Oh noooooooo

Listen, I like the idea of some blussy as much as the next guy, but not enough to go get my tailgate wrapped.

By that logic, why does 535 look like more than 3/4s of 3397? Because it’s not the easiest to show the accurate scale of 3397 versus 535 on an infographic and not have to figure out how to display a 12000x1500 pixel image in such a way you can still read it. It’s not a conspiracy, just lame formatting. Chill.

He really do got that 😐️

Something of a shoot high, aim low type situation, if you catch my drift.

“I have a new husband and his name is Chance XL”

You have no idea what time it is when shot rings out from the far corner of your old one-room shack, but you know it’s late. Adrenaline surging and ears ringing, you grab the old Colt revolver that sits on the stool beside your straw bed, thinking maybe those cattle rustlers the neighbors had been telling you about have finally got desperate enough to make a move on the property. Your bare feet hit the rough-hewn wood floor and you stumble as quickly as you can to the window, its little glass panes wavy and revealing nothing more than inky blackness. You’re sure you heard the shot, but there’s no signs of life outside save for the crickets that have resumed their song after only a few seconds intermission. You swear you can even smell the gunpowder smoke, but maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, forcing alertness in the deep, lonely night. The adrenaline begins to wear, your limbs starting to ache as they long to go back to their fully interrupted sleep. You take a step to the left to turn from the window and you hear a sickening squelch and feel something squish between your toes that freezes you in your tracks. In the dim light given off by the fire smoldering in the cast-iron stove in the corner, you can tell that whatever it is is an ugly shade of red.

After a minute of silent contemplation, your brain puts it all together and your face quietly contorts into the most violent grimace it can muster. The goddamn trap that bastard salesman outside the general store had sold you down the river on the day before. The one that’d use your spare pistol. Well, he was right, it had worked. Now that rat that had eaten a hole in the corner of your bag of sugar decorates a small section of the wall, the floor, and the bottom of your foot and there’s a warm black crater in the floorboard where it had made its last stand. Hobbling, you traipse outside to wipe your foot in the grass. Right there, you know what you must do. No matter what else, you’re sure that bastard salesman won’t be selling any more of those goddamn traps.

This is gonna sound so fake it’s ridiculous, but at least it’s short. This was about a decade ago when I was about to go to college, so that factored into the setting, but the other part? No idea. Basically, I was riding around my college campus on the back of a raptor, saddle and all. I was having a blast, and everybody thought it was so cool that I had a badass dinosaur to ride around on, because obviously nobody else did. That was the whole dream, zero plot, nobody got eaten, just me and my raptor buddy having a grand ol’ time stomping around campus.

I plan on building a new desktop sometime around black friday. Here’s hoping we’ll get some great deals like this then, too?

Hottest? Last summer, driving home, Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex area. The A/C in the car I was driving was busted, it had zero window tint and a plexiglas roof panel so there was no shade whatsoever. The area was getting that extremely dry late-summer heat that area gets during made worse by the heat dome effect over the city. The actual temp was likely 108°-110°F, but the “feels like” was somewhere in the upper 120°s. Add to that the fact that the wind itself was literally hot, and there I was driving down the highway with my windows down cooking in what basically amounted to a convection oven. I ended up finding that I was actually cooler if I rolled the windows up. When I got home my shirt was totally soaked and as a result, it has the shadow of a seatbelt burned into it.

Coldest? Around -20°F in central Utah during winter at about 3AM during an impromptu snowball fight in the apartment complex I lived in. Zero wind and about a foot of snow on the ground. Again, surprisingly dry, so it was legitimately PLEASANT with a ski jacket, long johns and jeans, when compared to a humid, windy winter as warm as 32°F anywhere else in the same gear, but definitely the coldest temperature I’ve seen by the numbers.