Hobbits and Furry Beasts

This place has been too yucky bummed out for too long.
I'm going to try to post something funny, or at least, something weird.

* Disclaimer - what is funny to me may not make you laugh

My WTF Moment of The Week!

So on my way home from work on Weds , I stopped at my local convienence/gas/beer store.

We don't have 7-11 in my town. I don't know why, though I suspect Tommie has scared them off. And I don't know who Tommie is, but I can tell you that there are eight or nine 'Tommie' stores around town. There're like 7-11, only old and dark and dirty, and they don't have sandwich cases, ( no one would be crazy enough to eat a sandwich from a Tommie store, anyway). One of the stores always smells like Pine-Sol, but never looks any cleaner.

The folks employed by the Tommie chain, are losers. I know, that's mean, but it's the truth.
Any half bright or semi-friendly clerks don't last for more than a week. They don't smile, they aren't helpful, they are slow, very few of them have more than 2 or 3 teeth ( maybe that explains the "no smile" thing) I always try to be pleasant to the Tommie clerks, I feel bad for them. You just know someone has hit rock-bottom when they have to take a job at a Tommies.

So I stop by the pine-sol smelly Tommies on my way home from work (Why? because they have cheap cigarettes) to grab a pack and a Lotto ticket.
When I get to the door, this guy opens the door, and says, " Buggy! I thought your name was Bugsy!"
Okay, so I have never seen this guy before in my life!
It takes me a second to realise that I am wearing my name tag from work. ( Yes, my name tag does say "Buggy" on it)
So this guy is nearly my height ( 5'4") he has dirty looking kinda blond hair, cut in a spikey on top, mullety on bottom, style. He has odd patchy facial hair. He is skinny, about 20.
He is wearing a dirty wifebeater shirt that has something written on it in magic marker, cut off jeans , with boots ( untied, no socks). He has an earring , a huge goldtone loop that makes him look like a hobbit pirate.
I'm pretty sure he is on drugs, and if he wasn't so tiny I might almost be scared.

He asks me if I had a good day. ( ???!!!)
He isn't behind the counter , and he is smiling, so I don't think he is the newest loser clerk. He isn't asking me for money, he seems to be trying to tell me jokes. I don't know what the hell he wants.
The actual clerk, a young woman with what looks to be all her teeth, and no visible piercings, is rolling her eyes at him. I'm guessing he isn't her boyfriend, as she is about a foot taller than him, and doesn't look like lifes been completely sucked out of her yet ( I think she's new).
I ask her for my cigs and my quikpick, while redneck hobbit pirate boy is still smiling and trying to make small talk with me.
What the hell?
I'm sure I'm being punked, because I think he is attempting to flirt with me. He actually winked!
First off, I am probably old enough to be his mother, second , I am almost taller than he is and I have teeth. I am not at all cute in my ugly work uniform with the ugly work shoes. I am sweaty and my hair is a mess, so I have no illusions that my beauty has somehow overwhelmed this poor greasy little hobbit pirate reject. What gives?
He stands next to the counter the whole time I am there and when I turn to leave, he kinda hop skips over to the door , opens it for me and bows as I exit.
I say ,"Thank you." (Trying not to look like I am running to my car)

No other cars in the lot, so I'm sure it's not a Candid Camera stunt.
Maybe Tommie has decided his stores need "greeters" , like the old guys at the WalMart.
I locked my car doors and drove home.


The Not So Great Escape

The herd of doggy beasts are still living in my house.
I don't see them much anymore. Since it's too hot for them to be in the garage, they live with my brother, in what used to be my guestroom.

I don't want to think about it too much. I don't want to know what it smells like in there, I don't want to imagine what the carpet looks like. Someday I will remove everything and paint, and maybe be able to reclaim the kennel as a room again. I said maybe.

Friday night Katie and I decide to watch a movie together. I hadn't rented anything because I owe late charges at the movie place (again) , so we were stuck with whatever cable offerings we could find. We have lots of channels, but had trouble finding a family movie, or even a PG13 suitable choice.
We ended up with Garfield.
I don't recommend it.
Katie laughed some, but she is easy when talking animals are involved.
I didn't enjoy the movie, but sometimes just hanging out with Kate when she is laughing is good enough entertainment for me. ( most of the time, in fact)
So the brother ( Uncle Dude) comes out of the kennel/guestroom to see what we are watching and to get a plate of dinner and a beer. He's away from the canine habitat for maybe 5 minutes.
The next thing I know he is grabbing his shoes and asking where the flashlight is.
The furry beasts have escaped!

Katie jumps up and runs to assist in the search. The two of them are frantic about the herd running loose in the neighborhood.
I light a cig , sip my beer and ask, " So does this mean they shredded the window screen, again?"

Sure, I could have gone out into the dark to help search for the beasts, but Bill Murry is pretty funny, even if he is just the voice of a fat CG orange cat who eats lasagna in a movie with a terrible script. I pretended to be involved in the plot.

Ten minutes later they return with two of the beasts, the little one, and the puppy.
The biggest most hyper beast is still at large.
My daughter has been running about the wooded yard in her jammies with no shoes. I holler at her to put on some shoes at least, as she follows Uncle Dude back out into the night. There are furry family beasts to save, and she is on the case.

Ten minutes or so later, Garfield is causing havoc on some trains, I am thinking about getting another beer and maybe making some popcorn, when there is a scratching at the backdoor.
Crap!
The big beast has found her way home, and it seems to be up to me to let her wagging ass back in.
If she is going to escape the least she could do is stay lost, or find a new home, something that won't make me get up and have to pretend to care about her.
I open the door, she jumps on me ( of course she does, she always does) and she is WET!
Uncle Dude, with his jammie clad, canine saving assistant right behind him, run in behind the beast, saying, "She's WET!!"
Yeah, I noticed that.

Seems the beast was across the street, behind the houses , chasing ducks down at the pond.
Having the fricken time of her life!
Can't say I blame the little bitch, I wouldn't want to live in the former guestroom either. It smells like dogs and the window screen is all shredded up, and so far as I can tell there aren't any ducks in there. Yet.

We do share something in common, the furry Heidi beast and I.
We were both my Mother's favorite.