I give some animals some medicine every month. Y'all will be surprised.

Let's face it. Unless you travel somewhere -- and somewhere doesn't include Baton Rouge -- summer is D - U - L - L, dull. College baseball is over (at least for me it's over), and the NBA will be done pretty soon. Let's not pretend that Major League Baseball is interesting. (At least not the games. The steroid controversies are a little interesting.) I have yet to cut the sleeves off of a collared shirt, and therefore don't have that part of my brain that would also allow me to follow NASCAR.

Yesterday after basketball at lunch, I went to the Subway on Government street. I was in front of him in line, having trouble figuring out what to order. "I dunno... what are you going to have?"

If you know me -- either in real life or just through reading here -- you have probably inferred that I'm not a very political person. You would be right. It's not that I'm uninterested; I find aspects of politics fascinating. The thing is that I don't care. It's just entertainment to me.

Some long winded work story, but then it takes a turn for the wet and gross.

I think I alluded to the fact that I would be in Las Vegas all of last week, so naturally, I have a story or two to share. The week was scheduled where Sunday evening through mid-day Wednesday, I was there as a representative of a vendor hosting a conference. There was some time for fun, but not a whole lot. From mid-day Wednesday through the next weekend, I was there just for my own recreation.

The loud, blaring noise goes on and on and on and on. It fails to respect that you're trying to think. Or talk on the phone. Or reading your favorite blog on company time. It's incessant. It's painful. My singing in the office? Well, yes, that fits, but I really meant the fire alarms.

The best office/work related party that I've ever been to -- and one of the 10-15 best parties of any kind that I've been to -- was an APPRO Users' Conference party at the House of Blues in New Orleans. This was probably somewhere around 6-8 years ago, but I think anyone who was there will confirm that it was a mighty powerful throwdown.

Mrs. theskinnyonbenny was waiting in an airport to catch a flight yesterday, around 3:00 in the afternoon, and she text messaged me out of boredom:

It was recently brought to my attention that I have a reputation among the neighbors as a peeping Tom, and I know exactly how that reputation originated. Two summers ago, I was doing the finish work on the Regal Beagle, the grill/bar area in our back yard. It was August, and scorching, searing hot outside.

There was about a year-long stretch when I was in elementary school where I was quite enthusiastic about reading up on UFOs, the Loch Ness monster, ghosts and spirits, and other unexplained mysteries. My school library had a series of books on these topics, and I went through them one after another. By far, my favorite topic was Bigfoot. I went on to read other books that I could find. Of course, this was before Al Gore invented the Internet, so library books were about my only option. I knew about all of the highly-publicized sightings, and I had seen pictures of that grainy video that the Bigfoot nuts still site to this day.

I think I mentioned once that Auburn fans think that the LSU fans smell like corn dogs. I had heard this through word of mouth, and then at the Auburn game last year, I actually heard an Auburn guy walking around LSU's campus say, "It sure does smell like corn dogs around here."