Missileanus

I'm overdue for some bra shopping. I'm at the point in the life of my non-sportsbras where the wires are poking through the outer material. "Why oh, why oh underwire?" I cry. Such a tender place to be prodded but, obviously, i need all the structural support i can get. And i'm kidding, but i do think this. Anycow, here's a clever advert:

Tech support

So i think i'll forgo the under-wires next time and order one of these:

I called finally and confirmed they've filled the position i applied for. He said they'll probably be hiring again in January so that would be a relief. I've been walking a dog for a few bucks every day and i'm petitioning the neurology gods it all continues to go successfully. Such a simple job is still a questionable endeavor for someone with epilepsy. I wrap the leash around my wrist and entreat the powers at be as much as i dare, that she remains tethered to my body and far from cars and death-delivering inertia in the street. I probably owe it to her owner to disclose my medical foibles and inefficiencies. But boy would i rather spare her the worry. 

I'm trying to keep my mind off my recent job-propositioning failure and staying as busy as i can manage.  It's pitifully easy for me to come up with excuses not to leave my house. I have to make a conscious effort to say yes. I've posted this before, and i regret at less than 50 posts to get repetitive, but i'll never, ever get sick of this:

Yesterday, i said yes, even though the question was ridiculous. I guess i was game for a distraction, so, oopsie daisy, if i didn't agree when my friend asked if i wanted to shoot a 50 Caliber rifle. You just never know in Idaho.

I don't really like guns, but i guess we're gonna shoot a big one.

We're definitely a couple of rednecks.
It was Hillbilly Make-A-Wish meets bucket list.
MS is threatening my friend's last somewhat-functional limb.
In any event, he was pretty thrilled about this gun business.

Don't rob Ben, our dentist friend; that guy has some really big guns.

I'm not a gun-nut by any means but it was more fun than i anticipated. We also shot a bump action stock-equipped AR-15 which i initially declined on account of the moral implications of putting my hands on such a thing (i won't even post the pictures), but i'm spineless and the guys goaded me into it, so i squeezed off a few rounds rapid-fire. It seemed so wrong, and then i shrugged it off, grateful to live somewhere safe and peaceful where law-abiding citizens own these things (whothehellknowswhy) and not baby boy gangsters in the streets. 

It's cold here and the air feels like a frosty scouring brush as it swirls through my very first cavity. Perhaps i'll pay a business visit to my new dentist friend who happens to be armed to the teeth.

More inappropriate humor to wrap it all up: