It’s probably been over a year since I’ve done Google Keywords of the
Weak Week. Arguably one of the reasons would be I’ve not been logging on and checking my numbers. They’re down from the hey day of the Alliance Title debacle and Bill and Ted’s Excellent Title Adventure. But we can still have fun with keywords.
PBE is the #1 google ranking for the search “patty hauptman santa barbara”. Woof. Strangely we are also #1 for the term “swordfish porn”. Which I’m I little surprised that it comes up at all, although I am secretly proud of that one. We’re #3 for “mood changing bunny ears”, which is interesting because I don’t believe in bad moods. I think you choose your mood. Choose better. “Flying mosquitoes” is huge. And then there’s “boylove” which is the name of an image of Beauregard. You sick bastards that keep googling that should have your junk rot off.
Norman is a big ol’ slice of awesome pie. Although those towels he’s laying on? They were originally put down because he took his big 105lb nose and did the nose flip to my elbow. Unfortunately I had a cup of coffee in my hand and he knocked it out of my hand and all over the papers on my desk, which included four months of receipts. Dear IRS, I’m sorry I can’t back up my Schedules with actual documentation. My dog spilled coffee on everything. So I laid everything out on towels and dried it out.
Ike might be on his end game. He’s had a couple of incidents where he’s snarled and snapped at me recently. They seem to be escalating. I think he’s in pain. I took him to Dr. Rettig and she said his eyes were different than when she first met him. I agree. There’s something going on. He’s also lost some weight. The plan is to watch him for now, and hope I don’t get bit. I think I’m going to have a blood test taken looking for cancer. And then just make him comfortable as long as I can. I did tell him that if he snapped at me again, that was his end game. Choose wisely.
Finally, a little something that bothered me more than I thought it would. On the AIDS/Lifecycle they provide massages to the cyclist. You get one on the ride. They mark your bracelet. It’s only like a 20 minute massage but honestly, it’s 20 minutes of heaven. I originally went down on Day 4. My line of thinking was that it was half way. About a gazillion other riders thought the same thing and I didn’t get in that day. Day 4 was torture dungeon day at the massage tent. Out front was the dungeon master. He was a hulking man, shaved head, beard, built like a brick shithouse. He was sweet and kind and explained that they were booked for the day, he was really sorry, could I come back earlier tomorrow. Not a problem big hulking dungeon master dude. The next day was Red Dress Day. Upon my return the hulking dungeon master was rocking a red frock. Frock is the proper word for what he had on. It was of a certain style, craft and air of dignity that earns that term. Red, full length, worsted wool probably. Same shaved head and beard. He explained the process for getting signed up that day. I followed it to a T. Before we went into the tent, at the changing of the guard as it were, he had us all bunch together and applaud the massage therapists who had been working non-stop, 2.5 patients per hour for five hours so far. He was sweet and kind and had Doc Martens on under his red frock.
Friday he died. He had a clavicle injury and had surgery on it. It didn’t heal properly. He was going in for his second surgery and had a reaction to the anti-anxiety medication. He never went back into surgery. The nurses found him unconscious. Four days later his family let him go. A really good guy is gone. And that makes me sad.