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Showing posts with the label shenanigans

True Story©... 24 Hours To Live!

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       What would you do if you were told you had 24 hours to live? Since my cardiac event that landed me in the hospital Summer 2018, I have been dealing with a minefield of doctor and specialists visits usually about every other month. Since the exact cause of my episode could never be pinned down, we keep an eye on everything from my blood pressure, to my asthma and even my kidneys. No stone gets left unturned and, when combined with my recent obsession with sobriety and my physique, shit works out pretty well on a month-to-month basis. Three weeks ago, I got a phone call… Me: “Hello.” Nurse: “Hi, this is your nurse from Dr Samuel’s office.” Me: “Okay” Nurse: “Dr Samuel is going on vacation next week and wants to get you in as soon as possible. You have 24 hours to give blood at the lab so he can review it before he leaves.” Did she say what I think she said!?   Me: “I have–… 24–… hours?” Nurse: “Yes” Me: “Well I guess I got no choice, lemme make some arrangements and deal wi

True Story©… The Nauga Farmer

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(look who's back, y'all!)       This honestly could have stopped with PETA , but they didn’t wanna play along. … no, seriously, click that link and come back here when you’re done…      Welcome back… So anyway, this whole shit could have stopped with PETA, but now I am here concerned with the plight of the poor Naugas, of which I now have a small ranch that I am running to care for them.  I don’t know if y’all know this or not, but raising and healthily engaging with all these Naugas is resource intensive in time, money and effort.  What I am sure you all know is that I do that with the salary I earn from a regular-ass job – well, what I have left after paying these bills.      The first thing I tried to do was to sue the creators of Instagram, on the grounds that they had stolen something from me.  No not the concept of shittying up the resolution of pictures to show off to people who don’t actually like me anyway, but the actual NAME ‘Instagram’.  For me, I would crea

True Story©… Trap Gawd

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       Fun fact: Jeopardy has been a favorite television activity of mine since I was in middle school.  I have ATTEMPTED to take the quiz several times in my adult life, but have sadly only come close to making it on television thus far. “Almost,” you ask?      I have never told anyone this, but one time I actually made it through the test – back in the pre-“anytime test” dark ages. The thing with trying to get on Jeopardy is that it is a multi-part operation before you ever make it onto television.  The first step, as hinted at above, is to take a randomized trivia test.  This is to test your knowledge before you find yourself on television looking like Tyrone.       After the testing comes the tryouts, wherein prospective contestants are interviewed and assessed for television readiness.  Next, you’re presented with clues to be sure you’re comfortable with the formatting and pacing of a game.  This is not in a test game format — we’ll get to that in a minute – these are more to

True Story©… Prestidigitation

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       Wife Person™ is still upset with Mr. Ssippi… Not for anything he himself did, so much as how he was not the voice of reason when we decided to try our hand at making movies, which I would find after the fact that she was not exactly a fan of.   Since I live in this constant need for her to like or at least be cool with the friends I speak to on the most regularest of basis, I set out to salvage the relationship.      Not long after we got back from GA in March, Ssip sent me a text that he would be passing through on 85 on his way to Virginia and would gladly make Greensboro his stopover point since his employer was footing the bill.   While in town, we could link up and enjoy a meal or something.   Unfortunately, Mrs. Ssippi would be home with Giant Nephew™ and Dante the puppydog and thus unable to join the fun.   The day he was to come in coincided with one whereupon I had an afternoon appointment so I would be free of work considerably earlier than normal. Wife Person:

True Story©… The Legend of Moe

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       The past was a wild time…   There were people called town criers who would go to the city square and scream the news to everyone who would listen because without child labor laws, it was perfectly normal for people to not know how to read or write. Things being full circle as they are, nowadays people glue themselves to social media and while perhaps they CAN read or write, they choose instead some asshole yelling at a screen on TikTok or Youtube.   The person who won’t read is no better off in this aspect than the person who can’t read.      Anyway, the town crier… Wait!   Y’know, as I have discussed before, I get a LOT of off time at work.   Due to some to-be-sorted health issues I have mostly been playing my off time close to the vest, limiting my Mental Health™ days and instead using that time for date-to-be-determined doctor’s visits and such.   There comes a time, however, that I will have to use the time or lose it so I have to play this delicate game of saving as

True Story©… Back to School

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       It’s that time of year again…   Y’all know, the one where I am dragged into a classroom to assemble and move shit despite not particularly wanting to have to do it. To be honest, I am thankful to the Wuhan Bat Flu for closing schools at the beginning of last year and limiting ANY visitors when they finally did open in the last quarter, thereby saving me from breaking a sweat.      This story is not (necessarily) about that. Saturday before last, while I was on the above-mentioned unpaid hauling/cleaning mission(s), I noticed the message flash across the television in my wife’s classroom about football tryouts.   Well sheeeeeit…   When I was in middle and high school, I wasn’t able to do such things due to reasons. Me: “I’mma go out for football.” Wife Person: “What!?” Me: “It says football tryouts are Thursday immediately after school.   I’m coming to live out my dreams!” Wife Person: “Whatever…   Do what you want.” See?   She don’t even be LISTENING to me.   The d