And don't forget to check out the new stuff in the store, too!!

Be well and be loved,

Erik

So there I am, goin' down the Corridor of Death between Arcata and Eurtweeka, when all of the sudden I feel a nasty draft shootin' up my plastic pants' leg that is my Security Uniform. The reason for it came soon enough as the doors of my little truck had just been blown off by some Highway Hog doin' about 80 with the whirlies goin' with no sirens to warn me to put on my seatbelt. You ever had this happen?! Cripes! I mean, it's like those old ladies in the supermarket whenever there's a clearance sale on all of the soft foods and she thinks your making a beeline for the last box of Hungry Jack. So I get outta the way and I'm lookin' ahead for whatever the crisis is when I see two other bewhirlied cruisers pulled over and the officers are just standing around having a joke and a smoke. I mean, that's alright I guess and I should cut these guys a little slack 'cuz they're willing to take a bullet for me and all, but Jeepers Criminy, where's the damned emergency? There was no evidence of an incident in any kind of obvious physicality to be seen. No elephant carcass jammin' up the Southbound or a bicycle tied in a square knot around one of those u-cali-petus trees on the side of the road. My tax dollars hard at work, I guess. Huh. So that old lady's now got her shopping cart up to my larnyx with the intent of further aggressive disembowlment by wheeled implement as she stares at me through bad frames and thick lenses while knitting her brow into a smouldering burlap sack. Me being the courtly gentleman that I am, I then deftly try to make some sort of peaceable amends by yarding out about 10 feet of coupons from one of those automatic dispensers mounted on the shelf. You seen these? Amazing. I need one of these mounted beside my toilet so's I can have hours of uninhibited fun wiping all manner of mustache on the face of that annoyingly sweet little teddy bear on those coupons of overly priced Great Northern Tissue. Man, I hate that stupid little bear. Anyhoo, she's now beaning me repeatedly about the body and head with a loaf of the local French and I'm now wishing that I had better restraint and a more confident command of carnal verbs. Her objection to my previous attempt at kindness becomes totally clear and apparent however, as I notice the coupons I retrieved for her were for condoms. What an idiot. The French bread is now cleaning out my ear like a giant brillo Q-tip when I finally just give up and shove my own cart to the side in general disgust and wander over to the little cafe near the front and get a bad cup of Farmer Bros.. I then find a seat next to some kid with headphones who's texting on one of them cellphone dealies thinking that he wouldn't wanna talk. Bad Idea. But that's a story for another day... Life is a Crap Shoot, Herkimer Shagnasty