The World O' Crap Archive

Welcome to the Collected World O' Crap, a comprehensive library of posts from the original Salon Blog, and our successor site, (2006 to 2010).

Current posts can be found here.

Monday, September 12, 2011

What’s That, Girl? S.Z. Trapped? Under A Rock? Down In Dead Rock Canyon?

Well, one of s.z.’s rescued dogs finally showed up on my doorstep and barked out a few cryptic clues to her fate, but apparently my guesses (either she fell down a well, or joined the circus and became enmeshed in a tragic love triangle involving an Italian count and a clown prone to fits of weeping) were off the mark, and he lifted a leg, sprayed “piggy” on the wall, and left.

Fortunately, a short time later I received an email from s.z., who is very sorry for not having posted anything lately, but:

“It seems like whenever it looks as though things are under control for a minute, then some new disaster occurs (somebody eating something vital, somebody pooping or vomiting all over the carpet, somebody attacking somebody else — you know, just like a day at the White House.)

The end of the month is always hectic because it’s when I have to do my church job, which involves checking to make sure that all the female members of the ward have been contacted by their assigned people, and that they are okay — but, of course, a few of them aren’t, and then I relay that info to people in the church who are supposed to help them. So, it’s basically a good thing to be doing, but kind of a headache (and I have been having really bad organic headaches lately, probably because of all the allergens out there right now, which makes it doubly trying.)

Thursday I will go to the church computer and input info and run stats, which is not as much fun as it sounds.  That’s why my answering machine was so clogged with messages — people were finally calling me back to tell if they had or hadn’t done their jobs.  It’s not like I was suddenly popular or anything.

Yesterday my neighbor complained about the dandelions in my yard (because the seeds were blowing onto his perfect lawn), so I had to go buy weedkiller and spray them all.  And I had to lock all the cats and dogs in the house all day so they wouldn’t roll around in the herbacide — obliging me to take the dogs for walks on leashes whenever they told me they needed to go out to do their business, which was about every 15 minutes (yeah, they are big liars).  So I was a little worn down.

Today I added insult to injury by mowing the lawn, leaving me totally exhausted.  Then I tried to water it (we’re having a heat wave, so parts of it are looking pretty crispy, even though it’s early in the season), and found that the sprinkler system was broken.  So I had to go to the sprinker parts place and buy a new valve and a new sprinkler head, and then get my brother to fix it.  By nightfall, he’d decided that he didn’t do it right, and would have to try again with additional parts.  So I guess I will be hand-watering for a few days, but it seems only fair to give his new strategy in the war against faulty exterior plumbing a chance to succeed.

In other news, the pregnant cat [Note From Scott: The animal rescue service that has been abusing appealing to Sheri's generous nature, foisted an otherwise unfosterable pregnant cat on her a couple of weeks ago] is looking extremely pregnant, but I don’t think she will deliver for at least another week.  Pregnancy has made her very affectionate to people, but very aggressive to other cats.  She is always looking for a chance to smack the others (seriously whenever one of the others manages to get into her room when I’m taking her food or sometehing, or she manages to slip out, she just pounces on the other cat without warning and scares the hell out of them.  It’s probably good for the lazy sluggards, but it keeps me on edge, because she looks ready to pop and I don’t think kung fu fighting is good for her while she’s in a delicate condition.”

Scott again:  So, s.z.’s chronic medical condition has been acting up, but she’s been ignoring the debilitating symptoms and continuing with daily acts of Christian charity, causing faith leaders like James Dobson and Pat Robertson to make furtive wanking gestures while they mutter, “sucker!” and “loooooser!”

Anyway, as she titled her email “I’m Not Dead Yet,” and a new month is now upon us, I have high hopes that we’ll see her back here soon.  In the meantime, I’ve conveyed to s.z. your concerns for her well being, and I’d like to add my personal thanks for everyone’s patience during the current service outtage.  (To be honest, we fired most of our staff because they just weren’t “loyal Crappers,” and we’re having trouble finding replacements that are both politically reliable, and don’t have more than one local escort service on speed dial.)

15 Responses to “What’s That, Girl? S.Z. Trapped? Under A Rock? Down In Dead Rock Canyon?”

Well hell – I’ve been a Loyal Crapper from Day One! Thanks so much for the update, Scott. You two are the best Crappers in The World!! And I mean that in a good way.
I’m sure s.z. wrote something cool here. Perhaps if it wasn’t displayed with light grey lettering over a white background, I’d be able to read it.
Sorry it’s unreadable Rob. Not sure what’s wrong, since that’s the way quoted text always appears in this template. It should become legible if you highlight the indented section.
The pregnant cat? Did I miss something?
It is always good news to learn that s.z. is not dead.
Now, about that “ward” thing… whenever she gets back, I am sooooooo gonna yank her chain about the Tammany Hall/LDS puns possible with that one.
Thanks, Scott.
Anyway, as she titled her email “I’m Not Dead Yet,”
but is she “getting better?” sounds like she’s already going for a walk
Rob, “select all” is your friend when you can’t read a page. Highlighted, it’s much easier to read.
My gratitude also to whatever powers that be that you’re all out there and okay (for a given value of the word “okay”). S.Z., I’m submitting you for beatification. I’m pretty sure we’ve got a couple of miracles going on here–bilocation and the multiplication of cats and dogs, if nothing else.
Tell your neighbor you’re ecoturfing, and we’ll be here when you’ve got time again.
she needs a man
I dunno. She’s got enough to clean up after, really.
Hey, thanks. This is much better.
I think if my neighbor said that, I’d start a dandelion garden. With a border of crabgrass.
Always good to hear from you two. This blog needs some sort of reverse Deadman’s switch that would notify the rest of us if, say, the number of animals at s.z.’s drops below three dozen.
And man do I hate lawn Nazis. Unfortunately, dandelions aren’t so easy to grow when you’re actually trying (the leaves are excellent in spring salads, by the way, though a little bit goes a long way for me). I was once told by the sort of guy who might do such a thing that one could purchase a bag of cubed ice and a non-discriminatory herbicide like Roundup™, empty the bottle into the bag, mix well, and toss the cubes onto the target lawn some warm summer night. More peaceable types might substitute a high-nitrogen fertilizer and make a sport of leaving an interesting pattern. Or so I’ve heard, anyway.
And, of course, at most places that one may purchase bird seed, one may also obtain thistle seed. Apply “liberally.”
OK, that’s actually pretty mean, and I don’t recommend doing it. Besides, thistle seed is fairly expensive by-teh-pound. lol
scott! ‘Tis good, as always, to have you back here among us! And, s.z. as well, even if this thing called “real life” takes precedence (ha! real life! I refuse to entertain even the thought that such a thing can exist!).
I like the thistle seed thing better. Less polluting. The problem with a product like RoundUp that kills everything is, well, it kills everything. The fertilizer is probably fine if you don’t live, as I do, twenty yards from a wetland full of frogs, snakes, salamanders, and newts. They fertilize the shit out of the lawn (literally) and then wonder why the “pond” is choked out with cattails. Mind you, then they cut down the cattails (stepping on god knows how many of the above crawlies) and then wonder where the tricolored blackbirds went. To find other cattail-infested ponds to nest in, obviously.
So glad to read you again. So funny. Thanks

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