Crappy Halloween

This, my friends, is perhaps the worst Halloween ever. Really.

Tomorrow, I will find myself trying to locate all the razor blades and needles that I so carefully stuffed into candy bars, not to mention digging out the punji pits and snares that I had set.

Little candy bandits never even stopped here...

I'd undo the flyswatter stakes, but they're set up close to the gas meter...

Familiarity

You ever been to a new place, meeting new folks, and yet, it just felt ... familiar? Saturday was like that for me...

About a dozen or so of us went out to go shooting. Some of these people, I have met before. Some, I've only talked to on the phone. Still more, I've only read their blogs. But being with these people almost felt like hanging with folks you've known for years, but haven't gotten the chance to get together with for a while. A damn fine bunch of folks these people are.

Just spending time outside, shooting, bullshittin', and just relaxing in general... ain't anything better. Or is there? After our crew finished up killing a few rabid cardboard boxes, and terrorizing balloons (it was very interesting watching a certain person, with no gag reflex, trying to blow up a balloon!), we made our way back to the home of the bravest couple alive... Eric and Fiona. There we ran into some more miscreants, and they just kept coming.

Beer, booze, and conversation were flowing, ribs cooking... and not long afterwards, music playing, as Jimbo and Denny warmed up the guitars. Not being a very proficient player, I was hesitant to join in... a decision I now regret. However, I will play the ol' flat-top box with them one of these days... and I really do hope it's sooner than later.

While I won't go on and on about the gathering, I will introduce you to a few of the felons who showed. Those I've met before, and those who privileged me with their presence this fine weekend.

In addition to Eric and Fiona, I've had the honor of meeting Sissy, the Blog Faddah and his beautiful wife, TNT, Matty O'Blackfive, and, of course, Tammi, before. As always, it was a blast to see them! Well, maybe excepting Harvey... just kidding! :)

New peeps include some Bad Example family members, some Jawja bloggers, and Castle folks... also a couple of Eric's blog offspring.

Finally, I got to meet my Blogsis, Bou, and her sister, Morrigan! Two very beautiful women... I'd been looking forward to meeting them for quite some time now, and yet, I didn't visit nearly as much as I had hoped to... which was not their fault. I was being my usual "hang at the outskirts" self. Damn... hopefully, I can make that up sometime.

Another family member that I'd talked to on the phone, but never met in person, was Johnny-Oh, a Blogbro. It was very good to meet him, and we did visit quite a bit. It was a pleasure to meet him!

I guess you'd call her a blogniece, if such a term exists, but I was also able to meet Martha Stewart, v. Red Hot.0 Army Wife was a frickin' riot to talk to, and she does a "pritty gute MeenahSOtin accent, doncha know." Looking forward to reading her posts concerning a certain jar of squeezin's...

I talked to her a while back (one of those deals where the phone gets passed around to everyone), but this was the first time I ever met The Incredible Key Monroe, a Jawja blogger. (That husband of hers is a lucky man...) Eric had told me aways back that she was a real sweetheart, but until you meet her, you don't know that that is no casual compliment. Unfortunately, they had to leave early Saturday, after we all had terrorized a local cafe.

I've already mentioned Denny, and Jimbo, also Jawja bloggers, but I'll mention them again. Two of the nicest guys in the world... I'm sorry I've not met them sooner. And Jim really does have great farookin' hair... not from personal experience, but because the ladies said so! It truly was an honor meeting these two gentlemen.

I'm not sure if he's an official Jawja blogger or not, but Redneck was another who was a blast to visit with. Hell of a good guy, with lots of great comments... he had me busting up!

Last of the Jawja bloggers, but by no means is he the least, is Zonker, aka "The Mullet Man." I had been looking forward to meeting him, thinking that he would be one of those guys you want to hang out with. Well, I've got to tell you, he's not. Nope. The guy pulls ALL of the women! Normally, this is a good thing, as you can pick up stragglers. But with the Master of the Mullet about, the women will settle for nothing less. Heheheh... seriously, it was great to meet him... another that I visited with quite often.

Then, of course, there were the Donovans... John and Beth. Both very nice people, I never thought I'd ever have the privilege of meeting them. Unfortunately, they arrived after we'd gone shooting. They are discussing having something like this at their place now!!!

And finally, two of Eric's blog offspring were there, and I was able to spend quite a bit of time chatting with both of them. Hell, I even got to talk to one of his other "daughters" on the phone. Both Princess Cat and RSM were there, and it was a real pleasure talking with both of them. Eric's got himself some very impressive blogspring... I'm looking forward to visiting with them more... much more.

So, what all went on at this meet? Uh, even against my attorney's orders, I'll only mention this:

beer
1 stripper chair
Backrubs
Clothing missing
racked balls
hot women
homemade "wine"
minstrels
pudding
Martha Stewart
fire
beer
horny women
two very special folks who sacrificed their home.

I'd like to go into great detail, but I'll only say that I want to thank Eric and Fiona again for subjecting their home to this, at the risk of being run out of the neighbourhood. They flat out rock... I'll tip a couple of pints to them this eve.

What Happens When One Backs Out Of An Offering

The Drinking Gods are not to be trifled with, a lesson I know, and should have learned long ago. However, I can be a bit thick at times...

I mentioned that since my liver was a little too beat up for the gods, I would offer up the liver of a hitchhiker... that was just a joke. Unfortunately, the gods were not amused.

I arrived at my destination Friday, ready to do my best to defend others from the demon Alcohol, but I did not make the offering I had promised. The Drinking Gods soon extracted their vengeance... in blood. I awoke with a nosebleed that would not stop.

From 11:30 am, 'til 9:00 pm, my nose bled off and on, with no more than ten minute respites. I tried almost everything to get it to stop, with no luck. I was also the recipient of some great suggestions, though my favorites were to shove a tampon up my nose, and to just let myself bleed out... not only would it LEAVE more ribs for the others, but I would be a great SOURCE of ribs should I perish. "Take... eat... these are my ribs..." heheheh....

Being the cruel bastards that they are, the Gods let my nose bleed steadily... until I got into the emergency room. There, it stopped within five minutes... the doctor wouldn't do anything because it wasn't bleeding anymore. Could I leave, though? No way in Hell... I got stuck waiting for two hours just for good measure.

Next time I make a statement about offering up a sacrifice, I'll make sure it has nothing to do with blood. I think I'll just raise my glass to the gods, and hope that offering will please them.

Trippin'

I'm about to set off on a pilgrimage... leaving in seconds, truth be told.

A journey to the far off mountains, where I, along with many others, will sacrifice my liver upon the altars of the Drinking Gods. Not a bacchanalian feast... well maybe. Not Samhain... though there are some very scary types showing. 'Tis a gathering of degenerates.

Methinks the gods will not accept my liver, so I plan on getting one from a hitchhiker along the way.

See ya folks soon...

Inspired By Depression... Not So Good

See that post below? I'm thinking that it's one of the worst I've ever written... it looks like a first grader wrote it. But I assure you, I made it most of the way through third grade.

It's a fine example of why I prefer to blog while drinking... when sober, I overthink things, and tend to ramble. I also veered away from topic, but here's why... it's a topic that depresses me. The more I thought of this subject, and I know there are instances when good arguements could be made for either parent, the more depressed I got. That post is the result.

See... I really would be torn apart if anything ever put me in a situation like that. I'd like to think that I'm a responsible person, and wouldn't end up with a T1K before I was ready. It's hard to imagine otherwise.

As for the post, I'd like to delete it in some ways... but then again, it's me, or a part of me. And the Tard side of the Force is strong in me.

Men's Club.. Parental Rights

Today, the Men's Club and Divas address a serious subject. I was asked again by everyone's favorite fish to add my take. Hmmm... it's one that I have no familiarity with, but I do have some thoughts about it. If you don't agree, that's cool... write your own response, and trackback to me, or send me the link... I'll link to ya. Just keep things civil here... it's supposed to be a comfortable atmosphere. You start raising too much hell, and I'll have to crack a beer stien over your skull. Of course, that would be done in a very friendly manner....

Today's discussion is about parental rights. More specifically, whether the biological father of an unborn child should have the right to block a woman's abortion. And, should she have an abortion and not inform the the father, should she be subject to damages for her failure to disclose prior to termination of the pregnancy? Yes, serious topics, indeed. Not really my style of posting, but then again, I was asked, I'll post.

Should a biological father have the right to block a woman's abortion? While I would like to say "yes," I know the answer is "no." As far as I know, he has no legal right to make a call regarding her body. Now, I've got to write about this as it would apply to me. I would like to think that I would never be put in this situation. Gott knows, I would love to hatch little drunkards one day and I'd like to think that the woman who would choose to hang with me would feel the same. Should something happen where she would try to abort, I would like to be consulted, at the least. It's not something that I would want to happen... I'd hope that if we had been far enough into the relationship to spawn, we would have better communication. We're both supposed to be big kids now.

Now should she choose to dispose of a future That 1 Kid, and not inform me of her decision... well, all I know for sure is that I'd be crushed. I don't know that I would try to seek damages, even if one could. I do know that there are some spiteful decisions that have been made... I could understand someone trying to seek some sort of justice for a decision made out of spite. But I don't know that it would do anyone any good. It's a painful scenario... a painful thought.

Again, I would hope that I would never have to deal with these decisions... I don't know how well I'd do.

Crap... rereading this, I realize that I haven't really said much. It looks as if I sidestepped the issue. Maybe I did, though unintentional.

For more educated views, check out the rest: The Ladies, Kathy, at Cake Eater Chronicles, Silk, at Just Breathe, Phoenix, at Villians Vanquished, and guest Diva, Ruth, of Chaos Theory.
The Gents: The Maximum Leader, at Naked Villainy, Jamesy, at The Future's Bright, Stigmata, at Project Bowl, and, of course, Phin, at Phin's Blog.

There may be some others... I'll link as I get them.

WORLD SERIES CHAMPS!!!

If you hadn't read the post below, or you haven't been paying any attention, the White Sox took the World Series!

To say I'm happy is a serious understatement... I've been listening to the Sox since '81, and while they've appeared to be on the right path a few times, the road ended up leading to nothing. It feels damn good!

But while I'm feeling good, I also feel a bit bad. Houston played well, just not good enough. As Jerry Reinsdorf said after the game, things could have been the other way around, with Houston winning all games. I've always liked two of their players, and I feel bad that Biggio and Bagwell didn't get to win a game in the Series. Yeah, they made it there, but...

I'd have given more links, but I've got some celebrating to do!!

GO SOX!!!

Game Four, WS

The fourth game of the Series is about to start, and I've already had a good chuckle...

Kevin Kennedy told pre-game cohost Jeanne Zelasko, that he hoped the series didn't end tonight... he wanted to spend another night with her. Heheh.....

More will appear later in extended entry.

Top of the First....

With two flyouts, Jermaine Dye hits a nice double off of Backe. Backe makes up for it with a nice stab to nab Paul Konerko's grounder. Jerk...

Bottom of the First...

Biggio leads off with a single, ripped past Uribe. Unfortunately for the 'Stros, he is only advanced to second on Tavares' bunt. Thank Gott for Morgan Ensberg... again, he fails to bring a run in.

Top Second...

Backe is looking good for the 'Stros... all three Sox batters retired. Damn.

Bottom Second...

Lamb leads off with a long double... I thought it was gone at first. Again, no one is able to bring him home.

This goes for both teams... I don't understand why you won't try to capitalize on this situation. Man on second, no outs. And no bunts... part of what was pissing me off last night.

Top Third...

Backe looks good. With the exception of a two out triple by Podsednik, he shuts down Chicago. If he keeps this up, I'm thinking a loss is on the way for the Sox.

Bottom Third...

Garcia returns the favor, retiring the side. This could be a very good, but low scoring game... as long as the Sox have more runs at the end of the game, I'll be a happy person.

Top Fourth...

Dye singles, but Backe strikes out the side... #%&*!!!!

Bottom Fourth...

Yawn.... Berkman walks to lead off the inning, but the 'Stros stick to the game plan, and don't bring anyone home.

Top Fifth...

Backe... all Backe. Two strike outs, and a ground out.

Bottom Fifth...

Ausmus singles. Discounting the fact that I'm a Sox fan, I was pleased to see the 'Stros going with the hit and run. It didn't work, leading to a double play, but it was a good call. Backe rips a grounder to Crede, who bobbles the ball, but ends up throwing him out. That pitcher really does have a good swing...

Top Sixth...

With great fielding by Everett, Backe again rules the inning... I'm seriously starting to hate the guy, even while I admire his pitching. Crap, crap, crap...

Bottom Sixth...

Gut check. After getting Biggio for the first out, Tavares singles. Garcia then walks Berkman, gets Enberg to strike out, then loads the bases by walking Lamb. He then strikes out Lane, allowing blue faced Sox fans everywhere to get a breath...

If you haven't noticed... no score, yet.

Top Seventh...

Sox threaten... with two outs, Rowand singles, followed by a deep double by Crede. Runners are at second and third... but Backe strikes out Uribe to end the inning. The guy has been pitching a phenomenal game so far...

Bottom Seventh...

With an incredible catch by Podsednik, Garcia cruises through the inning. Bagwell pinch hit for Backe... and promptly grounded out.

Top Eighth...

Lidge comes into pitch for Backe. Harris bats for Garcia, and leads off with a single. Podsednik advances him to second with a sac bunt. Carl Everett, hitting for Iguchi grounds out, but advances Harris to third. Dye singles up the middle to drive in Harris. Konerko strikes out to end the inning.

Sox 1, Astros 0

Bottom Eighth

Politte comes in to pitch for Garcia. With one out, Politte plunks Tavares... a serious speedster. Pitching all over the place, the Sox walk Berkman to get at Ensberg and his cold bat. He pops up to center, moving Tavares to third.

Politte is pulled for Cotts, who faces pinch hitter Visciano. Visciano grounds out... Sox escape the inning.

Sox 1, Astros 0

Top Ninth...

Lidge is still pitching. Pierzynski hits a double down the right field line. Rowand tries to bunt and advance him, but ends up striking out, as does Crede. Uribe finishes the inning by grounding out, again wasting a good start to the inning. Grrrrr..... I'm getting a little nervous.

Bottom Ninth...

Jenks is pitching... which version of Bobby will we see? He starts out by giving up a single to Lane, who is advanced by Ausmus. Jenks is making me ill... pitching like he did in Game Two.

HOLY CRAP!!! Uribe makes an awesome catch, falling into the stands to catch a foul ball! Two gone...

AGAIN!!!! Uribe scoops up a ground ball and fires to first for the final out!!

SOX ARE WORLD CHAMPS!!!

Local Tale

I've been meaning to link this story, but I've been fairly busy lately... not much blogging is being done.

Written by Raging Mom, this post is a story taken from the local headlines, speculations, and rumors.

Check it out...

Game Three, WS

Crabby asshole version.

White Sox win again... I'm happy, and I'm pissed.

Happy, of course, because that means they're only one game away from being crowned World Champions. But at the same time I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated with the strategy of both teams. The Astros were playing not to lose, and wouldn't take chances. The Sox were playing conservative, also. If you've got the chance to put someone away, do it. (I'd give you some links, but as of right now, there aren't any.)

I'm pissed because Fox Sports, in it's desire to show the drama of the series, seriously screwed up with their lousy camera angles. Trying to show the dismay in the faces of a team counts for shit when a pitch is being thrown. I'd much rather see a pitch, than to look at some "poor" bastard who's looking upset about possibly losing the game.

Again, happy that Sox won, even though I don't sound like it. Screw Fox.... and GO SOX!!!

BTW, in my exalted crabbiness, I forgot to mention the final score... Sox 7, Astros 5. That is all.

The Jeebs Is My Shepherd

... and the "Jeebus" thing rolls ever on.

There's been talk of T-shirts, apostles, and now I've been invited to go out with a few friends this weekend. They're renting a party bus, and touring the bars of Rockford and the area before heading back to Fritz's. Costumes preferred, but optional.

So where does the "Jeebus" thing come in? I was asked to go as Jeebus, and to be their shepherd chaperone. "Partying with Jeebus..."

I've already got plans for the weekend, so I had to turn them down. However, I am going to be spending some time with a very assorted group of hellions... perhaps they're in need of a Deity. Nah... I think they've got that one covered with the presence of the Velocigod.

Robed or disrobed, Jeebus or no Jeebus... it should be a hell of a time.

UPDATE: Walked into Fritz's for lunch, and this is the note awaiting me...
Dear Jeebus,

We are planning a revival (bar crawl) next weekend. Way may need your guidance/forgiveness. Please call ___-____ or___-____.

Your disciples,

..............

Heheheheheheheheheheheheh...

Moron

Samantha Burns has posted the new Moron Of The Week. While this silhouette seems kinda familiar, I haven't a clue. Head on over and give her your guess.

Why Alcohol Should Be Served At Work

This was sent to me by a cousin... he thought it would fit nicely in this place.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^\ ||
| -- GUINNESS -- | ||'""|"" \__,_
| _____________ l ||__|__|___|)
|(@(@)""""""""**|(@)(@)* * *|(@)

16 REASONS WHY ALCOHOL SHOULD BE SERVED AT WORK...

1. It's an incentive to show up.

2. It leads to more honest communications.

3. It reduces complaints about low pay.

4. Employees tell management what they think, not what they want to hear.

5. It encourages car pooling.

6.. Increase job satisfaction because if you have a bad job, you don't care.

7. It eliminates vacations because people would rather come to work.

8. It makes fellow employees look better.

9. It makes the cafeteria food taste better.

10. Bosses are more likely to hand out raises when they are wasted.

11. Salary negotiations are a lot more profitable.

12. Employees work later since there's no longer a need to relax at the bar.

13. It makes everyone more open with their ideas.

14. Eliminates the need for employees to get drunk on their lunch break.

15. Employees no longer need coffee to sober up.

16. Sitting "Bare @ss" on the copy machine will no longer be seen as "gross."

Take a beer and send the truck to all of your friends!!!!!!

Game Two, WS

Well, the Sox won again, but not without a bit of controversy... again. Jermaine Dye was "hit by a pitch" on a full count, and awarded first to load the bases with two outs. Just in time for Paul Konerko to smack a grand slam, and give the Sox a 6-4 lead.

The Astros tied the score in the ninth off of a timely single by Jose Vizcaino, but Scott Podsednik hit a walk off homer in the bottom of the ninth to seal the Sox victory, 7-6.

I know there's going to be alot of speculation about what could have been... replays show that the ball hit Dye's bat, not him. He even admitted it later. A tip off the bat is a foul, and he wouldn't have been awarded a base, just had to stand in there for another terrible pitch. At this point of the game, Dan Wheeler wasn't pitching well at all. Who knows? He may have struck Dye out... then again, he may have plunked Dye for real. All I know is that he got on base, and Konerko knocked everyone home.

Ugly? Maybe... well, yes. But it was a win. GO SOX!!!

A good day for Chicago sports, as the Bears beat the Ravens!

Battle For The Throne

Watching the football games today, I see the usual commercials for fast foods. Most are lame, while some are just plain creepy. Yeah, you know I'm talking about The Burger Creep. While all of those commercials creep me out, the first one, from which that image was taken from, really creeps me out. Something about him just inspires violent thoughts.

I was looking around yesterday, and I saw a post that I thought about linking to, but I decided to let it go. Until today. Seeing the Creep's mug again, I figured I'd post it... it's worth a few laughs. Not just the post itself, but the comments, too. Yes, I left a comment, but it is nothing.

Head on over to The Nose On Your Face, and read his post Burger King: Benevolent Ruler, or Maniacal Despot? See Buckley F. Williams' take on the King of Burger.

I find both the deposed clown and the current King to be freaks... plain and simple. I'm of the faction that wants to either bring Wendy to the throne, or allow Taco John to invade. Either way, it's got to be a huge improvement.

Game One, WS

White Sox win! My original intent was to live blog the game, but I was up visiting family. I did get to watch the game, and suffer through a couple of minor heart attacks thanks to Willy Tavaras of the Astros. Thank Gott for Joe Crede of the Sox, and Morgan Ensberg of the 'stros.

Want to see how the game went from an Astro's fan's point of view? Laurence Simon has his take on certain innings. He's also got a list of who is rooting for which team.

I probably won't be able to blog tomorrow's game, but for the weekday's, I'll be there like Tom Joad. GO SOX!!!

Surving In A Public Restroom

I was over at One For The Road yesterday, and Richmond pointed out a flash cartoon about men's restrooms. Pretty damn funny, and spot on. As I was watching it, I was reminded of Anathematized posting a Urinal Quiz that someone had left in her comments. I was also reminded of a story...

When Tammi first moved to the area, she had no clue as to where anything was, so I took her to Rockford to show her the best stretch to get all of your necessities. I showed her where the mall was, the monster Wally World, Best Buy, and some of the big grocery stores. Then I took her over to State Street, where it seems there are a million restaurants, and we got a bite to eat.

Before we left the establishment, I decided that it would be best to hit the restroom. There was nobody behind us that I saw, so when I got to the urinal, junk at the ready, I was feaked out when I heard the door get blasted open. Now, I was already behind the little divider, so all was hidden. At first, I thought Tammi had kicked in the door as a joke, which may have been funny. I suppose. But with equipment already in place and ready to relieve, I was freaked out... until I saw this guy hurriedly walking through the door.

I do what most men do... I turned my attention back to the wall in front of me. I hear the hurried man stop and say something. He repeats it again, and it was something along the lines of "Now they're giving me too much credit." He was standing by the little kids' urinal, grinning. I ignored him. So he takes the urinal right next to me, and announces that "that water is cold," which, if you ladies are unfamiliar with the construction of urinals, was a joke about dangling into the water pooled at the bottom of the pisser.

By now, I'm trying to stare a hole through the tile on the wall. He stands there for a couple of seconds in silence, and I think that he may have gotten the message that he was in severe violation of bathroom etiquette. Nope. Not at all.

He noticed that I was wearing a Harley T-shirt, so he asks if I ride. Then he informs me that he works "for Harley Davidson. Well, actually, I work with them... we make parts for them." He asks what model I own. The whole time the weirdo is chatting, he's looking at me. THAT'S A FRICKIN' HUGE NO-NO! If, for some reason, you need to talk to someone at the urinal, you also should be trying to stare a hole through your section of wall... just above eye level. At least when talking to someone you don't know. Hell, a very brief EYE LEVEL glance while talking to friends is permitted.

By now, I'm no longer staring at the wall... I'm trying to finish up, but that's kinda difficult when in those conditions. I'm also making sure that his eyes don't dart below. Now, I'm guessing he's assumed we're friends because we made eye contact. So he grins, and starts chatting away... I don't even know all the crap that he was spouting... I just concerned myself with getting out as soon as I could.

Maybe I go a little overboard with my reactions... I don't know, but I don't think I'm the only guy that would have felt strange in a situation like this. I'm just trying to be pleasant and non-violent. I know of at least one of my friends who would have knocked the dude out.

"Don't talk to strangers" isn't just a safety rule for kids... it also applies to public bathroom survival.

What I Need

Found this little meme via Jimbo, who found it at A Secular Franciscan Life. It's simple... all you do is Google "(your name) needs", and see what you come up with. I tried That 1 Guy first, but only came up with a few needs, so I tried my real name. I found it kinda fun, so here's my lists.

That 1 Guy needs help in the soccer game forum.

This would go without sayin'... I don't know squat about soccer, other than you can't use your hands, and "GOOOOOOAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLL!!!!!

That 1 Guy needs it.

Okay, I'll admit that I do, but I think everyone needs it. Well, except for my old girlfriends...

That 1 Guy needs to go out for the Olympic hurdle team.

Yeah, right. Maybe after I gain a bunch of flexibility... otherwise, I'm sure to be missing something very precious to me.

That 1 Guy needs to SHUT UP AND...

That'll learn ya to tell me to shut up.

Joe needs a double.

Are we talking drinks, or womens?

Joe needs food badly.

You obviously ain't seen me lately.

Joe needs an editor.

No need to be an asshole about that... it's just a blog.

Joe needs to write the task interface programs that will allow the devices to properly communicate with the SRMS service and vice-versa.

WTF??? Is this even written in English?

Joe needs some time off.

Yes. Yes, I do. Just not for too long. That savings account is starting to dwindle.

Joe needs your support and your donation of $25, $50 or up to $1,000 for your assistance to help us rebuild Northeast Ohio and the 13th Congressional District.

Perfect. Strike everything after "assistance," and insert "in keeping his savings account from running out."

Try it... you'll probably find some funny stuff. Meanwhile, I'm off to see about setting up a PayPal button...

Martian Moses?

Mars rover Spirit, after nearly a year of rolling and scrambling up Husband Hill, is coming down from the mount. (Now I've got "The Mountain Song," by Jane's Addiction stuck in my head.)

So far there's been no mention of any tablets being brought back...

Cartoons Will Save Us

If the parents can't get their kids to eat healthy, then maybe cartoon characters will be able to do so. Three cartoon characters are teaming up to nudge kids to eat healthy foods and to get up off the couch and move.

What three? SpongeBob Squarepants, Dora the Explorer, and Slick Willy.

I think folks better keep tabs on Mr. Clinton's whereabouts... Dora is young and naive. Just sayin'.

Right

It was mistakenly pointed out today that I'm stubborn... especially when it comes to admitting that I'm wrong. This is so far from the truth...

You see, I am right most of the time, but I also know that, while I can be godlike when drinking, there are times when I am wrong. And this I freely admit. No one is always right, and some of us are rarely wrong.

However, when/if I'm wrong, I will correctly inform you of my wrongness... thus making me right. After all, it's only right to admit that you are wrong.

Keep this in mind folks,

That Right Guy

Webs

I will proudly admit my fear of snakes. That's about the only thing that really scares me. Well, as far as things that I know for sure exist. Now if I were to see a ghost, or a Sasquatch (reward or not)... I can't promise that I wouldn't scream like the guy in the video clip that Phin found. I'd like to think not, but I haven't seen one, yet, have I?

One thing that I've never been really afraid of is spiders. Okay, I may be a little jumpy if a tarantula were to wander across my keyboard right now. But for the most part, they don't bother me. Their webs now... One strand really won't bug me, but a whole frickin' web... now that I hate.

As I was doing my chores around the house today, I had to run down into my basement to get my storm windows. My basement is a dirt cellar... with a low ceiling in the front half, a crawlspace on one side, and regular height ceiling in the back. It's a newer section. This is the area where I keep the storms. I can stand them up and keep them stored safely. When you come down the steps, you'll smack your melon if you ain't careful. And you don't dare try to stand up... the ceiling is only about five feet high at that point.

I haven't been down there all summer. Normally, I'll run down there a few times a month, but no need to do that this year. This makes it perfect for cobwebs and spiders. I'm talking sheets of webbing... like halloween decorations. And when you go down there for the first time, it's a guarantee that you're going to run into webbing.

As I was pulling the cobwebs off of me, I noticed the unusually large number of spider eggs down there. Usually, there are always a few... twenty to thirty tops. But this year's brought about a bountiful crop. There had to have been almost a hundred between the steps and the doorway to the back room, alone. There were a large number in the back room too, but I wasn't concerned with them. To go look at them meant walking through webbing... I'll pass. Oh, I'll spray it all later, but I didn't feel like pulling webs off of me for the next half hour. I just wanted my storms outside... that's all.

With all of the eggs down there, I started to feel like maybe I should keep an eye out for a giant spider, ala Arachnophobia. Heheh... maybe that's what's responsible for the knockin'....

Plans

The big plan for myself yesterday was to catch lunch at Fritz's, and then head off to enjoy the colors of fall. We're supposed to get rain tomorrow, and through the weekend... I'm afraid that the leaves will be driven from the trees. Anyway, it didn't work out the way I intended.

I went into the pub, ordered my chow, and then started visiting with the bartender's father. Next thing you know, there's another beer in front of me. This happened with great regularity, and I no longer felt it safe to ride the bike. After a few more, I felt the same about taking the car. So I just camped out, watching stupid movies, and, later, the Astros earn their way to a meeting with the White Sox in the World Series.

Today, the plan is not much different. I'm going back to bed after posting this, then I'll get up and pull the air conditioners out, put up most of the storm windows, grab some chow, and go view the colors. That's the plan... I'm flexible, though. Whatever happens, happens. It's an incredibly hard life to lead. Sounds a little like someone else we all know...

Or not.

An Award

I stopped by my sister's place last night, just as the nephews were getting ready for bed. Since they hardly get to see me lately, I went up to their rooms, and stood and listened as my sis read to them, and as they went through their prayers. Heheheh... "God bless Grandma and her vacuum cleaner" still cracks me up.

After she read to them, it was time to tuck them in. I just waited until she was done, and then I was going to wish them "goodnight," and head on downstairs to visit with my ma and sister. But instead, the youngest requested that I tuck him in. He's never had me do it before, so I told him that I'd be happy to do it.

When the little men get tucked in, they want to be tucked in tight. I mean tight. So made I sure the little guy could hardly move... more as a joke than anything else. I called him "Sir Poopsalot" (I always call them names that include "poop"), and headed on downstairs. Well, after I stopped by his brother's room to wish "Poopsworgle" a good night.

My sis came down shortly, and she was grinning. She told me that the youngest was impressed with my "tucking in" skills... he had placed his hands about shoulder wide, and told her that she and my ma were very good at tucking in, and that was about how good they were. But then he spread his hands all the way apart, and told her that "Uncle Joe is the best tucker inner. This is how good he is." Heheheh.... Tucker inner? Who knew...

Just how good am I? Well, I've earned the "Stuffed Animal Award for Excellence." The little guy told my Sis that he almost wanted to bestow upon me his favorite stuffed animal. Almost. However, I could sleep with it for one night. Still an incredible honor.

I tell ya, watching my nephews and nieces, sometimes I really would like to buy one... sometimes. Methinks they'd have me rolling on the floor.

Return

Suppose that we really were able to be reincarnated...

If given the chance to choose your new bad self, who or what would you be?

Why?

I'll probably answer later... still hung up on that dream.

Dying Again

I was moving into a hallway to my right, when I glanced them coming around the end of the aisle. They were to my left, and my weapon was at the ready. A round took one of them through his head before the rest dropped and let loose a shower of lead.

I quickly moved into the hallway, only to discover that there were only restrooms and a locked closet. Rather than move further into the trap, I sought to make my way back out into the store, and try to take them in the aisles. Though not very proficient firing off of my left shoulder, I moved my weapon to that shoulder so that I wouldn't have to expose most of my body before my weapon cleared.

I positioned myself for a quick peek, then popped my head around the corner. I saw the reddish glint from the coating on the optics, and tried to pull my head back around the corner. Two mosquitos stung me just over my left eye, as a sledgehammer impact pounded out the back of my head. I rolled back into the hallway, and watched the boots approach me as all else faded into gray...

Twice. Two times now that this dream has awakened me. Yesterday, I felt the impact on the back of my skull as I awoke. Today, I heard the snaps of the doubletap.

Wish I could remember a little more, rather than the last little bit of dyin'. Wonder what it's purpose is...

A Suprise

I was over at Nugget's and he's got a great story about him and his mates dressing up as school girls, attracting firemen, and trying to ditch them by running into a pub... however, it wasn't just any old pub. No, no, it wasn't on a whim, but if you want to know, go over there and read! And while you're there, make sure you read alot. The guy is a great writer, and some of his fiction pieces are incredible.

While not quite as funny, 'least not to me, this story came to mind while reading of his adventures.

My brother and I graduated from bootcamp in '92. We went home on leave, and flew back in... the night before our orders said for us to report to MCT (Marine Combat Training... a month long extension of boot camp, it is, with liberty on the weekends.) There were about twenty guys from our platoon standing around the airport when we got there, and a discussion began.

While some of the guys from our series were already up at Pendleton checking in, most of us wanted to savor every bit of our leave. After checking train and bus schedules, it was decided that we would spend the evening in San Diego partying, and head off to Pendleton in the morning. I'm not sure who asked, but a senior Marine (a corporal, if I remember right) was quick to provide us with the name of a fine establishment. The ex-Navy guy driving the shuttle whole heartedly agreed that this was definitely the place to stay. So we picked up our gear, and headed off to party.

We got checked in, and some guys ran downtown to grab some grub. Some of us headed straight to the hotel bar to help eliminate their overstock of dangerous alcoholic beverages. It was a pretty great time, and no one noticed at first that we didn't quite fit in. That came much later.

My bro R and I were some of those occupying the bar at first, but we headed out to grab some chow. When we got back to the bar, it was pretty obvious that they were a little uncomfortable with all the of the Marines in the place. We just figured that they were afraid that we might start some drunken trouble, so we decided that we would keep an eye out for any potential trouble, and try to head it off. Some of the guys did get a little rowdy, so I got a few of them together, and the next thing you knew, we were playing tackle football out in the street.

Meanwhile, inside, R is sitting at the bar watching the horny guys of the platoon pawing all over the only lady in the place. He looked again, and sure enough, she was the only one in the whole place. About this time the bartender walked over to R and started up a conversation with him. He looked at all the Marines rather nervously, and then asked, "If you don't mind my asking, why would a bunch of Marines choose to stay in a gay hotel?" R just looked at him incredulously, and then busted up in nervous laughter. Luckily, everyone else found the humor in it, also. We'd all had a pretty good time until this revelation...

I learn from my mistakes... I never ran with a pack of "boots" again, and I never asked a senior Marine anything while on leave or liberty. I also decided that if an establishment is named after a pink, long legged bird, it's probably a good chance that it's very open to alternatives.

Moron

Samantha Burns has put up the new Moron of the Week. Head on over and tell us who it is...

Oh, and if you haven't heard, the White Sox are going to the World series!

They're There!

HOLY CRAP!!! The Sox are World Series bound!

I got back into town just in time to catch the last couple of innings. What great timing! The goosebumps rose on my arm as Konerko tagged first for the final out as the Sox clinched the pennant... the goosebumps are still there.

All other posts are lost at this time...

Aw, Crap!!!

Saw this over at Eric's and Dax's, so I decided to give it a shot...

I just got off the phone with a bill collector. Yeah, already... that'll learn me.

Not Really A Choice

I told a friend over a month ago that I would go up to Wisconsin and help pull out his pier and boatlifts. Last night, I was offered a ticket to the Bears-Vikequeen game. Hmmmm....what to do? What to do?

I'm still going up to the lake... Damnit.

Sox Not Sux... Yet

The White Sox have guaranteed a trip back home in their best of seven series with the Angels, beating the Angels last night, 5-2. Chicago now leads the series 2-1.

One thing that's impressed, and at the same time, worried me, is the games that the Sox pitchers are throwing. They've gotten two complete games out of their starters, and damn near a third. Jon Garland only gave up four hits last night, Mark Buerhle scattered five hits, and just one run over nine innings in Wednesday's controversial win. The first consecutive complete games in the ALCS since 1982. And Jose Contreras pitched into the ninth inning in Tuesday night's loss, giving up three runs early, and then pitching solid ball.

I'm just a little bit worried that they be tired out if they make it to the World Series. Hey, I can't help it... they haven't been to the Series since 1959, and I'm excited about them possibly earning the chance to play in it. I just want them to have a chance to win it all. Being a realist, I know that pitching these complete games does not wear a pitcher out too bad... especially when they've had the rest that the Sox had before this series. But there still is a bit of Sox fan pessimmism rearing it's ugly head. I like the sound of realism better...

If it sounds like I'm counting the Angels out of this, I'm not. They are a very good ball team, and can be very dangerous. Anything can happen... there's still four games left, with the Sox sending Freddy Garcia against Ervin Santana tonight in Game Four.

GO SOX!!!

The Steps At Lowden

How many steps are next to the statue at Lowden State Park? Public servant that I am, I sacrificed myself for your knowledge. Twice. (I thought I lost count in between all the gasps for air, and muttered, "Holy shit"s.) The answer, my friends, is 202 steps. At least, that's what I came up with both times that I remembered to count. I could have done it all in just one trip down and back up if I'd have thought about it!

I've gotta soak these softball sized knots out of my calves.

Today's Assignment

Good morning! This is a personal day for me, so this may be the last post of the day... unless I'm in the proper frame of mind this evening. I'd like to ask you to do two things for me during this day:

First, make sure you stop over at Straight White Guy, and wish Eric a Happy Birthday! Hope you have a good one, Bro!

And second, drink with me to Eric, and my Pa.

Thank you, that is all.

Peace out.

Good, or Great?

So sorry this is running late... I've got no good excuse, therefore, I'll just say, "I suck."

I was asked by Phin to participate in this week's Men's Club, where the question is asked: "Do men always have great sex? What about Women? What/who determines 'great sex?' " Damn... while it should be relatively easy to write about, it is... and isn't. It just sounds either too flippant, or too personal. Which, of course, makes it difficult.

When I first read this, I was reminded of a Billy Crystal sketch, I think it was "A mind of it's own," where he mentions that stories of sex vary between the sexes. The guy talking about it says, "She was beggin' for more." She tells her friends, "Oh, he was terrible. I was in bed by...."

Ask any guy what they think of sex, and I guarantee that most will jokingly say that "any sex is great sex." Hell, I've used that joke. But with me, that's all it is... a frickin' joke. Now let me say right here, my experience is rather limited... I'm no man of the world. Yes, yes, I know... I'm a former Marine. I should have provided pleasure for countless lasses, world wide. Sorry to disappoint...

To me personally, great sex isn't just about blowing a nut. Hell, as was pointed out by Sadie, of Fistful of Fortnights, all that takes is the magic of "friction." If that were great sex... uh, nevermind.

Great sex is about an incredible connection, both physically and emotionally. Lovers coming together... okay, bad choice of words, but then again, it's not that far off. Both of them have to be feeling it, and they'll both know that each is feeling it. Usually, this is experienced with a long time partner... these connections won't commonly happen with a fling.

Have I ever experienced it? Well, I don't kiss and tell, but if I did, I'd tell you, "NO." Good sex? Hell, yeah, almost any sex could be considered good sex... But great? 'Tis an event yet to occur!

As far as women? Let me say this... "When Harry Met Sally"... some guys have had some serious doubts ever since. I think that women's chances of having "great" sex are probably less... it's almost natural for men to take care of their desires first. Not all... some of us get more pleasure from watching a woman squirm from our ministrations and... manipulations(?) during foreplay, than from the act of copulation. Some of us. Other times, women are left hanging. But then again, as I've said before, I ain't a man of the world... I'm probably talking out my ass. I do know that having deep scratches on the back of your neck, or missing clumps of hair, is a sign of doing something right. Just sayin'...

Who determines great sex? Well, I'd have to say that it's the director's call. Positions, camera angles, lighting, mutliple positions in short amounts of time... it's really up to... oh, uh... I guess that's not what was meant by that. Heheheh...

For more intelligent views, go visit the others discussing today's topic: Pammy, of Lollygaggin', Sadie, of Fistful of Fortnights, Kathy, of Cake Eater Chronicles, Silk, of Just Breathe, and Phoenix, of Villains Vanquished post for the Diva's, while the Air Marshall, at Naked Villiany (and soon Jamesyboy and Phin) weighs in for the Gentlemen.

***My apologies... I've forgotten to include Stigmata in the men's corner. Go now.

In Shape

Verily, I say unto thee... Holy Frickin' OW...

I drove to Lowden State Park on Tuesday, parked by the statue (The Eternal Indian... better known as Blackhawk), and walked down to the river. There's a long staircase one must descend to get there in one piece. It's definitely quicker to roll down the bluff, but decidedly more painful. Or so I thought.

Many moons ago, I could go down and up these steps with no problem or pain. Hell, I used to RUN up the steps. But now... I got winded going back up. And while I was a little sore yesterday, and tried to stretch out, today I'm thinking that one could set kindling on my calves, and I could start a fire. They're cramping constantly, so sitting at the computer for extended periods of time just isn't happening.

I've got another post I've been trying to work on, but I'm thinking that's going to be much later. Just trying to keep moving around. And once I'm done with that, I'm going back out to the park and going halfway down the stairs and back up in an attempt to stretch out properly.

I'm in shape alright... round.

Knockin'

You move into a new house. All is fine except for a music box that sometimes starts playing, and a curious beating on the back door. You figure that the music box is somewhere in a few of the things that the owner of the house has stored in the attic. It's no big deal. But that knockin'....

The first time you hear it, you've just gotten everything situated, and have gone to bed. Just as you are drifting off to sleep, someone starts knocking... no, HAMMERING... on the door. You make your way downstairs, check the doors, and find no one there. At either door. Puzzled, you head back to bed.

As soon as you find yourself about ready to drift off again, the hammering starts anew. Without turning on the lights, you fly down the stairs, and go directly to the back door... you know that's where it's coming from. Why? Because it's metal, and the knocking has a metallic quality to it. Checking once again, you find nothing.

By now, you are convinced that it is just a neighbourhood kid jacking with you. You make your way up the stairs, and right as you start to get into bed, the hammering occurs again. Immediately, you are down the stairs (in the dark) and out the back door... no matter that you're in your bungies only. But the punk is nowhere to be seen.

Again upstairs, the knocking comes back. You decide not to humor the little asshole... he'll go away. And sure enough, after you don't get up the next couple of times, each time louder and louder, the knocking stops.

Over time, the knocking comes back, but when you ignore it, it stops.Definitely a brat about beatin' on doors. Safe assumption, right?

You arrive home late one winter evening... it's just starting to snow. You hit the hay, but can only sleep for a couple of restless hours, so you decide to devote some time to your blogging. Working in only the light from the computer monitor, the knockin' begins again. The first time, you ignore it. Then as it starts again, hard enough to be felt in the floor, you realize that there is fresh snow on the ground... you'll be able to track the little bastard! You grab your shoes, and fly out the door.

Once outside, you notice that there are no tracks. So you run around the house, hoping to catch him/her at another door. But the only tracks there, after your tour, are YOURS...

What's your assumption now?

Sports Talk With Idiots

Sometimes, I hate talking to idiots. Sure, they can be good for a few laughs at times, but they can also get under your skin. A perfect example of these latter idiots are sports fans who only pay attention to one team, and no one else. And, because they know their team so well, they know all about the sport, and what's going on. I'm one who enjoys speaking with a true fan of the game... I admit that I don't know alot, but I can learn from folks who know. Not "Homers."

Monday evening at Fritz's: I'm watching the Yankees lose to the Angels, and make the comment that I would rather see the White Sox play against the Bombers than Angels. An idiot Yankee fan looks at me and tells me that the Sox would have no chance against the Yankees. "Why not? They split the season with them. Proves that they can at least hang with them." So I'm re-informed that the Sox would have no chance. Oh, I understand now.

I point out that the American League West, whom the Angels play for, has dominated the Sox this year. The only one we beat up on was Seattle, 6-3. I did have to look up some stats, because I thought the Athletics had only lost one game to Chicago. I was wrong... it was two. Oakland, which I feared, bested the Sox 7-2. Texas also beat up on them... 6-3. Angels were a little closer... 6-4 until last night's meeting. No, not all of these stats were quoted, but I knew we suck against the AL West. AL West: 22 games to Chicago's 15.

I then pointed out that we played pretty well against the AL East, of whom the Yankees are a member. I got the "argument" that there was no way... the Sox were good, but they weren't that good. I tell him that I'm not totally sure, but I think only Boston had a winning record against us. After checking, I was right. Boston led the season series 4-3 before Chicago's sweep last week. The Yankees had split, as I mentioned earlier, 3-3. Overall, Chicago beat AL East teams 20 times out of thirty three games.

After the Angels won, bright guy assured me that the Sox now have a good chance to go to the World Series. Why? Because if the Yankees had won, the Sox wouldn't have had a chance. Hmmm... a broken fricking record. "They should take care of the Angels easily... they aren't that good."
"They just beat your team!!!"
"They got lucky."

I was hoping for the Yankees to make it... it would have been a great series, and I could have talked crap with Ogre. Who, I might add, pays attention to more than just his team. I know he's pulling for the Sox now, as they have a minor league team in Charlotte, NC, and he occasionally goes to some of the games.

How's this series started out? Well, the Angels lead, winning the first game 3-2. Paul Byrd pitched well against the Sox, while Jose Contreras, after giving up three runs, pitched an exceptional game. Unfortunately, the Sox offense couldn't bail him out.

Tonight's matchup is Jarrod Washburn for the Angels, and Mark Buerhle for the Sox. GO SOX!!!

Lazy

To get out there and mow, or stay in here and write... possibly sleep?

What would Brian Boitano do?

Once Bitten

So I promised you a few ghost tales or stories... well, it's obvious that I've been lacking. So I'm going to post a link to a story that raised the old goosebumps on my arms the first time I read it. Hell, it still does. And it's one of my favorites.

Check out Key and her story of a little girl. 'Tis a great one.

Godly

Well, the Jeebus thing rolls on... I've got people volunteering to be apostles, now. Heheh....

Not to mention a couple of posts by Raging Mom, describing her meeting with me. Part One, Part Two, and Part Three. Funny stuff.

Perhaps later on, I'll explain my job as Restroom Cop.

Drunks are so much fun... at least, that's what they tell me.

PSA Reminder

This is re-print of a post that I did almost a year ago. Colds are popping up all around here lately, and folks were discussing medicines the other night. This post is my warning to you.

I was told the first time, since this isn't my usual type of post, that I should add a warning. I just did.

It was a different time. A different place. Looked like some sort of desert.

I couldn't remember all that had happened to me, other than intense pain. I knew it wasn't good. Pain raked through my entire body, both inside and out. Hundreds of cuts and abrasions roared in agony as sweat trickled uninhibited into the wounds. There was no way of wiping the sweat away: my arms were bound tightly behind me. I think one was broken.

I had stopped fighting long ago. At first, I felt the shame. Now, I only feel the craving for death. I just want this to be over. I keep telling myself that this is only a dream, a nightmare. But everything seems to prove me wrong. I can feel the pain. I can taste the blood from my stove in face. I can smell the stench of something rotten.

One of "them" makes his way over to me. I feel at least one rib break under the hard kick to my side. He's saying something, but I can't make it out. I'm pretty sure it's English, I just can't hear much over the ringing in my skull. He grabs my hair, and twists my face to the side. (Now I know I'm dreaming... I haven't had long hair in years. I start trying to wake up.) Another man is just a few feet away, and "they" are reducing him to rags. There is something very familiar about the poor soul, but I can't see his face.

As I watch, his hand is forced open, and fingers are cut off. He just moans. No screams, just a growling moan. I'm losing it. I try to turn my head away, but once again my head is forced to the side. I try to close my eyes, only to have fingers jammed against my eyes. I open them.

One of "them" is holding a burning log. I think that "they" are going to start burning the other, touching all over with the burning stick. I'm wrong. A quick flash, a sharp gasp from the other, and his arm below the elbow is gone. Now the log is applied. "They" don't want him to bleed out. I try once again to turn away, but my face is shoved into the sand. Unable to breathe, I turn my head back to the scene. (I'm starting to cry... I can't wake up no matter how I try.) Still, the other hasn't screamed. (More goes on, but I've almost managed to escape by waking up. I'm not really aware, nor do I care about what's happening next to me.)

A warm spray, and the smell of insides brings me back to the nightmare. Now the other is screaming. I open my eyes, and find myself covered in fresh blood. The other has his guts opened up, and the entrails are laying all around the ground next to him. "They" shove something inside his abdominal cavity, and he grows quiet. I think he's passed, when he turns his face towards me. Now I'm the one screaming. Screaming and sobbing.

The other was me.

(I awoke covered in sweat, throat hurting, tears streaming ... and swore the coppery smell of blood was still filling the room.)

"Hi, everyone. My name is That 1 Guy, and that was an actual nightmare. One of my very own. (Turns for side angle) What would cause a person to dream something like this? Good question. The answer is cheap drugs. (Front angle ... big smile) No, no, you silly people! I'm not talking about any illegal substances. What I'm talking about is generic versions of your regular cold medicines. In this case, a generic version of NyQuil.

What could be the harm in taking an off brand?
(Close up on angry face) Didn't you read the above story, moron? This stuff will mess a person up!
(Smiles once again) After this nightmare, I swore the stuff off. However, due to my current fondness for feeling ill, I resorted to taking some again. The first night wasn't too bad. I had goofy dreams, but nothing serious. Last night however, I had the same nightmare as the one above. Only this time I was able to wake up earlier. Of course, not until after one of my eyelids was cut off. Don't ask me. It just happened.

Anyway, in this glorious cold and flu season, may I recommend that you use the real deal. Settle for no cheap substitutes. Curl up with a bottle of hard liquor, and drink yourself to health. Or to your health. Whatever works for you. Cheers!"

Referrers

Sometimes reading the Sitemeter stats for your blog can be pretty damn entertaining in itself. I don't normally check on it alot, but recently, I've checked fairly often. I've found some interesting things... at least, interesting to me. Just a few quickies:

Googled for Johnny Cash Impersonator: I've seen this before, but couldn't figure out why it would hit me... uh, duh... I used those exact words in that post.

German Google for wisdom+farewell: Farewell wisdom... yeah, that about fits. This isn't a common one, but I did find it funny. Especially after finding that this pic of me (don't click on it Lance) was found in a Swedish Google search for images of a "drunken idiot."

MSN searched for chuckroast recipes: This recipe has made me the object of culinary searches... sad.

Yahoo'ed for foursome three girls one guy: Now this one, I could see... although, I bet they went away disappointed upon learning that it was only only a golf outing.

Then there are the 10-15 hits I get each day for different pics from Harvey's liberty at Pattaya Beach, Thailand. Seems most of them are for this one in particular.

Then of course there are the underwear pics... found here. I usually get a couple of hits each day for either pose.

Sitemeter is also a curiosity inspiring tool... I see different visitors each time I check it. Some are frequent, but never comment. Those that have a referring URL, I'll usually stop in to look around. Others, with the RSS feeds, will go without a visit because I have no clue who it was who stopped by.

And then there are some that just grab your attention. Click the location button of your sitemeter once. You'll get to see visitors from all over the globe. But some will keep coming back, piquing the curiosity once again. I've got one that shows up often... from Norway. Everything about referrer is unkown, except for the location... which is the only reason I know it's the same visitor, or computer. I'd just like to find out a bit about them, since they've been kind enough to visit me. Hopefully I didn't chase them off now.

Anyway, for an easy laugh, check your sitemeter... you'll be easily entertained, and it makes for great blog fodder in a pinch.

Moron Contest

Want a chance to win "Moron of the Week?" Head on over to Samantha Burns', and check out her latest contest.

There's a possibility that the correct answer has been tossed out there, but you won't know unless you get over there and check it out!

Chores

He couldn't stand it any longer... the bawling of the cattle was driving him nuts. "Sleep! All I want is a few hours sleep!" He glanced at the clock, read 2:36, and flung back the covers. Four and a half hours he'd been stuck listening to the bovine choir! And tonight, they were terribly off key. Damn things must be either starving, or there's coyotes out there, he thought to himself. Willing to listen no more, he called Norm, but only got his machine. He left a short message in which he explained that something was up with his cattle. Then he quickly got dressed, grabbed his .44 and a flashlight, and made his way out the door.

The pasture was almost two miles away, if one were to ride the oil. To cut through the woods and field cut it into much less... only a bit over a half mile. He crossed the crick, and headed through the woods, keeping the flashlight swinging from side to side, .44 at hand. He kicked up a large doe, but no coyotes. Seeing the deer, he figured that coyotes weren't the problem.

As he neared the area lit up by the vapor lamp, he could see the small herd looking towards the barn, bellerin'. Just past the barn, he could see Norm's truck. "About time the asshole gets out here to feed his stock," he grumbled aloud. "He's got a piece of my mind to feast on!"

Approaching the barn, careful not to startle Norm and possibly get shot, he noticed the lights glowing, and Norm's dog sitting just inside the door. Behind the dog, he could see a pair of legs. "Norm!" he yelled. Getting no response, he went inside, as the dog slowly wagged it's tail.

It was Norm alright, and he wasn't looking well. Hell, he thought, I'm pretty sure the bastard's dead. Watching the ant walking across his eye, he decided that was a pretty safe bet.

Walking over to the stack of hay bales, he grabbed two in each hand, walked outside, and broke them into the feed bunk. The cattle gratefully swarmed the hay. Going back into the barn, he located what he thought might be the dog's food. Whatever it was, the dog wolfed it down immediately. He checked the outside water tank's level, which was regulated by a float, and then topped off the dog's water bucket.

After everything was done, he walked over to the husk that was Norm. "Well, you worthless son of a whore. You got me to do your chores for ya, and you kept me waiting for sleep while your damn cows bellered. I'll get someone over here for you, but you're going to have to wait like I did. Dead is dead, and I'm dead tired."

He checked on the animals once more before leaving, then made his way back home... back to bed.

Just so you know... this isn't meant to be some literary work of art. I wrote the damn thing in a matter of minutes, after being kept awake by bellering cattle.

It solved nothing, except to make me feel better for a short period of time... the cows are still bawlin'.

An Autumn Dance

Today, I took some back roads that I've never been on. Hell, I don't think many people go through those areas. This region is full of gently rolling hills, and these roads were following through some of the little valleys... and along the ridges.

As I topped one rise, I noticed a very large buzzard in the midst of what appeared to be hundreds, if not a thousand, small birds. They were swirling around in large, lazy circles. It was a beautiful dance, and before I knew it, I was almost at a complete stop. Just watching the scene, with fall colors as the backdrop.

Slowly nearing, I realized that the "birds" were just corn leaves, and bits of stalk. It was a very large dust devil, slowly crossing a cornfield. The buzzard riding on the vortex, gliding amongst the debris.

Buzzards are known for being ugly bastards... both in appearance, and in their function. It may be true, but I think it's just a matter of perception. When you get to watch them circling, it's a thing of beauty, ugly ass bastards or not.

I watched as the vortex and buzzard danced their way up the valley... five minutes well spent.

Reality

Trying hard to stay fairly positive this day. Reality can sometimes be a cruel and sadistic bitch. In helping a friend, I discover that chances of helping out on a much larger scale are next to nil. Hopes and possiblities are beaten senseless by the dominatrix... there is no safe word. A five hour session has left me crippled, and slightly depressed.

There's a fight coming, but my odds are fast dropping. Time, Reality's right hand man, is against me.

The Ball Bash

Once again, it's that time... It's time for the 27^th annual Turkey Testicle Festival, in Byron, Illinois. Just a few miles from me.

Bikers and onlookers will gather to drink, dance, and ingest the satchel stones of turkeys. While I may go over, I won't be chomping on nads. I will say, however, that I have tried them, and deep fried jewels are not that bad... I just won't add them to my "favorites" list.

While it may seem a bit odd, this emasculating event is actually... well... a ball.

Golgotha Gathering

We've probably all been to a few blogmeets, and read about even more. They are usually held in fairly sane places. Usually. But I think we've yet to read about bloggers meeting in a cemetery. Well, until now.

I went out to the cemetery that I mentioned below, and there I met Raging Mom. However, this wasn't a drunken meet, which are usually the best ones to attend. Nope, this was just two bloggers crawling up the hill to a little cemetery to look around. We visited for awhile, and then had to head off on our seperate ways. Not really much of a blogmeet, but it was very interesting. She's a very cool woman.

We did not locate the grave of a little girl, but then again, only about six or seven stones were left there. We did notice that someone had been up there and spraypainted the backs of three stones. The backs were facing the road, and they were spraypainted a dull black. My initial thought was that vandals had been up there. As we parted ways, I realized that it was only the backs of the stones, not the faces. They had been painted to dull them.

So I went back out in the dark, and sure enough, even though they had been dulled down, one stone glowed bright. Bright like the back of a metal sign. Even under the paint. I tried to take a pic, but I only had Tammi's cell phone... it didn't come out. I may go back and get a good shot.

Not frightening at all, it was a bit eerie. One second, there's nothing in front of you but pastures and lonely road. The next, there's a glowing object on a hillside. At first, it looks like it's just floating there, then you see the trees and shape of the hill. Very cool.

I'm looking forward to more meets this month, and maybe a few more adventures like this. I'll keep ya posted.

Hunting For God's Acre

It's closing in on Halloween. Spooks, ghouls, and ghost stories abound. I love this stuff...

Raging Mom and I have been trading some ghost stories over the past few days. There's also been the discussion of a couple of graveyards in the area that just don't seem quite right. We've decided that we should check them out. So far, she's been the only one to find them... I spent about half an hour lookin' the other night, and found out I was probably a few miles off. No mind... I've always been told I'm a bit off.

Raging Mom heads out to do a bit of detecting... First visit, Charter Grove Cemetery. She'd heard that this place has very noticable fluctuations in temperature... and there are.

Next, I had told her about a cemetery that has a "glowing" headstone. It's not known as being haunted, and the headstone only glows if you come around a curve with your high beams on, but I've been told it's kinda creepy. 'Specially if you walk into the graveyard to locate the glowing stone. No it doesn't change as you walk, but the stone is that of a very young girl. Once at the stone, it's a great time to scare the everlovin' piss out of those with you!

Figuring this is worth checking out at this time of year, I talked with a few locals, and got some rough directions. After looking at some maps, and checking out the wrong area, we figured that it could very well be Bald Hill Cemetery. Looks cool, doesn't it? However, we haven't found it, yet.

Raging Mom did make a trip out to that area last night, and while she didn't find the mini Golgotha, she did get a fright. She took a couple of pictures.. one very peculiar. It reminds me of some of the pics I've seen from Bachelors Grove Cemetery, near Chicago. Especially this one.

Methinks I'll be going out there tonight, if only to chain the gate that she left open. I'll keep you posted, and I think I'm going to post different ghost stories until fright night.

Remember, it's all just fun. At least, until someone fills their pants... then it's just funNY.

Assassin? Me?

Borrowed from Yabu, of Bad, Bad Juju

You are an assassin.
That means you are a professional and do your
job without mixing any emotions in it. In your
life you have probably been hurt many times and
have gotten some mental scars. This results in
you being distant from people. Though many
think that you are evil, you are not. What you
really are is a person, trying to forget your
pain and past. You are the person who never
seems to care and that is why being an assassin
fits you good. At least, that's what people
think. Even if you don't care that much for
your victims, you still have the ability to
care and to generally feel. It is not lost,
just a little forgotten. In crowds you tend to
not get to noticed, and dress in black or other
discrete colours. You don't like being in the
spotlight and wish people would just leave you
alone. But once you do get close to someone you
have a hard time letting go and get real down
if you loose him/her.

Main weapon: Sniper
Quote: "The walls we build around
us to keep out the sadness also keep out the
joy" -Jim Rohn
Facial expression: Narrowed eyes


What Type of Killer Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Funny how accurate some of these quizzes are. Ooops... I didn't say that.

The Winnah

Neener, neener, neeeeeeener...

Guess what, my fellow patrons?! I won the Moron of The Week contest, over at Samantha Burn's establishment! The prize is linkage, and untold fame and fortune. How much? I don't know... it's untold.

You'll be able to say you knew me back when I was just a drooling idiot!

What's it really about? Sam posts a picture, a silhouette, and you guess who the moron is. Obviously, it's going to be someone who's recently made news with an idiotic statement or life. She posts the silhouette on Monday, with the correct answer on Friday.

Make sure you check it out!

Mish Mash

Scanning through some offbeat news, I found a few that I thought you may be interested in.

Right now, there seems to be a demand for USED endoscopes.

Four of the devices used to examine the human colon were lifted from a local hospital — at a total cost of nearly $104,000.

Authorities say the theft is likely driven by a large overseas market for the devices.

"If you go on the Web and type in 'used endoscopes' or 'used colonoscopes,' you'll find dozens of suppliers selling used equipment," said State College police Detective Ralph Ralston. "It's kind of bizarre."

Yes, it's bizarre, but what if those stolen aren't being sent overseas? What if they're staying right here, being used in some strange fetish. OR, had these endoscopes been used on celebrities?

"See? Their shit really does stink!"

And for Jim, from Parkway Rest Stop, who seems to have a thing for gators, there's the pleasant news of a of a gator's demise... by python!

The alligator has some foreign competition at the top of the Everglades food chain, and the results of the struggle are horror-movie messy.

A 13-foot Burmese python recently burst after it apparently tried to swallow a live, six-foot alligator whole, authorities said.

If you didn't click on that link, do so... there's a picture. Jimbo may hate gators, but I hate snakes. Especially 13 ft long snakes!

And looking at family matters, there's a creative attempt at patricide (okay... it was an accident), and a story that made me laugh, and pissed me off at the same time.

Two little kids, fighting, have the police step in. (Registration is required...) They were six. Fighting over a pacifier. A PACIFIER!

...It all started Monday afternoon, when a 6-year-old boy dropped a pacifier. Another 6-year-old boy picked it up and refused to give it back, allegedly prompting the first child to deliver a punch. Police said the boy with the pacifier then punched back.

Pawtucket Police Detective Donti Rosciti said one of the mothers called police, saying she wanted the fist fight documented because her son had three minor scratches on his face, and she didn't want his school accusing her of abuse.

A patrolman wrote up a report, then went to the home of the other child to speak with his parents, Rosciti said. He called the case very unusual...

Unusual, indeed. In couple of ways. First, unusual is the fact that two young kids had the cops called on them. Second, is the pacifier.

Now, I may seem a bit judgemental. It's true, I haven't hatched any offspring, but if you ask me, this mother should be accused of abuse! Six years old, and your kiddie still needs a pacifier. Frickin' sad. I wonder if he washed it off in his sippy cup. (No offense intended, Eric.) My thought is you're setting your child up for countless beatin's by letting him suck on a binkie for six years.

He'll probably grow up to hate her, if not turn into a mama's boy. I know that's what happened with me....

A Blank

A blank... that's all I see. Can't seem to pull any ideas from me. Whoa, wait... that could be done as a poem! But it won't.

For some reason this morining, I feel like I just got buried. Oh sure, I've got a breathing tube, but I'm far underground. I don't really feel it's depression, it's more like compression. Addressing compression is impressively depressing.

Still blank.

Battle Of The Burly Boys

Believe me, it's not a slam against David Wells...

Tonight's game will feature Boston's Wells (6'-3", 248 lbs) dueling with Chicago's Mark Buehrle(6' 2", 220). Wells has been in 25 playoff games, starting 15, and winning ten. This is Buerhle's first post season start. Hopefully, it'll also be his first postseason win. Two great pitchers... should be a good game.

Did you read the scouting reports? ESPN really digs deep... a little too much info if you ask me. About Buerhle:

He very rarely beats himself.

Somehow, I don't think such personal things are pertinent the game. But I may be wrong... heheheh.

Self-gratification or no, GO CHICAGO!

UPDATE: Tonight's game was a good one. Good Sox won, 5-4. I should be happy... and I kinda am. But the game was won after an error by a former White Sox player. If Boston doesn't make it to the next level, I fear that Tony Graffanino will be the new Bill Buckner. He doesn't deserve that... hell, even Bill didn't deserve that.

Nonetheless, Buerhle beats Burly.... as the Matron Saint of Jailbirds says, "It's a good thing."

Blogging Question

Just curious: Who were some of the first blogs that you ever read? And I only mean for starters, not once you began blogging. Unless, of course, you one day decided that you would start something called a "web log" and people could read about your personal observations, and you are the One responsible for the blogosphere.

Me? Well, the very first blogs that I read regularly were, Frizzensparks, Blackfive, Bad Example, Bloodletting, and Misha. Very soon after, I had added A Sailor in The Desert, Mostly Cajun, and USS Neverdock, with Boudicca coming right on their heels. Shortly after, Grau (a co-worker) and Harvey (an irritating nag) suckered me into starting my own blog. Since then, I've added a ton of regular reads. Many I'd like to meet... and I've already met a few. Since late last June, I've had the privilege to meet nearly a dozen bloggers, and talk to a couple more by phone. All I've met and talked to have been great people. I'm looking forward to meeting many more in the future... hopefully very soon.

But to add a second part to the question: Do you still read the one's who were there at the beginning?

Unfortunately, no. Not regularly. I've got them all blogrolled, and I put in occasional visits, but only a few of these folks are still daily reads. I don't really know why the others have fallen out of my attention. I won't beat myself up for it, but I do feel kinda bad.

Anyway, how about you?

Oh, and just so you know; Harvey really is an irritating nag, but he's still a pretty decent guy. Who now owes me a C-note... :)

Some People's Mornings

Heheheh.... Sounds like Bloodspite had a great morning.

Was your's much better?

The Happy Procrastinator

It was eighty frickin' plus... again. My yard is in serious need of cutting, but ain't no way I'm going out there in that heat. I'll melt. So after much deliberation, and a touch of starvation (thanks to Phin), I sat down and applied my logic.

72^o and dry is more comfortable than 80+^o in humid hell..... check.

Beer tastes much better than grass clippings.... most times, check.

A trip to Fritz's was just the ticket. Hot beef sammidges with mashed potatos and gravy, a couple of beers, and I'd be home. Started watching baseball, with the Cards biting their nails in a 8-5 victory over the Padres. Next up was the battle of the Sox... Boston and Chicago. So I replanted myself, and watched the game.

So a two hour lunch becomes a six hour event... so what? I've done better... by eight hours. But here I sit, safely at home, very minor buzz, happy as hell. My Sox won, beating Boston by the score of 14-2. My belly is full of filet rolled in garlic and pepper, cooked medium rare, and a couple extree beers. Life is good... but the grass still needs cutting.

Oh, well... that's why Gott invented tomorrow. Right?

Curiosity Sucks

Day four of being addressed as "Jeebus", or "Jesus Joe..."

Still wondering what all I spouted off the other night.... curiosity is killin' me.

Casting A Stone

Since I hit on the subject of food, and sins, let me cast a stone at myself. I sinned yesterday. Okay, it's probably safe to say that I sin all of the time. Something that happens on a regular basis hardly qualifies as news, but this is.

I threw away food. (hangs head in shame) No, I'm not going on another forty day fast. I ruined my food. That's all.

Here's a tip: be aware while seasoning your food. Keep in mind what you are adding, and how much.

Tabasco is a staple of mine. It is applied frequently, and liberally. My brothers and I demolish the six ounce bottles in a single sitting.

Dave's Insanity sauce is a pleasure. This stuff is nice and toasty warm. A few drops of this stuff applied to your chow adds a bit o flavor, and a lot of kick.

Dave's is NOT Tabasco... I know this. But yesterday I wasn't thinking so well.. I poured Insanity sauce all over my jambalaya, just as I would Tabasco. I realized my mistake, but decided to try it anyway. Farewell taste buds.

I managed to eat about 2/3 of my bowl, and then just had to say "Uncle," No mas, as well as a wide assortment of expletives. I ate and burned in silence. I refused to throw it away. But finally, I couldn't deal anymore. It got tossed.

I'm ashamed, but it's not just because I tossed away food that starving kids might've wanted. No, methinks if you served them this, they be in danger of spontaneous combustion.

I just can't believe I wasted hot sauce...

Cooking In Sin

When cooking, and a liquor or liqueor is called for, one usually uses a lesser name brand. Unless, of course, it's specifically called for... like the Guinness cake recipe (I believe that was at ArmyWifeToddlerMom's). It's an unspoken law... to do otherwise is considered a sin. Sometimes unforgivable. So imagine my horror when I saw that my beloved blog sis, Boudicca, defiantly asks, "Who Cares HOW It Gets There?" While I truly understand what point she was trying to make, I felt ill...

There are a couple of considerations. Price, taste, and, I suppose in Bou's defense, availability.

When I boil brats in beer, I don't use an expensive beer. Kinda pointless. The subtle flavors that set that beer apart from others will be lost. I use MGD or Miller Lite instead. The basic flavor that I'm hoping for will be there. However, when it comes time to consume those brats, I wash them down with a dark bier. Pure heaven.

For her recipe, Bou needs a shot of brandy. Her father, TGOO, mentions that one could use whisky. So she looks at a bottle of Laphroaig (a fine scotch), and considers it's use. TGOO must read her mind, because he tells her NOT to use that. Thankfully, she does not sin... she finds what was originally required. Cheap brandy.

Cost?
Laphroaig - about $70+ (more in a year when the single malt availability is down)
Cheap brandy - about $10

Taste?
Brandy is made from fruit juices... most of the time, grapes. It usually has a sweet taste, or a sweet quality. It would enhance the marmalade that she was going to baste her pork tenderloin with.
Whiskies are made from grains... usually the sweet tones are very subtle... excepting Southern or Beam. As Eric pointed out, Laphroaig is a very rich scotch... as they proudly proclaim on their label, "The most richly flavoured of all Scotch whiskies." One of the strongest flavours is it's smokiness. There is a bit of a sweet undertone, but I can't see that smokey flavour going well with the marmalade. I don't think it would work at all, even if it wasn't just plain wrong.

Of course, when it all comes down to it, you use what you have on hand. You might end up using your good stock for a meal if that's all you've got. Personally, I wouldn't do it. The good stuff is too hard for me to come by, the cheap is a close as a quick trip to a certain establishment.

And I haven't even mentioned that 'tis just bad juju to be wasting fine spirits. In some cases, it's a quick trip to Hell. And I'm not trying to be all weird... even many athiests won't use good booze in such manner. They won't say it, but they know, deep down, that the things that aren't really there will suddenly be! It's true!

All this talk has made me hungry and thirsty... I think I'll have myself a bit of jambalaya, some apple pie, and then I'll crack open the Laphroiag. Yeah, already. Jealous?

A Clue

It's a strong possiblity that you may have had one too many, and gotten a teensie bit out of hand the night before, when:

You walk into Fritz's, and someone yells, "Get 'Jeebus' a beer!"

You ask someone a question, and they answer by addressing you, "Lord and Saviour."

There is serious discussion about the installation of lightning rods on the bar's roof....

Ashamed? No.... I'm frickin' proud. Heheheh...