Neanderpundit

Not horribly long ago, I alphabetized the blogroll just on general purposes, but due to his unfortunate choice of blog name it left Velociman languishing at the bottom.

Recently, the Vman has taken to wanting to be called Dragline.

Well, Vman being Vman, I can’;t imagine he’d want to be any old dragline, but the very biggest dragline ever, the Big Muskie.

So, from now on, V-man will move nearer the top of the blogroll, as “A Big Muskie”.

SO, the local parish has it’s local festival once a year, and yesterday was the day.

It had been a long day for a variety of reasons, but the festival, at the end of it, proved to be at least an amusing distraction. Daughter enjoyed rides, wife played some bingo, I amused myself by watching the carny types running the rides. Couple of local broads, one with SRO’s so low that they exposed the vast majority of the girls nether region. Which didnt’ bear expositin well, as she was in the early stages of pregnancy. Probably because of wearing those pants.

Anyway, we had a steak dinner, and corn, and baked potato, etc. A lot of food for a reasonable price, even though the plastic utensils were less than capable of cutting a steak- thank god I had my pocketknife.

After a couple of hours of wandering around, watching the hoi poloi at play, I decided it would be the better part of valor to visit the little boys room, and eschew the provided Port-O-Lets.

Little boys room, indeed. I’
d forgotten that both Crane and Kohler made crappers in “toddler”.

Actually, it wasn’t the size of the commodes that was all that small, though it was smaller than normal, it was more their position, which was probably several inches below normal.

So I sat, leaning a bit to the left as the toilet roll dispensor was crowding my right.
My knees more upright than usual, I pushed with perhaps a bit more gusto than usual, and shat a mighty shit.

Then stopped.

No, really, I mean, I couldn’t go anymore.

A brief,er, appraisal of the situation demonstrated that one end of the, er, offending item was jammed against the bottom of the bowl, and the other end, still emerging from it’s point of origin.

it became immediately apparent that I was going to have to hover to get it all out, and the state of my knees being what they are, this was none too easy, but I got the job done.

Took several flushes to convince the sucker to hit the road for parts unknown, too.

Need to eat more jambalayah, I guess. Loosen that shit up.

In the bole of a big oak in the backyard, we put patches to rest, less than five minutes ago.

We buried her with her favorite chewed up tennis balls and an old sheet off our bed.

DOGS
Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.
– Mark Twain, a Biography

The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven, not man’s.
-Mark Twain’s Letter to W. D. Howells, 4/2/1899