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Hey folks, Fred the Tuckpointer here with some not so good news.  Over the weekend, I decided that I needed to get back into Sadie’s good graces and offered to do some yard work.  I must have really been in the dog house, ’cause she told me that I needed to clean the gutters out.  Now, I’m no slouch, but gutter cleaning is beneath me.  That’s what you hire someone for.  Then Sadie had to remind me that we’re close to broke because of the vacation money that became bail money from the tea party fiasco.   She also had a good point – I probably hadn’t cleaned those gutters out in three years.  They were sagging quite a bit, and one over the garage looked like it was about to come off.  I caught Meet the Press, and after Sadie drove off to Giant Eagle for more ramen noodles I fooled around on the Internet some.  I found a neat article that gave a good definition of God – did you know He has a symbol?  Like Batman!  Around 12:30, I realized I had to get those gutters cleaned before the Browns game started.

Sure enough, just before I headed out, our dog Bernie Kosar starts yapping and whining to go outside.  We don’t have a fenced in yard, and I only had 20 minutes before kickoff, so a walk to the park was out.  But I also didn’t want him crapping all over the house.  I put his leash on him and took him out with me.  I grabbed the ladder from the garage, and leaned it up against the front of the house, when inspiration struck: I weigh about 150 lbs more than Bernie Kosar, and the ladder with me on it weighs more than that.  So I wrapped his leash around the bottom good and tight and climbed up.  I didn’t bring a shovel or anything, so I just started scooping the old crud out with my hand, while Bernie Kosar looked up at me:

Now, I’ll say this about Bernie Kosar…he’s a good dog, but a tad impulsive.  I was almost done with the front gutter when I heard Sadie pulling back into the drive way.  Bernie Kosar likes me, but he LOVES Sadie, and he bounded off to see her.  Unfortunately, his leash was still tied to the ladder, which he pulled right from under me.  I hung onto the gutter for a second before it gave way and I crashed down and screwed up my shoulder.  At first I thought I’d tough it out, but when I couldn’t move my right arm I figured it was screwed up good.  I came around to the garage and there was Sadie with this pissed off look on her face.  Then I saw Bernie Kosar standing next to her, and the ladder next to him.

So I went to the emergency room.  Sadie dropped me off out front then drove off without coming in with me.  She didn’t even ask me what I wanted for dinner.  I went to the desk and signed in, and gave them Sadie’s insurance card.  Now, I thought with a busted wing and all they’d get me in to see a doc right away, but they told me I could have an ice pack and to wait.  I grabbed a seat in the waiting room and caught the end of the Browns game…shit, lost again.  So you know how Obama wants to make us all have socialized medicine?   One of the things I keep hearing on the radio is that the waiting time to see a doctor would be long if Health Care “Reform” passes.  I waited only 6 hours…you know if that crap passes, it’ll be days on end and people will die right there in the waiting room.  I actually got up and checked in at the nurse desk a couple of times to ask what the hold up is – there was only one old lady waiting with me, and I think she worked there.   They told me my insurance was still being run on account Sadie and I have different last names (don’t ask).  Finally, I got to see the doc.  After a couple of x-rays, he told me my shoulder was separated and that I had to stay away from work for a week.

Except…I don’t get paid sick days at Wal-Mart, so I ended up losing a week of pay.  That, and the co-payment for the emergency room visit is like $1000.  So here’s the deal…we’re in a tight spot.  Sadie’s teacher salary isn’t enough to cover all our bills and that extra pinch.  Tuckpointing work has been a little scarce, and I sure as hell ain’t going back to Richie to beg for my old job back.  So…I’m looking for donations.  Preferably from conservatives.  You know, to help a fellow brother out?  Maybe if I write a letter to Rush he’ll send me some of that scratch he’s making.  I’m sure that whole mess at the hospital wouldn’t have happened if we’d just let the market decide health care, but who knows when that’ll happen.   So please…just a little something helps.

Till then, Fred the Tuckpointer signing off.

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Dog training maybe? I don’t know who’s more to blame here, although I really, really, really, want to blame the old woman. Just because she’s an idiot.

And by Punky, I mean Brewster. I’m sure every single one of you reading this site today grew up with Punky Brewster, that little scallywag of an elf that brought joy and happiness to Henry with her little dog Brandon (that she was seen hauling up to the Chicago apartment using a basket, some t-shirts and a complicated pulley system that I’m sure I couldn’t replicate if my life depended on it), and the constant declaration, “Punky Power”.

Little did YOU know that 20 years later, you would be innocently browsing the web, and find yourself here, staring at Soleil Moon Frye’s midriff.

Face to face with a shot of a fantastically gorgeous woman who no longer wears tights with shorts, a rainbow colored thermal shirt underneath a denim vest with a button that says, “I’m special – and so are YOU!” – you must be kidding yourself if you don’t squint your eyes and say to yourself, “Oh my!”

But, here is where we find ourselves. Honestly – I have NO clue what else she’s done, if she has a career, how old this photo is, or anything but what I am showing you now – and this is… well… just hot. I don’t remember her blooming as Punky, but apparently she was in overdrive. Regardless, the end result is extremely pleasant.

Thoughts?
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