Category Archives: “Oh, Ben” Stories

My life, circa 5 this morning

Good morning, Clawed the Destroyer.

In other, slightly related news: I’ve been spending some time painting, when I get the chance to relax. Don’t worry, it’s still a geeky pursuit because it’s digital painting. This program, called ArtRage, is super easy to use and actually makes digital painting fun, not like trying to do it on Photoshop. It’s neat, mainly because it eerily reacts the way real paint would. The demo runs for as long as you’d like, full version is $25. PC and Mac. I’m gonna buy it.

Puppy kicking

When you see this photo, I don’t want you to think about how I’m about to kick the puppy. No. There is something deeper, something very… very Sylar going on here.

I want you to notice that I’m still holding the leash and I am holding it taut. That this is puppy tether ball. And I’m pretty sure I’m winning.

Part one of three.

Thanks to Andrea for taking this wonderful picture.


I read something online that referenced wwii, and wondered why someone put an extra w in front of Wii. Once I realized they were, in fact, discussing the second world war I realized I wouldn’t find any information there on Super Paper Mario.

I kinda felt guilty when I navigated away from that page. You know, deep in my gut. Luckily for me, the internet rewards ADD.

What’s going on with me?

I walked out to my bike at the beginning of my lunch break, only to find my flash drive on the ground and my keys still in my bike lock. They had been sitting there for nearly 4 hours. Luckily people don’t typically walk around where I work, otherwise they’d have a new bike and flash drive.

During lunch, I found a bird had gotten trapped in our laundry room, flapping against the window trying to get out, even though there was an open doorway three feet behind it. I threw a towel over my hands and gently grabbed it. After I carried it a good five feet into open air and let it go, I realized something. I don’t think I’ve been more proud of anything I’ve done in the last week than that simple act.

Hello, my name is Benjamin Wallace

When I was a wee lad, I think I had some kind of speech impediment. Whenever someone would ask for my name, I’d say it, and they’d get “Wallace” instead of “Lawless.” Personally, I’d be flattered if my name wasn’t already the most awesome name in the universe (true story).

And so, I spent the last 15 years of my life enunciated, even hyperpronouncing my last name, or even adding that my name is like Xena’s whenever anyone asks on the phone or otherwise.

Well, I just got my new DSL modem shipped to this address:

Benjamin Wallace

Again, it starts…

The chewtoy

About two months ago, we bought Apollo a chewtoy. It took him about two weeks to even notice the darned thing. After that, it was “chew on it” this and “let’s bury it” that. For weeks at a time, we wouldn’t see it and couldn’t even tell where he had buried it, but he had the muddy paws to prove his precious indiscretion.

Earlier this week, we brought Doc’s dog Kashka over, who is, in many ways, Apollo’s little girlfriend. As their romping about in the back yard, Kashka digs up the chew toy, and they get in a little tiff about the darned thing. Something about “I buried that there for a reason, b!$#*” and “I just got accustomed to this way of life.” Things got brutal.

So, Kashka wins and chews on the toy for a good long while, and all Apollo does is sit in the corner looking dejected. I suppose that when we took Kashka back to her home, Apollo figured he would, once and for all, bury his bone where no one would ever look for it. He was on a mission, and he succeeded. Upon returning home, we couldn’t find the toy anywhere.

That is, until I went to bed, and found that Apollo buried it under my pillow.

The epson salt chronicles

Epson salt is a strange strange thing.

You know, up until yesterday I thought it was a fake product, or at least something they don’t sell anymore, available only in fairy tales and “when I was your age” stories. So, when complaining of a foot strain I got from frisbee to my grandmother, she told me I should get some. And I go to the store. And I look for it with all the other salts. You know: table salt, rock salt, ice cream rock salt. Nowhere to be found.

And then I realized, perhaps Epson salt is not something people eat. So, how does one who has NO IDEA what Epson salt packaging looks like actually find the darned thing? Ask someone? Heck no.

Well, after about 10 minutes of hemming and hawing, I finally ask a courtesy clerk, and it’s all sorted out.

I get home, start soaking, and ahhhhhh blessed relief. But check this: the water gets cold pretty quick, and after taking the foot out of the soak, the grand rapture of a life without pain only lasts about 10 minutes.

And we’re also keeping the bowl away from the dog. I believe it is not befitting of our dog to drink my foot juice. Also, Epson salt, when combined with water, is supposedly a very powerful laxative, and we already put up with enough of the dog’s crap.

Things I didn’t know two days ago…