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Welcome to the BOMB.

The Blog Of the "Mother" of Bandit.
Bandit is my Hairless Chinese Crested--he's the "normal" one. I, on the other hand, am unrepentantly "pet-crazy." You know the type--the spinster who lives in the haunted house three blocks over with 72 cats...okay, so I don't have 72 cats, and my house isn't haunted--but my dogs wardrobe is better than mine! Need I say more? :~)
I've never been consistant at journaling, so the timing of my blogs will be sporadic at best. I just hope they are as entertaining to you as they are to me; however, be forewarned: Most of my blogs will be about The BaldOne. In spite of his Don King "do," I think he's just as cute as any of the Brothers B!
Now, if I can just remember not to get him wet--or feed him after midnight...

About Me

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My bags are packed and I'm always ready to seek out an adventure with Bandit and Moggy in tow. Bandit is my thirteen year old Chinese Crested, who I frequently call The Bald One or The BaldOne Boy (like he was one of the Baldwin Brothers). Moggy’s full name is Pip-Moggy. He’s my two year old gansta-resuce kitty. I couldn’t decide between Pip (which are the spots on die and domino tiles) and Moggy (or Moggie when I mistakenly thought he was a she), so I combined the two. Moggy refers to the British term for "cat of unknown parentage .” So in essence, I have an almost bald dog, and I’ve named my cat “Spot.”

Fun Stuff (I'm doing now or have done)

  • Artistic Attempts weekly (alternating between Painting With A Twist, That Art Place, and Peniot's Palette).
  • Bunko with the Belton Bunko Babes monthly.
  • Participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge.
  • Spades and Liverpool Rummy with the Spadetts weekly.
  • The Mighty Texas Dog Walk, Austin (fund raiser for Service Dogs, Inc--they train shelter dogs to be Service Dogs, then give them free of charge to people with disabilities.)

Monday, July 20, 2015


GasTV annoys me to the extent I no longer get gas at Murphy Oil unless I’m traveling.  I know, not everything about GasTV is annoying. I love the YouTube of the Karaoke Couple—they are very entertaining—and I never fail to watch them when they sing; however, by and large, the loud barrage of GasTV advertisements hurts my ears and is extremely annoying.  

So annoying in fact, I once complained to the attendant—I’d had a rough day at work—Veterans, Doctors, and Coworkers alike demanded my attention.  Alarms clanged on the Ward all shift long. By the end of my shift I just wanted to go home and relax in a quiet place. On the way home I stopped at WalMart to pick up a few things. The self-register volume was so loud it hurt my ears.

Stopping to get gas at Murphy Oil was the last straw as GasTV assaulted my ears non-stop with a loud stream of advertisements. Usually, if I tap “No” I can pre-empt the questions and the screen will go blessedly quiet. Not this night—the pump screen continued to blare questions at me.

I complained to the hapless Attendant about the auditory assault by the store register and gas pump. The Attendant was quick to point out, Murphy Oil is not affiliated with WalMart—they simply rent out an out parcel on the WalMart parking lot. I simply started my own personal boycott of both WalMart and Murphy Oil. For the most part, I no longer shop either place. However, when I travel, they are consistent in their merchandise and quality of gas, so I lift my boycott when I travel.

This past weekend I drove to Florida for my 38th High School Reunion Dinner.  Combining the errands on one stop, I had occasion to grab a few travel essentials at WalMart ,and gas up the SUV at the nearby Murphy Oil.

As is my gassing habit, I placed the nozzle on auto fill and began the process of squeegeeing the front windshield. Within mere seconds of the nozzle clicking off, the Attendant’s voice broadcast over the system and asked “Is everything okay?  Do you need assistance?” 

I have been gassing up my vehicles for nigh on forty years.  Three of the jobs I had with AAFES (Army Air Force Exchange Service) were in Gas Stations (Duke Field, Eglin AFB, and Hurlburt Field).  I know how to gas up my car. And check the oil, filters, tire pressure, fluid levels, etc. Therefore, I must be throwing off a significantly decrepit vibe—either that or the attendant was super Johnny-on-the-spot.  Since I’m only fifty-five years old, I'm hoping it's the latter and not the former. However, it is nice to occasionally have someone offer to do something for me—especially when I’m having a slow moving day—and this was a day I was moving  a little slower than normal. It’s one of the hazards of being sedentary for anything length of time once you are of a certain age and have made the acquaintance of "Arthur."

Unfortunately the Attendant's  offer of assistance came a tad bit too late—when it came, the SUV was full and I was finishing the last side of the windshield.

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