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Camps Of Least Resistance

These are camping socks. No, not socks FOR camping, but rather socks about camping. Sock for camping are, like, uniformly plaid and composed of thick woven wool. These are neither. They aren’t keeping anyone’s tootsies toasty during a dark blustery night in a tent, nor standing up to the elements on a long hike.

Which is good, because “standing up to the elements” means, for me, fighting a fire demon for XP in the way to my character’s next level. And, hell, if I stood up, I could almost see my tooties through these.

Definitely not what you want if you’re trying to stay warm.

Thing is, I did just about all the camping I really feel I needed to do in my life by the time I turned 15. That was…some time ago. So now I’m just happy to have socks that reference camping, which I can take a picture of in front of a warm fire and my 60″ TV. I don’t know who else these socks were made for, if not specifically for “middle aged sock aficionado who wants to make a camping reference but, sweet gods, while sleeping indoors.”

So, basically, these were made pretty much just for me.

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A Haiku For A Busy Month

Building much this month
Apps, stories, warm fires, too
Glad I have good tools

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Because Gondolas Don’t Have Windshields

The one productive thing I did yesterday in the midst of watching the Bengals get embarrassingly trounced at home was to prep the garage for winter. See, I don’t park the ole Middle-Aged Man Sedan in the garage during the temperate months because there’s bikes and sportsing gear and swimming accessories, and, well, a vast array of stuff that needs the space.

But now that we’re on the backside of our annual cursory week of autumn and the temps have matched the stock market’s dive, morning often comes with a side dish of scrapping ice off windows like the worst breakfast addition ever. Accordingly, today’s high of 46 F is apparently going to be the balmiest of the week and this evening a chill rain began falling lazily as the great prophet, Axel of the Rose, foretold in the great year of my Commencing, 1991.

Anyway, now that the Sedan is getting nightly garage time and my kids have started hoping that every forecast of precipitation comes with mention of the S-word, I was hard pressed to come up with a reason NOT to wear these socks today, which feature what I assume are canal boats in Venice. Yeah, maybe I don’t know what the weather is actually like in Venice this week (because I’m too lazy to ask an app to tell me), but I’m perfectly content to assume it pretty much always looks like it did in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

They may have had rats to contend with, but I don’t remember Indy ever scrapping ice off the windshield at 7 AM.

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Sports Are The Best Punishment

When I put today’s socks on this morning, in knew one of two things would happen. Either my Bengals would rise to the occasion (for once) and make it a game against the Saints — who many are saying are the best team in the NFL — or, more likely, considering the state of their defense, they’d lay a gigantic egg and lose in an way that embarrasses the entire city.

So, yeah, I wasn’t wrong.

Luckily I got to play hockey tonight too, and we didn’t embarrasses ourselves, for once. We ended up playing the other guys to a 2-2 tie (because, honestly, our goalie is better than we deserve) and then won in shootout.

In other words, yeah, my Bengals got punished, but then my goalie punished the opposition tonight for thinking we’d be an easy win.

Point is, when the Bengals let you down (which they do all too often), it’s nice when you find a way to do something yourself.

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Cold Animatronics, Warm Feet

I can’t lie; I don’t really know a whole lot about the character on my socks today. Youngest son tells me it’s Chica, a character from Five Nights at Freddy’s. It also has pizza slices, I guess?

Apparently, tho, Freddy’s one of those kid-friendly pizza place with creepy animatronic characters, except at this one they’re actually alive (kind of) and kill people still around after closing time.

Ok so maybe not so kid-friendly.

Regardless, they’re cool socks while also warm, and on a 30-something degree day in November, that’s a key priority.

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Winter Is…Forget it, It Done Showed Up

I’ve been super pumped about thes socks for a while, largely because with the ducks and hounds on them, I thought for sure I could write a post about Duck Hunt or something. Especially since fall is typically when most of the hunting is done, right?

Yeah, this post — especially leading into the weekend — was totally going to be hugely autumnal. I was probably gonna mention leaves and jackets and playing football in the backyard in a hoodie, and possibly even, like, apple cider!

But then I looked at WTForecast (which, incidentally, is THE only way to get weather on a mobile device), and realized the temps would be in the 30’s before I even wrote this post. Oh, and between that point and tomorrow morning? Yeah, I think the low will be, like, 22F.

There’s nothing autumnal about that nonsense.

Which means that, one again, Our Lady Mother Nature had decided that after basically 10 days of something approximating fall weather, we’d gotten all we needed. And now, winter. Screw you all; enjoy trying to keep your precious nethers warm and she’ll talk to us again in, like, April.

Which is why there’s been a fire rolling in the fireplace at La Casa de Puddin since I got home from work. Never one to miss a roaring photo, I tried very hard to get a picture of said cockle-warming blaze in the background of my daily sock post. But then, this happened, and I just couldn’t ignore it. Especially at the tail of Dog Week.

Here’s to Smoky, living large while everything else apparently goes to the dogs. Hope you will enjoy, have a great weekend, and, please, try not to set the place on fire.


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I Am The Wolf (Of Socks)

The lone wolf prowls the increasigly quiet blogger-sphere at night, hunting the elusive sock poster. Little did he know that he was what he sought, alive only as a pair of socks, seeking prey upon a nerdy dude’s ankle in vain.

It was a dark, cold night, and a lonely, howling moon.

And the nerdly dude really hoped to find a sweatshirt to match those awesome socks.

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Haiku For Attention Every Dog Loves

Wednesday weiner dogs
Proud and chipper on my socks
Wanting bun scratches

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Vote Xenomorph

When I said yesterday that there would be one notable exception to the parade of puppy socks proudly portrayed on my paws this week, I’m guessing that most of you might have figured that our one difference would likely pop up today. It is, after all, a pretty significant day, at least here in the United States.

I’ve written before about my appreciation for Election Day. In fact, I’ve pretty much written something about it every other year since way back in the black-and-white age of yesteryear, 2010, when the blog was new and I still remembered to include some actual comedy in almost every post. I’m not, then, going to opine again about how noble and sacred elections and the practice of voting are, nor how wonderful it is to have the ability to select the members of our government individually.

And, yes, I say that even knowing that more than half the time voting seems like trying to decide between having to take home a chimpanzee that appears to be smearing something suspiciously brown on the walls or a guy with slicked-back hair, an open shirt with a fly collar, and an obnoxiously too-large gold medallion nestled between chest hair that has obviously been teased to its fullest potential. Indeed, our options are often not as optimal as we’d like, but at least we have options.

I hope, then, that everyone legally able got out there and voted today, and I say that without any regard for your particular political leanings. I don’t care whether you voted red or blue, independent, or Xenomorph*, just as long as you did your civic duty.

Preferably while wearing some awesome patriotic socks.


*Don’t look at me like I need to go away and spend some time gluing corn flakes together. The Xenomorphs, as a political ideology, surely offer something every voter can get behind. They’re anti-patriarchy and decidedly pro-immigration (in fact, they’d love if you could go ahead and send all the aliens to whichever plant they’re nesting in currently), yet believe fully in individual responsibility and, I can only imagine, free markets. See? Truly the party…er, alien race…of the people.

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Going To The Dogs

This week is mostly going to be all dogs, with one notable exception, which we’ll get to later. These, though, are probably my favorite of the dog socks I’ll wear this week because they look so much like my occasional partner is sock photography, Smoky the Family Dog.

As you can see, though, he couldn’t be bothered to participate in today’s photo. He was instead too busy laying around while making sure no one attempted to steal the flat, floppy remains of what I believe was once a stuffed, squeaky frog.

Hopefully he’ll join us again sometime later this week, when his schedule is more, uh, forgiving.