I can't teach you to be a man

Or, Poor CherkyB.

The other day, I was chatting with one of my co-workers. He was trying to convince me to buy from him at a rock-bottom price a Remington R-15 Predator that he accidentally bought with a low-ball bid on GunBroker when he turned out to be the only bidder. But he also won another bid on the same gun in a different auction. So he accidentally had two of them.

I was 'splainin' to him how it was that I would have a hard time spending that kind of money on another gun given that I have still not even gotten a chance to shoot the last gun I bought. And then he was 'splainin' to me about how his wife knows better than to question his gun purchases and how it sounded to him like I, "just need to go home and put your foot down."

I chuckled, saying how he clearly didn't know how things worked in my house. And that's when he threw up his hands, exclaimed, "I can't teach you to be a man," and then stormed off.

So I delicately broached the subject with The Mrs. this weekend. What I got was a 20 minute tirade about how The Childrens have all outgrown their violas, and she doesn't like their bows either, and they're going to need thousands of dollars in new instruments, plus the piano has needed tuning ever since we moved, and how could I possibly spend that kind of money (despite being rock-bottom pricing) on a gun I'd never shoot when the kids needed instruments they'd never play?

Well, honestly, I feel like now I should buy it not just because Obama doesn't want me to own it, but also because The Mrs. doesn't. Before, when it was just Obama that didn't want me to have it, it wasn't quite as compelling a proposition. I mean, how much damage can a one-term president really do?

Maybe, though, I should downgrade to a Lariat from a King Ranch on the new truck. But only the King Ranch gets heated and cooled front seats plus heated rear seats.

Cooled seats. AR-15. Cooled seats. AR-15. Man, it's a hard choice.

I mean, cooled seats. Like, cold air blowing through tiny holes punched in the leather. Just imagine.

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I realize it has been a long time since I have blogged. The Mrs. has been a bit under the weather for a while now with some kind of ailment her doctor hasn't been particularly interested in getting to the bottom of, and it has cut into my free time quite substantially. She has a new doctor now (my doctor, in fact), and it looks like it may be trending towards an allergy/chemical sensitivity to something, as she cut a bunch of things out of her diet and improved quite a bit. Possibly sucralose poisoning, which causes a buildup of chlorine in your body that produces a wide range of bizarre, seemingly-unrelated symptoms.

On the pet scene, Hally and Bozo, the giant cockroaches, had babies last week. So we now have like 20 of these things. I'm not as happy about that as I seem.

Also, somehow Trixie, the single crayfish we put in the front pond, has now turned into at least four crayfish. And they nip me every time I try to clean the filter.

I need to get a deep fryer.