All this talk of nicknames and the Butcher’s desire to be called by his full name reminded me that, when he was born, my dad taught my other brother and me how to spell the Butcher’s name using a reworked version of this song.

It’s your brother, Bartholomew


And what can I say? It worked. If you want to give your kid a name with eleven letters, please feel free to steal my dad’s idea.

Y’all Want to Hear Something Gross?

Of course you do. Who the fuck would read my blog if they didn’t want to occasionally hear something gross?

Okay, so I went to the eye doctor today, my eye doctor who is awesome, and I’m explaining to her all my eye crap and she’s like “Oh, my god, I can see it from here, your eye is completely clouded over.”

So, she looked and looked and looked in it and then she made me take my contact out and she was like “Yep, that’s a mess.” But then she had to check and make sure my eye itself wasn’t also a cloudy mess, so she looked and looked and looked some more. Then she was like “you know how little kids flip their eyelids back to gross each other out? I’m going to do that to you.”

And she did!

And it was gross. I have all these tiny inflamed bumps on the underside of my eyelid that are just spewing mucus all over my contact lens and causing it to cloud over. I was like “Well, that is a crappy super power. I would like another one. Because fucking up a contact every five months could get expensive.” Anyway, it’s caused by allergies in my case, but then, because I have contacts, it’s like this terrible feedback loop. My eyes are irritated and gunk-filled, which clouds over my contact and makes it hard to see, which causes me to blink a lot which causes the contact to rub against the underside of my bump-filled eyelid, which irritates it and causes it to spew mucus all over my contact. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I have to have eyedrops and a new lens.

If only I could get my eyelid to spew mildly corrosive junk at my enemies. I think there’s a lizard who can do that, isn’t there? I’m going to have to find out what that is, in case I need an animal upon which to base my costume.

But, I guess if my eyeball isn’t gong to squirt crap at people on command, it’s probably best to just use the drops and get it cleared up.

Yes, I am aware that I have been complaining for days about how monstrous it is that ticks use human blood to grow another set of legs and here I am talking about squirting poison eye-gunk at people. And no, I can’t explain why the tick’s powers are monstrous and mine clearly are superpowers, but I stand by that assertion.

If ticks want to argue differently, they can get their own blog.

I’m Rollin’, I’m Rollin’, I…

Y’all have probably already heard this song and danced around to it eight million times.

But you know, I have to run out to the eye doctor and, on the off-chance you haven’t heard it and you want to dance around to something, or you have heard it, but you want to dance around again, here you go.

Ha, weren’t we just the other day talking about what happens to blogs when they become all Youtube videos the blogger likes? Ugh. Well, in my defense, I don’t really care for about half of this video. It’s like a cool video and a deodorant commercial mash-up.

Edited to add: I mean, please! How are the men able to wear hats and turtlenecks and be all sweat-free but the scantily clad women are all shiny like it’s a fucking Britney Spears video? And why is a Britney Spears video breaking out in the middle of this pleasant retro-vibed thing?

It’s a mess.

A good sounding mess.

White Sage

I put some of the white sage outside to harden off, which caused some that I thought was not going to sprout to sprout so I put all of the seedlings and potential seedlings outside.

Lesson one of the white sage–it’s hard to get started from seed.

Lesson two–it really likes to be hot.

I really need to just put it in the ground and let it go. As you recall, my plan is to put it up near the house, hoping that my terrible insulation will help it weather our Tennessee winters when it’s more used to near desert conditions. Though deserts get cold. The thing I’m more worried about is, though the bed I’m sticking them in is the best drained bed I have, I’m not sure if it constitutes “well-drained” since I live in a bog, as evidenced by all my crawdads.

Lord almighty, crawdads are another thing about the South that confuses me, right up there with squirrels. Southern squirrels are small. I haven’t tried to eat one, but I’m going to guess that, if you weren’t big into offal, you might need two, two-and-a-half southern squirrels to make a meal. Midwestern squirrels, by comparison, are enormous. One would do you right up.

And yet, which region eats squirrels?

And crawdads. It would take you all week to get enough crawdads for a meal. And yet, people still do.

Let that be a lesson to you–do not fuck with Southerners and their food, because they are patient and can kill and eat anything.

So, yes, the white sage. I’m going to put it in the garden, possibly tonight, and just let nature take its course.

Unless it rains. Probably not going to garden in the rain.

But get this crap! I hope it rains because the Butcher just put his cacti outside for the summer, as is his way, and he told me that he basically hasn’t watered them all winter.

I’m surprised they didn’t rise up and kick his butt.