Another Father Bear Gone

Army Wife passed along some info early this morning... Stan Berenstain, co-creator of the Berenstain Bear books, has passed away at the age of 82.

Between Seuss and Berenstain, I learned to read, and I'm sure that's where some of my humor comes from. I've always enjoyed those tales, and, as is obvious below, they've influenced me.

Thank you, and farewell, Mr. Berenstain.

Dimwit's Drivel

A lot of running around to be done today... so it's again time for a game. Yes, that one.

To entertain ourselves when we used to travel a lot, a friend and I used to come up with very strange stories following the formula found in Berenstains' B Book. We didn't stick to it totally, but tried to keep all nouns, adjectives, adverbs, and verbs starting with the same letter. Some of the letters work better than others, but I'm going to save my favorite for another time.

I'll kick it off, and feel free to follow in the comments. You don't need to use whole sentences... if you only can think of a word that fits, throw it in. No need to keep it clean. Repeat words are not a problem. Ready? Using the letter D:

Dirk, the dimwitted daredevil, drove his Dodge Dart under Derek's dumptruck.

Again, it's not a novel... characters may disappear and reappear at will. Just have fun with it!

Football Phrasings

A couple of weeks ago, TNT put up a post asking for us to list some of the football phrases and terminology that crack us up. She's only gotten a few, and I know there's plenty more out there, so I figured I'd send you her way.

My contribution was heard this past weekend, during one of the many games we were watching.

"He took his time until he could feel the hole open up for him..."

Anyway, if you can think of others, head on over, and help her out.

An Earful of Pressure

I am what is known to some folks, a sounding board. I don't remember when it started, or how it did, but I always seem to have people telling me personal things. It's because I don't share any of it. I refuse to.

However, I am an empathetic person... sometimes their worries and stresses become mine. I shouldn't do that, but I do.

Tonight was one of those nights, and I'm left feeling...well, I don't know. I wish I didn't know anything about the situation.

Why the hell choose me? I think that perhaps I should feel honored, but at times, I feel intense pressure.

Why in the world do I have to be such a good listener?

Rain, Roofs, and Bre'fus

One of the things I've been asking the landlord about, since I moved in five years ago, was installing a rain gutter over my door. The roof slants that way, and in a downpour, you're walking through a sheet of water. Even in a light rain, the water has a way of finding it's way down your neck... and in a November rain, that sucks. I won't even begin to describe fumbling drunkenly with your keys on a rainy November night...

Anyway, I took my car to the garage today to have some work done, and, since it's only three blocks away, I refused the offerred ride home. I stopped by the gas station and picked up a healthy breakfast of taquitos, and made my way home. Glancing at the sky, I knew I better hurry. It's been raining off and on this morning.

I managed to avoid most of the rain... it was a light sprinkle by the time I hit the back door. But I had locked the door out of habit, so I was stuck trying to locate my house key. Hah... I got my key and unlocked the door, just in time to feel a stream of water hit my hand. Actually, it hit my hand after running over my taquito.

I was a little pissed... I mean, it's been five years of asking, sure, I guess that's good enough reason to be upset. But my taquito getting soaked... with water that's been running over a surface where birds shit, and nasty ass squirrels frolic, not to mention the gallons of bee killer I've used. That's enough to ruin a day. Then I started thinking about how many times I had brushed sand and dirt off of grub as a Marine. Hey, food is food until you don't eat it. That's when it becomes trash.

So I cowboyed up, forced the visions of piles of starling dropping's and diseased squirrels from my mind, and finished off the ruined taquito. I couldn't taste anything out of the ordinary, but just to be sure, I rinsed my mouth out with a mouthful of bourbon, and chased it with a coke. Hoping to insure total safety, I repeated the process.

Wow... now that's a breakfast! I can't go job hunting today, but it wasn't a bad way to get rolling.

My Math

a - b = c

If a = air rifle, and b = porch light, then c equals sleep.

Beware

Today, an earthquake rocked southern Iran, flattening several villages, and unfortunately killing ten.

Yesterday, Iran's president suggested that our current administration be tried for war crimes.

Coincidence? I think not. Don't jack with the W.

Learning To Fly

Though I haven't been out now for a few years, I love to sit out in the woods with my rifle, watching the wildlife and just relaxing. Hunting isn't about killing... it's about enjoying life. I never feel quite so alive as when I'm sitting in my treestand, or a blind, or even still hunting. I feel like I belong. I totally relax. The only thing that can rival that feeling is riding.

When I say that I relax, I mean, I really relax. I've been know to nod off in my blind, or to lean back against a tree, and grab a little shut eye. I've even been know to drift off in my treestand... both permanent stands, and portable. Hell, to tell the absolute truth, I've even rested the eyes a bit while I've been riding, though that's not something I've gotten perfected, yet.

Yesterday, I learned that I had something else to be thankful for, other than what I had been thinking earlier in the day. And yes, it's got to do with hunting and relaxing.

See, I've been out hunting only Gott knows how many years... that equals up to a hell of a lot of naps, many of them in a portable treestand. I am a very light sleeper... I usually awaken at the slightest sound, or even when I sense "something" else nearby. (My cousin used to think it funny to creep into the room where I was sleeping soundly, and then just stand there... I'd usually stop snoring and say, "What?" within seconds.) I will admit to having fallen from the stand on one occasion. Luckily, I was able to flip myself about, so that I landed on my back... keeping my rifle safe from harm. Safety harness? Who needs 'em?

Who needs 'em? Well, obviously my brother does. Yes, the Perfect One did his best impression of a baby bird falling from the nest. Right on his face. Face. From 25 feet in the air, nothing breaking his fall, but his face and upper chest. Face. His rifle, a fine Browning BAR .30-06 that he's had for countless moons now, smashed from the impact. Did I mention that he landed on his face? We are all lucky he didn't bust his neck.

Oh, he's fine. He's not walking around very fast, he's got a decent shiner going on, and he hurts everywhere, but all x-rays have shown he's still intact. And that's where some of the joking around starts... he's okay, it's now safe to pick on him. Hey, humor is a good way to deal. Hell, if I had been at the base of that tree, I'd have probably freaked... until I saw him move. Then the laughing would start...

He wasn't there to enjoy the comments that were coming from hearing the story... in the cycle of family visits, it was his significant other's family's turn to enjoy his presence. One that came immediately to mind, but I'm saving it for when I see him, was "pride cometh before a fall." But he's definitely going to get a load of them at Christmas, not to mention a couple of ass chewings for no safety harness.

I know a few of you who read here go out to the woods, and while 25 ft seems a stretch, with the Perfect One, it isn't. He likes to see forever, and he's one hell of a shot. (He's made some phenomenal shots. On a trip to Canada, he got two caribou within seconds of each other. When the guide arrived, he looked to the One's shooting position from the caribou, did a double take, and then smiled in admiration. "Sniper!") He just likes to get as high up as possible, without the tree moving too much.

For you hunters, and it's definitely not something I'm trying to give anyone shit about, I'm just curious to know:

Do you wear a safety harness while on stand? If not, why?

No, I don't. I own one, but I hate the feeling of that thing around me. However, after my bro's dive, I think I may start wearing one, even if it breaks a couple of ribs smacking into the tree when you stop.

The First Thanksgiving... Sort Of

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, which, believe it or not, is traditionally a day to give thanks. Really.

Back in December of 1620, a group of folks arrived in America from England, seeking freedom from religious persecution, and leaving their original refuge in Holland. They arrived in a cold, new world. Their new home didn't welcome them with open arms... over half of the 110 folks who landed became worm food over the winter. Help didn't arrive until March of 1621...

In March, an Indian named Samoset walked into their little village, and started speaking to the frightened Pilgrims in English. They couldn't understand everything he was saying, so he came back with another Indian named Tisquantum... also called Squanto. He had been overseas to England, and had lived among the English for awhile, not to mention a stretch of bad luck that took him back over to Europe after he tried to come home again.

Squanto was very important to this group. He taught them the tricks of surviving in their new home. He taught them how to plant and fertilize corn and cook it. He showed them where and how to catch fish and eels, and acted as their interpeter and guide. He also explained how to make curry, and told them that 3/4 of the Indian population were Hindu. He showed the women the intricacies of Indian foods and how to use seasoning and spices. Without his help, it's quite possible that none of them would have survived the coming war with Pakistan.

In the fall of that year, the Pilgrims were reaping the benefits of Squanto's instruction. Con Coren Cornup Funky shaped baskets, overflowing with their bounty, were scattered about... nearly as numerous as the leaves on the trees. Which really wasn't all that many... it was fall, after all. Amidst this bounty, the first Thanksgiving was born.

One of the nearby Indians was walking through the woods, eating a turkey leg (while waiting for his squaw to make curry with the rest) when he ran smack dab into one of the Pilgrims, who happened to be chomping on a potato. The impact was horriffic... they were dazed as they gathered themselves and their grub. At about the same time that the Pilgrim realized that there were turkey bits in his spud, the Indian spotted smashed potato on his turkey leg. (Side note... the guy who wrote the old Reese's commercial that sounds about the same? Descended from that Pilgrim, he was.) It nearly set off a scuffle which would have ruined the alliance between the Indians and Pilgrims. Fortunately, hunger took over, and both were astonished with the new taste they discovered.

Delighted with the new mix, they both ran to their respective villages and announced their wonderful find. Soon, trading of potatoes and turkeys was going on at a furious pace. Chief Massasoit and whoever the Pilgrim guy was, got together and decided to have a great feast.

What a feast it was... venison, turkeys, geese, small children, and corn... lots and lots of corn. There were large bottles of Mogen David for all, and beer of all sorts. Carry out Chinese was even available! Yes, it was one big drunkfest. So much so, that the actual Proclamation of the First Thanksgivng didn't happen until 1676... more than a few weak brain cells were culled.

So there you have it... the first ever Thanksgiving feast, more or less. Remember to give thanks tomorrow... for those who are serving to protect us, and provide us with safety here at home... just remember that there is a lot to be thankful for, even when it seems like there's not.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Art, Art, Let A ....

Army Wife has asked a couple of questions about album art which she'd like your answers to. No, it's not a meme...

1) Most recognizable (by general public) album cover.

Dark Side of the Moon, Pink Floyd

2) Personal favorite album cover.

Hmmm... this one's a toughie, but I can narrow it down to two (at least right now): Piece of Mind, Iron Maiden, or Pleasure to Kill, Kreator.

3) Sexiest Album cover.

Again... two: Lemonade and Brownies, Sugar Ray, and Enema of the State, Blink 182.

4) Top 10 album covers of all time (personal favorites).

In no particular order, because I'm sure there will be plenty more that come to mind, and I'm taking only those that I own:

Wish You Were Here, Pink Floyd
The Truth Hurts, Pro-Pain (this wasn't the original cover... that was removed)
Piece of Mind, Iron Maiden
Hell Awaits, Slayer (there's possible tattoo art to be found)
Pleasure to Kill, Kreator
Lemonade and Brownies, Sugar Ray
Rides Again, James Gang (simplicity)
ElectricLarryland, Butthole Surfers

Ah... I'm going to give up. Those were some of the first that came to mind, but as I'm looking up the links, I'm seeing stuff and thinking "Oh, wait... I like that one a hell of a lot..." There's too many now to sort through...

Head on over, and help her out.

Fer cryin' out loud, at least let her know what you think the most recognizable frickin' cover is...

Where the???

Usually, when I start writing a post, or maybe have a "great" idea for one, I'll open up Wordpad to work it up before transferring my brilliance onto the blog itself. For those great ideas, I usually will paste a url and make a note, or even write just a few words... hoping to kickstart something at a later date. I then save them to my desktop so that they are in plain view, and not forgotten.

Occasionally, they are left there without ever being brought about. They tend to pile up rather quickly around here, so I usually end up cleaning up and deleting all of the posts that I've failed to make work.

I was cleaning them up today, when I noticed one entitled "Cjaps." I thought, "WTF???" I couldn't remember writing that one... so I checked the properties. "Created: Saturday, November 19, 2005, 1:46:22 AM" Oookkaaaaay... that was shortly after I posted about being sick. I decided to check it out, and inside I found a jumbled mess of letters that basically said this:

Heheheh....You know it's been an interesting evening when you make a crack about your friend's mother wearing chaps.... to her. And asking her to bend over in a provacative manner...

"When was this," I asked myself. And then it all came back... damn lazy brain cell.

I'd had a drink or two Friday night, with a friend from out of town... everytime he comes home, we end up sipping many drinks. Anyway, we got to talking about bikes, and riding in weather like this... chaps came up. And I apparently opened my mouth.

Now, those that have met me know that I'm a pretty quiet guy... I usually just listen. Add a bit of alcohol, and I'm still fairly quiet, with the occasionaly outburst of profanities. I'm usually a pretty decent lad through most of it.

However, this is the first time that I've forgotten having a conversation, and knowing some of the things that run through my skull while formulating my witty comments... well, let's just say I was worried. But then I realized, I've spoken with them since then... more than once. And they've been laughing and talking about another appearance by Jeebus. So I'm good to go.

I figure that I was either able to display restraint, and keep my piehole shut, or else I was very flattering.

Start Small

Probably only funny to me, but I just read where Six Flags is being taken over by new owners.

I can't help but wonder if they don't try to take over 179 Flags over New York next. God knows they're for sale.

Mad Skillz, Yo

I had an interview with Employment Services today. I figured that it was going to be an ass chewing, because I hadn't been timely in all that I'm supposed to do. I'm honest... just not timely.

Well, the main thing that they wanted to do, was to set up my skills match on their site. I had only gotten started... it takes a great deal of time to properly fill it out, and so I had never finished it.

On my own, I had less than one hundred marketable skills. After talking with one counsellor, I had about a hundred and fifty. However, being a veteran, he sent me to the veteran's guy.

Holy crap, people... I've got mad skillz. Ain't no lie. By the time we were done, I had over four hundred and sixty skills that I could use. No, not all were work experience related. Most were things that I had done, and could do, but weren't always job related. But all are things that companies will look for... something that people need to keep in mind when filling out skills lists on job locator sites.

Yes, with these skills, I could be a god... or a lightning rod.

Holiday Help

Thought I'd give a repeat of an easy recipe, just in case you are tasked with bringing something to your Thanksgiving dinner, and you haven't a clue. I guarantee that you'll like it... or somebody will.

Cranberry Applesauce

2 cups water

2 cups sugar

2 oranges, peeled (obviously) and cut into small pieces

2 apples, peeled and cored (again, obviously) and cut into small pieces

2 cups fresh cranberries (whole)

Boil water and sugar for about 5 minutes. Mix in oranges and apples. Boil 15 minutes more. Add cranberries. Boil until berries start popping (between 10 and 15 minutes). Mash and store in quart jar, or serve.

Too easy. Again, if drinking, be aware that your reflexes will be slowed and you may get pelted with popping berries. They hurt.

I was going to make this, but instead, I've been tasked with slaving over the stove for something else. I've gotta bring the pop.

A Tip

Are you trying to lose weight on your thighs, but seem to have no success at all? Here's a helpful tip, and it requires very little activity.

When laundering your colored unmentionables, carefully place the leg openings over the agitator. Now deposit t-shirts and jeans on top. Follow the regular directions for laundering.

After the wash, you'll notice that the leg openings are now about 2 1/2 to 3 times larger that usual. As a matter of fact, you could probably put them around your waist, if you are into wearing wet bungies. Don't worry, it won't last once they're dried, being reduced to roughly twice the usual size.

Now, when you wear them, you'll feel the roominess, and trick yourself into thinking you've done a great job at toning up.

Make sure you do this to BOTH legs... especially if you're a guy. Ruining only one leg will make you feel as if you're recovering from elephantitis.

Why especially the guys? Uh... it's a matter of junk and it's positioning. Just sayin'.

Poetry

My cousin sent me this. A man and woman are asked to write a poem expressing what they desire in a mate. Here's the finished product.

FEMALE POEM

I want a man who's handsome, smart and strong
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.

I want him to be gainfully employed,
And when I spend his cash, he not be annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
Massages my back and begs to do more.

Oh! For a man who makes love to my mind,
And knows what to answer to "how big is my behind?"
I want that this man to love me to no end,
And always be my very best friend.

MALE POEM

I want a deaf-mute nymphomaniac with huge boobs,
Who owns a liquor store,
And a bass boat.
I know this doesn't rhyme and I don't give a shit.

An Eye Opening Meme

I'm not sure what I did to Contagion... one night, we're drinking and joking, and the next day, BAM!!!! He slams me with a meme. Perhaps it was something I said.

Anyway, the bastard seems to think I've got tons of time on my hands, which is fitting, because this crap meme is about alarm clocks.

1. Do you use an alarm clock to wake up in the morning?

Yes, it's manufactured by Mother Nature, and is a bright yellow orb.

2. What time do you set it for?

With my current state, I don't set it. I wake up whenever I happen to awaken. However, I usually go back to bed am a flurry of activity once I get up.

3. Do you hit the snooze button? If so how many times?

I think the snooze button is one of the dumbest things ever made. If I would want to sleep for an extra ten minutes, I'd rather it be quality sleep... not the drifting off type where I'm never really sleeping again. If I had ever figured out how to use it, well, maybe my opinion would be different.

4. Have you ever abused an alarm clock?

No, not where they were able to make the charges stick. I walked all four times.

5. It’s time to spread some “It’s Blogcess” linky love.

This just sounds so wrong... "It's Blogstock, man. Give it up!"

Rules of the game:

First: Copy and paste #1 - #5 (Make sure to link to: “It’s Blogcess”, which is the link in #5. Because it’s always polite to link to the one who started the linky love.)

Second: Link to my site (because it’s polite to link to the site that tagged you).

Third: Go and tag up to five other blogs, or more if ya like.

Fourth: Email the owner of, or post on the blogs that you have tagged, to inform them that you’ve tagged them. (I haven't found the post where you notified me, yet, Contagion...)

To paraphrase the Black Knight, "I shall pass this on to none." I have neither the time nor patience needed to travel about posting on others' blogs that they've been tagged, nor to write emails warning of the same. I wish not to be the recipient of fleshwounds or other atrocities. However, should you wish to do this, feel free to pick up the mantle.

A Question

Just curious, no specific reason I'm asking this.

You know how it is when your ingested liquids and solids are forcefully ejected through the same opening that they arrived? Wretching, spasming... sweats and chills... The sense of ridding yourself of a poison, and the enamel on your teeth. Drool or mucus hanging in long lines to the now muddied waters of Lake Shittah.

Does anyone wonder about the possible invasion of germs and bacteria marching up these stringers of slobber?

Yo Quero Spatula

A comment left by Elisson over at Velociworld in response to V-man's post about a pet speedbump reminded me of a friend's brother and his little pooch. In order to protect the innocent, names will be changed... some.

Marck is the picture next to metrosexual's definition. A preppy. He's not a bad kid, but he's trying to find his niche, and it keeps running away from him. With the onslaught of chopper building shows in the last few years, he's convinced that a biker is what he must be. He's now an expert on bikes... just ask him. Hell, he's even got the latest clothes from the major bike manufacturers.

In keeping up with the thought that all bikers need a dog, he and his fiancee decided to get one. They go out, and get one of the fiercest breeds around... a friggin' chihuahua. Yeah, you read it right. I don't know what his thinking was behind it... perhaps he was going to let it ride in his windshield bag of the bike he didn't have yet. It probably would have fit. It's name? Harley, of course.

His parents live along a very busy street, with their property backing up to the country club golf course. There are no fences, but plenty of room for a wannabe dog to run. Unfortunately, Harley had a fascination with the traffic going by on the street out front, and he kept wandering out front to investigate. On one of his exploratory ventures, he decided that he should defend the front yard from the sinister vehicles. Marck happened to see him in time, and went running out the door, yelling for Harley to "Come here!" Without so much a glance back, Harley charged the road, with Marck screaming behind him.

Marck kept yelling and chasing, as Harley kept barking and charging. By now, Harley is just a few feet from the road, with Marck right behind him. Marck yells "Stop, Harley" just as the dog's about to run onto the road. Harley, being a good little pooch, stopped... just in time for Marck to step onto his back, killing him.

Heheh... I know it seems a little cold to laugh about, but I can't help it. It's the picture... a big stocky "biker" bawling over his "dog." The dog that he killed.

I've become attached to animals, and I hate when they are gone... hell, I've even cried. But I would expect people to laugh at me if I kept telling the story, and busting up into tears. I know that if there's a chance you might break down, keep your friggin' piehole shut... don't give anyone reason to laugh.

Perhaps this is one of those stories you needed to be there to witness... but I'm laughing anyway.

What Really Is Meant...

Demistfying Divas and the Gentlemen's Club ask: "What do women/men say and what do they really mean, and why do men grunt instead of speaking?" Interesting, indeed.

I'll be honest and tell you, I just can't figure out what women mean when they speak. Theirs is a very complex language, full of double and triple meanings... and sometimes (I feel) no meaning. Heheh...

There are nuances in everything said, and this is where many will tell you that communication problems start. You really need to pay attention to a woman when she's speaking, and some feel that guys just aren't willing to do that. I'll tell you... most of us do. It's a matter of interpetation, both of how words are enunciated or screamed at you, and their facial expressions as they are talking to you. For instance:

"I'm fine..." usually means "I'm pissed," although it really can mean that she's fine.

"Sure, go right ahead..." means "If you want to piss me off, you just go ahead and do your selfish act." When used like this, it will be along the lines of "Sure, go ahead... I'll be fine." However, it can also actually mean that she's cool with your plans to go hunting or whatever it is you want to do.

"Be honest with me..." This one depends. It's best to be honest in any dealings, and if she asks you for an honest opinion about something other than herself, she means it. HOWEVER, this is the grass mat covering the punji pit if she follows it up by asking about something personal. Don't lie... don't answer. Run the hell away... no matter how you answer, you've already fallen into the trap. You're stuck my friend.

And, through personal experience, "When we're married" does not guarantee a "Yes" response to a proposal. Heheh... it's funny now. Actually it's very funny now... it just wasn't then.

And guys aren't totally free of meaning something other than what's said. Oh sure, for the most part, you can trust us. Trust me. But everynow and then, we'll manipulate a conversation. How? I can't tell you that... it's a trade secret! Ladies, just watch for vague questions, or answers. And grunts don't count as vague answers.

I've thought about the grunting thing, and didn't really know how to explain it. Until watching my 1^1/2 year old nephew the other day. Then it all clicked... grunting is a sign of being comfortable with someone.

Layne was talking, saying a few words like dog, cat, mom, dad, and some others. But now, as he's gotten older, he's turned caveman. Mostly grunts and leading folks about by the finger. My cousin's kid did the same thing, only that kid was just a talking machine. He was carrying on conversations at just over a year old, and then, one day, he reverted to grunts. The thing is, everyone knows exactly what they're grunting and pointing about. They no longer feel the need to expend the energy needed for thought and actual speech when a simple grunt will do. (Now I know that people may go off about how to raise a kid so that they don't do this... don't bother. I have not a hatchling, but I do know what not to do. It's just a simple observation and answer to a simple question.)

I think perhaps men do the same thing... as they become comfortable in a relationship, they feel that their partner will know exactly what each grunt and point is supposed to mean. Ladies, don't be put off by this behaviour... it's one of the ultimate compliments. And while you may think that it makes a man sound unintelligent, remember; in these energy conscious times, we are conserving energy. Okay, I realize that it's a little lame... if there ever were to be a machine powered by talking, it most likely wouldn't be fueled by men.

:)

For the Divas' views, check out Sadie, Silk, Kathy, Phoenix, Arielle, and their guest, Ms. Vile.

For the Gents digging holes for themselves, visit da fish, Jamesyboy, Naked Villainy, and Stigmata.

I'll post links as they come about.

Behind In Everything

I'm running behind. I've been rather busy the last couple of weeks, and I've gotten so far behind in returning e-mails, reading blogs, and writing on my own. This kinda sucks.

While I'm off running my errands, and doing my tasks, I've got plenty of time to think... blogfodder shortage doesn't exist. Rather, I've got so much running through the hollow hallowed halls of my mind, that once I sit down at the end of the day, and try to type... nothing. It's all just a jumbled pile of thoughts, with a few pieces of intellectual corn and peanuts exposed.

Gotta try to get a post done for the Gentlemens and las Divas... shouldn't be too much of a problem. Unless I think.

Also trying to finish up a short story that I wanted to have done before deer hunting season starts on Saturday. Well, starts where I used to go hunting... haven't been able to go now for a few years. I'm jonesin'.

If you don't hear from me, all's well. Better get to it...

Late

She's late...

Normally, a day or two isn't anything to get worried about. But when you start getting into weeks, and months, that's not a good thing. It's downright scary. It affects your plans, both long and short term. Uncertainties reign supreme.

Awakening to a powdersugar dusting of snow this morning, I realized there's nothing to worry about. I found it funny that on the day of our first bit of snow, my heater kicked on for the first time. (No, I won't tell you what it was set at... you'll think me crazy.)

Yep, Winter is here...

Language And Other Bullshit

Imbibing of spirits gives rise to pause... sometimes one thinks about serious things, and other times, what is considered serious at the time, is but a farce. Screw it...

Have you ever sat back and thought about language. Not just words, and their pronunciations, but how are their sounds and spellings determined? Where the hell do they come from? Why does a certain letter, or shape, have to be this special sound?

Seriously, language is an intriguing thing... don't ask me why right now, I'm a bit on the plowed side. But you know, all of you bastards have thought at one time or another about our language's roots. Where did this hogwash come from, and why do these letters represent these frickin' sounds?

Look back into history... we've got Sequoyah developing a written language for the Cherokee Nation. How did he determine what sounds were represented by what symbols? His written language was based on syllables... there were 80 something symbols representing each sound.

Our language? Well, hell... it's been in the works for a hell of a long time. Who devised it? You don't know... no one knows. It just is. Pretty piss poor when you think about it... "It is, because it is."

Look at our words, and their spellings. Why the hell does an "f" have to have a "fffffff" sound? I can understand an "S" having it's distinct sound... it does look like a frickin' snake, and ye olde "SSSSSS" seems to fit well. But why does an "F" have to sound like "ffffffffff?"

We take letters and just fling and flip them around, and suddenly, they are words... shit, look at what I just wrote. "Flip" Why's that a word? Who determined that it's actually a word? "Flip" those letters around, and they become another word... "pilf". Heheheh... Pilf... something that a "Pilfer" is likely to do.

And what exactly is a "pilfer?" Well, in many cases, it's taken to make one feel better...

Bid For Fame

Matt, at Overtaken by Events has asked us this question:"What Would You Give for Your Very Own Day by Day?"

He is running an auction to support Project Valour IT, and has gotten Chris Muir, of Day By Day to agree to create a customized and autographed Day By Day panel for the highest bidder.

While Matt is on the Doggies' team, he will allow the winner to designate which team will receive credit for the donation. Bidding ends at noon CST, on Friday, Nov. 11.

Go bid, and good luck.

Valour IT, Day9

Listen up, all of you who plan to give to Valour IT today; Today is the Birthday of The Marine Corps (see the post below). May I recommend that all donations you planned to give today, be given on the Marines' Team's behalf? You know you want to... you know you should. Especially if you're an admirer of Marines. No matter what team you may be hyping up.

As of this moment, the Mollusks are edging the Doggies... both have reached their $21,000 goal. The Good Guys are in third moving in for the kill, with the Zoomies trailing.

While you know that the Marines are the only team you should consider giving on behalf of, should you be feeling foolish, you can go here to choose your team, see their status, and see who is on each team.

No matter who wins this contest, those who will win the most are the recipients of your gifts. Tomorrow, Veterans' Day, is the final day of the contest... let's make these next two days something to remember!

Update:From Gunn Nutt:

To celebrate the 230th anniversary of the Birth of the Corps, I will match all contributions made to the Marine Team on November 10th up to a total of $2,500. That's right, I'm puttin' my money where my big mouth is and committing to kicking in some major bling to make sure the Marines beat those other "support" services.

Nov. 10, 1775

230 years ago today, November 10, 1775, The Second Continental Congress resolved,

"That two battalions of Marines be raised consisting of one Colonel, two Lieutenant-Colonels, two Majors, and other officers, as usual in other regiments; that they consist of an equal number of Privates with other battalions; that particular care be taken that no persons be appointed to offices, or enlisted into said battalions, but such as are good seamen, or so acquainted with maritime affairs as to be able to serve by sea when required; that they be enlisted and commissioned to serve for and during the present war with Great Britain and the Colonies, unless dismissed by order of Congress; that they be distinguished by the names of the First and Second Battalion of Marines."

I raise a beer to, and with, my fellow Marines, and to Major Samuel Nicholas, the first Commandant of the Corps, who began his recruiting in a tavern... Tun Tavern. Yes, we were born in a bar. And before you leave, let another drink be tipped: Happy Birthday, Chesty, wherever you are!

Stop by and wish these fellow Marines a Happy Birthday, as well:

The Adventures of Chester
Akinoluna
Bloodletting
Coalition of the Swilling
Daisy Cutter
Daniel, USMC
The Evangelical Outpost
Flight Pundit
From the Halls To the Shores
Grim's Hall
Grendel's Dragon
The Gun Line
Howdy's Blog
Hurl's Blog
In The Middle of America
Joshua Seevers
Ogre's Politics and Views
One Marine's View
Ramblings of an Ordinary
Random Firings of Neurons
Right Equals Might
Scottish Tanker Hooligans
Social Sense
Stacking Swivel
Straight White Guy
Team Med-Fah
Telebush
The Word Unheard

I realize that I've missed some, forgive me. If you know of any others out there, please let me know in the comments...

Notre Dame Info

I went to Notre Dame this weekend, and I thought I'd share a couple of quick observations with you.

When Tammi tells you that she likes to talk, it ain't a lie. But for her first ND game, she underwent a strange transformation... think Rain Man... "yeah, happy... definitely happy. Christmas and birthdays... yeah." "I'm so happy..." "Formigable game... yeah, definitely football." "I just need to feed him." Put the occasional three minute pause in there, and you've got her conversation for the day. Now that was a treat...

ND fans don't seem to like it when you take pics like this:

Yes, Virginia, that was a UT touchdown, and yes, he was really that wide open. Heheh...

Trying to take pictures of ND cheerleaders makes your camera batteries go dead... and it sure as hell ain't because they're bad looking. Two words. Hot... and Spankies. mmmMMMMmmmm

Once we finally got to our seats, the only scoring done by ND was a nice 78 yd punt return by Zbikowski... all else was done by UT. Using the excuse of "rain," Tammi made me leave, so that I wouldn't "get sicker." Unhindered by my opposition, TD Jesus propelled ND to a victory. Yeah... fourth quarter was just after we left. Go figure...

South Bend has an ungodly amount of Catholics running about. Yes, I know that their denomination isn't based on a catheter fetish... now. They just creep me out... especially with that mural of Touchdown Jesus.... (shudder)

However, with great numbers of Catholics, comes large numbers of Catholic School Girls... a fact not unnoticed by an eye such as mine. It more than balances out.

All in all, a very pleasant experience.

Valour IT, Day7

An update on Project Valour IT.

At the time of this post, the Doggies have overtaken the Flounders, with the Marines maintaining pace in third place. It appears that the Zoomies have had their wings clipped, though perhaps they'll pull something together. You can't count anyone out.

This thing is going along very well... it's getting so big, that the Marine team leader, Holly Aho, had her site get shut down for fear of crashing her webhost's server! She should be back online soon...

Meantime, you can donate right here, or on other Marine team bloggers' sites.

Should you choose to mistakenly donate on behalf of another team, you can also donate here.

Music Memory

I was up at my ma's today, helping to move boxes of small stuff again... I don't think we've really made a dent in all she's got. But everything is going well. I'll be up there for most of the week, so my visits to you folks may be a little limited, as well as my posts. But, as Army Wife says, "It's a good thing." Less suffering for y'all.

Anyway, moving junk around got me thinking about my dad's old stuff. No, none of what was moved today was his, but nonetheless, my thoughts were about him. He used to have a few harmonicas... different keys they were. He also had an old Jew's harp... not sure exactly where that is, but it's around. (If you don't know what a Jew's harp is, here's a sketch.) That harp was a blast... tones are made by shaping your mouth. Many a time did we have a nice rattle as accompaniment to our strumming, as the metal tongue smacked into our teeth.

I spent most of my time thinking about Pa playing for us... it wasn't something that happened often, but we all enjoyed it when he did. For all I know, he could have sucked, but when he was playing, there wasn't ever any one who did it better. Never. After he was finished, we couldn't wait for the next time. In between, I'd hear shortened versions of "Old Dan Tucker," and this, (which I can't find any info about):

There was a wise guy, from the city
And he picked up a striped ole kitty,
He's a movin' on,
He'll soon be gone.
He held his nose while he buried his clothes,
He's a movin' on.

There was more, but I can't remember much other than there was a train involved.

So I was kinda lost in my thoughts all day, smiling to myself when I wasn't visiting with Ma. As I headed home, I took the backroads through the area by the old farm. It was dark and peaceful... hardly any other traffic on the road. I was jamming on a cd that I had just opened today, and as I drove, a dirty slide guitar started wailing, playin' some rockin' blues. I could feel the grin on my face widen, as the music went on. Just as I started wishing for a harmonica, one started in with a short solo... I laughed. I was grinning, laughing, and had tears forming in my eyes from the laughter. Once the song ended, the mood was gone... so I hit repeat. And it started all over again...

At first, I felt a little stupid laughing to myself, and having such a great time with no one else around. But I wasn't alone. I looked above at the Cheshirean moon, and knew that somewhere out there, Pa was jamming right along with me.

Moron

I missed last week's Moron, who happened to be Cindy Sheehan, because of Post Blog Meet Depression. I'm making double sure to post it this week.

Samantha Burns has posted this weeks Moron of the Week. Head on over, and give it your best guess.

Samantha Burns has posted this weeks Moron of the Week. Head on over, and give it your best guess.

Valour IT, Day 6

Still, the Cephalopods are leading the Doggies, who are staying right on their wake. The Marines are a few grand back, but I'm thinking Thursday is going to be our big day. The Wing Nuts? They're coming along, but slowly. I'd ask you to help them out, but I can't justify getting them help while Navy still leads.

This link will take you to a page where you can choose your team, and donate. No matter who you donate on behalf of (Marines), you'll be helping out those from all services. Go and give... Marines.

Hangin' Out With Ma

Despite being sick Friday, I still made it up to my ma's place to give her a hand. Yes, it's November, and that means it's time to move again. However, this is the last move she intends to make... she's back up with my brother's and sister, and nephews and nieces. Next Saturday is the day to move all of the heavy stuff. In the meantime, we'll be taking all of the smaller items, and getting them situated. That's what I was there for on Friday eve... unfortunately, I felt like butt, so we only managed to move one load.

After we got everything unloaded, she insisted on taking me to get a bite to eat. Though I wasn't really hungry, I knew I could do with some food, so we went to a Fazoli's.

This place has some kickass breadsticks... I've heard that before, but never been to one of these restaurants until Friday. After trying them, I have to agree. But these breadsticks also caused me a bit of embarassment.

My mother and I were getting our drinks at the dispensers, and I happened to look up just in time to see a woman taking a bite of a breadstick. I mean, this was a big, deep bite. She had over half of the thing slowly going into her mouth... I'll admit it. It was a bit of a turn on. But I was waiting on the gag reflex... it was that far in. Not thinking about who I was with, I started chuckling to myself as I turned to make a comment about folks deepthroating breadsticks. Thank Gott that I realized my mistake before I actually made it. I probably would have been slapped upside the melon in front of everyone, had I said that.

Well, I turned a bit red (I could feel it) as my mom asked what was so funny. Of course, I just told her that I had thought of a stupid joke, but it was too stupid to let her in on. Meanwhile, I had looked back at the other woman, and she caught me chuckling at her, embarassing me further. I don't know why... I wasn't the one aspirating breadsticks!

We moved back to our table, where I viciously cut my breadsticks into small pieces, and managed to only eat about 1/4 of my lasagna. I just wasn't feeling up to eating. So my mom hooks me up by telling the manager (who had come around asking if our meals were alright) that I wasn't feeling very well, and I would need a box to take home what I couldn't eat. She made sure that he could understand her... as did most of the restaurant. Heheheh...

Moms... the natural ego checks.

Virus via Computer

Stop! Before you come any further, take one of these biohazard suits... Okay, now put it on. Yeah, it won't help if you're just standing there holding it.

So anyway, I wake up this morning, and I feel wrecked. My cranium feels lopsided, throat hurts like I had gargled glass, and my body feels as if it's been "runned over by a damned ol' train." I can't breathe, and I can't focus, but I find out that's just because I'm shaking so bad... whenever the shivers leave, all's cool.

"That's one hell of a hangover" I can hear you saying. If it actually were the reward from a long night of libations, it would be one for the record books. Unfortunately, it can't be. I had only a couple of beers last night... I stopped drinking because I didn't feel well. I fear that I have... caught ill. And I'm blaming this guy for spreading a virus.

I was over at Phin's the other day, and was reading his post on sick blogging. There were no words of warning... I thought he was just venting about how women always seem to question men's toughness when battling illness. No. I made it halfway through the post before I realized that he was sicker than a leper cur with the hydrophobe. I tried to make my exit, but I already felt the beginnings of a slow death. The Reaper and I are having a staredown as I type this.

Before I resume my death throes, I have a couple of requests: play nice as you divide all the loot from my place. You're all big kids... no need to be hogs.

And should you ever catch death, and decide to post about it, please, PLEASE, warn others and give them the opportunity to protect themselves. (Oops, that reminds me, here's a roll of duct tape to patch the holes in the suits... I gott'em kinda cheap.)

See ya on the other side!

Valour IT, Day 3

At the time of this posting, the Navy is leading... (what's that crap?)... followed by Army, Marines, and Air Force.

Obviously people are confused... MARINES, people. MARINES is the group you're supposed to donate to... heheh.

Going Out With A Bang

Scientist have discovered that, yes, prehistoric life actually did have sex. And now, they have proof. Weird...

65 million years? Now that's a serious "embrace."

Somebody

When I first started this blog, I wasn't totally sure where I would go with it. I knew that I might occasionally rant, but I didn't want it to be just ranting. I wanted it to have an atmosphere... I wanted it to be a respite from things frustrating. A place to laugh and visit. As I told Phin when he was designing this new blog, "Think pub." Of course, he did a kick ass job... he took that and ran with it.

Those of you who know and have met me, probably have noticed that after a few toddies, my language gets kicked up a notch. The irreverence begins to show. People are afraid to stand too close to me, fearing the inevitable lightning bolt. I try to steer clear of that on this blog... it doesn't always work, but I try. I'd like to keep the place safe for the workplace, so I'm mindful of the language.

So imagine my suprise when I learned that my site has been banned from a fellow blogger's workplace. My blog! All the work at making this safe for folks to visit, and I've been banned! Just for being myself! I was in total shock, as the tears began to flow.

Oh, no, dear reader, they aren't tears of sorrow. No. These are tears of joy. You see, I've made it... I matter, albeit in a negative way. But still... I. Have. Arrived!!!

A Favor

Do you know of any Marines, or former Marines, that are blogging?

I know of quite a few, but this is an easy way of finding out. Please leave their, or your, url in the comments...

Valour IT

From the Project Valour IT site:

Project Valour-IT, in memory of SFC William V. Ziegenfuss, provides voice-controlled software and laptop computers to wounded Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines recovering from hand and arm injuries or amputations at major military medical centers. Operating laptops by speaking into a microphone, our wounded heroes are able to send and receive messages from friends and loved ones, surf the 'Net, and communicate with buddies still in the field without having to press a key or move a mouse. The experience of CPT Charles "Chuck" Ziegenfuss, a partner in the project who suffered hand wounds while serving in Iraq, illustrates how important this voice-controlled software can be to a wounded servicemember's recovery.

The teams are as follows:

The Doggies (Army) are led by Mr. Matty O'Blackfive

The Squids (Navy) are led by Mrs. Smash

The Zoomies (Air Force) are led by Mrs. Greyhawk

Last, and certainly not the least, the Jarheads (Marines) are led by Holly Aho

Choose your team, and donate... to the Marines' team. Heheheh...

To find out more about Valour IT, check out their site.

B/P Sitrep

Okay, I realize that I'm probably opening myself up to an ass chewing or two, but with all of the concern about "The Nosebleed", I figure I owe it to you folks to let you know what's up.

Yes, Virginia, I do have high blood pressure. Normally, it's not too bad, but at times it gets ridiculous.

Yes, I'm supposed to be on meds. Do I take them? Not regularly.

I do have a theory about what set the bleeding off... not sure how correct it is, but it clicked with me Sunday morning when I was pondering the drive home.

As some of you know, we drove through the night to get down to Tennessee. My half of the drive was the early morning hours, and since I don't sleep very regular, I picked up an energy drink to help keep me awake. I know that they can make me blotch up, and get dizzy. I'm assuming that your B/P goes up when you consume this garbage. Not alot of time had passed between drinking that, and trying to crash out to get a couple hours of sleep before partying. While I was sleeping, the blood started seeping.

A couple of hours before I finally got scared and went to the hospital, someone gave me a tablet of the exact same prescription that I'm supposed to be on. I'm of the mind that it helped to stop the bleeding once I got to the hospital. I don't know... I could just be full of crap.

Anyway, now you folks know the deal.