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June 5, 2004 - Saturday | 9:38 AM, CST
There is a fat man, with large glasses, which works at the hardware store in Watseka.
Today's story will involve that man.
I went to the hardware store after work this morning to purchase a small toolbox I could use for work. I was looking to my left at some wrenches, when out of my peripherial vision I see the fat man in the isle to my right. Suddenly, I see his pinky finger bury itself in his nose, dig around, exit, travel down to the mouth, and deposit the treasure!
"No fuckin' way," I said to myself as I turned around full view to stare. Sure enough, as I looked on slack jawed, the finger went for another trip to his nose where it swirled and dug around for a few seconds.
He then pulled it out, held it up to his eyes for a quick examination, and stuck the finger in his mouth. After he sucked the booger out, I saw his tongue swish around the inside of his mouth, then "Pfftt!" he spit it on the floor.
As he turned around and noticed me, I realized that I was standing there stone still, eyes wide open and mouth slack.
"Oh... hi," he said to me.
"Yeah... good morning," I replied and tried to look as if I didn't need ANY help finding what I needed.
Bootsie the cat died Monday. She was eighteen years to the day. We found her in the upstairs bathroom, laying on the floor.
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Bootsie the cat
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The other morning my house was appraised by the bank. In case anyone doesn't know, I've decided to purchase the house. Why would I be nailing myself down to such a huge financial committment? Well, normally I wouldn't, but a realator told me he thought he could sell the house for fifty to fifty-five thousand, so I figure that with the owners selling it to me for forty thousand I will be walking away with a hell of a deal if I ever decide to sell it. Plus, mortgage payments are actually less than rent payments.
And now to tell you about the appraisal. First of all, I was nervous about someone coming over to place a value on the house I was living in. Now you're probably thinking "Hey, you don't care nuthin' about what no one thinks!"
And you're right... But it still felt weird to have someone come over and judge my house, because thats exactly what I felt was going on. I could just imagine someone walking through the rooms in my house, running their finger along various counters and table tops to examine the dust thickness.
"Mmmm-hmmmm...." they'd say disapprovingly, and write something down on their clipboard.
From there they'd find their way to my bedroom. I hid the huge stack of Playboys located in my bookshelf to avoid an "Unhealthy pornography addiction" listing in the appraisor's clipboard, but I imagine the worst scenario would be if he leaned over and sniffed my bed.
"Masturbates extensively" would be scribbled onto the clipboard as he turned around in disgust, only to wheel around, have a second whiff, and underline 'extensively' a few times for emphasis.
Thankfully however, none of that happened, at least none that I saw on the clipboard.
As you all know from my last entry, Kelly recently brought a rodent into my home. Although the rodent is cute on the outside, its inner core is as black and evil as the devil. You see, this rodent enjoys using its teeth to bite your hand whenever you reach inside with food to dump in its tray. We've tried leaving the mouse alone to better become accustomed to its environment, thinking he was just stressed, and Kelly has also purchased chew toys for the mouse to gnaw.
At first, the mouse simply nibbled at your fingers, but he has gotten so tenacious that he will actually clamp down with his teeth as you lift him out of the cage. Observe below...
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The mouse - airborne.
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My fingers - bleeding.
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Darling little creature, isn't it?
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