Water Day: Far 2 ez...except for the knee.

Today I got water. Since I am leaving on Friday for California, I need to pack on Thursday. If you can't figure that out, I need Thursday free of water getting. So I got water today. Problem, solution. I'm a solver.

The only problem is...my left knee joint is swollen. I think it was spinning like a hatter on Wii Sports baseball (it's fun that way!), but I also think that laying tile last weekend contributed to it. I can only bend my leg so far before my knee starts threatening to pop out of socket.

So, I only got two loads of water. Getting in and out of the truck was too much for my knee, what with it threatening to crack into pieces every five minutes. Just about the only thing I got was a picture or ten of LJ. He was laying in the only area of the yard that is free from garbage. I typically get lots of pictures...my parents will have to get the other two loads of water tomorrow or the next day.



As you may know, to bowl, you need to slide across the floor. This is hard to do when 50% of your support structure- one leg- could possibly break apart at any second. The pins need to be knocked down, sure enough...but...not with me. Not that I could slide that far; it'd mostly be my thrashing and gnashing and flipping about and violently, wildly attacking anyone who came near to help me that would get me to the point where I could knock the pins down myself. Then the machine would try to grab me, I'd start screaming like a girl because the evil machine is trying to kill me, and finally animal control would show up and shoot me with tranquilizers, and oh, it'd be a mess.

OH GREAT, look at this article! That's what my knee will look like in a few days! Assuming I have that condition, and assuming that it will take only a few days.

This is just fabulous. The last thing I need while in California is to visit one of their hospitals. "It's all these stupid Americans coming over here from Arizona with swollen knees needed to be amputated!" some official will say. Scapegoating at its finest. "No, it isn't my fault!" I'll plead. "SHUT UP, YOU! YOU'RE THE VICTIM! Now, act victimized and look sad for the camera!"


When I'm in a potentially tragic position, I tend to make a schedule of events so that I don't get surprised. Here's how I have it planned.

Friday morning: severe discomfort, trouble getting into car; will have to ride in car with more leg room. Frequent requests to stop at a hospital; denied by Pastor Raw Justice. "If you die in my car, I'm fine with that...but if we're one second late, God forbid!"
Friday evening: will have trouble walking due to being cramped up entire day; will realize that I don't need half of the stuff I brought along as I struggle to lug it "up" the elevator.
Friday night: will not be able to sleep properly.
Saturday morning: will be a wreck for the services. Invited to play tennis, baseball, go bowling, and kick box, I'll have no choice but to refuse. The chess court, checkers room, video game lounge, leg suspension and knee ice-pack arena, and staring contest hall will all be conveniently closed (LORD, JUST LET ME HAVE THE LEG SUSPENSION AND ICE-PACK ARENA!)
Saturday evening: will have to miss services; won't be able to bend leg properly. When attempting to bend leg down, leg will move up. Perplexed, I'll try to move leg up; unexpectedly, foot will shoot up and hit me in the face; I will be terrified of moving it again.
Saturday night: will only be able to sleep with two pillows tied around my leg.
Sunday morning: will make it to services, but miss two of the sermons; afterward, after struggling into the car, they'll be forced to take me to the emergency room.
Sunday evening: doctors prep me for leg amputation. I read Job chapter 3.
Sunday night: doctors either amputate my left leg, or the Hitman takes me to the Lord.


Very grim outcome, isn't it? And all for a Bible conference.




A thousand ill-conceived curses.

Why do I hate zucchini? I'll tell you why I hate zucchini.

Well, when I saw this picture...



It was "Man I love that stuff!" all over again. So, I know that we have mayonnaise, I'm pretty sure we have yogurt, I think we have cucumbers, and we of course have the bread ingredients. I think we even have the apples! If you don't know what Jew Food Challah Bread Sandwiches are, check this post: Challah Bread and Vegetable Sandwiches.


Now, go ahead and picture me toiling away for several hours, only to realize that some fool used all the cucumbers in a salad. Imagine the horrible sorrow I experienced. Then imagine that it was ALL DUE TO THE ACCURSED ZUCCHINI THAT I THOUGHT WAS A CUCUMBER! ERRAAARGH! CURSE THE ZUCCHINI GOD, ZUCCULES!

[like hercules]



...OK, I really found out that we were cucumber-less before I began toiling, but I still don't have to be happy about it.


...plus, it's harder to cook zucchini than eggplant. Looks like I'm having bean soup for dinner, instead, guys. Sorry guys...party's over.

When Getting Water Isn't Easy

So, our well is down. Which I found out today as I went to gather water for the little flock. Uhh, sorry. I meant to say, as I went to get water to sustain me, my family, and my neighbor's family.

A sign was on the door of the well. It said, "Dude, back off. No water getting kay? Go to another outlet plz. GG nubtub."

"Addresses" to the other well outlets were provided. Several of them were also down (I didn't know so many well outlets could exist in such a cramped world!). The reason I say "addresses" is because it wasn't so much an address, but a random, unheard of, 1-mile-long stretch of "road." That's just great.

Now, had they said, "The water is poisoned at the other wells, please chill out on the side until the 31st so you can get water then," I would have went home a happy, contented camper, having caught my share of fish. But noo. I went out in search of the nearest outlet...surely enough, it took my 35 minutes (we'll get that in editing, like men) to find it. I learned a new hymn. "He Lives." I now despise it, as I sung it at least 500 times in the process of finding the well. Oh, and now I've got "Used to know some people, who walked and talked with me. But since I found salvation, they turned their backs on me" stuck in my head. Ugh. Make it stop...make it stop!


I pulled up, very happy to have found it. However...there was a sign up. "Dude lol, the water is like, poisoned and stuff, so don't drink it alright? Feed it to your dogs lol and your carrots too dude lol it's great for gardens and fields but it will kill you."

I paused for a second to assess my feelings. Resentment, frustration, betrayal, sadness, a feeling of futility, and the feeling you get when you are happy then sad suddenly.

I drove off slowly. I came home and found, typed, then printed out some directions. The lost sheep of the house of idiocy (IE the segment of mankind that is lost and stupid) would surely not be able to find it if I were unable to. I made an error, so I will reprint them tomorrow. It's not grammatical, just something I didn't know about when I printed them.

Following my own directions proudly, I set off in search of the second well. As I was driving down the road a few miles from it, a jokepot pulled out in front of me. Picture, below.

I followed him very politely, as I always do when getting water. How much sense does it make to overtake them, spit dust in their face, then pull into the well and sit there for two minutes until they arrive with a crowbar and a bad look on their face? Not much, I reckon.

Then I saw the sign. No, locusts did not fly out of the earth and eat the rubber off my tires...but I saw the sign. "Dude, uh, hi2u, lol. Well uh the water here it's like...also poisoned, LOL. sory to get you out this far but it has waay 2 much floride and it'll kill you dead if you touch it so...no drinky aright?"


I drove away slowly once more. I decided that, instead of return defeated, I would go back to the first well that was poisoned and get some of their water. If we have 1500 gallons, that should dilute the poisoned 500 gallons. On the way there, I saw some water! And I mean for reals! Check it out, below, doug.

Spit spit spit spit spit spit endlessly spitting water into a small concrete trench. Ah, the life of a polyvinyl chloride pipe.

When I arrived, I found the accommodations to be...less than stellar. On top of the poor accommodations (razor wire), I found that my water tank was attempting a valiant escape! Boy, you KNOW water is poisonous when your inanimate, non-sentient water tank tries to escape to avoid it! Picture, below. Note that it is almost falling off.


Regardless, the pump pumped water and the rocks kept the mud from swallowing up the tires, thus it worked. It took a long time, though, probably 9 minutes. So I examined my knuckles. One is particularly bad. See picture, below.
Doesn't it make you wonder why I don't use lotion? It makes me wonder why I don't use lotion. Am I the only one who is wondering why I don't use lotion? I guess...I am going on an intensive lotion program. I'm going to wear a glove with a bunch of lotion inside of it, thus lotionizing (or is it moisturizing?) my skin...intensively.

While the water was pumping, I discovered some good news! Yes, the "sticker amongst the gnats," if you will. Yes, I found out that Christ died for us! Check the pic of our truck window, below.
Well, I guess I already knew that, but it bears repeating. Thanks, Lord!


Romans 5:8:
But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.




Note: this is one of the only posts I have EVER not proof read.

Where's the Dead Animal Flesh?

In the freezer! Yes! Observe the photo below and weep bitterly!


Isn't it great? Of course it is! There's

• 2 dinners worth of pork
• 7 dinners worth of cow steak
• 1 dinner of chopped beef (1/4 inch cubes)
• 1 dinner of meat prepared as unto the Pioneer Woman's direction for Marlboro Man's Favorite Sandwich
• 1 dinner of meat prepared for chicken fried steak.

Feel the glow...scorched earth! Brighter than the sun! Did anybody call for a desolator? Nyehahahahaha! (I have no idea if I remembered all of their little loops, lol.)


Now, I've been craving chicken fried steak lately (we'll probably have it for dinner tonight), so I will teach you how to prepare chicken fried steak meat. You have to pound it really, really thin for some reason. I am unsure of why.

First, look on the "before" square, below. Then you'll see how much bigger of a steak you get when you flatten it. If you have morons in your household, it's simple to make them think they're getting a huge steak.



You must hit it really, really hard. If you hit it right, it should only take one hit. Note that I used the Deni meat tenderizer on it before I pounded it at all...why? I don't know, I like the thing. It makes me happy. See the below picture. This is what it should look like after one swing. If it doesn't, just hit it again, and that should do it.



Then you pepper it real good and hit it with some salt, then coat it with some flour, and bake it in a pan on the stovetop in some lard or something. It's real simple. I've used Alton Brown's Chicken Fried Steak recipe at FoodNetwork.com. I'm totally not sure if it's a good recipe or not (speaking in terms of better recipes), but come on, it's steak with pepper and flour. E plus Z equals E+Z.

----------------------------------


My mom informed me that she hates chicken fried steak. My parents' tastes frustrate me. Someday, I will understand them...perhaps it is their hormones. Until then, I will continue to have no remorse nor empathy for them in the matter of not liking perfectly good food.

Sorry guys.

How to dress a Wound

Original post, or introductory post. Whichever you want to call it.


NOTE: this post will have graphic pictures of blood on a wound (it isn't that bad), and later the cleaned flap of skin. The picture of the wound held open will not be display but linked to. The dried blood on the wound will be the most graphic.


This is how I dress wounds. I only do this if I want the wound to heal expediently, or if it's a serious wound. In this case, I only did it because I felt like it.

OK, first things first, let us examine our enemy. Err, our uh, patient. Chyo Wazz Y'up once said that the path to enlightenment is not to kill, but to maim and then render aid.


Now, I've heard the TV slogan "Dirty mouth? Clean it up, with new Orbit-", but I would advise against applying that (or, spiritualizing that) as "Dirty wound? Clean it up, with new Orbit-". Peppermint is NOT something that you clean wounds with. It's something that you chew to piss you off, apparently.

I do not know what the little popcorn-looking thing is. Ain't that wound a beaut? OK, so I went to the bathroom and got the water to such a temperature that I could not feel it on my foot (it'll hurt badly enough without it being too hot or cold), then got a cup full of it and slowly poured it over the wound to loosen some of the dried-on blood. I then wiped at it several times, and discovered that if I wipe INSIDE THE WOUND ITSELF it hurts less than if I wipe around it. Go figure.

OK, see the cleaned wound, below.

Graphic picture (would held open) #1
Graphic picture (would held open) #2

Right, now that it's cleaned, what do we do? Put a bandage on it? No! We disinfect. So let's look for a disinfectant. First, I considered this:


But thought against it. Whew. You think I'm really THAT stupid to put soy sauce in a wound?! LOL, you moron! That'd probably hurt like the burning fire pits of hell! I'd never do that!






So, I used one of me and my dad's favorite disinfectants. See picture, below.

Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about. Apparently, lemon juice stops bleeding and cauterizes the wound (google "Lemon juice stops bleeding"). I am unsure how accurate that is, but I do know that it stops a wound from hurting (seriously, you'll forget you even have a wound once you hit it with the juice; at least I did) and speeds along healing by 2-3 times. It really is our favorite. My dad busted his chin open with a pair of pliers a few months ago (or longer, I forget, but I did get a picture!), and I made him put lemon juice in it. Aren't I the good son. Speaking of which, me and my mom need to organize our pictures. If she could get them all to me, I could do it. By month is good enough, I think.

Now, squeeze it into your favorite shot glass. Or only shot glass because your deadbeat family doesn't know how much you love shot glasses even though you've been telling them for years. You think I'd use an Oregon shot glass if I had a choice? Pffsst. If I had a choice, you know I'd want a Samus Aran shot glass. Or at least one painted...orange...and...gray...with the green shoulder-pad lines...and a cannon dividing the glass on one side...oh, when I'm in glory, I'm asking Jesus to make me one of those. The thought brings a tear to my eye!


OK, now that you've got your lemon juice, guess why it's in a shot glass.


That's right. So that you can invert it quickly and hold it over the wound, effectively submersing the wound in lemon juice, and mix it around. A soda cap is also good for this, but you can't tell how good it's swishing around. Once more, I'm not a doctor. You take this advice on your own foolishness.

So, go ahead and do that. What I did was inverted it over the wound and shook my foot to make sure it got to every part of the wound. I held it there for three seconds (+/- 1 second), at which point the VOP (volcano of pain) got to the point that I had to evacuate the island, if you know what I mean.

Now, curse whatever you curse when something like this happens. You could curse Satan, but it's not Satan's fault lemons burn...but I MIGHT AS WELL BLAME IT ON HIM! DAMN YOU, SATAN! CURSE YOU TO THE ABYSS, TO THE PITS OF DESPAIR WITH YOU, YOU RAGGEDY GAGGER!

If you're still angry, go ahead and curse whatever caused you to be in the predicament, even if that means calling them and yelling "AHRAAAH!". Do not progress beyond bestial screams of agony, despair and anger, however, or you may offend them. Simply hang up, then enjoy and revel in their confusion when they call back several times. Ah. Life is good. But in my case, I got to curse mine enemy to his misshapen FACE.

DAMN YOU POPOE!





OK, that part is over. Lemon juice. It'll cause you to stumble backward, curse, grunt like an ape, and act like a wild dog for a few minutes, but boy does it work!

This is the biggest/deepest wound I've used lemon juice on yet. It hurt very badly, but it is completely worth it. I did not know if it would hurt very badly or not, luckily...not too bad. Below is the completely cleaned, disinfected wound. Note the lemon pulp on my foot. Once, I got lemon in my eye, and it didn't hurt so much. What's wrong with my eyes that causes them to be more immune to lemon juice than to water? Anyway, picture below.


...OK, so you could use peroxide if you want to, but I prefer lemon juice. I still advise the inverting-and-swishing method to get the peroxide in the wound (it's dandy!), but I can't recommend holding it there too long, as I do not know the health implications of "soaking" a wound in peroxide.

OK, now to bandage it up. I put a 2"x3" bandaid first, secured that with a 1 1/4"x3.5" bandaid, then on top of those a 2.5"x3.5". It should look like the below picture. If it doesn't, rush out and buy bandaids that are the exact same as the ones I used.


Next, wrap it in one of those elastic bandages. I've heard them called "Ace Bandages" before but I reckon that's incorrect (note: I only put this because it's on my foot, and the bandaids don't like to stick; otherwise I don't wrap it).

OK, so wrap it...and wrap it...and wrap it, until your toes turn purple and/or blue.

Perfect! That's how you know it's wrapped properly. Try not to get it too tight, or your toes will fall off. There's Popoe. Curse his bones!

Then just keep wrapping until it looks like this...

And then ponder why cowboy boots have the point directly in the middle of the shoe.


And that's how I dress a wound. The last step is to affect a sympathy-garnering limp. Yes, yes. In fact, the limp elicits so much sympathy, my brother even asked me what was wrong. Hehehe. Now I am off to make dinner; baked spiral ham, scalloped potatoes au gratin, steamed beets, and biscuits. My mom loves beets, I love all of it (I'm real easy to cook for; just no overly-crunchy onions and I prefer my meat trimmed of fat and bone), my brother likes all of it, and my dad LOVES biscuits (you turn a meal into an amazing meal for him when you make biscuits). I'm going to try Alton Brown's Southern Biscuits.


Since this post was made a day and a half later, here is the picture of it ...a day and a half later. It looks pretty darn messy, but it is holding together really well. Picture: GRAPHIC/GROSS.

I don't feel like posting.

No, not at all. My teeth hurt, the top of my mouth hurts, and I blame this Orbit sugarfree gum. Everything was fine until I chewed a few pieces. Worse, I want to drink some water, but my mouth is now so sensitive due to the mint I can't drink my water. Every time I do, my mouth hurts for about 25 seconds. Curse this gum! Curses, welcome the Curse Them tag! For cursing both individually and corporately. CURSES!



On top of that, I have a headache. I had one last night, too, as I discovered whilst I was editing some pictures from Bess' recent wedding (and laughing really hard; I was putting captions in the pictures). Ah, here I go. I'm blogging. My Mom ordered some video editing software (it was marked down from $75+ to $25 on sale), and I'm waiting for it to arrive so I can make this wedding movie. I also got an external hard drive from my mom's job, as the miniDV tapes are (up to) 11 gigabytes each. Yikes. Unless I got rid of the 40 GB operating system backup for my computer (that'd be hard as it won't let me burn the recovery discs for some reason!), I need the external HD.


Q&A is this week, and I am not entirely sure what I will ask. I'm certain of one thing, however: I do not want to ask a question I don't know the answer to. Sure, I could ask "how tall was the average human during the tower of Babel", but come on, I really don't care. I think I'm going to ask about the one another's of Paul (I'll try to listen to the audio files, that way I'll know the material ahead of time). Example, in Romans 12, verse 10:

Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another;

(italics mine, and I'm not sure if this is the true old KJV or the newer KJV). There are something around 25 of these verses in Paul's epistles, if memory serves. Don't stab each other, don't backbite each other, don't do this, don't do that, do this, do do that, on and on. I'll tell ya, that Paul can ramble something fierce!


As for tonight, I think I'm going to mention Ask the Pastor (it's a TV show where a panel of pastors answer viewer questions; the panels change often). Someone sent a letter saying "Oh my oh me help me please, my wife left me for someone on the internet and now I don't know what to do!"

They began, of course, by sharing in a warm fit of laughter ("The internet just has too much power LOL!"), then suddenly became very solemn (as if they were laughing at someone who has a heart-wrenching situation occurring or something! Imagine that!). They couldn't hold back their glee, it seemed. They continued to have laughing bouts throughout answering the question.

What jerks.


Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to let Little Jihad off of the porch. He's been very depressed lately...he wouldn't even leave the porch and he wouldn't go inside the house. I didn't call him or anything, he just wanted to lay there so I let him. His ears are permanently in a frowning position.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to con something up for dinner. Uhh, crud, what to make. I know. Chinese fried rice, OH WAIT MY BROTHER ATE ALL THE HAM. Oh well!