Do Grizzly Bears Try to Stay out of the Rain, and What would you do if a Grizzly charged?

I went up the North Fork with 2 friends today to hunt for bear from the car and it was another dud trip.  With pouring rain all the way I didn’t really expect any intelligent animal would just be standing by the side of the road waiting for me to take pictures.  My friend V says that bears don’t care about water and don’t care that it’s pouring, but if I was a bear I would find a cave or a big tree to huddle under.  I’d be a finicky bear.

She’s obsessed with staying safe from grizzlies, while at the same time she wants to find them.  On a rocky stretch of river one day she turned to me (as I carried a huge piece of petrified wood) and asked:

If a bear charged across the river right now at us, would you shit your pants?

I made that thinking hard face that has left a permanent vertical wrinkle between my eyes.

My reply:

No, because I would have to stop and put in effort to shit myself.  I can seeing peeing down my leg as I run toward the car, but shitting takes time and concentration.

I don’t think the bear would care that I had taken the time to smell like shit.  Bears like shit.

And I think they don’t really care about rain, but aren’t going to go through any extra effort if they don’t have to.

The bear would probably stop to think about how I consider it to be smarter than it is lazy and would run after V instead.


Remodeling the bathroom

It’s almost done, I think.  But then everytime I think so there’s something else that needs to be bought or done.  I think it’s already worth more than my car.  I’m going to have this small house in the ghetto area of town with an AMAZING BATHROOM.

I went down to take pictures this morning because last night it was so amazingly clean and then I found this:

So if you can look past the tools and trash it’s really quite pretty.  Here’s the floor:

It’s such a small, angular space that it’s hard to take pictures to give you a full view of the room:

But there’s the shower.

So last night at 10:00 he decided he needed to buy a water hose for the toilet so that we could use it.  I’m sure it isn’t called a water hose.  But when he talks to me about parts I blank out and only hear words that sounds like “Waawawaaawa.”  There was something he needed to bring water into the toilet, so I call it a hose.  Or pipe.  Or connector thingy.  When he got back from the store and cheered as he flushed the toilet for the first time and called me in to show me the AMAZING seat and cover that never slam down, but slowly ease their way earthward, he said something about having to turn off a yellow or orange (see how I can’t even hear colors when he’s talking parts) handle in the storage room so that the toilet won’t work during the day or we won’t have any hot water in the rest of the house.

I completely fail to see how shutting off the valve to the downstairs toilet will heat water and I didn’t ask for an explanation because I was already in bed with my eyes closed.  Apparently I wasn’t showing enough enthusiasm for a working toilet.  He stopped talking.  Today there appears to be hot water but I’m going to have to have him show me the magical lever in the basement so that if he ever forgets and leaves me cold I can fix it.  Maybe I should check out all the magical levers while I’m down there.  Maybe there’s one that stops the earth from spinning or will open the wormhole to Venus.

I will take more pictures of the bathroom once it’s done and I move all his stuff to his side of the closet.

What to do when you find that you have left a banana rotting in the bottom of your work bag.

1.  Discovery some brown nasty smelling liquid on your powerpoint handout is only the first step.

2.  Don’t quite believe that it could be your fault until you pull out a notebook to write in instead and discover a brown gooey substance stuck in the wire binding.

3.  Hurriedly stuff these things back in your bag and head to the bathroom.

4.  Lock yourself in a stall and pull your wallet out.  Thank goodness that’s okay!

5.  Reach in with courage and pull out the brown empty peel and place in gently in the feminine products waste bin.  At least they make that pretty air tight.  No one wants to smell that all day.

6.  Leave the training quickly, drive home, grab a notebook, cut the top of the powerpoint papers off so that no one will notice or smell the refuse.  Drive back to training.

7.  Leave the bag in the car all day in the 70 degree sun.  There’s nothing you can do about it right now.

8.  Take one last trip to the bathroom to check to make sure you don’t have smelly crud somewhere on you that you can’t see it.

9.  After the bag has been baking all day go home, empty it out, rinse it in the sink, and pretend it never happened.

The Hot People List

My friend is on the list.  Not that I’m googling Hot People and I just happened to find her.  I know I’m married now!

I was googling HER because I can never remember her address.  That’s how often I mail her anything.  NEVER.  And the first link that came up was Hot People.  This cracked me up because I’m such a good friend.  (I was mailing her birthday box 3 days late, so I’m an easily distracted friend.)

This is what I found:

G. Abrah – Hot Rating: 3.2

Abrah G., .0.. Cochran Rd, Morrisville, VT 05661.

Phone 802-88.-…. Click here to find out what makes Abrah G. hot? 101666, 101953, 101862, 101657
How hot is Abrah G. this second? 

It also has her listed as being 48 years old. 

Now Abrah, you are pretty hot for a 48 year old living in Morrisville.  I have been to the theater there once.  So I would know.  Wait, that just doesn’t sound like what I meant to say.  Abrah, you’re always hot to me because you’re my friend.  Maybe I’m feeling too sarcastic today because anything I write sounds like I’m saying something else.

While writing this post I went back to copy that listing for her name and I read the TOP of the link.  It’s not ah OOOOO lala you’re so hot list.  It’s a list of people who are close to TOXIC WASTE SITES.


(But this isn’t a bad list to check when you’re dating and want to know if the man might someday have children with tales and an eyeball in the middle of their forehead.)

I fully support your decision not to have children, Abrah.

This is not the supportive, I’m a good friend Post that was in my head when I started writing this.

Testicle Tuesday, Mr. Smiley, Spice, and my kitten is looking for his next high

The Official new National Holiday called Testicle Tuesday is over.  The kitten starved all night and was shoved into a cage at 7:30 in the morning.  He was driven to the vets.  For once, he didn’t whine and cry.  His eyes were huge. 

They said he was a little ray of sunshine.  That all the other cats were grouchy.  I guess he didn’t bite them or claw them.  He probably sat there with his tongue out. 

A little ray of sunshine.  Not my kitten.  He was so high from the surgery that he loved everyone.  He came home and when he tried to eat, food kept falling out of his mouth.  I got back from work just in time for him to come back down to his old whiny, crabby, clawy self.

But I want whatever he was on.  Unless it was “Mr. Smiley”, the new incense that kids are buying at the smoke shop downtown.  Otherwise known as Spice and a variety of other weird names, it’s not meant to be smoked, but contains a cousin of THC, the stronger synthetic HU-210. 

I must be getting old, but I can’t understand the stupidity of smoking incense.  What else is in it?  The side effects sound terrible.  I’ve always been an all natural kind of person.  I don’t believe that anything synthetic is as good as the real thing.  It’s dangerous, like LSD.  Isn’t anyone afraid of it being spiked, BAD TRIPS, lung cancer?

The kitten does seem sweeter this morning.  I think he’s just looking for his next hit.  He doesn’t realize yet that while he was tripping someone stole his balls. 

What’s really really sad to me is that when these kids turn 40 they will end up in my office severely depressed, hearing voices, and blacking out.  They won’t know why they do this.  And the government will pay me to listen to them, pay for high priced prescription drugs, pay for jail time, pay the police to stop by their house to stop them from fighting with their wives, pay their huge tax refunds  BUT couldn’t stop a smoke shop from selling SPICE to young adults who then sold it to teenagers.

Unphotogenic Me, Wedding Pictures, Finding a Photographer in Wyoming or Montana

I have never looked good in pictures.  And I’m not saying that because my self esteem is so low that I think I’m fat or ugly or whatever.  Pictures just makes me look funny.  Like I’m always making faces at the camera.  My bottom lip is to the left, my eyes are squinty, I have a forced smile, my chin is too long, I look like I’m in pain.

There was an episode of Samantha Who that I loved in which her best friend Andrea refuses to have her picture taken because it’s always so awful.  She said something like “I only look good in motion.”  YES, EXACTLY.

I only look good in motion.  And a camera can’t capture that in one shot because I must always be moving, even in that second when it flashes, so that my mouth is wide open or I’m grimacing or I have indigestion.  What’s weird is that all three of my girls are incredibly photogenic.  And they look alot like me.  How does that happen???  I think maybe I’m twitching so fast all the time that no one can really tell until they take a picture and then they say “What is that?  You didn’t look like you just bit into a lemon.”

So then my good friend took pictures at my wedding last week.  And while some of them are snortingly funny and I ask myself what I was doing, there are some that actually make me look like what I imagine myself to look like.

And that makes her the best photographer EVER.  I don’t usually promote people, but if you’re in the Wyoming/Montana/Idaho area this is her website:

Things I wonder about this morning.

Why does this box of Corn Chex say it’s gluten free when there is no gluten in corn, so unless it’s really made of wheat I think it’s probably gluten free just because it’s corn chex?

Why did my kitten come with a book that said I needed 2 litter boxes for every cat and that I should brush his teeth every day, but it didn’t tell me what to do about his constant ninja foot attacks?

Why is it that everytime I cook Gina the perfect egg something happens so that the warm gooey yolk ends up somewhere other than her mouth?

Where did the giant puddle in front of the bathroom sink this morning come from?

Where have all my old friends gone? (This needs a post all its own I think.)

And why did the Oceanic Six have to lie, as the person who set up the fake plane crash in the bottom of the ocean would know that they are alive and that they know he did it, lying or not?

Why is this cat so whiny?

When will the bog in the back yard dry up so that I can rescue my wheelbarrow from the middle of it?

Why is Abrah not receiving my chat?

Abrah did not receive your chat.

The only answer I have is that all the people who search for kidnapped midgets need to know that midgets are feisty little people who can defend themselves just as easily as the rest of us and probably would not be easy to kidnap and trap under the stairs.  I think they all carry pepper spray as well (and if you are a midget and you’re reading this go buy some pepper spray NOW) in case GIANT people become stupid beyond belief and think they can get away with kidnappings just because of some urban legend.

I am writing this because not a day goes by that someone doesn’t end up here because they searched for midget kidnappings.