We are at that point...

There comes a time in life that you say to yourself...Good God I must tell someone about this. Welcome to that time of my life. Nothing like fresh divorce to get your creative mind functioning again. I'm actually ahead of myself...thats not for 160 more days...not that I'm keeping up with it. Maybe I'll start an official divorce countdown.


Anyways, my day is peaking, yes I am watching the dog poo as I write. #2 #2 on the day...he must be detoxing (did that a few months back just to build some history). Came about from liver worry...yadda yadda it makes you poo your brains out for 2 weeks. Wow. How quickly I've digressed to poo talk. I have a theory that conversation eventually turn to poo. This one just came on at a much unanticipated speed....moving on.


So on my way home from lunch to witness above mentioned poo I see this....





In case you can't see it...its a TOOL label. And ya know...that about sums it up. I wish all dumbasses came with an obvious identifier...would've saved me some time.

I did however see all the red flags of one at the gym tonight. I vaguely recall an incident with the same dumbass a few months back...he invaded my space and said something about "mortar shoulders"...so tonight I didn't do well with my no eye contact method of avoiding interaction. For pointers, if I look a completely different way will you are talking to me you can take this as a hint that the direction I'm looking is also the direction I'm considering going when I break out into that full out get-away-from-the-dumbass sprint. So within the 2 minutes that he cornered me I know this about him (try to keep up) - He "busted" his ankle up 3 weeks ago but then 2 days later went on a "really intense" ride, then 2 days later played golf. And his "busted" stuff just wouldn't seem to mend. He just got back from California where we rode all thru the wine country with this dude that he bought a Tour de France bike off of last year and has kept in touch with. He also really loves beer and he brews his own and tonight is $1 off draft at the Tap Room and Monday nights is $1.50 draft somewhere else that has really great craft beers and bladdy bladdy. Then he takes a breath and asks me my name...looking back I have no idea why I didn't say something like "Bob" but I didn't. Oh, nice to meet you, I'm Lanny. AAAGGGHHHH!! And that was somewhere close to my actual reaction. I told him sorry but he had a really bad name since I've only known one in life and I'm currently on an active divorce countdown with him. At which point he starts up a discertation about his name really being Gardner something something the third. I somewhere around this point head off in that direction of my stare and broke away...but not before the hand shake. Dude. WTF.