Bass Caddy Blog

We are now on the second consecutive day of trying to answer the question - “What do we do about shirts?”  You guys out there may be innocently thinking (as I stupidly did) “Wear them?”  With a woman involved (specifically my lovely, but obsessive wife) it could never be that simple.  To get everyone on the same page, I’ll tell ya’ll how the issue started in the first place.  You may have read in one of my previous blogs that my wife is very concerned (meaning obsessed) with having the “proper” clothes to wear for any occasion, be it a formal function or a sporting event - in this case professional tournament fishing and personal appearances.  In the fishing world, much like the NASCAR world, sponsors contribute to assist an angler throughout the tournament trail, in return for the angler helping to promote the sponsor’s products.  One of the more obvious ways that a fisherman or fisherwoman promotes his or her sponsor is in wearing clothing items emblazoned with all manner of gaudy logos, slogans and websites, in effect becoming a walking billboard.  Terri has been a little  behind the curve in getting things going for the bass fishing season, partly because we didn’t make the final decision on whether she was going to be able to join the WBT and fish the season this year until November when it was time to take the leap and put down our money and sign up online.  After that was accomplished on the appointed date, I sat down in my recliner with a sigh of relief, thinking “I’m glad that’s over”.  Now I could relax until February or March when it was time to fish.  This seemed to coincide with my wife revving her engines into high gear and getting down to the “business” of fishing. 

I had no idea there was so much work involved off the water.  Simple, ignorant man that I am, I thought that most of the work involved with tournament fishing happened out on a big bunch of water somewhere. In a boat. With a fishing rod in hand.  According to my wife, I am woefully ignorant as to where the hard work of fishing actually happens.  Apparently the busy place is in our bedroom.  Now normally if there’s a flurry of activity happening in our bedroom, you could say that I’m pretty much “up” for the adventure and more than willing to dive right in and do my share.  Not in this case.  Not after the eye-rolling, you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me, men-are-so-pitifully-ignorant, take a deep breath and sigh reaction I got from the little woman after asking the sixty-four thousand dollar question.  “You’ve signed up - what’s left to do?’  She points across  the bedroom at her stack of labelled file boxes as tall as I am, full of books, papers, file folder, maps, and basically more stuff about fishing than I ever knew existed. I sigh in disappointment, knowing that I am not about to get anything except a lecture that I could have done without.

I can always count on my wife to come through for me with a way-too-long-and-involved answer to any question I am careless enough to blurt out without thinking.  Here’s the gist (or list) of what all my wife informed me is involved before a hook is ever thrown in the water.  Number one - get sponsors.  I understood that, I just didn’t understand that it involved things like presentations and proposals. I didn’t know fishing involved boardrooms. After sponsors are business cards, promotional pictures, websites, interviews and personal appearances - and all that is before the fishing season even starts.  Add to that my wife’s idea of being “prepared” to fish. The preparedness involves hours of reading and researching, checking and fine-tuning all of the equipment, and finally, and apparently most importantly, being personally prepared - which equals dressing for the part.  After much discussion and more researching, Terri presented me with my “options” as far as in my capacity as professional bass caddy. Put simply, there were no options. As a good husband and bass caddy, I’ll just shut up and let her dress me like a pet or a baby doll and take it like a man.  Anything to keep her happy. But, oh no! Big Problem! Now it’s gonna take too long and she is going to have to make a personal appearance, and we are going to have to fish, all without being properly attired. Seeing my wife rapidly going into one of her panic meltdown modes, I quickly come up with what I think are several perfectly acceptable alternative plans, which she immediately shoots down in flames.  Apparently she has narrowed it down to three options: Printing, patching, or stitching, or some variation of mix and match. I keep thinking,  “they’re shirts - just shirts!”

 Well we are day two of buying, then printing, patching, or stiching shirts.  I can’t even figure out why any one of these could not just take care of it. As a man, any of these would do.  Here’s what I’m faced with. I can go with patches. Sew them on - I’m cute and ready to fish. Give me a pocket to put my smokes in, and I’m cookin’, sometimes literally. And if it has extra pockets to put the honey’s make-up in, we’re extra-specially good to go. Now the problem lies in getting this done quickly. This is beyond belief. You can’t get any of this done quickly anywhere.  As a man I can slap some silk screen on and go. Not so with the lady in my life. Color choice, fit and form also come into to play. Now I know she could put on a toe-sack and mark it with chalk and be beautiful. I honestly think she is trying to soop me up. I must match her in color - we are a team. The fit can be some what looser for me. Thank God for that, cause if not I would look like 10 lbs of catfish in a 2 lb vaccuum pack bag. Iknow she loves me cause she makes sure I look good in public, most of the time. But anyway this shirt thing is really getting to us both. Just when we adapt to the issue a new one pops up. We have actually bought shirts only to find they were not what we needed in the first place. I refuse to return items purchased. This means we are stacking more unwanted attire up for a garage sale in the near future. This will be a big and fat boy sale of useless fishing and hunting attire. Good deals all around. MAN! A thought just struck. Maybe we could use our camo shirts, sew on the patches and be able to blend into the trees along the bank so the fish can’t see us. Now there’s an arguement to go with.

For today I quit

Well, I have decided to come back and blob again after recovering from my recent computer-induced PBSD (Posting Blobs Stress Disorder).  I know that a lot of you are going to think that this is another “Pooter rap or rant”, but it’s not.  I want everyone to hear about the personal attack on me led by this computer.  That way you’ll be prepared when it happens to you.  I only recently realized that what has been happening to me since I started posting on this website has not been me accidentally hitting wrong keys and messing things up.  It is a war between me and my computer, and the computer is winning the battle.  It’s kind of  like David and Goliath, and the giant here is the giant technology comprised of computers and the Internet, and I’m the one with the pebbles and a slingshot.  Here’s how I figured the whole thing out…

 This past “N“-day (Nascar, NFL, and Nap-day, otherwise known as Sunday to the uninitiated or women out there), in the afternoon I chose the Nap option due to the fact that there was no Nascar or NFL.  The wife and the youngest daughter that we have, Jenny, decided while I was taking a nap that it would be a wonderful idea to get me a FaceSpace and a MyBook.  The way they explained this wonderful idea of “social networking” was that I could use these sites to find old friends, meet new ones, and get my thoughts and ideas out to a wider audience.  In Theory.  On a Good Day.  If I think pure thoughts and hold my mouth just right as I type.  In real life, what was presented to me to be a simple task - “go check your pages that we filled out for you”, became a lesson in frustration. 

First off, I couldn’t find the pages I was supposed to and had to have the wife stop her physical therapy every two minutes and come help me.  Every time I tried to find a “friend”, my friendly computer questioned my motives by asking me to enter a secret code, followed by an encrypted password and apparently a top-secret special handshake in the form of something called a “CAPCHA”.  “What the heck is this?”, I quizzed the wife, thinking that I had messed something up again.  It certainly looked like the results of some of my mis-steps: something that looked vaguely like words and numbers strung together, sometimes spelling out what looked like real words, but with lines drawn through them and the letters fading in and out and changing sizes up and down.  Whatever a “CAPCHA” is, it definitely bears a resemblance to my work during editing and proofreading.  (I bet everyone thought I didn’t proofread, didn’t you?  You’re right - I don’t.  The wife does because she doesn’t trust me for some unknown reason…)  Terri tried to explain what CAPCHA is for, and as usual, I tuned out after hearing the beginning of the sentence.  For some reason, when my wife tries to explain something to me, she always starts sounding exactly like my first grade teacher.  She begins,  “A CAPCHA is used to prevent spam….blah,blah,blah…”  As soon as she starts I go into my “Jeopardy” mode and start hearing the tune from Final Jeopardy in my head…Da, da, da, da-da, da, da, daaaaa, da, da, da, da, da, da-da, da-da, da, da….”Ok, we’re back, let’s see what our contestants have written. What do you have written for your question Rod?”  To which I mentally always reply, “What is something that I don’t ever care to know that my wife knows an infinte amount of mindless trivia about?”  I then mentally congratulate myself for keeping that “yes, I’m paying attention honey” look on my face, and try to keep from saying, ‘I wagered a million dollars that she’d never shut up, Alex!”  Most of the time she doesn’t require any feedback , just for me to sit quietly and act like I’m paying attention.  Luckily I don’t have to contribute any input in the form of a question, because she explains everything as if I’m a two-year old child.  Actually the two-year old would probably have a better chance at this. 

I’m just not sure what my role is in all of this.  I’m told I have to fill out a Profile, and immediately I’m stumped.  I come to the part about “Status”, and think - everyone knows I’m married.  I talk about my wife all of the time, so everyone must know that I’m married.  In my narrow corner of life, there are only two states of being - married or not married.  I didn’t know there were so many other things I could be.  One of the hardest questions for me to figure out was how I was feeling.  I’m a simple guy - happy or sad, with mad thrown in for variety.  The list I could choose from was so extensive, I only read down about 100 before becoming so overwhelmed I finally settled on the one that fit - “confused”, and left it at that.  Needless to say the rest of my profile is blank - when Jenny comes back over she’ll have plenty to do.  Since it took so long just to get through my marital status and my mood, I decided to skip the rest and get to the important part. 

I’ll bet everyone is thinking that I didn’t get the point of the MyBook and FaceSpace sites, but I did.  The whole point is to find “friends” and have more than anyone else in the entire universe, or at least the universe that is the pages of these Internet sites.  That being said, I immediately set out to gather up as many of these “friends” as I could find.  If you’re wondering why I was putting the imaginary air quotes (and I really am doing this when I’m saying this), it’s because it seems that my idea of friends is different from the people who run MyBook and FaceSpace.  To me, friends are someone that you know and like to hang out with.  I’m a well-rounded person.  Even if I don’t have fifty-bazillion moods, I know the difference between, say, a friend, a relative, an acquaintance, and someone whose name I can remember that I went to high school or used to work with.  In Internet-land all of those people are my “friends” (air quote) - get the picture?  My real friends call me.  I call them.  It’s a lot simpler that way (and much easier on me considering my hunt-and-peck typing skills don’t make me very computer savvy). My real friends also stop by and hang out with me.  Apparently all my Internet “friends” are good for are writing on my walls.  If my real friends did that we’d have a problem and somebody would be getting a can of paint and a paintbrush to fix things.  I do have to admit one thing, though.  I did find a real friend with whom I’d lost touch who managed to see one of my great MyBook or FaceSpace pages and get in contact with me.  You may be thinking that he was really just an Internet “friend” (air quote) - but he was actually a real friend (no air quote, real thing).  You know how I know? …He called me on the phone!

For now I think that I’ll just concentrate on this website and maintaining my modest little blog and Bass Caddy page.  I’ll leave all the social networking to the ones who understand it and get a lot out of it - the computers.  You see, I finally figured it out - that’s what the Internet is for.  Everyone thinks that their own computer is just that - a personal computer.  Just a machine that waits dormant to be powered up and used for whatever purpose the owner chooses.  That’s not what’s really going on.  While these computers are “sleeping” is when they’re most active.  The computers themselves are using the Internet to visit other computers through all of these “social networking” sites.  They don’t need us at all and are secretly living a virtual life all their own travelling though cyberspace to connect with other computers and become “friends” (air quote for sure) in the sense that only computers can.  Computers are re-defining the word friends for their own use, just like they are using the Internet and Cyberspace for their own purposes.  How else do you think that the Internet and computers have become so vital to our daily lives and communication?  They planned and did it themselves, using their giant Giga-brains to pull it off.  Just thought everyone else should know - the social networks are actually so the computers can communicate and become “friends”.  It’s all making sense to me now…only a computer could think up 200 different moods beginning with the letter “a” - it’s all for them.  I only have a couple “friends” on each of my social networking sites.  I think my computer has about 63 gazillion at last count.  Roughly the number of computers online today.

For today I quit.

I really hope that everyone noticed the background change on the blob page. That was the big issue last night, the choice became easy. The execution was the part that got my rear roasted.  Now, as I stated before, the webmaster was called and awakened, (well maybe, he did say he was in bed I hope sleep was all that was interrupted) the website is fixed anyway. But, back to the page. Look at the hills and the clouds. They are so pretty (not words I use often). But thats okay this time. What I need you to do is visulize  a man sitting in those clouds looking down on me.  A man of great power a man of great wisdom. Yes, My webmaster!  Hince froth known among all none geeks as “T MASTER”. The man who pulled my flaming butt from the pooter hell I stayed in all last night. The second coming of that Perot feller.  All computer fellers should beware for he may smoot you. This man is anonimious and shall remain so unless he grants permission to reviel his true identity.  He not only fixed the site but he made things easier for ME.  I can safely blob and not get too mad.  Now I can hopefully do this without getting a virus the CDC can’t cure. Maybe I could learn  how to text and e-mail and get on craig list, buy on e-bay, do face bookin. Now imagine the above mentioned ” T MASTER ” with a slight smile on his face shaking his head saying ” FOOLISH, FOOLISH MAN!!!

Enough for today, Oh crap I just hit spell check and got an error code , this #$@%^&^%^$$##%^  craptop is possessed.  Please ” T MASTER ” put on your POOTER SUIT and save me.

For today I quit

Tonight I am P.O.ed. I told you yesterday I am not pooter llitirate and I just had to go through all kinds of choices of web pages. I DON’T CARE. Just pick one and let’er fly. Show me what to hit and duck. But noooo, pick one don’t be a butt, you can at least pick one. She looked at 500 and knocked it down to 19 so pick one. Okay this one. No that doesn’t have all the stuff you wanted. Well cheese and rice, how about that one?  No it’s not the right color. Well Fiddle dee dee dog droppings. Okay baby, you pick the one and I’ll be fine with it. No really your wisdom is far beyond mine. You are colledge-educated and all. You did surgery on hundreds of human females-I just dated a few. Really,you are much smarter than me and much better looking too. DON’T YOU DARE PATRONIZE ME .DON’T YOU DARE WALK OUT OF HERE.( I return head down) We look at the rest and a choice is made. Download in progress. NOOO DON’T TOUCH!!!! Oh crap call the webmaster. Rod touched the pooter during download. Please help! Pooter guy can tell time too. It’s 10:45 he tells Terri. He will fix in the morning. If you don’t see this until then, oh well. I probably won’t need to assist for awhile now so ranting should be about it. Pooters are bad. They cause issues. I am a bass caddy. I am above this machine. God I hate this thing. I really see an accidental drowning off our boat this year. Ah poor HP laptop, I hated it well.

For today I quietly resign.

I am sorry for not blobin yesterday due to the computer feller workin on stuff. I’m so glad I don’t need to deal with all that technical stuff. We pay an eight year old to tutor me but all I can do is type. Dang kid.

I’m at the lake tonight and am as snug as a bug in a birds’  belly. I can smell the water and feel the sun on my bald head.  Ahhh, back to nature. (finally)

On a fab side we now have two confirmed sponsors. I refuse to expose them yet - BIG SURPRISE COMING.  Needless to say we are elastic. These folks are a huge part of our family and we intend to make em proud.

For today I quit

Note from the adult on the site:  In a less than one week blogging career, my husband has managed to offend both the dog lovers and the cat lovers and now has branched out to include fly fishermen.  That has to be some kind of record.  Yes, he actually meant to call the blog a  “blob” on purpose.  To clarify:  The Management of this Website is not responsible  for, nor does she necessarily agree with or condone, any of the opinions (rants) expressed within the blogs.  As I tell everyone - “Rod is an adult.”  In people years.  (I do love him - he sure keeps everything interesting!)

Terri “The Fishing Doc”

Okay, I give, dog and cat fishin may not be the best way to keep your skills up.  So, after hard thought I think I’ll try fly fishin.  I hear it’s relaxing but extremely hard to master.   Real finesse is necessary to catch and land your prey. I had Lasik a few years ago, so my eyes should be able to handle the size.  I know there is much to learn and surely lots and lots of new equipment to purchase.  As with any guy, that just makes taking up the sport more attractive.  I’ll need at least a new rod and reel (unsure what type), waders, a really small net, one of those little baskets and a hat with baby hooks stuck in it.  Since I don’t know of any fly shops around here I guess it’s off to Academy, I’ve heard they have everything you need to do any sport. I understand true fly-fishermen have supplies, including string and feathers -cause you have to tie your flies. This seems weird to me since I’ve never had to tie a bass up with feathers and such. Sounds rather kinky to me.  Oh well, in for a dime in for a dollar.  I also don’t understand the part of slingin’ the hook back and forth all the time.  Maybe the flies are so quick you have to keep movin’ to get a hit.  Seems as though you would get wore-out pretty quick.  Those folks must work out a lot.  (This may require more thought).  I do know that bass fishin’ is not near as demanding physically. (Thank God)  Yet another issue just struck me. Why do all fly fishin shows happen in beautiful babbling mountain streams?  Unless there is a dead carcass around:  where do the flies come from?  Maybe they shoot something when they get there.   Or maybe they carry road kill in that little wicker basket.  That would explain why the mountain roads are always so scenic; no dead animals. If  they do kill something, what licenses are required ?  Driving (for road killin’), hunting, fishin’ ,combo, or a special fly license?  I’ll check into that after I talk Terri into letting me spend the money on the equipment.  I’m sure she’ll go for it as she seems to hate flies on principle.  I’ll use that argument for sure.

Back to the attractant, I know I pull plenty of flies on a hot summer day after mowing the yard.  Maybe I should bottle and sell sweat attractant.  There seems to be a lot of attractants out there on the market, but I’ve never noticed any fly attractant.  Guess we bass fishermen thought of the whole attractant thing ourselves.  Maybe I really should help the ol’ fly fishermen out and let them in on our little secret.  I need to careful about just up and bottling my sweat, ’cause it could be the smell of freshly-mowed grass that’s such a sure-fire lure.  I’ll have Terri research that.  I don’t want to look foolish on this new undertaking.

On the dog and cat blob, I had some concerns about plant damage and the cost of replacing those plants.  With fly fishin’ that concern is not there.  I can use this logic to insure the purchase of above-mentioned equipment. (Yep, always plan guys) .  I’m estimating the cost of set-up is  somewhere between a thousand and ten thousand dollars. This depends on the size of the hat you have to buy.  I’m sure  after “discussing” it, Terri will tell me to get a 99-cent fly swatter and accomplish the same thing.  I do need some help.  What is the world record for flies?  And how do you mount ‘em after you catch em?

For today I quit.

When I wrote “Dog fishin’”,  I thought I would get a few responses, but man, I didn’t expect as many as I received.  Now really, I don’t think anyone would actually think that I would do that to a dog.  Now that I’ve thought about it, I truly think the whole procedure would work better with a cat.  They seem to be more agile and would produce more of a fight.  They also have the ability to climb back over the fence when you have an errant cast. Of course it’s hard to pull them back over if they get the ball.

I just had a brain storm. Remove the hooks from your favorite topwater frog or rat and this would be a more realistic setting for practicing topwater fishing.  And if you think about it, cats are much easier to net than Milly or Mudslide (the aforementioned 80 Lb. labs).  Dang, I wish I had a cat. 

Diana, I hope you read this because the situation that you encountered yesterday would have been perfect to try and catch the Siamese cat you were after.  Had I thought quickly enough, I could have loaned you a rod and reel, a topwater rat, and a net.  How did your cat-wrangling go anyway?  I’m a true believer in “work smarter not harder”.  You looked pretty funny squatted down, calling, “Here baby”, in your soft voice.  It would have been much easier on you to have the right equipment to catch that Trophy Siamese.  Better luck on your next wrangling expedition.

For today, I quit.

Did he or didn’t he?

I’m sure it’s a coincidence, but Rod and I happen to own two chocolate Labs, Milly and Mudslide.  I just checked on them and they seem their normal, happy selves, but that could mean anything.  I never know with Rod, I’ve found out more than a few times in our almost eight years together that you should never underestimate him.  By that, I mean that I would never count on a comment from him as being too crazy or outlandish for him to do it.  I know he loves our dogs as much as I do, but I know that he loves fishing more.  What’s even scarier is that I can’t find the tennis balls that are usually sitting by “Rod’s TV area” in the garage.  He’s about gone crazy for the little bit of time that we have been forced to be out of the water this winter (for boat repairs, pump changes, etc.)  I never know quite what he’s up to when he retreats into his mini livingroom out in the garage, to indulge himself in a cigarette outside.  I’m sure it’s not so bad in the summer, but in the winter you’ve got to really want to smoke to go out in our garage.  It is pretty comical to see him wrapped in a quilt, with a space heater blowing hot air on his feet, sitting out there in front of his little TV.  He doesn’t seem to mind it, though.  Like I said, he and the dogs all seem suspiciously happy today.

A  funny thing happened on our way to catch fish.

Our lives seem to swing like a pendulum, from hilarious highs to gut-wrenching lows, and lately has been no exception.  For example, we just replaced our trolling motor right before the last tournament we fished this fall.  Actually, to be exact, the motor was two weeks old, and we were doing a benefit/memorial tournament at Lake Fork.  Rod, Jenny (our youngest at 19), and I were in the boat, on plane at about 35 mph.  We were running south on the lake, and had just started to turn by the dam in order to go across to the other side of the lake to fish.  For some unkown reason, our new trolling motor chose that moment to deploy itself - in 55 feet of water!  It was just a bang and a thump, like we had run over something on the lake.  Rod saw it happen, and did his best to stop the boat, cutting the engine and stomping the imaginary boat brakes with both feet, but we must have gone a mile before we even came to a stop.  All that was left  in the boat was the top of the  trolling motor, attached to the coils of wire.  The shaft, propeller and sonar head had disappeared.  They’re still on the bottom of Lake Fork near the dam.  If anyone sees them on their depth finder, feel free to go get our trolling motor parts.  I believe salvage rights apply on freshwater reservoirs also, so finders keepers.  Actually, it was a great trolling motor while we had it.  It was very quiet, easy to deploy (obviously) and operate.  This is just a tiny example of our lives being a thrill a minute.  Something interesting is always happening.  We told the “suicidal trolling motor” story a lot at the weigh-in, and no one had ever heard of that happening before - apparently trolling motors are not always prone to dramatic boat exits.

No comments.

Rod’s rant “Dog Fishin” really seemed to strike a chord with people today.  I answered numerous phone calls, emails and texts.  I tried to explain to everyone who contacted me that, if they would hit the “No Comments” button at the bottom of each blog, they could respond to the person who wrote it.  I’m new to blogging and so is Rod.  So are, apparently, a lot of friends, fans, and family.  I do appreciate their comments, though, but hope that they will start putting  them in for others to see.  Some of the comments I got on that blog were hilarious.  A friend and neighbor mentioned “cat wrangling” and I’m sure there is an interesting, and funny story there that everyone would love to hear.  I’m just encouraging everyone who reads to add his or her two cents’ worth, because we would love to hear from all of you.  Also, everyone I heard from had something fun or funny to say and I would love to be able to share those fun comments with all of our other readers.  So remember everyone, whether you love it, hate it, or have a totally unrelated question or comment, click the “no comment” button if you’re the first, and if the comments have been started, click the “comments (#)” to join in the discussion.

Wish I had a catchy “catch phrase” to close with like Rod.  I want everyone who reads this to comment and help me think of one.

Terri “The Fishing Doc”

I didn’t post yesterday due an all-day doctor’s appointment during which I was poked and prodded in every area you can imagine. No drinks were included. The only thing I currently suffer from is fishing withdrawal. The second week of February takes care of that. The boat is good to go and I sniff all the dyes and pork trailers so I don’t loose my touch and reaction time. One whiff of that stuff and you remember how to jerk away real quick. Speaking of jerk - can’t you just see yourself settin that hook on the first fish of the year? I can hardly wait.

Dog Fishin:

Now I know some of you may get offended, but try it first and see how it helps you. You need an 80 Lb. lab (labrador retriever, not chemistry lab), one rod and reel, and a tennis ball. The size of line is dependent on how you want to hone your skills. The lighter the line the more finesse you must use to get them in. The dog thinks you are playing tug of war when you’re actually learning that gentle touch to land the biggun’. DO NOT USE BRAID LIKE THE PROS AND SKIM THE DOG ACROSS LAWN OR VICE VERSA — THAT HURTS! Also be accurate on your cast so it doesn’t go over the fence. Dog brakes are not what you would expect. Also the wife gets unhappy. Oh yeah! If the wife has nice plants in the yard be prepared to run or cut the line depending on your current conditioning. Damaged plants are a sure-fire way to spend money and energy replacing said plants. Don’t try the excuse that the dog did it. This will get you shut out of the house with the dogs. Do not try this with dogs under 20 lbs. Most yards have a slot and these dogs must be placed back in the owner’ lap prior to landing. The only good  that comes with this is, the neighbors don’t show up with their yappy little dogs anymore. If you follow the rules; there are hours of fun to be had. I don’t think there is a license required to do this but I purchase new dog tags every year so hopefully I have the situation covered.

This is fishin show Friday so I’m really busy. Also I can’t type and pay attention to all the lastest tips at the same time so (here it comes).

For today I quit.

(Note from the adult on this website.  This rant is totally fictional. Any resemblance to real events or persons is totally coincidental. Also, DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!) - Dr. Terri