Cooking with dogs...and other observations

Why is it that when I have to go to the post office, half of the population of the county is already in there? The other half are, of course, in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheels of their respective autos and NOT MOVING OUT OF PARKING SPACES! WTF? Is that the new game--to just sit in a running car in a crowded parking lot and pretend to be about to pull out but then never actually do it? well it's not new. We used to do that back when I was in high school just to see who we could piss off. It was asinine then and it's asinine now, and much more so when the perpetrators are all middle-aged or above and should know better. So go read your damned mail or talk on your phone somewhere else, you ass-monkeys. Other people need to park too!

But at least I got my Christmas cards out today.

And don't get me started on trying to shop at Wal-Mart. The ass-monkeys are there too, either letting their brats run free in the store or ignoring them while they scream. And then when you actually get to the registers...well every line is rigged so that no matter which one you get in with your half-dozen little items, there will be an ass-monkey right ahead of you who is just there to play "stump the cashier" by presenting something with no bar code or price tag. So you wait while a supervisor is called...and you wait...and you wait...and then you see another line with just two people in it--and one's leaving! So you jump in behind the only other person and that person of course has something else with no price tag or bar code.

I swear to God, kid...it you so much as whisper the words "manger needed for price check," I will kill you...and I will be acquitted by a jury of twelve similarly disgruntled shoppers.

And as I'm finally on the way out, I see the collection box for the Marine Corps Toys for Tots program, and I just can't pass those, so I have to go back in and buy a toy for some little kid who might not otherwise get anything for Christmas...and stand in line again. Sigh.

And if you're reading this, you need to buy a toy or six for those boxes the next time you get to a store, too. Come on--it's Christmas. Hook a little kid up.

And then of course, there's this morning, when I look in the refrigerator for breakfast stuff and see that just one little egg is left.

I don't want to boil water for one egg, and I'm a bit pressed for time, so I ask Lagniappe if he knows how to cook eggs in the microwave. we talk it over for a bit and agree that a small hole needs to be pricked in the egg to keep it from exploding. So I make such a hole. I then put the egg in the microwave and ponder the recommended cooking time. I again consult Lagniappe, and we agree that a minute and a half should do it.

Of course at exactly 1:19 into the process, an explosion rocks the kitchen and darn near lifts the microwave right off the counter. Damn that dog! A minute and a half was WAY too long. Serves me right for taking cooking advice from a German Shepherd who can't even tell time. He'd just better hope that I don't decide to tell Santa Claus that someone licked all the marinate off of one of my steaks last week while it waited for the coals to burn down.