Swing batter...swing away!

Happy Tuesday everybody! We’re off and running with a new day. I’m up at 3 this morning to write this danged blog and then work on a PowerPoint presentation I’m supposed to make on Friday morning at the Woodward Hospital…or whatever the hell they call it now.

I need to learn to sit on my hands and not volunteer for stuff. Volunteering sucks. The more you do, the more someone wants.

But, actually, 3AMish is the only chance I get to have some quiet so I can do some work. Well, fake work anyway since I’m not getting paid for any of this.

I know, I know…stop complaining. I put myself into this predicament, didn’t I?

With Cousin Fred and Friend Lamont staying here at The Compound now, things are getting a might crowded despite Cousin Fred and Lassie the barking goat living in Hellkat One’s travel trailer and Friend Lamont residing in the RV that we used last week to go to Cali. The Wife is getting kind of surly about it all.  

For instance, last evening I was attempting to have a solemn Presidents’ Day observance. I set up a ring for freestyle wrestling and we held Lucha Presidente matches. I was dressed as George Washington. Cousin Fred did his best to look like Thomas Jefferson. Friend Lamont, who is kind of a big dude, was Grover Cleveland. Lassie the barking goat even got in on the action dressed out as Checkers (Richard Nixon’s mutt).

Best two out of three falls, last man standing wins. Unfortunately, we’re all so out of shape that there wasn’t anyone standing when it was over. But, damn it, we had observed Presidents’ Day and that was the important thing.

By the way, for all you budding promoters out there…how about bringing Lucha Libre (Mexican freestyle wrestling) to Cosmic City? I’d definitely pay money to go see that. I mean, there’s the (seemingly) monthly cage fights and summertime fun with monster truck rallies.

Wouldn’t you rather watch guys in leather masks fly thirty feet through the air to smash their opponent in the ring? Sure you would. In fact…

But, I digress.

So once we finished our stupid wrestling games, the Wife brought out a cast iron pot of ham and beans, a pan of cornbread and a warm twelve pack of Bud. She set it all on the table outside. I was hoping for a more traditional Presidents’ Day feast of pheasant under glass, with grilled asparagus, and sautéed truffles. And then after dinner we would sit around sipping sherry and discussing presidential stuff like how to rob the Treasury and not get caught.

I mentioned that to the Wife. She just stood there glaring at me through the haze of smoke rising from the filterless Pall Mall dangling from the corner of her mouth. When she spoke, it was more of a growl than words, “Eat or starve.”

There was no “I’m sorry Snook’ems, United was all out of fresh pheasant today” or “you lads need protein after all of that jumping around you did and acting the fools…here let me get you fresh towels so you aren’t dripping sweat into your dinner” not even a “kiss my ass”…just “eat or starve.” See what I mean? Surly.

Still, she was nowhere nearly as surly as a housewife in Ohio over the weekend who decided to take batting practice on her husband’s head.

That’s her mugshot at the top. Doesn’t she look remorseful? Of course, she does. She has that look on her face that says, “I’m really really sorry I beat the living bejeezus out of my idiot husband with a baseball bat. No really, I won’t do it again. LET ME OUT OF HERE!”

It seems that our Ohio housewife, we’ll call her Mighty Casey was miffed that husband didn’t get her anything for Valentine’s Day. Oh sure, she tried to drown her misery in alcohol, but was still angry. A verbal altercation ensued, followed by her hitting and scratching his face.

When that didn’t get his attention, the Might Casey called her shot in the outfield and then swung for the fences at the back of his head rendering him unconscious.
It didn’t end there…nope. As her husband, we’ll call him Mr. Spalding, began to regain consciousness, the beating re-commenced.

Deputies arrived at the home (sweet home) to find a bludgeoned Mr. Spalding on the floor and Mighty Casey with her bat.

She blew a .223 on the ol’ breathalyzer which put her blood-alcohol level at something approaching drunker than Cooter Brown.

She’s been charged with felonious assault and domestic violence.

Bet the husband doesn’t ever again forget to buy her a gift!

What have we learned here today?

1. Never forget holiday gifts (even made up holidays).

2. When you buy a holiday gift, remember to never buy anything that can be used as a weapon.

3. If you do buy something that can be used as weapon, please for goodness sakes, hide the booze.

4. If your special someone realizes you’ve hidden all the booze and buys some on their own. Leave…drive fast…move to Alaska – lots of places to hide there.

5. Above all else, stay the hell out of Ohio.

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