by their covers (which is funny because the covers on my books are pretty much all awful)

512. Picketing ("I'd love to go but seriously, 7 AM? On my day off? Forget it man. We lost.")

513. Pretty much anything an Olympian can do that I've forgotten to include on this list

514. Remembering all the things I'm bad at.

515. Trimming hedges

516. Converting from the metric system. Probably also to but the need has never come up.

517. Calculating to Kelvin from Fahrenheit

518. Erasing without leaving marks

519. Using a dry erase board without double and triple checking that the marker I'm using isn't permanent ink.

520. Knowing if anything about my life qualifies as livin la vida loca, whether or not that's a good thing, and where I would go to get tested for it.

521. Driving cattle

522. Riding a horse without being bit (Of the one time I rode a horse, this happened 100% of the time)

523. Deciding how I feel about snakes. They're not ALL bad... but just what's their game?

524. Winning at Cards Against Humanity

525. Understanding why people purchase magazines when we have the Internet. Books I get. Monthly or weekly publications when all the information is online already, I don't.

526. Not feeling a tiny, tiny bit bummed out when UPS or FedEx parks near my house but doesn't have anything for me.

527. Thwarting museum security

528. Blending in

529. Standing out

530. Shaking hands, particularly when the other person decides on a fist bump or some other special shake that I've never heard of.

531. Lately, feeling happy. Feeling a lot of things actually.

532. Giving up hope

533. Plate spinning

534. Speaking in fake accents

535. Measuring before cutting

536. Loitering

537. Only crossing the street at designated crosswalks. On the flip side, I'm a highly successful serial jay walker and my reign of mild inconvenience for drivers has only just begun! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

538. Bowling right handed

539. Throwing left handed (I know. Figure that one out.)

540. Trusting any news source

541. Holding my liquor

542. Accepting that I've reached an age where trimming ear hair is something I have to do.

543. Understanding why some people put all their emphasis on the next life and the next world when they have this world and this life right in front of them and they don't even understand that fully.

544. Spelunking

545. Using jumper cables

546. Lighting a fire under somebody's ass

547. Laughing through the pain (but I always try anyway)

548. Spontaneously combusting (I hope! So far, so good)

549. Paying attention to professional league sports/players

550. Knowing what noises foxes make. Also, knowing why there's a song about it.

551. Curling my tongue as well as some people.

552. Threading a needle

553. Whack-a-mole

554. From what I recall as a child, ring around the Rosie

555. Urinating in public

556. Hyping a crowd

557. Reading minds

558. Enjoying the taste of anything sour

559. Determining the ideal setting on my humidifier

560. Decorating

561. Pontificating

562. Understanding why bathrooms are so popular for selfies.

563. Being attractive

564. Karaoke

565. Lecturing

566. Figuring out what's wrong with a computer. I can run spell check. That's it. For some reason a lot of people think I'm more handy than this.

567. Consistently hitting the nail with the hammer

568. Twister. I am too short. And too fat. But I think it would be cool and kind of arousing to watch a bunch of yoga instructors play. In fact, I think everybody would agree that they could turn the summer Olympics into two weeks of that and we'd all happily watch.

569. Unionizing

570. Embalming. I wouldn't even know the first step. Although my assumption is that it involves the butt and a tube. Somehow.

571. Lactating. Thank god.

572. Stopping myself from automatically speaking louder when addressing a senior citizen, regardless of their hearing

573. antidisestablishmentarianism

574. Eating spicy foods

575. Eating bad food

576. Misanthropy

577. Sailing

578. Snorkeling (Unless you're supposed to drink and/or choke on the water)

579. Buying new clothes

580. Clipping my nails

581. Reading on a regular basis

582. Having sass

583. Paying attention

584. Knowing what evil lurks in the hearts of men

585. Teleportation

586. Performing miracles (Unless you count that time I put an ice cube in with some wine, melting it, and effectively turning water into wine)

587. Street performances

589. Understanding all the functions on a graphing calculator

590. Also, plotting functions on a graphing calculator

591. Organizing field trips

592. Forming committees

593. Photosynthesizing

594. Photography

595. Squashing my problems with other people before they fester and eat away at me.

596. Properly wearing a gi

597. Katas

598. Licking some envelopes (and I honestly don't know if it's me or the adhesive)

599. Giving massages. Also receiving them if that counts. I know it just involves lying there and letting it happen but I'm really uncomfortable with physical contact so the process of a massage in of itself has the opposite of its intended effect on me.

600. Looming

601. Using a loom

602. Air brushing

603. Scrap booking

604. Scrounging

605. Scavenger hunts ("Eh. It's out there, man.")

606. Opening beer bottles with surfaces/gadgets other than bottle openers

607. Feng shui

608. Keeping a robe tied

609. Moisturizing

610. Forming complex knots (which explains 74 and 608)

611. Winning. (Meaning I very seldom do. As a kid I was a 'participant trophy' kinda person)

612. Weeding

613. Five Finger Fillet

614. Counting down without wanting to speed up and then slow down a bunch for the final "3... 2... 1..."

615. Looking slender while wearing stripes

616. Knowing if I'm highlighting too little. Or too much.

617. DJ'ing

618. Tug of War (The temptation to let go is always too strong)

619. Finishing meals that have been super-sized

620. Peeling out

621. Replacing wiper blades

622. Changing oil

623. Eating celery without feeling mortified

624. Clearly distinguishing hyperbole

625. Malapropisms

626. Ignoring cravings

626. Moving people to tears

627. Trusting online translation software to put my fiction in other languages

628. Controlling heartburn

629. Naming all fifty states in one sitting

630. Naming all the other countries in any amount of sittings (or pointing to them on a map)

631. Drawing pentagrams

632. Volunteering in my free time

633. Being a louse (either meaning)

634. Lighting a gas grill/oven/stove without assuming I'm about to killed in an explosion

635. Effectively swinging a sword

636. Determining if a sword is decorative or functional

637. Distinguishing between modernist and post-modernist

638. Shanghaiing others

639. Using lacrosse equipment for actual play or even a casual game of catch

640. Ice skating and using hockey equipment at the same time (Although I'm so-so at either separately)

641. Baseball

642. Reffing/Umping. Also knowing the difference between the two. (padding?)

643. Using commas for only their intended purpose

644. Platter arrangements

645. Brewing beer (tea, I do just fine)

646. Parallel parking

647. Parking in garages

648. Walking in ski boots

649. Guitar Hero and other similar games

650. Blogging on a regular basis

651. Accepting shaky-cam close ups as immersive (They're just annoying)

652. Being cold hearted

653. Avoiding run on sentences while writing rough drafts

654. Leavings scabs alone

655. Understanding most poetry

656. Baiting hooks

657. Awaiting medical test results without assuming the worst

658. Grappling

659. Kicking at things above waist level (shin level is preferred)

660. Applying decals (Why the fuck can't you just be stickers?!)

661. Remembering all the lyrics to theme songs of favorite childhood TV shows

662. Not finding Fraggle Rock creepy.

663. Standing up for myself

664. Feeling okay with selecting matte when I've used glossy my whole life

665. Feather bowling

666. Taking the concept of Hell and The Devil as anything but metaphors. Heaven as well.

667. Devoting myself to a single cause or purpose

668. Opening crates

669. Tolerating burlap

670. Enjoying sweet potatoes

671. Eating an entire baked potato without getting sick of it.

672. Slandering

673. Getting out of tickets

674. Using parking meters (I pretty much always gamble that I'll be gone before anybody can show up to give me a ticket. At this point I assume the money I've saved is well beyond the cost of a parking violation ticket)

675. Causing mass hysteria

676. Feeling comfortable with customers at any of my retail jobs having access with my first name when I don't know/care to learn theirs. (In other words, I hate wearing name tags)

677. Taking the time to find the perfect dozen

678. Cheer leading

679. Raking ALL the leaves

680. Formal debates

681. Drinking games

682. Boasting

683. Liking any of the nicknames I've acquired over the years

684. Being a man of action

685. Writing plausible sci-fi

686. Using camouflage

687. Properly citing sources

688. Knowing whether or not I'm sticking to an MLA format or deviating somehow

689. Looking at complications as opportunities

690. Maintaining childlike exuberance throughout my life

691. Convincing my cats that they in fact do not want to go outside in bad weather or late at night

692. Wiggling my ears

It's all fun and games 'til bees start fucking on your hand

I've been spending my mornings on my grandparents lawn.
...Doing yard work! What were you even thinking just now? The fact of the fact is Grandma and Grandpa Blenman aren't quite as spry as they used to be. They're both fighting this of course. Grandpa gives me thorough, detailed instructions for weeding (which I purposely mess up so he can redirect me). Grandma gives me the task of pulling up dead vines and tries to sneak in moments of doing it herself. After pruning a tree I was cutting branches down small enough to fit in a garbage can and both grandparents were sitting in the shade and telling me, "No! Cut them shorter! Shorter! -That's too short. They don't have to be that short! -No, Keith. Shorter!"
Something tells me they were laughing behind my back with that one...
It's only when I get one of them alone that they both quietly confess, "I just hate how helpless I've become."
Not that they have to say it. My grandfather has this little battle with himself where he tries walking without his cane. He can go short, wobbly distances. And you can see the fatigue and stress of it in his eyes. He always returns to the cane. And I always want to but absolutely will not ask if that moment of walking unsupported left him with a feeling of victory or defeat. His own personal revolution against his age, made ten steps at a time.
Last year when I was helping around the house they'd show me something they wanted done and leave me to it. This year they're looming over me a little. They're watching me work. Not that they don't trust me to get the job done. I'm actually pretty sure that either I'm the entertainment or they're staring longingly at the things they can't do themselves. And I'm leaning toward the latter because of how often they remind me of it.
"I'd help you replant those but if I bend down there's a good chance I won't get up."
"I used to shovel dirt like that all day. Dirt and rocks." 
"The thing about old age is... ... ..." *nap*
And the thing of it is, I'm fat. I'm out of shape. My version of a gym membership involves stealing a workout DVD from my brother's house, using it twice, and then forgetting I have it until somebody presents me with a bill that I laugh off.
"Ha! What are you gonna do? Hunt me down with all your incredibly fit and attractive personal trainers? Make me burn a few calories running from them? Essentially get more out of your services?"
No. Really. They'd catch me. I'm in horrible shape. If you guys were to poke me in the belly I'd totally giggle like the Pillbury Dough Boy. And then your hand would get stuck in all the morbid obesity. And my workout would consist of you, screaming, pulling and kicking at me, forcing my belly to jiggle. And I only point this out because my grandparents are watching me, this massive and miserable oaf, lumber about their yard, sweating profusely and picking up sticks. And their reaction to this -if not simply enjoying the hypnotic lava lamp-ness of my gut- is more likely longing and wishful thinking.

Watching manual labor is like porn for old people. Unfortunately when they watch me it's the equivalent of that VHS quality amateur insect hentai some friend of a friend of yours promises he was just joking about and isn't really into. "It'll get the job done. Just don't let anybody know what's doing the job."
...Wow. This post changed tones fast.
Anyway, this morning I was hosing down the front lawn with a little application of Ortho weed killer. One of those cool things that attaches on the end of your hose and you get to think, "Well, the liquid's going down so it very well could be working."
If it doesn't work, I do hope my grandpa blames the product over my ability to apply it. I mean, I really can't speak for the quality of weed killers from the Ortho company, but I do know for all my grandpa's physical struggles, his mind is still going strong. He's not one of those grandfathers who you can say stuff to like, "Oh, silly Grandpa. That was Danny who helped you with the weeding. I was at the drive-in or banker's office or church or whatever it is you think people my age do in their free time."
No, really. I'm sure it'll work fine.
So I'm going up and down the lawn in Grandpa's instructed grid like pattern. Spray forward. Spray back. Two steps left. Spray forward. Spray back. Two steps left. Spray forward. Spray back. Two steps right- "No, Keith! Left!" (Juuuuuust checking)-Four steps left. Spray forward. Spray back. Two steps left... When suddenly a bee landed my hand.
Or so I thought. 
Rather, it was two bees. And the worker bee was mounting his queen.
Now, they say when a bee lands on you, if you don't want to get stung, the absolute best thing to do is freeze. Don't agitate it. Don't give it a reason to sting you. And absolutely do not kill it. We're working as hard as we can to save the bees (and with these links you can donate to helping bees).

 
So I absolutely didn't want to disturb the bees. We need them. We need their queens making more bees. We need our honey, damn it! Never mind just how aggravated people (and I assume other species) get when their coitus is interrupted. So in a lot of ways I suppose I should've been honored. It's one thing to give money, but it's something entirely different to be an active participant in bee breeding. For the rest of my life, whenever somebody asks if I've ever done anything to save the bees, I can now proudly say, "Actually, I was used as a mattress for bee breeding one time. What have you done?"
And this was actually a very educational moment. We've all heard about the birds and bees, but how many people really witness it? I was just the other day having a conversation about how sheltered I am and not at all with nature. And here I was, being used as a fuck stop for insects. Not everybody does that in life, you know. Not everybody can say, "Yeah. Yeah. I know aaallllllllllllll about the bees." 
But here's the thing. It wasn't just a brief little second of my day. These bees were going at it. The queen had landed and the worker was hard at work. And I was kind of terrified to move. I mean, I've been stung before, and it sucks but it's not the end of the world. But it just wouldn't mean a slightly worse day for me. For the worker bee, his junk gets ripped off at the end of the intercourse and he dies. And for the queen, the future of the colony is at stake. She doesn't come home and the hive's entire future is screwed. And who knows how many peanut butter and honey sandwiches are left in my future?
So the stakes were about as high as I could inflate them. I was stuck here, watching bees screw on my hand. And after a minute my Grandpa calls over from his chair, "Why'd you stop?"
"Sorry, Grandpa! I've got a... well... There's a bee on me!" Technically I wasn't lying. Only one bee was on me. The other was on his queen.
"Oh yeah? Is it pretty big?"
"...Well I- ...I can't rightly tell." And right about then I saw the worker bees legs move on the queen's thorax. And it occurred to me that he totally just spanked the queen. So to my grandfather, "It looks pretty aggressive though."
And I'm sure some of you are asking how long it possibly could've lasted. And to my absolute amazement they were going for well over a minute. I'm actually gauging it closer to two minutes. Long enough that I could get bored and start sending pictures of it to my girlfriend.

They hadn't even stopped either. Grandpa was getting impatient so I decided to see if I could just work around them. So I got back to my spraying forward, spraying back, two steps left routine -as the bees did the same- and after a few steps the queen eventually flew off, the worker still going strong as far as I could tell.
So here's the educational part. Evidently bees last longer than some people. If you check that link, bees last way longer than your average Alaskan. There are human beings out there with less exciting love lives than bees. And not just in the, "Baby! I'm going to screw you to death!" kinda way. Little bugs are totally showing mammals up here.
Don't get me wrong. As fun as it is to tease others over stamina, I was totally dominated by another species today. I'd say that's actually the most I've ever been dominated in my entire life. I mean, I've lost fights. I've had the shit beat out of me. My arguing is pathetic, and I'm always the first person to back down and give up or compromise. In a vast majority of video games, I get my ass handed to me in multi-player. I'm an incredibly passive, meek person and for all the reasons you can imagine. But of the few times in my life I've been used as an object this is the first I've ever been regarded as furniture. Today, for a longer period than an Alaskan hot minute, I was reduced to spot for a bug to catch its breath mid-coitus.
And I realize this is the absolute wrong reaction. When people of any species start doing it on you, freezing is probably the saddest thing you can do. And under the minor threat of a mild stinging. "Oh, uhhhh, best just let them finish." Thank god it wasn't a couple of bears. Or waking up to some eagles going at it, perched on my shoulder. "Well... this is really uncomfortable for me but... they are endangered."
How is this going to effect my life? I probably shouldn't be blogging about it. Now when people see me on the street they'll say, "Hey! Hey, honey! It's that guy you can do it on and all he does is freeze up and choke!" Random people on the street. Just going at it on me while I'm waiting in line for a movie or trying to grab lunch.
"Huh? -Oh, yeah. Here. - No. No. I just started carrying them in my pocket. It happens so often. ...What? No I'm out of the flavored ones. Just ribbed and glow in the dark." 
...Fucking bees...

EDIT: CORRECTION So when I wrote this blog I had no idea what species of bees these were. So evidently they're a variety of sweat bee and don't produce honey. Also honey bees are the only ones who die after sex. Special thanks to Crissy, the blog's now official bee keeper. Normally I'm not above editing a blog to mask my ignorance but then we'd be losing the humor and those of you who knew what kind of bee they were all along would miss out on being more knowledgeable than me. And for those of you who were just as in the dark as myself and made it this far, don't you feel all sorts of smarter for having read this paragraph?

On naming social groups

For a story I'm working on I just had to look up what a group of ferrets are called. I knew that a gathering of crows is a murder. Penguins are a colony. Bees are a hive. Ferrets, I didn't know.
Apparently they're called a business.
This seems highly inappropriate. I don't know if you've ever seen ferrets in action, but there are far better things we could call them. A tornado of ferrets. A clown car of ferrets. A holy shit that's a lot of ferrets of ferrets.
And that got me thinking. Why don't we ever name groups of people in similar fashion? For humans it's pretty much group, gang, tribe, or population. But never anything fun.
"That's a group of teenagers." 
"There goes a group of senior citizens."
I think we can do better. And just to give you guys an idea of much fun we could be having in naming groups of people, I'm going to offer you several highly practical applications to get us started.
People in Groups
A kegger of sports fansA scurvy of goth kidsA conspiracy of politiciansA parchment of poetsA gravity of scientistsA dadaism of toddlersA procession of mall walkersA commercial of pop starsA conformity of hipstersA literacy test of Walmart shoppersAn abandon of retail workersA scribble of doctorsAn error of customersA patience of nursesA hairball of cat ownersA smother of grandparentsA bigotry of minoritiesA felony of minorsA crossword of therapistsA Phish of stonersA calamity of stock brokersA bumper car of drunk driversA butt plug of managers

Well that's all I've got. Feel free to comment with more.

I just don't know.

I heard two men talking this morning and I honestly have no idea if they were discussing the one dude's son learning to crawl or the one dude overcoming his erectile dysfunction. I just can't decide. So I'll let you guys be the judge.

Man 1: "Hey, how's your little guy doing?"

Man 2: "Great! I spent all morning with him, just playing away."

Man 1: "Yeah? He getting around yet?"

Man 2: "Like you wouldn't believe. Kayla was getting worried for a minute there. Now as soon as she turns her back he gets into everything. There's just no stopping him."

A tad excessive there, Skywalker.

I'm not saying Luke shouldn't have reacted when he found out Darth Vader was his father.
I think everybody can agree, that's a lot to take in.
But suicidally plunging into an abyss?
Maybe a bit dramatic.
I'm just saying, the guy is offering to rule the galaxy and betray his boss, Luke's enemy, the emperor.
He gets a dad. He squashes the empire. Probably some sick government insurance to get himself a better hand. If you really think about the moment, it could've gone really well for him.
I can understand though. He just flew in. Jet leg. Tensions were high. He wasn't all that sure about his relationship with Leia.  
Still though...
I'm just saying, maybe he could've gotten a DNA test before hurling himself to a highly probable demise. They were in a city in the clouds. They probably had fifteen gadgets and gizmos in that very room that could've tested their DNA. All Luke had to do was climb off the ledge and say, "Let's find out." Then walk up to the nearest droid and wait for it to boot up and say, "Please insert your right hand."
...Or maybe one calibrated for left hands...

On completing a task while exhausted

I woke up at my desk in the middle of the night last night.

I'd spend pretty much the entire day working on a paper for a class and managed to pass out without my head falling onto the keyboard.

When I woke up I stumbled my way to bed (all six feet) and pat my pockets down to empty them on the nightstand.

Keys.

Wallet.

Phone.

I then felt a small lump in the breast pocket of my shirt. Without really opening my eyes, I slid my fingertips up my shoulder, looking for the lip of the pocket.

But I couldn't feel it.

I moved my hand up and down a couple of times, puzzled as to why this shirt's pocket was being so impossible to detect.

Finally I opened my eyes and actually looked.

My shirt didn't have a breast pocket.

Also the lump was my nipple.

Alternatives to love letters

So I have this constant compulsion to inform my girlfriend that the sun shines out of her ass. I'm totally in love with her. She's my favorite. If she actually knew just how often I dream about her she'd probably file for a restraining order. And I wouldn't blame her. Between my low self esteem and mild insanity (yes, I'm going with mild. It's only one voice in my head and it's not like it ever tells me to kill anybody. The other night it just wanted me to change channels.) she puts up with more than a person ever should.
That said, ever the romantic, I'm perpetually trying to amuse her and let her know that I appreciate her. But I think we can all agree that it gets a little old when your significant other does that. You hear, "I love you," fifty times a day and eventually you wonder if A) there's any substantial meaning to those words and B) if medication should be administered. So instead of writing love letters and like the cat, leaving dead little presents at her feet, I write her stories. Nothing huge. Those who follow my blog are more than aware that Necromantica is around the corner. As she, my muse, was the inspiration for the book, rather than love letters I have a habit of sending little text message stories of the main characters' alternative adventures together. Certainly not a part of the novel or anything else, it's just a jokey little, "I love you." Also, hopefully more interesting than sonnets describing those rays of sunlight...
Anyway, I think I've written something like twenty or thirty. Some funny. Some dark. Some action packed. Some erotic (I hope. She probably just laughs). And for the most part they're just something special for her and I to joke about. Others I end up implementing into the novel or other stories. Anyway, I wrote a couple over the weekend and felt like sharing one. For those unfamiliar with the characters, There's Lama, the thief. Mornia is an elven necromancer. And in recent tales they've been joined by Moete, the ferret. here's a little comical, non-canonical introduction to the characters that her and I created, originally sent via text message. Mostly I'm just glad I get to date somebody who enjoys reading this sort of stuff from me.

Lama's Catches Breakfast


Moete and Lama slowly made their way through the cave. It had been Lama's turn to breakfast and Moete proved quite the tracker when it came to birds. Of course their hunting party had taken several detours.
      "Lama?" Moete said. "Lama? Lama? Lama?!"
       "What?" Lama finally grumbled.
       "You lost a chicken."
       Lama balled his fists. It was the seventh time Moete reminded him of it. "It wasn't as simple as that. If those soldiers hadn't spotted it right as I did..."
      "You wouldn't have lost the chicken?"
      "They turned their bow to me."
      "So you had a clear shot a chicken?"
      Lama heard enough. "I had to dispatch them! The chicken panicked in the noise! For the last time: Its tracks went to this cave!
     "And you lost it."
     Lama's swords drew themselves, and Moete drew his at the thought of playtime before breakfast. The clashed, and just as soon as metal hit metal the entire caved filled with an overwhelming screech.
     Both of them froze and looked about the enormous cavern. Moete sniffed. "Chicken?"

     Mornia had enough waiting. She had added logs and kindling to the fire thrice now and her twiggy little belly was growing restless. She followed her human and ferret's tracks until she happened upon the wreckage of a small scuffle. The first soldier had holes in his face matching seven of Lama's throwing knives. His eye had been plucked, so she assumed the eighth blade lobotomized the guy before death. The second soldier's neck had been snapped and his leg thrust through the backside of the third soldier, who clearly died from the foot bursting out his chest. The fourth had been strangled on the third soldier's entrails. It looked as though the battle had taken to the branches because the fifth soldier was stabbed with several Fortian spears, sixteen feet off the ground. To all of them Mornia whispered, "Which way?"
      All the corpses pointed left.

      She followed the trail through an alcove and along a shallow stream until she happened upon an enormous mouth to a cave. She was about to enter but heard screaming.
      "Run!" It was Lama. "Run!"
       From the darkness, Lama and Moete both emerged, both running in a panic. Lama tripped over a rock and Moete used him as a launching pad to get ahead. When Lama leapt back up into his run he yelled, "Moete, take Mornia north! I'll draw the beast South! Go! Go!"
       Moete clung Mornia's leg and climbed up to her shoulder. "Come, milady!"
      Lama kissed her quickly, said, "Good morning my love," before veering to the South and banging his swords together. "This way!" He screamed over his shoulder at the cave.
      A loud screech responded to him.
      Mornia squinted at the noise but didn't move. Moete was tugging at her hand to move. When the screech came again he fell back on his butt and and started scurrying away.
     The screech thundered and shook the trees. A little chicken came running out of the cave, clucking its way past Mornia. And then two legs emerged from the cave shadows, followed by six more. A giant, ultra mega mega spider burst from the cave entrance, instantly three times the size of the cave mouth. It screeched again, blowing the trees and rattling the stones, but Mornia didn't run. She, an elf, understood the spider language. And the massive beast was saying, "Wait! Wait! You forgot your chicken!"
      Mornia screeched at it, "hello!"
      And the spider's many eyes looked down at the elf. "Oh, good morning, darling. Did you happen to see a human and ferrelf come this way?"
     "They're in my party. I fear you startled them."
     "Oh, my apologies. I don't get many visitors as of late. Small camps of Fortians trying to rebuild the old kingdom but they keeping thinking my cave is to be raided so I've eaten quite a lot- say! Those boots you're wearing are adorable!"
     "Oh?" Mornia smiled. "You like them?"

     From the shadowy bushes, Lama lifted his head to see what was happening. From over Lama's shadowy shoulder, Moete lifted his head to see what was happening. They both saw Mornia stick one foot forward and pivot it a little. Both she and the giant spider were screeching back and forth. "What are they doing?" Moete whispered.
      "I think she's telling it she'll step on it," Lama said.

      "Thank you," Mornia said. "I like your many elbow pads."
       "Do you?" The spider screeched. "I make them myself. Out of giant mega mega spider silk. Very rare. Very expensive. Thankfully the stuff shoots out my ass. I sell it to Hyoka for more than I know what to do with. I wish I could wear boots. I rip right through them with these."

      Lama and Moete watched as the spider lifted one of its legs, its foot being an eight foot long spike. Both of them gasped at Mornia's courage as she stood her ground, screeching back at the beast.

       "If I had feet like that I'd never want to wear boots," Mornia said. "I would do the can-can in people's faces everywhere."
       The spider laughed, shaking all the trees. It stomped its feet back down, cleaving the earth. "Well aren't you a little devil. Charming, just delightful. Are you going to be in the region long? I'd love to fit you for a dress."
       "I would love that!" Mornia said. "Shall I come back this afternoon?"
       "Tomorrow would be better. I have some spidery things to catch up on."
      "Tomorrow it is then," Mornia said, bowing to the spider.
       "Wonderful," the spider bowed, and Mornia returned the courtesy.

       "They're bowing!" Lama said. "They're about to duel by way of the samurai!"

       "Oh one last thing," the spider said, lifting one of its giant spiked feet into air. It then kicked out, stabbing down into the shadowy bushes before Mornia could even blink.

      Lama slowly looked over his shoulder. Moete slowly looked over his. The bladed foot had spiked straight through the chicken. A plume of feathers and geyser of blood sprayed from it.

     "Don't forget your breakfast," the spider screeched. "Most important meal, you know." It then lifted its foot and shook the dead chick off, making it bounce off Lama's face and land in front of him.

Dog Sitting - Day 1

The text I received this evening from my cousin's husband was, "So I hear the dog gave you a rousing welcome." 
Here's why:

That was actually a lot more eventful than my welcome. When I first arrived, the dog greeted me by listening to me fiddle with the key for several minutes and not approach the door at all. When I walked inside he peeked his head around the corner to see what all the fuss was about and then promptly took to sulking on his dog bed. 
Clearly his parents abandoned him for all eternity and left him with what appeared to be some giant shaved testicle. I was not to be trusted.
Needless to say, trust was a slight issue this evening.
Feeding the dog took several minutes of coaxing. I filled his food dish and included a good helping of water. From the other room he peeked around the corner, clearly uncertain if I was about to feed him, poison him, or just devour all his food right before him. It wasn't until I set the dish on the floor and took several steps away that he meekly entered the room, looked around for several minutes, and then quickly scarfed down his food, keeping a close eye on me.
I left him to his meal, thinking he was acting guilty because he'd left a present somewhere.
I didn't smell anything. I didn't at any point slip in urine. So everything seemed in order. When I returned to the dog he had made his way to the next room, and was lying on his side, staring at me.
"Want to go outside?" 
Eventually we made it to the door, but the video shows about how far that went. The only thing that could've made it better is if he said, "You are not my mother. You're a fucking snort."
Once he lied down I had trouble turning around his malcontentedness.  I figured he just ate so if I just gave him a little time to digest, eventually he'd want to go outside. So I brought in my laptop and proceeded to work on my final exam for a few minutes.
I tried him again ten minutes later.
Then twenty minutes later.

An hour later.
Two hours later.
Finally I started plucking the back of his collar to coax him to his feet. After several minutes of reassurance that the backyard was still his toilet and he was more than welcome to explore it, he eventually went outside and sniffed his way around into doing something awful.
And then I faced the situation of getting him back inside. Granted, it didn't take as long on account of the cold, but there was something about me standing by the doorway that he didn't entirely trust.
"You can go back in your home," I said with him still questioning my every move. It wasn't until I stepped away from the door, holding it open at arms length that he finally went inside and promptly returned to his dog bed, where he continued to watch me work.
Before I left for the night he let me pet the top of his head and rub his ear.
I texted my cousin's husband back, "Lifted his head and everything."
He replied, "God it's like he's a puppy all over again." 

Attempted Shakespeare

Angus in the Woods

ACT I
SCENE I. A forest

Enter ANGUS followed by BANDIT.
ANGUS

Nay and no, sir!
I aim not away but merely sideward.
If it vexes I should angle my station
through this woodland endeavor I of course offer
only my regret bejeweled apologies.
For I thought not to offend,
nor to misguide, certainly not to flee,
and to my utmost not to discover features which you
so sternly instructed are to remain secret.
My action was agreeably not clever but rather anxious.
The farmer oft toil over uncultivated lands
as the nun doth pray more fervently
should she stumble herself upon a brothel.
To the tip of your arrow I find myself no less acute.
But if your desire stands that I should remain as your Polaris
and not waver as the moon I with diamond clarity do understand.
But to this point may I inquire
as to the manufacturer of your crossbow?
Be the weapon of Danish, German, or even Eastern descent?
Could you speak with approbation to its oak-ness?
For I doubt not the sturdiness of your arm nor finger.
My travel companion’s now deeply tunneled eardrum
may testify to the many seasons
in which the fruit of your skill hath ripened.
But to my fancy it strikes not uncommon
even a distinguished gentleman of your profession
may acquire his arsenal through less reputable vendors, perhaps.
I speak not to belittle but merely to express
the typical depiction of the roguish type
as painted to those fenced within the boundaries of law.
Not exclusively mind you.
As it were my darling wife, Helena,
lost her second eldest brother
to the accidental twain of such a contraption
as the one you so sturdily poise upon the aft of my beating heart.
The absolute stern, mind you.
Only the stern, as clearly the sight of my port and starboard
ripples you and I wish our waters placid.
But pray thee, if I am not to bend even in the slightest
from our forward trajectory may I
at least rest in the blanket of knowing
your crossbow was not forged by a Frenchman?
Should my two daughters, Hero and Luce,
lose their father well before his winter,
I’d like him not slain in the same manner as their uncle.
Treachery from a bandit lofts a certain romance
over the malfunction of a taut string and bolt.
Speak not further of their future mistrust of crossbows.
Although Helena raises them as ladies I possess little
doubt He may challenge my girls to the necessities of survival.
Should cross events transpire
calling upon them to throttle at the grips of crossbows
I merely ask we ensure they do not come to doubt
the functionality of the tools at their disposal.
Think upon my daughters, sir.
Allow me to let them know
the weapon operates strictly as advertised.
And with that matter settled, we may journey forth
with no future misunderstandings betwixt us.
For I shall remain steadfast in your employ, a loyal hostage.
You, an opportunistic adventurer, most shrouded.
I shall concern myself only in carrying
these gold sacks, your rightful possessions
with myself merely the vessel of their transport.
You concern yourself only in man’s own fallible
requirement of occasional slumber. But trouble not over me again.
By crest and kin I am weightier than a bird
and won’t take flight.
Genuinely, I am merry to assist in this
capitalistic little venture you've bestowed upon me.
For I grew bored last evening stewing about my campsite.
My cargo constituted mere luxuries for my abode.
The purse was meant to breathe
and I may make substitute purchase upon its next inhale.
My travel companion twas but a lug hired to lug.
He was of no personal consequence and to the ranchers
I’m certain most easily replaced.
Betwixt us and the trees, he fares better left as food for the wolves.
So as you swift as the fox may deduce,
I view our encounter as a delightful diversion
through seldom traveled countryside. Nothing
more than a tale to rouse dinner guests over in coming Sundays.
The depiction of yourself will fluctuate greatly
in every merry telling, mind you. For I know not the face
of my captor and per his command
it leaves me only in the company of noncommittal imagination.
But perhaps you fancy yourself portrayed in a particular fashion?
Shall your height be doubled? Do you wish
me to speak of your barbarian arms
or perhaps with demon fires ablaze beneath your eyes?
Speak now. Tell me of the legend I’ll boast of once you set me free!

ANGUS takes bolt from crossbow and stabs BANDIT.
ANGUS

Your eyes do tremor, sir.
The only demon revealed within crouches now,
a reflection of no other than my true self
aiding to soften your fall.
Do fight the blood you drown in.
For whatever oblivion awaits
a pestering pup who attacks a bear
is but two steps beyond the horizon.
Should this be your finale I wish you to squeeze
every drop and celebrate in that
you’re still given the grace to suffer.
Although the book on life’s great lessons closes
many half read chapters early, should this
thin veil be wrenched aside and the thickness
of eternity be revealed I offer you some parting words.
The crossbow makes but a bandit.
Tis the close blade that forges a man.
Rest now, pup.
Leave this fool to his fancy untruths and rest.

BANDIT dies