This and that..

People slay me. Today there was a 6" placostamas dead in the tank. You know-- the black, bug-eyed algae eater that sucks shit off the sides of the tank? Apparently he wedged his ugly, fat head between a rock and a plant-pot and couldn't get out. (Odd that God didn't give a placostamas the ability to swim in reverse.) A patient wanted to reach in and grab it for me. Two problems with that: 1) the fish's belly was eaten, and 2) the lady was too excited. WAY.

People don't think. My wife, Paula tells the story better, but this is just too funny. We have a patient that came in and said, "Oh my! You're pregnant!" (WTF? Have you had your head completely stuffed up your ass?) Paula said she was 4 weeks away from her due date and the lady said something like, "Oh, I thought your face was fat because big girls have chubby faces."

Speaking of Pregnant. My daughter, in embryo, has her own website. www.EllaMarieWilliams.com . She doesn't have much to say yet, but she takes a cute picture!

Landscaping Sucks. I began re-landscaping the front of the house a while back, on somewhat of a whim. The first half went so smooth (and only took a weekend) that I decided to finish the other half-- you know, the side with the slope. The dreaded fucking slope...

A month and about a thousand dollars later, I'm still working on the Great Wall of Norwood Hills. I've got 4 tons of dirt in my driveway, a pile of gravel, something called "chat", and a blistered tip-of-the index finger. (Yes, I smashed it with a rubber mallet.) Next time I'll hire 4 mexicans and be done with it. (And I mean that in a positive way.)

Glorified Work Titles. In the late 80's I pushed a shovel for Schaefer-Meyer (on the seed/sod division). I hated that fact that I was a "shovel-pusher" so I called myself a "Manual Backhoe Operator." People thought that was cool, but it meant one thing: I pushed a shovel.

I've got a friend named Dave that calls himself a "Voice-Over Expert or Engineer." Here's my Top 10 list of requirments to call yourself a VOE:

10. Must have a "Home Office" (basement)
9. "Studio" = a closet with microphone

... come to think of it, that's all the requirements. At first I thought it was cool, but it means one thing: He works in his underwear, in the basement, in a closet.

OH JEEZUSS!

What's wrong with this picture:




A) The trash company planted roses on their facilities,

B) The photographer was so drunk his CAMERA was seeing double

C) Mike opened an email virus that was labeled, "Click here to empty trash..."

D) Mike's new piece of art, rightfully named "My Vision of Hell," includes new trash bins everyday for eternity,

E) All of the above

Dirty old people..

Today we were driving down the road when a "skittle car" (any car that is small enough to run on 3 cylinders and looks like a family of mexicans would own it) buzzed by the following letters on it's vanity plates: TEA BAG

Odd that some old goat thinks that's cool. (I'm just say'in)



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My official O'Fallon chiropractic (chiropractor) website can be found at www.chiro-practice.net .

There really IS A GOD!

Yesterday I got home from the office-- low and behold (a phrase my grandma Williams used to use), there was a spanking new, almost shiney recycle bin. (Fist to-the-waste gesture*) "YESSSSS!"

And not only that, there sitting next to it was it's twin cousin, a new 96-gallon GIGANO-TRASH CONTAINER!!! It's my lucky week!!

Turbo Recycling 101

If you've been to my house on a weekend, you'll understand why I've gotten "pink slips" from O'Fallon garbage and Recycling. Our pick-up day is Monday which is convenient after our 3-day liver persecution.

Today I followed my usual pattern and erected a stack of cardboard ON TOP of my recycle bin. When the recycle guy (whom actually seemed happy to have a job unlike most garbage collectors) used the freakish mechanical arms to load my cardboard art, it did as I figured and fell all over the ground.

Paula convinced me to help the poor bastard pick up the mess he made and here's how the discussion went: (My thoughts have been put into quotes, my actual words are in quotes.)

me: "Hi! I guess I stacked it a little high, sorry."
(Hey, fucker! Did you actually think that stack of trash was going to defy gravity and jump into your earth-mover? Damn shame it's 95 degrees out and you're picking up all our shit...)

him: "Oh, it's not a problem. This is nothing compared to a bunch of 'em I pick up."
(Hey fucker.. did you actually think I'd pick up your shit?)

me: "These containers are worthless."
(These containers are worthless!"

him: "Well, the city is weaning off of these two-lidded recycling containers. We just got a new shipment and they are much bigger."
(These containers are worthless!"

me: "What do I have to do to upgrade to the new container?"
(Just fucking take my damn can, and have them upgrade me a new one!)

him: Actually, if your container is destroyed, we'll bring you one right away for free. I'll just destroy yours right now and you can call the city and tell them you need another.
(I'm the recycle guy-- I'll recycle your shit.)

me: "Uhh, okay. Thanks!"
(WTF? The recycle guy wants to trash a perfectly good bin! That's AWESOME!!!)

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Next Weeks Lesson: How to get a new trash can...