Moron

Sorry it's a day late, but Sam's got this week's edition of Moron up.

Check it out, yo.

Doll Swap

Last night was Taco Night at Fritz's. It's also Crappy TV night. I know Bou, Caltechgirl, Denny, Teresa... hell, probably most everyone... all watch "24". Looks like a cool show, but I think I'll wait until someone lends me the whole season to watch it.

What little bit of television I do watch, is all caught at Fritz's. Around suppertime, we all watch and play along to "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire". Mmmmeredith.... Then it's usually just bouncing around until we find a good movie or something.

Taco Night used to bring "Fear Factor"... a stupid show, but great TV for the bar. Between the folks chomping on offal, and the running commentary from those sitting at the bar, it was a blast. Unfortunately, the show is no longer on Monday. Now we've been stuck with "Wife Swap". Now there's a show for ya... *rolling eyes*

It's such a bunch of crap, I can't really understand why it's made it so frickin' big. Two totally different families swap wives/mothers and then deal with the baggage each brings to their new home. For one week, the woman has to go by the rules set forth by the woman of the house. After that, she's free to unleash her ideas and rules. People end up pissing each other off, but in the end, everything turns up roses. Maybe not everytime, but when I've seen it, it always works out...

Last night we proposed some ideas that might make for some interesting shows. Made for plenty o laughs. Rich woman/homeless woman swap, and such. Then I wondered if they've ever had someone swap their wife for a blow up doll (hey... some weirdo may actually "marry" one someday). That led to a very entertaining discussion. But rather than discuss what all we came up with, I'll leave it to you...

What do you think would be the benefits/setbacks in such a swap?

Vouching

Huh... seems that there actually are a few people interested in joining Harvey's clan of crazies. Never would have thought it... hell, I just joined so that Harv's feelings wouldn't be hurt. I'm sensitive that way, I guess.

One of the circus stunts involved in joining is to have a Bad Example Family member vouch for you. I know a couple folks who'd like a hand, so I'll endorse them. But I've gotta warn them, in this clan, an endorsement from me is like hanging a sign that reads "Run Away" about your neck.

Richmond is all about the fun in calling in sick for everyone. Interesting... having met her, seeing that she enjoys Amber Bock, and visiting with this fine woman, I deem her acceptable for consumption. Or consideration. Whatever's first.

And then there's 'Neck... This one's so damn easy, it ain't funny. He do drink the Bud, but that's still cool by me. Because when he's carrying them around, it's always two at a time. The man is prepared...

If you're wanting to join, and want a glowing voucherization, send me an e-mail and $50... I'll ruin it for you.

****

Let's add an Ogre to the list. He's a Marine, he likes beer (well, who doesn't), and he dodges stupid memes with the greatest of ease. I deem him vouchified...

And Pamibe, too, for without her and her banners and logos, the Bad Example Family members' blogs would be rather bland. Looking. The content is our own damn fault...

I Want to Join the Bad Example Clan Because..

Okay, that crap's outta the way. Just wanted to let you folks know, finally got my good speakers hooked up to my computer. Holy. Mother. Of Gott!

They don't look like much, but those bastards boom! I'm off to throw the new Korn or Soulfly in the Media player, and shake the house down!

Clan Bad Example

Do you like to join groups and clubs in an effort to fit it? Do you feel like a loser? Tired of feeling alone?

Well, you're in luck. The Biggest Loser ever is looking for you to join his ranks! Yes, Harvey, of Bad Example has come up with another approach to taking over the whole blogosphere... inviting you to join the Klan Clan. Yes! You can be a part of his nonsensical clan, too. Does that mean I'm going to join it? Well, yeah. Despite the harsh words, I still like can tolerate the bast... errr... old man.

Go on over to read the details. And welcome... loser.

Riding Into The Sunset

This ain't T1G. It's a guest post.

Me and my partner been working for the same guy now for nigh onto 10 years. While we spent 'bout the first six years employed full time, he's kept us on as "part time" help. Heheh... ends up we still get most of the work. Ol' boss knows who he can count on in a pinch!

Truth is, I'm not sure as he could ever bring himself to let us go. He's brought in replacements, but we've outlasted them, while assumin' most of their duties. Plus, I think he's kinda soft on us. I ain't talkin' no Brokeback shit. We've all just gone through a hell of alot together.

We've been through 45 of the lower 48 states and 4 countries, walked through marsh and explored mountains. We've been on Pacific, Altantic, North Sea, and Gulf shores. Ridden through blast furnace desert, and hiked the Yorkshire moors. Heh... that ryhmed. Who'da thought I could do that.

We've had a pretty rough life, Lefty and me. Working in all kinds of weather. Snow, rain, hail, nearly unbearable heat... Pushing cattle, building, machining... we've done some pretty hard labor, and we both have the scars to show. I've got a nice burn scar from when the Boss was tryin to learn to weld. The man ain't very good with a welder...

It ain't all been rough, though. Boss has taken us with him to places all over. When he goes on vacation, we're usually brought along. When he goes drinking, we're usually right there with him. Concerts? Same thing, though it's pretty obvious that we don't really fit in at some of the shows he goes to... honky tonk lookin' folks we are. We've waded through our share of mud, vomit, and beer. Been in a bunch of scuffles, but never actually been in a fight, thanks to Boss looking out for trouble. Been a fun ride, but it's coming to an end.

This long life has taken it's toll on both of us. We ain't what we used to be back in the day. Boss has mentioned that it's time for us to retire, or be retired. It's hurtin' both us, and him. Maybe him most of all. We've developed such a deep bond that he can't imagine just hanging out every now and then. Hell... I can't. But maybe it's best...

A couple of years back, Lefty got a cut in his side. Weren't no big deal at the time. But it's never closed up, and in the past year, it's gotten a hell of alot bigger. Me not willing to work with another partner, and Boss being unwillin' to try and force me, we took some time off, and Lefty got himself checked out. I decided to do the same since we don't take much time off, and who knew the next time we'd do it again. Unfortunately, it's going to be rather often...

Now, let me say right here... Boss has been good to us. He's been happy to pick up the bills when we've needed care and surgeries. He's good that way to all of his employees. The man don't skimp none. Ain't his way. If you're loyal to him, he's loyal to you. The way it oughta be. That's why he's in such pain now.

See, after the last visit to the doc, the news is that there ain't much to do to help any either of us. Doc told Boss that it's time to remove us from service... we can't really handle much more. I feel fine, but I've always been a bit unawares. Seems I've got a major problem with my backside... I just chose to ignore the symptoms. Anyway, Doc stitched Lefty up, and we both got patched for the last time. Any further surgery is going to be a waste of funds and time, only giving the false sense that more time got bought. It ain't happening.

Boss has made it clear that we are going to be missed when it comes to work, and anytime he goes riding, we are to drop everything and go with him. I'm lookin' forward to it. I mean, it ain't like we're gonna be doing much more than biding our time, anyway. If you're reading this Bossman, we're both looking forward to hitting the road with ya.

This is kinda rough, just waiting for the end.

Here's a couple pictures of Lefty and me, back in better times. We was a bit tipsy at the time... couldn't get Boss to get in the photergraph with us. Heheh... big chicken. Click on them to make'm huge.

They're big files...

Yeah, we ain't purty like Eric's shoes, but there ain't much better than a good pair of boots...

Heavy Duty Cleaning

An update from my cousin tells me of the improved cleaning powers of Tide... well, update for me. Probably a warning for folks like Contagion, Harvey, and TNT.

Lost Cause

Phin and the Llamas are fighting over the loverly Mélissa Theuriau, who's proof that not all things French are bad. Poor deluded fools...

History makes it clear who will win her heart, as does she.

"Ah, the cute little goldphishy, and the handsome llamas... they are fine boys. But T1G... aaahh.... a man of German descent. I lay down and surrender!"

Unfortunately, I've currently lost Jennifer to my buddy Vince, so I just can't refuse. Sorry gentlemen...

Caring

Well, I'm off. Figured I'd leave ya with something that kinda fits my state right now... btw, it's not exactly safe for work, or fitting for little ears.

Guess what kinda mood I'm in...

Talk

I wish I knew exactly what is going on... it's been a funky week. And so far, the only thing gained by watching stupid movies (which are the best) and blasting the tunes is a noticable increase in my tinnitus. Can't really expect it, but maybe it'll be different today. Today is going to be an errand running day...

Going first to drop off a couple of dear friends for some reconstructive surgery, then it's off to the other side of town to pick up some more tinnitus feed... Static X brand, Korn supplements, and perhaps whatever frickin' brand looks appealling... I'm always in the market for new chow. Then maybe a trip to Gander Mountain so I can better converse with my new friends...

The other night, coming home late, I heard a couple of owls chatting back and forth. I stood listening for awhile, then brushed the snow and ice off the edge of my patio, took a seat, and joined in the conversation, cupping my hands and calling back. 'Twas an interesting talk, and I learned a few things, the least of which is that your ass will lose all feeling when sitting on ice cold concrete for 40 minutes...

You know, thinking about it now, screw the trip to the Mountain. Using a reed or plastic "call" to chat it up with them just seems dishonest.

T1G, out.

Blocked

I can't make any words...

Distractions

I'm still feeling crushed like yesterday, and yes, Ogre, I've crawled out from under the dresser. I don't really feel like posting anything that requires thought (not like I ever post anything like that, anyway), so I'm not going to. I probably won't read my usual reads, either. I think I'm going to distract myself from the war in my skull in other ways.

Never underestimate the aescupalian powers of listening to the Melvins, or Down, cranked up to 11, or the therapeutic qualities of a Leslie Nielsen movie...

I Light Up Your Life

Because I'm not really in the mood to think, I stole this from Eric, Samba King.

Now you know why I "joke" about the Earth revolving around me. I thought this fairly accurate, although if you try to lace me from the inside to the outside, there's going to be a bit of a struggle.

Crushed

Ever woke up with a feeling of being totally overwhelmed? Head pounding (not from a hangover), eyes burning, body ill... and it's because you've been thinking too much, not actually being sick. You don't know exactly what's going on, or what needs to happen...

My head's a jumbled up mess...

Jaurgonna Lose, Buffalo

What the hell are the Buffalo Bills thinking? They've gone and decided that a 5-11 season is just too damn good, so they've hired Dick Jauron as the replacement to Mike Mularkey, who recently resigned.

Jauron is a pretty good defensive coordinator, but Gott and Chicago know that he sucks as a head coach. He was 35 - 46 in five years with the Bears. Buffalo has gone 31 - 49 in the past five years. Maybe it is an improvement...

Either way, good luck to you poor Bill's fans.

I's Fickle

I've discovered that I really am a fickle bastard. Never thought it would be, but it is.

You know that I was house-sitting for Ma this weekend. What I didn't mention was the fact that I not only was sitting house, but cats. Yes, you read that right. CATS.
"But you hate cats!"
No, I just can't stand them. Actually, should there be no more small cats upon the face of this earth, I would not weep. Not a tear. Well, if a certain two were gone, I might be a bit shook up...

My mother has two Rag doll cats. These cats think they are dogs... they were following me all over the place, just hanging out with me. She's had the oldest one for awhile now, and he's always been pretty cool, but she's got a "kitten" (this thing is bigger than most full grown cats) that's only a few months old, and was a riot. I've gotta admit... I really like that cat. Hell, I like them both.

After spending a couple of days with them being my buddies, I started to rethink this "I hate cats" view of mine. Perhaps they really ain't that bad, and I've been misguided, being a dog person and all. I found myself seeing cats in commercials and thinking, "Wow... that really is a pretty cat. The colorings are awesome!" I about made myself sick... That came to an end last night.

When I got home last night, I realized I was being duped. As I pulled up to the garage, I could smell the cat piss from the feral f*%ckers that run in our neighbourhood. That's with the windows UP, and still outside of the garage!!! When I got the car parked, and got out, my eyes were watering from the ammonia stench. Any good that my visit with those two cats had built up was gone in that moment.

I still like those two cats, and a fairly cool cat named Fred... maybe one or two more. But let me make it clear to you; the only cat blogging that's going to be done here is bitching about the worthless critters. And the only cat pics you will ever see will be of amusing roadkills...

'Course, that could change.

Moron

This week's "Moron of the Week" is up over at Sam's place. I'm again clueless, but that doesn't mean you can't guess.

Head on over, take a look, and give it your best guess. If you're right, you'll be famous. Seriously.

Behind The Times

When I say I don't watch much TV, it ain't a lie. I used to watch a few programs, but I have hardly watched anything outside of football games, and a few baseball games. One of the things I used to enjoy watching a few years ago was supercross. But once I moved, I didn't bother with cable, so no more races did I see.

When the hell did they move them to CBS? I could have been watching! I watched at my mother's place this morning, thinking that I was watching ESPN 2, when I finally noticed the CBS eye staring back at me.

Anyway, it pumped me up. It was great seeing the races again, and if all goes well, hopefully I'll be able to catch one of them. Soon. There is a very good chance that I will be going to Bike Week in Daytona, and if so, I hope to catch that race. It'd be so sweet....

Stephen Harper=Bad

I saw this the other day, and it busted me up. It's a parody of the smear campaigns we all see come election time. If you've got a good connection, watch them all... there are thirteen ads, total. Even if you don't have sound, they're funny as hell.

Sounds a hell of a lot like Glennnnn Reynolds, after the Alliance gets done with him...

Hat tip to Wonder Woman, at North American Patriot!

Should I Make Myself Sick?

Awww crap... I just found my mom's dark chocolate stash. Dark chocolate M&M's, Hershey's Special Dark... lots of it. I'm in hell.

Oh no, it's not that I don't like dark chocolate. I love the stuff. My hell comes from trying to decide if I should rid her of the chocolate, potentially saving her life, or leave it alone and possibly endanger her. See, she's diabetic. Mildly. And she doesn't hardly ever touch the stuff. But then again, she shouldn't be subject to the temptation... it just wouldn't be right.

I think I'll mull it over while chomping on another handful of M&M's...

Target Practice

Earlier, this post over at blog-sis Bou's busted me up, and led to me posting a story just For Bou. I said I was going to tell some more stories, but I've been forgetful...

Yesterday, I got an e-mail that reminded me of one of the stories I was going to tell...

Long, long ago, it was the "in" to make darts out of pins or needles. You'd take the eraser off of a pencil, shove the pin through, and make fins out of scotch tape. I'm sure almost everyone's done it, but now you know if you didn't before.

Anyway, I was a journeyman dart maker... there were darts all over our house. I was constantly improving the design of my darts, and my brothers and I were throwing them at anything and everything... we ended up perforating a family portrait because it was funny at the time to see a dart stickin' out of your sibling's head. Didn't take long, and just hitting a picture was no longer acceptable.

I had made up another batch of my world renowned darts, and was in need of testing them. The Perfect One and I convinced R (my youngest brother) to be the test subject. Much like Bones, Bou's youngest, R was all for it. So we ended up drawing up a bullseye on notebook paper, and having R hold it against his ass. Heheheh... the screaming damn near got all of us in trouble! But at least he wasn't the test subject for the darts I made out of straightened fish hooks... that was ugly.

Hey, at least we didn't play any games like the one found in the extended entry...

Thanks to Tammi for the pic...

This Evening's Soundtrack

I'm sitting here at my mother's place, housesitting, and it's quiet. Quiet for living in town. Looking out the office window, I'm watching the snow fall slowly to the ground. It's beautiful... snow, woods, sky softly lit. Yeah, woods. You'd never know that within a half mile, there's a Wally world, a couple of plazas, and multiple restaurants...

I'd been jamming on one of my favorite cds, and got hung up on a certain track. A quiet instrumental that seems to fit this evening just perfectly.

What Type Of Drunk Are You?

Get Your Drunk Personality at LiquidGeneration.com!

Anybody who knows me, knows that this is a bunch of bull. I hate liars. When I first read this, I punched a hole in the wall, I was so upset. I've calmed down now, and I'd like to take whoever wrote that quiz out drinking.

And then pummel the lyin' bastard...

On Dodging Memes...

A meme skillfully deflected is a thing of beauty. Sheer beauty.

Ogre the Mighty walks unscathed...

Beer

Because I've heard that beer is good... and it's stuck in my head.

BEER IS GOOD!!!

I've had enough? NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

Accents On Business

I enjoy being able to visit with folks from different parts of the world. We're all a bit different... not everyone is as normal as I am. Views, cultures, chow... all vary, and all can be interesting. I really enjoy talking with old timers, and hearing how things were. That was probably my favorite part of my trip to England... not just hitting the pubs, but visiting with the older locals. You can learn alot if you keep your trap shut and let them talk.

While I enjoy hearing the different accents while I'm visiting, I can't deal with them when I'm doing business. It just drives me nuts.

The Sunday of Fritz Fest, I am rousted from a sound sleep by the ringing of the phone. Worried that it may be one of the bloggers who were planning on being there, I about broke my neck running for the phone. Not a blogger, but a nice gentleman who was able to make my two syllable last name sound something like: Dizheminary. Five syllables. Not a good start, not to mention my rage at being awakened early on a Sunday morning. Hey... 8:00 is early for me.

I was finally able to make out who he worked for, a credit card company, and my irritation grew as he kept trying to tell me what it was he needed. I don't hear the best to begin with, but when it sounds like you're chompin' on a shit sandwhich, I can't make out a damn thing. It wasn't long, and I was cutting him of yelling, "WHAT?" "WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY?" "WHAT?" Shortly after, he was yelling in exasperation. Heheheh... We eventually got everything straightened out, but I was pissed for quite awhile.

Why bring this up, now? I swear the same sonofamotherlessgoat just tried to call me again...

Must... Find...

Before hitting the hay last night, I read a bit of "With The Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa". Reading some of E. B. Sledge's stories from boot camp sparked ideas for a few posts, but they will probably be written further down the line.

I slept a very restless sleep, constantly kicking at the covers and waking up. I was having dreams that bordered on nightmares, but besides knowing that some bad shit was about to go down, the only thing I actually remember is that in each dream I was trying to find a certain item. It seemed to be very vital that I locate it... I awoke with the name of the item firmly stuck in my grey matter.

First thing I did when I got on the computer was to check and see if such a person existed, first, and then to find the item I had spent all evening searching for, through my dreamscapes.

Wouldn't you know it... the person actually existed, though I'm not sure that I've ever heard of him. And get this... he was a Navy physician stationed with the Marines during World War II. He hasn't been mentioned in the book I'm reading, at least not yet, but that would stand to reason... he was with the 3rd Marine Division, while the author was with 1st MarDiv. Still... I found it kinda cool that I'd dream of an actual person from the same era as what I had just been reading.

The item I was looking for doesn't seem to exist, however. I did some searching, though not exactly extensive searching. I really wish I could remember why it was so damn important that I find a bottle of Harry Mustard's Mustache Oil...

It must have been pretty potent stuff.

May The Fours Be With You

I love her, but Sissy's just trying to test my love. Why's that? She disappears off the face of the blogosphere, only to resurface long enough to tag me with a meme before fading off again. Yeah. She even said so, though not in so many words. Anyway, here's my response...

Four Jobs I've Had in My Life:

Driver and Detailer for Budget

Ultra-sonic Welder of Anti-personnel Mines

Marine Grunt... 0341, Mortar man

Assembly Mechanic Of Paper Machinery

Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over, and Have:

The Shining

Army Of Darkness

The Inspector General

Monty Python and The Holy Grail

Four Places I Have Lived:

Winnebago, Illinois

Roscoe, Illinois

Beloit, Wisconsin

Camp Lejuene, North Carolina

Four TV Shows I Love to Watch:

Ummmm... Friends... and whatever shows may feature Jennifer Aniston

Really, I don't watch much tellie visions.

Four Places I Have Been on Vacation:

Austria, Germany, Yugoslavia

Yorkshire Moors, England

Montana and Wyoming

Colorado and Utah

Four Websites I Visit Daily:

Gmail

Yahoo mail

My publishing page

My spectacular blog

Four Favorite Foods:

Filet mignon, rare medium, with lots of garlic and pepper

Mashed potatoes, with skins

Cheesy broccoli, cauliflower, carrots

Anti mushroom foods

Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now:

Great Britain... Northern England, or Scotland

Anyplace with a healthy supply of mountains... rock or otherwise

Alaska

Up in da Yoo Pee

Overall, anyplace where I could be riding the green beast

Four People I Am Tagging With This Meme:

Harvey, who seemed to be begging to be tagged... with a meme, that is.

Contagion, whom I owe for eternity for naming me in a meme

Raging Mom, just because...

Ogre, so that we can watch in admiration as he deftly deflects the meme.

Best Blonde Joke

Possibly ever...

Head on over here to check it out.

Bust A Leg

Had a funeral last week, and while it sounds bad to say it, it was probably the first one in a long while where I actually felt happy. Not because of spite or anything, but because she finally is able to rest after 95 years. She'll be missed, but she's left us with nothing but good memories... she'll long live on.

While I was not feeling bad for her, I did feel bad for my uncle ('twas his mother), and my cousins. They all think the same way I do, but they were having a rough go of it. My one cousin, who is my personality twin, kept tearing up, thus tearing me up. It didn't last long.

The minister came out and started speaking, and I spent my time trying to concentrate on his words and not his voice. I swear unto you, he sounded exactly like Boris Karloff... voice, cadence, and forming of words. While he was reading words of comfort, all I could hear in my head, after "Jesus said," were lines from "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty: "Did you know that an icicle inserted into the brain... will melt slowly and leave no trace?... Perhaps you'd be interested in a different method?... The sensory nerve at the base of the skull is vulnerable to an assassin. One merely presses with the thumbs, thus-"

Not very appropriate, but I'm sure it's a nervous thing. My sister has the same thing. She once laughed through a funeral. So hard that she was crying, which brought on a sypathetic pat on the back, and words of comfort. Which, of course, renewed the laughter...

My struggle not to laugh ended soon enough, when someone got up to read the 23^rd Psalm, and give their comments. I ended up pissed...

Yes, I admit... I do have a problem with the guy who got up to read. No, I'm not going to go on about it, other than to say that he's way fricking overboard when it comes to religion. It just grates me.

Anyone who's sat through a funeral is very familiar with the psalm. There usually is a commentary following the reading, so that the brain dead will understand the analogy. We got our commentary before, and during, and after.

We were reminded of the stoopiditee of sheep, and the shepherds' duties and responsibilities. The Valley was described, the pastures and waters explained, and the function of the rod and staff given. Now, I'll probably be the idiot, but that's the part that just pissed me off. These are his words, not mine...

"The rod, staff, or shepherd's crook were used to count sheep. As the sheep were grazing or sleeping, the shepherd would touch each one as he counted. They were also used to inspect their wool... the shepherd would pull back the wool looking for bugs or whatever. Guiding the sheep was another use, as well as driving away predators.

When a sheep would wander off, and get lost, the shepherd would break the sheep's leg with the staff, and carry it back to the flock. It wouldn't be able to wander off."

Huh?

The first thing I thought was that the commentor has no experience with livestock, at all. I think his picture of the shepherd looks alot like this here. The next thing that flashed into my mind was an image of a shepherd beating the everloving piss out of an errant sheep and then dragging it's crippled body back to the flock of it's disabled peers.

I think that my good friend confused hobbling, or tethering, with crippling. WTF kinda moron is going to cripple their stock? And even if they did, why wouldn't they drive it back to the fold before busting them up? Perhaps it was done this way... I'll be honest and say that I haven't a clue. It just sounds like an idiotic thing to do, Gott, shepherd, or no.

Have any of you ever heard this before?

Oh, and speaking of "Have you heard this before," what's the difference between a Scotsman and Mick Jagger?

A Scot yells, "'ey, McLeod! Get offa my ewe!!!"

Jarhead Red

The Reality Ranch has been around less than a week, and Ktreva is already impressing the hell out of me...

She's brought to my attention to something near and dear to me. Drinking and the Corps... She's alerted me to a wine called "Jarhead Red".

Head on over to read more about it.

Not A Rose...

Let me say right off, this is not a typical post of mine. But it is also very me.

I was having a strange dream about a mega-blog meet, where different regions of the country had seperate meets at local bars, and were broadcasting live to the rest of the groups via a system similar to the trivia games that are found in bars. Only we were all able to see each other, as we spewed our bullshit. Anyway, the dream isn't the important part of this post... it's how I woke up that counts.

I woke up craving steak, but not just any old steak. I wanted a filet mignon, rare/medium, with garlic and pepper. I woke up tasting it, I wanted it so bad.

I couldn't understand why I wanted that specific meal, until I ascended to the throne for my daily rule. As the little fella on the way started speaking, I caught a whiff of the previews, and knew exactly what had set it off! The farts smelled just like steak!

Applebee's southwest chicken, nachos, salsa, pizza, and a brownie... all necessary for a faux steak. Funny how the body works.

BTW, no... I did not eat it, though a lesser person may have been tempted to take a slice off the loaf.

It smelled that good...

Tropic of Topic

Over at The Coalition of The Swilling, Tree Hugging Sister asks, "Whaddaya Think?" in regards to a Carnival of Florida Bloggers. I know a few of my friends are Flouride Folks, so I'm sending you over...

Book Question

What do you think this excerpt is from?

Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him, he was a man and a brother...

No, you pervs! It's not from an aydolt novel... it's a kid's book.

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

Moron

I know some of you have been going over to Sam's, so you already know that the Moron Of The Year winner was sweet Cindy Sheehan. And now, so do you who didn't.

Well, Sam's starting a whole new year of morons, starting with this week's. Head on over, look, and take a guess.

For Bou

I was reading over at blog-sis Boudicca's, and ended up laughing so hard that I had tears forming in my eyes. It's not just because of her boys' testing the safety features of underwear, or her reaction to it. The mental picture of her youngest suiting up for the testing had me in stitches...

About a week ago, she posted about her boys throwing rocks at each other. I thought to ease her fears, and tell her some of the stories of us growing up. Then I realized that I would only be adding to her terror. However, they are only doing typical guy things... so I'll mention a couple of things. Not to increase her worries, but so that she knows they are only "normal."

That rock thing? Yeah, we did that. Dirt clods, especially when attached to a corn stalk, mud, sticks, and rocks were all thrown without intention of killing. Sometimes a sharpened implement might be thrown in anger... I remember an incident where I pissed off The Perfect One, and he launched a hatchet at me. I'd like to say that it was my cat-like reflexes that kept me safe, but I was running in the other direction when it sailed past my head.

The rock thing did get a little out of hand when we started playing baseball with a large plastic baseball bat and larger pieces of gravel. Yes, we were warned about rocks and pain, but it's only a suggestion until an incident occurs. Well, I caught a rock with the top of my head... I had bent over to pick up another rock after I pitched, and the line drive took me dead center in the skull. After what seemed like a couple of gallons of blood lost, and about an hour of getting yelled at, we moved our baseball game to the back of the barnyard, and out of sight of Ma. Heheheh... we weren't stupid, I'll tell you that. :)

The Perfect One and I used to play catch all of the time. He's not the most athletic guy, so occasionally he'd get hit with the ball. After a couple of times of that, it was damn funny, I'd start throwing at him, instead of to him. Next thing you know, he was returning the favor, and we'd be whipping the ball at each other as hard as we could, getting closer and closer, trying to catch or block the ball with our gloves. It was a blast.

We fancied ourselves fit for the circus, so we also played catch with knives. Relax... we were smart about it. We didn't use pocketknives or anything small. You just can't pick up their spin when you're trying to catch them. The Perfect One had a nice 8" Buck knife that we used for catch. Much easier, and if it was lined up wrong, we'd simply step to the side. We did this for quite a while, until one day The Perfect One didn't quite catch it, and got stuck in the foot. Of course, we didn't tell Ma, but we did stop. Thank Gott he was wearing leather boots, and the blade caught the thick leather alongside the tongue. We probably would have had a hard time sitting down in addition to his limp.

I've got a couple more stories for Bou, regarding her latest incident, but I'll tell them at another time. Hope this helps out... somehow.

A Personal Favor

I posted some quotes about Fritz's as a sort of thanks to Fritz, family, and staff. I'll be printing them out, soon, and giving them to him.

If you were there, and you'd like to leave a comment for them, or expand upon what's already been said, head on over.

MOTY Winner

Samantha Burns has announced the landslide winner of the Moron Of The Year Award.

Mark B., of Imagine Kitty was on hand to get a pic of the "winner" accepting the award.

Nice job, both of you.

Sweaters

Sweaters are curious creatures (yes, I'm saying that they live)... they have the ability to morph depending on who's wearing them. And they apparently breed... leave them to themselves, and you'll end up having drawers full of them, as Eric has recently discovered.

You ask, "Oh, Wise One, what's wrong with sweaters?" Nothing. Especially when they snugly encompass a fine female figure, displaying the twins of distinction straining against their woolen confines, with one single stray thread that just begs you to unravel the restraint... mmmmmm.

Some sweaters are colorful works of art, and look great on the rack. Some are ghastly pieces of crap, that people buy as punishments for their relatives who've fallen out of favor. Both are warm and functional... I've no problem with them. At least not until I try to wear one.

Now, I know that there are plenty of guys who can wear a sweater, and it will look great on them. I'm not one of them. I don't know what the catalyst is, but if I were to try a sweater on, and look in the mirror, this is what I see, while the sweater itself starts screaming, "I'M GAY!!! I'M GAY!!!" at the top of it's lungs. Not being of this particular life choice, it's a bit of a problem. I can put the damn thing back on the shelf, and it seems to go back to normal. Whatever "normal" is for a sweater.

I've committed genocide on the sweaters that used to inhabit my abode... perhaps I was a bit too harsh. Eric has put his stock of sweaters into a relocation program that will also aide in the beautification of parks, gutters, and alleys everywhere.

I'm sure this gift is going to be appreciated, by both the sweaters, and the homeless. If you happen to wander close to one of these happy couplings, I'm sure you'll be able to hear the sweaters echoing the "Thank you's" of their new wearers.

But I can guarantee you that there will be at least one poor bastard trying to pick between wearing his new garment for long lasting warmth, and burning it for immediate satisfaction... while the thing shrieks, "HE'S GAY!!! HE'S GAY!!! HE'S GAY!!!"

To Be, And Not

Well, it seems things are back to normal. Today I exist... yep, I'm actually here. Now to make the run down to Dekalb.

As is sadly getting to be a custom around here, I will be donning dress clothes and tie for the next couple of days. I'm thinking that it's enough of this shit. It wears a body out.

Not that the actual body is going to mind, anymore...

Not Here

Last week, I got notice that there was a job I may be interested in. The plant is right down the road from me, only twenty minutes, but I needed to apply through the IETC (Illinois Employment Training Center) in Dekalb, about 45-50 minutes away. Not a big deal. When I got home, I had an email informing me of another job, and this, too, required I apply at IETC Dekalb. Grrrr....

So today, I'm trying to get myself together, and make my trip efficient, killing as many birds as I can, with just the one stone. It's not going too well. See, I don't exist.

The site that's set up with Illinois Skills Match (which I would recommend, normally) will not recognize me. At all. I entered the site via an e-mail that they sent to me, and when I tried to log on and was rejected, I asked that they e-mail my password. I was informed that my e-mail did not exist. In fact, after trying everything I could possibly think of, I exist not at all. If you're reading this, you've tied a good one on.

Pass me that bottle...

Vicky Update

An update on Vicky is up at her husband Matt's place. He's also provided a link to the hospital message system, so that you can leave an e-mail for her: Vicky Drachenburg room 4219.

H/T Bloodspite

Reveal Yourself!

Via Leslie, I've learned that this week is National De-lurking Week.

If you read here, and never comment, this is the week to do so, my friend. Go ahead, I won't bite. Though if you happen to be Jennifer Aniston, I definitely will nibble.

Part One: Fritz Fest

I awoke in the middle of the night with tinnitus and the echo of a certain bell ringing and warring in my ears. I could not get back to sleep.

As I walked through the darkened house, I chuckled at the string of clothes leading from my door to my bedroom. I was wiped out by the time I got back last night. A full shift, and then some, put in at Fritz's.

I got myself a large glass of water, and, immediately after, another. I could smell the faint scents of cigars and cigarettes, and beer. I couldn't stop grinning to myself... Fritz Fest turned out much more gooder than I would ever have imagined. I got to see some old friends, and make some new... I don't know why I was such a nervous wreck earlier in the day.

Let me say that before the day even got started, Fritz had a phone call with someone asking for "Jeebus", and another setting up drinks... I spoke to both of them. Made my day.

Who all was there? Let me start by mentioning my new friends, the first four for whom this was their first blogmeet. Heheheh... we broke cherries...

First, there was Sarah, Harvey's blog daughter/niece. I was a little let down, but only because she didn't speak with a Minnesotan accent. She talked perfectly normal, as did the rest of us. Very quick wit, and unlike her blog title, "That's Not Very Nice", she was pretty damn nice. I wish I could have spent more time talking to her...

Then there was Richmond, of "One For The Road." She's been commenting here for a while now, and I've seen her over at many other blogs. Beautiful woman, with a great smile, and as Og pointed out, a nice behind. *grin* I did get to visit with her for a while, but I wish it would have been longer. 'Twas great to finally meet her.

Jake and MJ (aka thebaldchick) of "Freedom Folks" were one of the late additions. Very quick to get back to me when I e-mailed, I could tell they were pumped. A very sharp couple, I spent more time talking to Jake, than MJ. Not a very good host, was I. I'm looking forward to getting to visit a little more next time.

Next up was Og, of "Neanderpundit". What a trip, ladies and gents... what a trip. I was listening to his stories, just busting up. Incredible timing, but even better stories. It made me regret that I've only recently started reading him. I've missed much.

Last, and certainly not least, was Leslie, of "Omnibus Driver," and Buckaroo Bonsai. Leslie was all over this thing from the start. I'm not one to keep in touch very well, and it's not like we were sending emails back and forth with great regularity, but even if she wasn't the last to arrive, I'd have known her instantly. I did get to spend quite a bit of time talking with her... great woman, and I'm thinking, she's going to be a great friend.

I'm going to post the rest of the folks tomorrow, or Wednesday, depending on my schedule. Still no internet.

Sit Rep

Fritz Fest... done worked out good. Yeah.

Thank you to all who were there, and those we heard from. Details when available...

Surgery

There's a crosseyed monkey, armed with a cudgel and dull scissors, trying to perform a frontal lobotomy on me... through the back of my head. I think he's getting somewhere... my thinking is muddled. I mean more, much more, than usual. It's all part of the sacrifice.

One of my friends just lost his wife to cancer. 'Twas a long and hard fought war, going back over two years. Though we knew it was coming, and coming fast at the end, it was taken very hard. Especially by my friend. Merry frickin' Christmas.

Last night, he came into Fritz's, and we did something we hadn't done in quite awhile... we sat down, drank, and just visited. The beers went down, and his spirits came up. I can't tell you how long we sat there, but by the time he left, there had been four of us sitting there, reliving rides we'd been on and such. He told us that with one exception, it was the best time he'd had since her death... it had provided a great release, and it meant the world to him.

Hey, we know that the things he has to deal with won't disappear after a night of drinking. But he's been reminded that he's not alone, and that we are all there for him.

It's well worth this morning's surgery via simian.

Get Well

Via Bloodspite, we learn that a friend, and fellow blogger, Vicky, of "Oddfellow's Rest," has fallen ill. Her husband, Matt, of "Overtaken By Events," has asked that you leave your comments and wishes here, and he will relay them to her. It's already cheered her some.

Head over, and wish her well!

A Thank You

Well, it appears that Tammi is having fun with the wreck that her blog has become, and is writing up a list for thank you notes. If you're on Redneck's blogroll, and you'd like to earn her appreciation, you've only got about fourteen hours left. Get ahold of 'Neck, and get the keys...

She's already shown her appreciation once (NSFW)... it was very nice! Way above and beyond the call...

Down

In case you may have noticed, I'm not posting like usual. Why is this? I don't have any internet right now.

Tammi's been kind enough to let me use her computer. However, that also leaves me the keys to what remains of her Worl'. Heheheh...

Fame

It's just part of being human, I s'pose. This delight we take from being able to say, "I knew him back when..." or "She used to babysit the Jenkins' little boy... yea, my neighbor... before she got that acting gig..." Much like most of the blogosphere is sure to be doing now that Contagion is a celebrity. There's rumours that he's going to sell off a couple of autographed photos at the Fritz Fest this weekend.

Funny, but when someone is saddled with fame, any item that they may have touched or owned jumps in value. It seems as if people know who's going to make it to the big time, and start collecting whatever they can to sell off at a later date. School books, pens, snot rags... I'd not be a bit suprised if some weirdo was on the hunt for used rubbers.

Fame isn't a destination that is on my roadmap of life. I know this, and I'm cool with it. But I found out that at least one person has high hopes for me. They've even gone and saved some of my trash. "What?" Yeah... and as they told me of it, I could remember. Things were a bit foggy, but they're now very clear.

Remember this post, and my goal? Well, it was done, and done with great aplomb, if I may say. Unfortunately, I did not eat before displacing the contents of the bottle from said bottle, to my stomach. So there was much fogginess. And wobbliness. And falling downness.

One of the things that I did in my drunken stupor, was to sign and date the empty Bombay bottle. As did the bartender who assisted me in it's execution. My autograph reads something along the lines of "Merry Chrimus, Jeebus Caristy 12/23/05" I vaguely remember writing it, and giggling my ass off the whole time. But I do remember the other bartender throwing the bottle in the trash.

Last night, I was informed by a fellow patron that the bottle is safely stashed, awaiting my fifteen minutes of fame. I'm a bit flattered...

Moron Of The Year

Samantha Burns has posted a Moron of The Week, for the past fifteen weeks. This week, she's bringing in the new year with a Moron of the Year Award.

Sam's listed the candidates, and the links to each in two posts... part one and part two.

Head on over, check them out, and vote for your favorite moron.

Ya'll Won't Believe This...

Okay, the number stuff below isn't so fascinating to me, as this is, right here. Whales speak in dialects...

Pretty damn cool. I can just hear them arguing over Barbeque sauces and whether to use krill, fish, or squid.

Number Fun

Do you know what the largest known prime number is? Do you care? Well, someone obviously cares alot.

The number that the team found is 9.1 million digits long. It is a Mersenne prime known as M30402457 — that's 2 to the 30,402,457th power minus 1.

Fritz's Last Call

Planning on going to Fritz Fest? Then allow me to direct you once again to it's site for the final (?) update.

Looking forward to seeing everyone, and raising a glass to those who would have loved to have made it, but couldn't.

In the meantime, I suggest that you read those who you are going to meet, if you haven't already. The list is on the sidebar...

Music Question

Just a quick question, and then I'll get back to my mad world, which includes providing directions to Fritz Fest. I'm running late, sorry, but there's been a few things happening.

Anyway, suppose I were to mention the name "Ted Templeton" to you. Would you know who he was? Only asking because I've been told I'm full of useless info, especially when it comes to music.

If you've no clue as to who he is, look below the fold.

Doobie Brothers? Montrose? Van Frickin' Halen? Aerosmith's "Done With Mirrors?" Van Morrison?

All produced by Ted Templeman.

What A Ride

Sometimes, life just sucks.

Have you ever been driving along on a country backroad, minding your own business and cruising at a comfortable pace of about 75, when some inattentive, inbred, numbnut, cereal box driver's license carrying, brain dead potlicker comes rocketing off of a side road, and into your path, forcing you into the ditch? You fight to get your vehicle back onto the road, and have almost succeeded, when you hit the culvert of some farmer's driveway, causing your car to roll countless times, the "sky" visible through the windshield alternating between blue and brown. When you emerge from the darkness, you find that the ground is now your sky, as you take in the unique aroma... the mixture of scents of gasoline, earth, and the coppery smell of blood?

No, I haven't either, though I'm sure some may have. I'm just betting that it would definitely be one of the times that life sucked.