Return of RMB, Unfortunate or Brilliant Marketing, Necrotized Digit

This morning we woke up to at least 5" of blowing and drifting snow and single digit temps with below zero windchills. Needless to say, I was not running this morning as I had snowblowing and shoveling to do so the wife and kids could get out of the house. I decided to postpone the run until daylight so I could avoid being killed by a snowplow.

I finally got my run in at 3:30. A and I had gotten all the Christmas shopping done in one go and I was "malled" out. I bundled up, talked to the moms at the bus stop and took off before the monsters got off the bus. The snow had stopped, but it was still windy and cold and the blowing snow was stinging my eyes. It was even more chilly when that wind blew across the lake. Over all the run went well. I was dressed right, no cold feet (never really a problem anyway) and no slipping or falling.

When I got home I was feeling pre-tty happy with myself and how I had dressed. No bare skin, no frostbite. Then I got in the shower. Mmmm, it felt good until I turned around and it hit my ass and it was then I realized that RMB had returned. What is RMB you ask? RMB is when my ass gets cold and red and apparently numb. What does RMB stand for you ask? This:


Red Monkey Butt

This is not a new phenomenon for me. I wrote about it last year as well. Strangely, on almost the same date. This must be the time of year when my ass freezes for the first time.

While A and I were shopping at Targét Boutique in St. Louis Park, MN we were walking down an aisle and I saw this poster:



You will notice that the woman has two cups of cocoa/hot chocolate with a ton of marshmallows. I said to A, "Does that look like she might be a plus-size model?" A pointed.



So apparently Target has decided to perpetuate the stereotype of plus-sized people as chronic over-eaters. Nicely done.

Yesterday, A came home from work and I greeted her with my middle finger:



She freaked out. "OH MY GOD! What happened!? Are you OK?" I responded, "I don't know. It started to get cold and then it turned black and now it's starting to smell a little. Wanna smell it?" A says, "It looks necrotic." That's what I was looking for. It looks like my finger's dead.

Now normally I would milk the sympathy and concern for all it's worth (I don't get much sympathy or concern around the house,) but I am not that big of a jerk. (I am a considerably smaller jerk.) The dog got a hold of a fountain pen and proceeded to chew it to bits on his dog bed. When I went to scoop it up there was a puddle of black ink under it and I jammed my finger into it, thus staining it this lovely black color. Now, it just looks like I have a really dirty middle finger. It was fun while it lasted.

Finally, for some reason F decided he needed to shine a little more light on his dinner tonight. I overheard the following conversation between A and F.

A: "What's with the head lamp at the dinner table?"
F: "So I don't miss a crumb."





You will notice the wonderful dinner of scrambled eggs and bacon I have prepared for my family. Hey, I'm a provider.