Ahhh, nothing like a warm cup of spiced chai on a cold Fort Payne night. And speaking of cold Fort Payne nights, guess what’s on the weather agenda for this area on Friday night and Saturday?
SNOW ! ! !
Only a mix turning to flurries, but hot damn, I knew there was a reason why I moved all the way to the northeast corner of Alabama. However, like most other forecasted snowy days in Alabama, this Friday it will probably be near 60 degrees, and we’ll have tornadoes instead.
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About a week ago, Steven and I made our way down to ye olde DeKalb County Courthouse to do whatever it is you do to obtain a marriage license. It was an easy and amusing experience. The best part was when they dragged out this huge tome of a book that was dark red in color, and was about the size and weight of three cement blocks.
“Cool,” I said.
The Book Lady replied, “What, the book? Ha ha, it’s not so cool when you’ve gotta pick it up.”
Then she proceeded to write some stuff in it, but I couldn’t see what, because I was more preoccupied with trying to recall all my most vital information that the government just has to know. The best question was, “Are the bride and groom related?” After checking with Steven, I proudly marked “No.” I wonder if that’s a minority in this county.
Anyway, soon after we were able to leave the courthouse with the almost-official license, complete with misspellings that I will have to get corrected later. And, true to my style, I embarrassed myself with my lack of common sense in front of the security guard. Another day, another stupid.
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And after writing so many horrible things about what Renton the Devil Cat has done, I must give him some praise. He was astonishingly angelic throughout the entire Thanksgiving holiday at my parents. Renton even was calm during the house-exploding time of putting up the Christmas doo-dads.
So unlike before, when it was, “You punish him too much; you’re too hard on him,” now it’s, “You don’t punish him enough. Follow through; give him a few hard whacks.” Whack whack whack. It’s pretty hard to whack the little nutter when you’re at work, and he’s in the kitchen eating your oven mitts. I still like Steven’s idea of a cat straightjacket, but last time we hunted for one of those, we ended up on some creepy BDSM supply website. Something tells me they’re not into the business of cat discipline, at least not of the feline kind.
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Google amuses me. Especially when I go through my site statistics and see how people came to this oddity of a diary/journal/entertainment/communication type thing. The more stuff I write on this thing, the more potential there is for someone to randomly trip over it via a Google search. The search phrase winner for this week? Why, it’s gotta be, “squirrel pee on computer!” It’s true, it’s true, search that phrase and you’ll find me. And honorable mentions go out to “hot sauce on tongue discipline,” THE CASTEL OF DOCTOR BRAIN,” and “ambesol,” which apparently I have been misspelling. It’s “Anbesol.” Ohhhh.
And I’ll leave ya with a hearty WAR DAMN EAGLE! Tuberville rules; Housel, Walker, and especially Lowder drools. All over our image. Pissants.