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Last weekend I spied something at the Pawn shop that tickled my fancy.(Note: Keep in mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled) I bought something really cool for my wife. The occasion was our 22nd anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my sweet girl. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer gun with a clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while you flee to safety. The effects are supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adequate time to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb. tattooed assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering, goggle-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you've never seen one of these things in action, then you're truly missing out--way too cool! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don't need no stinkin'directions), I found much to my chagrin that this particular model would not create an arch between the prongs. How disappointing! I do love fire for effect. I learned that if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it against a metal surface that I'd get the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did so. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arch of electricity, and a loud pop!!! Yipeeeeee . I'm easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet to explain to her what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave. Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-a batteries, etc., etc. There I sat in my recliner, my dog looking on intently (trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not the dog) and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping the dog for a fraction of a second and thought better of it. She is such a sweet pup, after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time. So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Tazer in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. All the while I'm looking at this little device (measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference, pretty cute really, and loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA batteries) thinking to myself, "no friggin' way!" Friggin' way - trust me, but I'm getting ahead of myself. What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best. Those of you who know me well have got a pretty good idea of what followed. I'm sitting there alone, the dog looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, "don't do it buddy," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny lil' ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad (sound, rational thinking under the circumstances, wouldn't you agree?). I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the hell of it. (Note: You know, a bad decision is like hindsight-- always twenty-twenty. It is so obvious that it was a bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time. Don't ya hate that?) I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY*********!!!! I'm pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in through the front door, picked me up out of that recliner, then body slammed me on the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found,soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. The dog was standing over me making sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "do it again, do it again!" (Note: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a Tazer, one note of caution. There is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You're not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. Then, if you're lucky, you won't dislodge one of the prongs 1/4" deep in your thigh like yours truly.) SON-OF-A-***** that hurt! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at this point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get there??? My triceps, right thigh and both titties were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, as my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. give or take an ounce or two, I'm pretty sure. By the way, has anyone seen my testicles? I think they ran away. I'm offering a reward. They're round, rather large. Miss 'em . . . sure would like to get'em back.&!¹'    inbox1. Profile: Let me introduce myself; my name is Monstee. I am a Kookie Monster; please dont confuse me with that supplementary cumbersome azure monstrosity that shall remain nameless. Ah yes, cookies... Excuse me; I must get back on track! Let me emphasize, he is not an actual monster. He is definitely a make-believe being. I am genuinely a monster and he is merely a great cloth construction, childish impression and the like. To reiterate, I am Monstee. I have traveled to numerous out of the ordinary locations and partaken in oodles of activities. What can I say, I am Monstee! 2. Blog Entry Message: Presenting Monstee You have arrived at Monstee's grotto. Why have you come to visit my blog? Did I invite you to turn up and view my blog? I exceedingly do not believe I did! So what reason could you have for popping in at my blog? Do we know each other? Are we close associates? Are we akin to one another? Did we meet, reminiscent of two sightless marmots that just so happen to have collided with their craniums, appearing in the hours of darkness, profoundly low in the warren that we identify as the internet? Ah yes, marmot... Excuse me; I must get back on track! I should not let your appearance divert my attention by means of conversation involving cuisine! If you have arrived, you have arrived for a solitary raison d'tre; to be astonished at the genuine significance of my life and experiences. You possess an aesthetically pleasing and honest appearance. You may enter and discover vis--vis Monstee, that is, if you are acquainted with secret code. Please, dont solicit the information from me! I will not inform you that the secret code is SWORDFISH. Ah yes, swordfish... samplebox2'@(    inboxPlanning Forty-seven hours from now I will roll down the windows on my all-American SUV, Shake my hair loose from a bun, and crank up music sung by an artist no one's heard of. Eighty-three weeks from now I will have mastered Schumann's "Carnival," pace my fingers as they fly by memory, Write more, criticize less, and consider going back for my doctorate just because I can. One hundred and thirteen years from now I will disconnect from this reality, Learn to travel faster than light, Understand that thing about one hand clapping, and start mapping out a to-do list for the next phase of my existance. So how could I know that when you asked me about my plans You only wanted to know if I would be working late and if I could pick up some toothpaste on my way home?  (" &)g7 0(samplebox )@