Suprise

Huh, I've always liked From Dusk 'Til Dawn, for many moons now. Kinda hokey story, but that's alright... I just enjoy it for some reason. I was talking to AWTM earlier, and she seems convinced that I like it because Salma Hayek is in it.

Oh, really... I had forgotten.

*GRIN*

Beer Question

Who among you readers, after drinking the nectar called Guinness, would finish off a slacker's mug of Miller Lite?

Or Else Eggshells

A vase is dropped and lies shattered on the floor. A feeling of unease, the only outcome. That is, until I come walking through. I inadvertantly step on a shard, and somehow, someone else bleeds.

I am the bad guy, coo coo catchoo...

I'd love to see the Big Guy's wiring schematics on some folks...

Disco Hell

Perhaps I spoke a little early about personal hells... I was brutally reminded of another just after I posted that.

I was listening to Launchcast Radio, to my personal station. If you aren't familiar with Launchcast, your personal station is based on ratings of tunes from their other stations. I spend alot of time listening to metal and alternative stations, so my station is basically just that... with a few rock bands thrown in here and there. Based on your ratings, they make suggestions, and play them, giving you the opportunity to add them to your station.

It is a very good day, really. I'm typing away, and not paying a whole lot of attention, when I hear Front Line Assembly... I'm floored. Shortly afterward, I hear "Fish Fry" by Big Black... Tesco just posted about that album. An old favorite, but I hadn't heard it in quite some time, until Tesco pointed them out. Shortly after, I hear Dry Kill Logic, and within a half an hour, I hear Snot. Heheheh... I'm wiggin' out... I've only rated two of the bands, but I love all of them.

Then, after I was stupid enough to comment about how kickass they were that day, I hear the gates of hell slide open. It took me all of maybe two seconds to realize that a mistake had been made. I quickly glanced at the genres that this new artist covered, but I didn't really need to... the bouncing basslines, and disco ball gave it away. I don't know who Yvonne Elliman is, but I do know that her song "Love Pains" should be titled "Sonic Pain."

Thank Gott that when rating tunes on Launchcast, they have a handy dandy "do not play again, or I will bust my eardrums with pencils" button.

Thinking...

A handshake. A spoken promise. They once meant something. Of course, a lie meant about 120 grains of Pb slamming through you.

Nowadays, a piece of paper provides the promise, with a lawyer as it's enforcer.

Though I never was there, I miss the days of old...

Lips

Watched "Elektra" last night... don't really know how good it is, if at all. I do know I needed a drool bucket...

I don't know if it was the way she flicked those tridents around, or if it was the thought of her kicking my ass, but Jennifer Garner was looking pretty hot... even with those lips looking like they were going to pop right off of her face. I kept going from being turned on(hey, not that turned on), to laughing out loud, whenever they showed a side profile. In the end, "hot" won... It could have been the gallons of beer, come to think of it...

Hot she may have looked for most of the show, but still... that side profile made her look like a Simpson's character. I don't know if she's done it or not, but collagen is not her friend. Just sayin'...

Conflicts

So you're wondering how the interview went... or maybe you're just wondering why the hell it takes me so damn long to post. I'll tell you about the interview.

I was a bit over dressed, wearing new black jeans, and dress shirt. My interviewers were wearing pullovers and jeans... and quite possibly, diapers. Heheheheh... I'd lay money that one of them was 21, tops... Now that's not really a problem. Keep in mind, I went into the Marines when I was 24, so it's nothing new to me, having a youngster in a position of authority. I just figured that my interviewers for this job wouldn't be fresh out of Romper Room U...

There were groups of 8 - 10 people getting called back at a time, where we were sent to a training room. Commercials for this company ran non-stop on a small 20 screen. After a bit, my name was called, and I was walked back to their chow hall, where each table had an interview going on. They're hiring 300 people, so I guess it's a little easier this way...

As I said, my interviewers were a couple of young dudes. One hardly spoke, at first, and the other was supposed to be the interrogator. Once we got started, the questions pretty much alternated.

About a quarter of the way into it, I noticed that one of the interviewers, who had been smirking off and on, kinda rolled his eyes about something I said as to quality of work. Believe it or not, I got a little pissed, but I tried to play it cool. I looked him in the eye for every question and it's answer, even if the other guy asked it. I was as pleasant as I could be, but I think I made him a little nervous... he wouldn't keep eye contact. I could see his partner out of the corner of my eye... he was grinning. I looked over at him, and grinned back, and it was cool from then on. I don't know what the hell that was about, but I either did good, or I screwed up.

A couple of questions had me chuckling to myself, especially one about confrontations with your boss or supervisor...

When I was still making paper machinery, we had a new boss come on to the floor. He had been one of us, but a layoff was in the works. The company approached him with a supervisor's job, to keep him working. He reluctantly took it, which turned out to be a good thing... he would never have been called back.

Anyway, Flip wasn't one of the hardest working guys on the floor... hell, he was actually one of the hardliest working guys. But he was excellent when it came to organizational skills. He proved to be a damn good boss. However, with his past rep, some of the guys, from his old floor, refused to do any work he assigned them. He ended up with a core of about 5 people who would work for him.

Flip was cool in the way he got the work assigned... he actually asked you to do it, or if you thought you could get it done for him that night. I used to bust my ass for him, and in return, I got to work by myself in one of the isolated bays, stereo blasting. Most areas of the shop were off limits for radio. Like I said, he was cool.

One night, as his core of guys was walking in, we noticed a customer and sales rep talking with him. As soon as we got close enough for them to hear, he started barking at us, "T1G, you clean, deburr, and build these heads... drop the bearings on, and assemble the housings. Buck, you do this, S and K, you two work on this... we need four rolls built tonight. We will get them done tonight." Before the buzzer even rang, he was riding us... totally not like Flip, at all. I even was told to cut the tunes...

Now, to build these rolls, and four of them in one night, is not impossible, but it's incredibly hard work. And, it also involves some luck, as far as taps breaking and such. They were a real bear.

Well, the four of us got all situated, and figured out how we were going to work it. I filled them in on my plans, which didn't include finishing the rolls. We also got rolling on "Little Hitler" jokes. After some serious work, it appeared that we were going to make it, after all.

The bearing fit on the heads were for a shrink fit, so I had tossed them into the oven while deburring, and I made great time. All eight heads were sitting on the floor by the oven, waiting for the bearings to be dropped. The housings were cleaned and waiting for heads to cool, and all would be good... and we still had three hours in the shift. Flip was impressed, though irritated by all of the "Ja's" and "Nein's", and "Mein Furher's" that he was getting. He went into the other bay, and listened for the crane, which would be his signal that I was putting the bearings on... then he'd likely come over and harass us some more.

Heheheh... the bearings weighed about 110 pounds, and the four of us who were working on them never used the crane, unless a bearing cocked on the fit. So within twenty minutes, I had all eight bearings on, my tool box locked up, and was heading for the shower.

When Flip got the call from the bar across the street, minutes later, asking him to see if I had forgotten to punch out, he was incredulous. He asked me three times if I was kidding when I told him where I was... then he blew up. I guess it was a beautiful thing... the other three had been trying to get as close as possible when the phone rang. After promising to raise a brew in honor of "Little Hitler," I cut the call off. There were two and a half hours left of my shift...

The next day, the four of us kept goosestepping and saluting him. He finally apologized for being an asshole... and so did I. The kicker? Those rolls didn't need to be done for another couple of days. They just wanted to see if it was possible...

Anyhoo... that's what went rolling through my mind as I was asked that question. I couldn't hide the smirk. Did I actually use that story? Hell, no!

I told them some other lame ass story about my last boss, and his changing micrometers on probes... to see if you were paying attention. It was his form of training. We got into it one day, and we were both laughing by the time we were done.

How's about you folks? Any "conflicts" for you?

Hunting

Well, I'm off. Interview is at 8:45 de mornin'. Wish me well...

Personal Hells

Reading through a couple of blogs the last couple of days, I noticed the phrase, "my personal hell" used. Grau used it because he's a mentor, and Bou used it when thinking about being stranded while camping..."Three boys, me, a tent, on an island, in the rain..."

While I was on my little jaunt through the sweltering jungles of the Southern America, I got a couple of emails from someone who was trying to assure me that my own personal hell was taking place in my home*. There were reports of feral cats roaming where they pleased, drinking my beer and pissing on any and everything. Catnip usage was rampant, and I was even sent some photos:

Then, I was sent a photo of what they might consider my personal hell, and it's probably not too far off...

Well, hell... as long as you had to see a personal hell, you may as well see what a slice of heaven would be... at least along the road to heaven... let there be "Free Cats" everywhere:

Click to enhance your joy

So tell me, what would your personal hell be like?

*Oh, btw, I can't be too mean about it... they did send pics of Jennifer Aniston, too. ;)Thanks, azindiandoll!

Frickin' Bugs

I know it's going to get me flack, and I have said it before, but I can't stand the Beatles. I think they are a bit overrated, and I just don't see how they've suckered such a large following...

Anyway, I can't say that I don't like any of their tunes, but they are definitely at a minimum. "A Day In The Life," is probably my favorite, and that's pretty much because I like how it ends... the second to last verse is my favorite part. Other than that, right now I can't think of any other good songs. Sorry.

So I'm over at Bou's, my blogsis, and she's got a post about a video her brother sent her. It was pretty damn cool. I suggest you go and watch it if you've got better than dial up, or a couple years to sit while waiting for it to buffer...

Anyway, I'm watching this guy, and I'm impressed, when the horror hits me in waves... GAH! THE BEATLES! GOLDEN SLUMBERS/CARRY THAT WEIGHT...

And worse than that, I realized, "I like this tune..."

I think my world is falling apart.

Silent's Day...

... today is his day.
'Nother year gone,
Passed on his way.
Former Marine,
And he sent me some beer.
Hell of a guy,
You can find his blog here.
Lift up your pints on this daaaAAAAY,
Send Birthday wishes his way.

If this didn't make sense, try it along with "Silent Night"

Git...

If you haven't already been there, go over to Eric's immediately, and congratulate him... the Straight White Couple are celebrating twelve years!

Congrats to one of the finest couples I know!

A Beer Prayer

Our lager,
Which art in barrels,
Hallowed be thy drink.
Ye will be drunk,
(I will be drunk),
At home as I am in the tavern.
Give us this day our foamy head,
And forgive us our spillages,
As we forgive those who spill against us.
And lead us not to incarceration,
But deliver us from hangovers.
For thine is the beer,
The bitter and the lager,
Forever and ever,
Barmen.

H/T to Tammi

Image Meme

Maybe it was that my snoring kept her whole household awake, but Carmen saw fit to go and slap me with a meme. Because this one was so different, I did it, but I may be tagging those who've already been nailed, or who don't want to do it. Tough.

Here's the instructions:

1. Choose a search engine (e.g. Dogpile).
2. Pick 5 random blogfriends.
3. Think of a word or phrase that you describes each friend.
4. Do an image search of that word or phrase.
5. Pick an image that makes you say, "Aha! That's it!"

I'm going to pick one extra, just because. Okay, here goes:

(Alabama Improper)

(Alex in Wonderland)

(Yabu, of Bad Bad Juju)

(Cathy, of Sunday Morning Coffee)

(Dash, of The Boiling Point)

(Sam, of The Crazy Rants of Samantha Burns)

For those of you lucky enough to have images placed here, you're tagged. Hahahahahah!!!

Vegans Are Good For Eggs

I had to go shopping for some groceries early Wednesday morning. Okay, it was only about 7:15, but that's still early for me. I'm not yet awake, and my thoughts could be considered strange.

Anyway, I had to get two dozen eggs, so I went on over to check them out. My aunt had recommended that I get the organic eggs, rather than the regular "evil" eggs. Hell, to pay $3 for a dozen eggs seems a little evil to me... I went with the regular eggs.

I did have a quiet laugh to myself, though. I now know what makes these eggs so damn special... upon one of the brands, the secret was revealed: From Vegetarian Fed Hens." What a novel way to get rid of vegans! Though, I will admit, not all are bad folks...

Somebody better hide Agent Bedhead.

WWJD?

Though I'm pretty sure I already know that the answer would involve changin' the ol' shorts, I couldn't help but chuckle, imagining what Jimbo would do if he had this dude knockin' at his front door...

On Tour, Pt 3

Alright, here's the long awaited conclusion to my wanderings across the south. I know I promised it to you a couple of days ago, but I lied. Not intentionally, but a lie it was nonetheless... forgive me, and I'll buy you a beer when we next meet.

So, I took off from RSM's place, and headed up the backroads to everyone's favourite lad, Linear Achromatic Dude. I got there in time for us to head to town and grab a bowl of chili and sammidges. Then we headed back to the house to kick back, drink, and solve the world's problems. We also got in a healthy dose of John Prine, Eric got a couple of calls from good looking females... who were looking for me, and I was soundly whooped in a couple of games of pool. Heheh.. I did win one game... on a scratch. No mind... it was a damn good time.

Conversation drifted from Sabu the Elephant Boy, to the origins of yoga, to quantum physics. Well, to be honest, Eric's lovely wife Fiona is the one who was talking about the quantum physics, or trying to... between all of the bosons, gravitons, photons, muons, and gluons, the two apes of the group started giving her a bit of crap. Now there's a patient woman. The lad did very well there...

We ordered a pizza, drank a bit more, and ended up discussing movies. More specifically, musicals. Even more specifically, Fiona and I discussed musicals, while Eric rolled around on the floor laughing about how "gay" we were for knowing that stuff. Heheheh... it was pretty damn funny. The three of us stayed up late laughing, drinking and just having a good time visiting.

Next morning, Eric fixed some scrambled eggs for breakfast, which we promptly devoured while discussing puking in boot camp. A typical get together of Marines... After weighing the possibilities of stopping in NC to visit another Marine and a new father, I reluctantly decided to head on out, hoping to make it home that day.

Not to be so. As I made my way up through Kentucky, I was drifting off, catching many z's when I shouldn't be. I stopped at a rest stop and took a short nap, but that was of no help. So, I slept my way through Lexington, and snoozed towards Louisville... straight into the setting sun. (Once I start squinting, I'm done.) Didn't think I was going to make it, but once I did, I made the turn towards Indianapolis. Jerry, from Back Home Again, had offered to let me use his place as a stop, for either a nap, or if needed, to crash for the eve.

By the time I got up in his neck of the woods, my eyes were fried... I knew I wouldn't be able to finish the four hour trip home. So we ran into town, grabbed some supper from a little catfish joint, and went back to his little house out in the middle of the Indiana nowhere.

Jerry had been at the Howl on the Prowl, but was only able to meet everyone at the LBC. I got to visit with him a little then, but it was nice to visit with him for much longer. We sat up visiting until I started nodding off, then I hit the hay. Heheheh... he said that within two minutes of the door to his guest room closing, I was snoring. I don't know... I barely remember heading off to bed.

The following morning, I was treated to a piece of homemade cherry pie while he had to run, then when he returned, we grabbed lunch. We were able to visit a bit more before I headed out towards home...

I want to thank everyone of you who opened up your homes, or made time to welcome me. You all made for a great trip, and I wish it could have lasted longer.

When I first started out numbing folks' minds with my drivel, I hadn't thought that I would ever get out to meet any of those I read, or who read me. Hell, I kinda wanted to meet some of them, but never did I imagine that I would. After the first get together last March, I was hooked. There are some damn fine people on the blogosphere, and I wanted to meet as many as I could. And this from one of the biggest introverts you'll ever meet. (Don't believe me? Ask the fine folks at Fritz's... I hardly spoke to anyone for about four years, before I got comfortable enough to open up.)

See, reading blogs is like getting to know folks, a little at a time. Sure, there are some that are totally full of shit, but you can recognize them after a bit. And you still may want to meet them. But most folks I've read on a regular basis, I really want to meet. I've gottent to see bits of their family life, some of their struggles and triumphs, their sense of humor. They don't share it all, but they do offer up a bit of themselves everytime they post or comment. Some of these folks become family to you... hell, some of those I got together with on this trip are just like kin. And those that aren't, are like my closest friends and neighbours. When you finally meet them, you feel like you've already know them for years. 'Tis a very cool thing.

Yeah, in the past year, I've met many of you, and enjoyed the visit, and getting to know you better. There are many more that I would like to, and will, meet in the near future... hopefully, next month will see that happen. In the meantime, I'll be getting to know some of you folks, post by post, comment by comment.

Looking forward to meeting you!

Damnit...

It's Thursday, normally a quiet and sedate evening at Fritz's. Italian beef, and a couple of cold sandwiches, sometimes a pot pie or shepherds pie on the menu. Euchre players show, but they are allowed into the restaurant area to play quietly amongst themselves. Some are damn good peeps... I'll usually buy for a table, and they for me.

Tonight, my bar has been invaded by nametag wearing strangers, most of whom have never been to Fritz's. I've been run off.

'Tis a sin...

BTW, in case you think I've perished, I know I'm years behind on my emails, and nearly as far in my blogging. Please bear with me... or bare with me, if you wish. I promise, though tomorrow never actually comes, I'll have a post for you then.

Maybe....

Tony Blair: Cat Killer

I love the wording of this headline: "Cat Evicted From 10 Downing Street Dies."

Makes Mr. Blair sound like a heartless bastard... heheheh. I was all set to drop him a line via Thank You Tony. Bah... he didn't kill it. It just died at the home of it's last owner. The thing was 18 years old, 19 years too old for a cat.

He's still somewhat of a hero... at least he was able to boot the damn thing out of the house, when Maggie and Major couldn't.

Hmmm...

Check it out, I'm like a buzzbomb! Yes, I'm a new world Samurai... Check it out, I'm like a buzzbomb! So Beebopalloobopawopshamboo, and domo arigato if.. I... got.... to..... uh... sorry. (I like that song.)

Anyway, check it out, yo.
Lame fair Saturday...
Promised a response in two to three weeks...
Called today...
Interview next Monday...

Perhaps this could be taken as a "good thing..."

Crapalievable

I ain't much of a TV watcher, so this may have been going on for a while...

Saw a commercial this eve, and it made me sick. Another Amber Bock or ten, and I'd have had the urge to destroy the eardrums, and gouge out ye olde eyeballs.

Minding my own business, when out of nowhere pops a song I remember... not a favourite, but a catchy tune, nonetheless... at least until I hear the lyrics. I was never a huge fan of EMF, but to sell the rights to "Unbelievable" to some cheese ... Kraft, Sargento... I don't know, and don't really care... Sad, boys... frickin' sad. If there ever is a "Bullet In The Head" group, you boys are honorary members.

Crumbalievable, indeed ... how lame can you go?

On Tour, Pt 2

Last Saturday, after breakfast with VW and Bou, and their crews, I made my way up to Apollo Beach. It was a pretty trying drive... I turned off of the Florida Turnpike, which is a great road for snoozing, at Yeehaw Junction. Highway 60 takes you across Florida from there.

I'm not sure what this stretch of highway is called, or if it even has a nickname. If it hasn't, I've got one for it: Tard's Dragway. Seriously.

The speed limit for most of it was 60 mph... a speed never seen in the no passing zones. Try 45 to 50. Of course, you may think that because I was in a hurry, I'm stretching it a bit. That's fine, but you're wrong. Traffic would slow, I'd start yelling (and I wasn't the only one), and we'd speed up to a slow creep. You prayed for the passing lanes to open up.

Once you hit them, however, the only thing missing from an actual drag strip was the "tree." Well, okay, the water box, too. Anyway, as you entered the passing lanes, traffic sped up to an impressive 95 - 100, with the idiot who was slowing everyone else down leading the charge. Cars flying, lane changes every few seconds, brake lights flashing... vehicles lurching everywhere. And in the end, maybe one vehicle was able to pass, with the rest of us slowing back down to below the speed limit. I kid you not. It's very obvious that NASCAR started down there... position is a valuable thing, and no one wants to lose it. Finally, I was able to reach my uncle's place, wide awake, teeth clenched, and thankful that I keep my hair short. I'd have easily been bald, otherwise.

There, it was a very informal thing, but just as my uncle would have wished. His favourite tunes playing on the stereo, with a photo album on display, and a couple videos of him at the dragstrip. (He had a little Monza with an engine that he had built himself powering it... on one of the videos, he was consistently running under 9.4, with a 9.25 his quickest.) Another uncle was the only other member of our side of the family to make it, and we sat and visited for hours. Many beers were drained, a few shots done in memory, as the stories of Uncle Russ were told. A few tears, lots of laughs, and then we headed out to the beach to watch the sun set over his favourite island, Beer Can, where his ashes had been spread the day before. It was pretty powerful...

After a few monster hugs (I thought my cousin was going to break my neck at one point) and a bit of deliberation about staying, I made my way across the bay, and over to visit Tammi's niece, Carmen. Heheheh... you should have seen her face when I walked in... They had been telling her that she might have a suprise visitor drop by for her birthday, but she had no clue. While it wasn't quite the look I'd have if Jennifer Aniston or Selma Hayek dropped by, watching her face change from "WTF?" to "Oh, my, gott!" when I was introduced, was hysterical.

These were good folks, and I had a blast visiting and drinking with them. Heheheh... one of my favourite repeated quotes of the evening: "I think I'm going to puke... who wants to do another shot?" Carmen has a laugh that just doesn't quit, and I don't think that there were more than a couple of minutes when she wasn't smiling from ear to ear. They called Tammi, and she listened in as they gave each other crap, as well as her. We played a few games of Spoons, and Bullshit, which I lost... look, I'm not a bullshitter, how am I supposed to win at a game of lying? After cards, and a couple shot offers more, we all hit the rack (not together), and they were blessed as my snoring lulled them to sleep.

Come morning, Tammi's cuz made a big breakfast, and I left... would have been great to visit more with these great folks, but I needed to make it towards home. Today's destination and blogger, or bloggers? Atlanta, to hopefully hook up with Zonker, and maybe RSM, both of whom I'd spent a lot of time visiting with last fall in Tennessee. These gents are like brothers... not to me, but probably someone. Heheheh... just kidding. I would have liked to hook up with some others, like Denny, or to even meet new, like Elisson, but because this was so impromptu, I kept it simple. I was only going to be around long enough for supper...

I got to Zonker's in pretty decent time, and had a Guinness while visiting with him. Meahwhile, RSM was working his way down from the mountains, and we hooked up at a Chinese restaurant. The food at this place was great, as was the company... when you could hear them. When we first got our table, RSM asked to have us moved, as we were right under a speaker, and Zonker is the only one good at reading lips. We picked a fairly quiet table, where things remained that way for a few minutes more. Then, we got a party of folks from the Voice Immodulation Institute sitting next to us, and the evening was filled with laughter, phone calls, and voices trying to get their point across, over the inferior voices. All the while, the three of us are communicating by making faces and waving arms and hands. Even though it was louder than hell, we still had a good visit. I think.

I parted ways with Zonker, and headed back with RSM to his place. I'm definitely planning on heading back down that way again... both to Zonker's, and RSM. I kinda felt bad that I didn't get to visit more with Z-man, but I will another time.

RSM has been lifting since I first met him... it kinda shows, but it's effects are very obvious. When I got up to his place in the mountains of Georgia, it was very evident. For his cabin, and the plot of land upon which it rests, have been wrested from Gott. I don't know if the Big Man keeps coming down on a regular basis to reclaim it, or not, but obviously RSM walks away the victor everytime. Anyway, we grabbed a couple of beers, and headed outside to enjoy the quiet, and the nocturnal wanderings of the hills' animal residents. A kickass end to a long day of driving... The following morn, I took a short tour of where he works, then we headed out to catch breakfast. I thanked him for his hospitality, promised that I would one day return the favor, and headed on out, towards Tennessee.

Much like I've gotta run for chow, now... Hopefully, I'll finish this up later on, but if not, for sure by tomorrow!

No Elephant Ears

Sometimes the smallest things can make or break your day...

Writing the earth shattering post about yoga the other day put me in the circus and carnival mood. I've been craving elephant ears, funnel cakes, footlong corndogs... you get the idea. "Health food." Heheheh... I just drooled thinking about it.

Well, I was notified of an event that was to be held locally, this weekend, so I made plans to attend. Hell, you don't have to twist my arm when it comes to possibly chowing down. I didn't get this size by pushing away from the dinner table. Anyway, I left here with thoughts of all those low calorie delights dancing in my head.

Now, our area has been known to be quite lacking at times, when it's come to hyping events. I remember going to a concert, that should have been huge, but hardly any were there... local advertising was nearly non-existent. A major flop, it was.

However, they are equally known for overhyping events, as Contagion can attest to... a huge BBQ event, with live music, custom bikes, and assorted vendors proved to be three trailers of award winning BBQ'ers, one tent of custom bikes (two whole bikes), and some pretty crappy music (well, at least while I was there for the short time.) You payed a pretty big cover to get in, thinking that it was going to be a huge competition, payed hefty prices for pretty decent BBQ (at least the brisket was good) and $3.00 ears of corn, and walked away pissed off at yourself for being such a sucker.

Today, well, technically yesterday, proved to be one of those times. Not one food stand, no animals, and no circus freaks. Well, aside from a couple of bearded ladies, and a few folks who smelled like they could be circus geeks, there were no actual freaks. Not even Sabu the elephant boy, on his Midwestern tour. About the only thing that let you know it was a fair was the line of folks dancing their "gotta go right now" dance in front of the portable outhouses.

Let me suggest right now, that if you hear about a fair in Northern Illinois, especially during the winter, don't go. Specifically, JOB FAIRS... jerks.

I'm still craving elephant ears...

Navy Thrashings

Okay, a couple quick questions for you former or current Swabbies...

Did you get thrashed for having writing on the outside of your envelopes when going through boot camp? Is it even actually considered "boot camp"? (Tentacles and all that, you know...)

Just what is the Navy term for your drill instructors? And what would your "heavy hat" (second in command, or the mean one) be called?

A friend of mine is at Great Lakes, and has found it boring... I want to liven things up for him a bit.

Heheheheh... I'll appreciate your answers, even if he doesn't.

LET ME AMEND THIS: He will appreciate your silence, but I sure as hell won't!!! ;)

Health Help

Where does one find a jaundiced Hebrew or two? Apparently, I should get ahold of them, ASAP.

I've been feeling a little worn down, and tired the past few days, though I'm pretty sure that could have something to do with the long drive. I've also not felt the best... something that prompted a friend to recommend that I get ahold of some orange Jews. Not sure, exactly, how that's supposed to work out, but it does sound interesting...

I'm just a bit worried about the ones with extra pulp, or fortified with calcium...

On Tour, Pt 1

I started out looking to find work, and ended up chillin' with a bunch of friends... it doesn't get much better than that. Well, if I could have actually gotten the job, it may have...

I had been told that I would have an interview if I could get down to Bentonville, Arkansas, a couple of weeks ago. Unfortunately, this turned out to be a major league cluster f#ck, and, while I was in the area, the interview never happened. Nah... nothing is held against them, as there was a very good explanation. However, while waiting for them to set something up, I got an e-mail from my Ma notifying me of my uncle's passing.

My uncle was a quiet man, and I share more than a few traits with him... hell, with all of my uncles. When my father was killed in '76, he came out to the farm and sat with Ma for hours... a huge comfort to her, one of which she still speaks. When I got the word, I decided to make my way to Apollo Beach, and return the favor.

I left Bloodspite's last Thursday, just before the storms swept through the area. As a matter of fact, I passed through some of the earlier waves, managing to avoid any rain. Most of the way to Army Wife's, the roads were soaked, and the skies dark, but it was pretty damn nice once I got to her neck of the woods. When I left, I could see the storms off to the North, and more to the South. Still, I managed to make Georgia before I ran into any precipitation. There, I was forced to spend the night just south of Atlanta... I couldn't stay awake any longer.

The next day, I took off, heading down to hopefully hook up with my blog-sis, Boudicca. I had met her back in Octember, but upon meeting her, it felt so much like meeting someone I'd known for most of my life, and it wasn't 'til much later that I realized I had only spoken to her a couple of times. I was hoping to fix that...

As I drove through the idiot's corridor of I-75, it was hot. I mean, HOT. I was sweating my ass off. I kept seeing signs advertising "Boiled Georgia Peanuts," and had a sneaking suspicion that Yankee's satchels had been sweat off to provide some of those "peanuts." I wasn't interested. Believe it or not, once I hit the Florida/Georgia state line, the sky had clouded over, and it had cooled off immensely. Add to that fact that the first thing I saw behind the "Welcome to Florida" sign was a dead cat, and I was falling in love with the Sunshine State. The returning heat kept me from falling head over heels.

That evening, I made it to Bou's. There, I was fed, even though I had eaten not too long before, given a tumbler of the infamous scotch, and then I sat visiting with Bou and her hubbie. After a bit, he hit the hay, and we stayed up talking... a nice long visit. I wish I could have stayed awake a little longer.

Next morning I awoke, and caught Bones, her youngest, trying to get a look at their guest. He was leaning against the wall, looking cool, until I said, "Hey, Big Man... what's up?" A flash, and he was gone.

Bou went above and beyond, and had a big breakfast ready, with VW bringing her boys over. I got a couple hugs from her, but not much was said... eating is serious business. It was a good meal, a visit that was much too short, and then I had to run on up to Tampa area, much like I have to run, now.

I'll have to finish the report later on...

Son Of A Bitch!!!

Since the beginnings of blogging, I've heard that you should save your post in Wordpad, or Notepad, before attempting to post it on your actual blog. This ensures that you do not end up "losing" it, should a problem arise. I'm very careful to do this.

However, you also should save your template before making changes. This I do when making major changes, but never when adding a new blogger to the "We've Shared A Flask" category. I've never needed to... until today.

Just a couple of names, and it should have been done. No. For some reason, when I clicked on "Save", after double checking my right side template, the page wouldn't load. No biggie. Right. I've lost my Gottdamned right sidebar!!! Well... most of it, anyway.

Son of a motherless crosseyed monkey raping goat...

Chill

Patience, young grasshoppers. I will write my report on my journeys, just not right now. I'm a busy man, and it's a long tale involving things... and stuff. New traditions, and a hot potato of sorts. And bloggers... I'm pretty sure there were a couple of them involved...

Yoga

Put Eric and myself in a room, add beer and/or scotch, and you will walk away impressed with the indispensible knowledge you will encounter. Epiphanies and revelations abound, making Saul on the road to Damascus seem like a mere child discovering that there really isn't a Santa Claus. Heavy shit, indeed. And amidst our discussions, we discovered the truth about yoga...

Yoga originated somewhen around 3000 BC, which could have meant "Before Camels", in India. History books won't tell you this, but you can trust us... it was developed as a way to stretch so that one may ride an elephant with minimal crotch wreckage. Until this time, elephant riders had been horribly deformed bastards, ruined from the stretch across the animal's girth, many unable to have chiltrens. Now look... India has an overpopulation problem, thanks to this stretching system.

The original poses, or asanas, were named after contortions made while mounting, or, in some cases, hurried dismounting of the animal. "Running dismount into briar patch" was a common favorite. However, over time, experienced riders began to base their poses on some of the human roadkill found alongside the elephant trails. There were many interesting displays... Yoga is from a Sanskrit word meaning "to yoke, or unite," and this uniting of body and earth was the basis for the newest asanas. Imitation of roadkill... now you know. Check these out, if you don't believe me.

Yes, yoga was the original Dead Body Guy, and few know this... but now you can say that you do.

Home

Just a quick update to let you know, I got back late yesterday afternoon, safe and relatively sound. I'll have more for you later...

Moving Around...

Now you see me, now you don't....

I just spent last week with Bloodspite and Bloodfamily... guess where I am right now....

Army Wife's, with Pink Ninja curled up against me, fighting off a nap... heheheheh. And now, Dash is mooning me...

Gotta run to Apollo Beach, FL, for a memorial service for my uncle, on Saturday. I may catch up with a couple more of you on the way. Trying to make Atlanta by this evening, but I'll be too late to hook up with anyone (cough...Zonker... cough). Maybe on the way home...

Before I sign off for now, I've gotta recommend a place for chow... The Whole Hog Cafe... better ribs you will not find. And this from a person who doesn't really like ribs. Believe me, this is by far the best barbeque I've had, in regards to pulled pork and ribs. You get near Little Rock, AR, you've gotta stop for grub... seriously.

Well, I've gotta hit the road... unfortunately. Dash is getting wound up... could be a very good show.

Catch ya all later!

T1G out...

Sighting

Howdo, folks!

Jes lettin you know that I do exist, that things do be hectic, and I will be back... soon.

Kinda like a one legged Sasquatch, named Jeebus, in an ass kicking contest.

Ruling The Road

Going to be sporadic posting for a couple of days. Hitting the road for an interview... maybe two.

click for travelling tune
In the meantime, if you haven't already, humor me and sign my map, please.

Oh, and check out this post and the movie it shows, over at Nuggets.

Thanks, Eric, for the diddy.

Games

Watched Waiting last night. Now that was a pretty damn funny movie. I don't care what the critics said, it was good. But getting away from the movie itself, I wanna focus on "The Game."

If you've seen it, you are probably grinning to yourself wondering where I'm going to go with this. For those of you who haven't seen the movie, first, shame on you, and second, the goal of "The Game" is to flash your 'nads at a co-worker, and get them to look. When they do, you call them "fags," and depending on what method was used, you get to kick them in the ass a certain number of times. That's the Game...

One of the actors, Dane Cook, was being interviewed in the extra features, and he said that guys play games like that all the time. It's what guys do... I thought about it, and I can't really disagree, though nut flashing was never one on the games I'd play. As a matter of fact, I didn't play many of them, instead threatening a slow painful death to anyone trying to include me...

When I was going to school... BIBLE frickin' SCHOOL... as in Christian College... the Nerf football was very popular. We could play catch in the halls of the dorm, and never had to worry about breaking anything other than bones when someone took a tumble down the stairwells. One afternoon, some poor unfortunate soul walked out of his room, right between two guys playing catch, and received a blow to the boys. A new game was born...

For the next few weeks... hell, months... guys would be walking in the halls when someone would scream, "Lob Wars!" and suddenly Nerf footballs became instruments of would be castrations. Sometimes there were over a dozen footballs flying. It was very popular, and yes, I have to admit, after hitting the class president square in the lads and hearing him scream, I played almost everytime "War" was declared.

When I was in the Marines, the guys in our platoon, and soon the company, would play, "Piss Blood." They would walk up behind someone who was playing, and punch them in the kidneys as they screamed, "Piss Blood!!!" After watching a buddy writhing on the ground, holding his back and laughing while crying, I made it very clear that the first time someone included me in this game, was the last time that person would ever play. Something about being beaten and tossed over the third deck balcony.

Out of the fleet, and back in civilian life, I met a friend who would "dick" the food of his friends. And they'd get him, too. When he first mentioned it, I swore he said "dip." While kinda nasty, it was almost acceptable. Then one day, his friend brought out a tray of food, and left it while he took a phonecall. Spence looked at me, started laughing, and then dimpled the guy's sandwich with his thumb. When he got back, he noticed the dimple, started yelling about his food getting "dicked." That's when it clicked. Spence looked at him, and told him that it was clean... he had just showered. The guy wouldn't touch it, so Spence sat down and started chowing... his buddy looked sick.

Hell, Spence is also the guy who would walk up if your hand was on the edge of a table or bench, and as he set his satchel on your hand, would make a scene about you grabbing his meat. After I punched him in his "meat," he didn't target me anymore.

Then there were the welders at the Corp. I hung out with quite a few of them, possibly because none of them were right in the head. They were a blast to be around, though they would beat the shit out of each other. There was no warning, no call, just a quick crippling strike of knuckle on bone (usually arm, but also ribs and shoulder blade). I kid you not, one of my buddies thought his arm had been broken after one guy hit him. He had a knot that stuck up over a half an inch, and he couldn't move his fingers or hand for almost half an hour. I took one glancing blow, then armed myself with a large pinbar, and let them know that I would be more than happy to break their bones. Thankfully, no one put me to the test.

So how about you? Did you play any stupid games like that, or are you still doing it? And you ladies... do you have any games that you play with each other? *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*

Wait... that'd be considered art (see #7).

Together

I've mentioned it before, but growing up, there were nine of us cousins who were very tight. Four in our family, four who lived within five miles of us, and a cousin who was always coming out to the farm to see us. We had some great times, and even today, we are close. It's something that I always planned on doing were I to reproduce... keep my kids close to their cousins. I realize that their closeness depends on their individual personalities, but always doing things with my family would help, too. This past weekend was a fine example of that.

My mother wanted to take a trip as a whole family, as it had been a very long time since we were able to get everyone together in one place. It turned out to be a hell of a lot more fun than I had thought it would be, and most of that was just watching the nephews and niece playing. My sister's two boys, and my brother's little boy and girl. Sis' kids are a couple of years older than the Perfect One's perfect spawn, and they love to be around their little cousins. It was funny as hell to watch them...

Below is my sister's yougest, with TPO's youngest...

Click to swell... on all pics

Here's Sis' two with my niece...

I tried to get a pic of TPO's little madman with his cousins, but that was damn near impossible... here he is charging at me while I was playing with him...

Watching them in the water park was great, too. The little madman was so excited (his first time at something like that) that he looked like he was floating over the ground as he kept running back and forth between my brother and myself so we could send him down the water slides. The little dude is 17 months old, and he insisted on going down the slides that three and four year olds were afraid of... he's got no fear at all.

My sister's eldest kept wanting people to go down the Howling Tornado with him as he was just tall enough to be allowed to ride. I went with him twice, almost flipping the first time because his little body was not near enough to counter balance me. The second time, we almost flipped again, but that was because there was four of us on the tube, and we had almost matched the seven hundred pound weight limit... we gathered so much speed that we went too far up the wall! Now that is the way to do it... if you ride that, max out the limit... you'll haul some serious ass!

Meanwhile, Sis' youngest and the madman were flitting across the floor, splashing in the water and being splashed. I wish I would have brought the camera down there, but I was worried about it getting ruined. Not to mention that I had half the kids in the water park trying to chuck harpoons at me, and calling themselves Captain Ahab.

As for the niece, hey, she's only six months old... it's not like she was running off to play. She went swimming and seemed to like it... great big smile... but she was tuckered out too soon. What a baby!

Yeah, it was good to see the kids having such a good time, and being so close. Ma has already determined that this will be an annual event, and we're all looking forward to it. Just as I'm looking forward to watching our family's kids grow up close like we were able to do with our cousins...

Cruising

I was just sitting in my 'puter room, jamming on some Johnny Cash, and attempting to play along, when I heard a noise that came from neither me, nor Johnny. I shut everything down to listen better...

Geese. The bastards are flying North... two big V's of 'em. Honking like Chi-town traffic, and announcing the arrival of spring. And that damn pig in the ground said more winter ahead. Lying bastiche...

I may grab my bindle and migrate my own self...

Usquebaugh-Baul

A Scottish distillery is going to revive a 184 proof whisky... "purely for fun." Bruichladdich distillery has decided to revive a recipe for a spirit known in the Gaelic language as usquebaugh-baul, or "perilous water of life."

"Purely for fun... perilous water of life..." Yeah, sounds like a blast. "Ha, hah! He's going into convulsions!!!" "Ah shit... he's in a coma..."

I've gotta order me some o' dat...

What If???

Just a thought, as we all start gearing up for Easter. This is, after all, the first day of Lent, for those that celebrate it.

Now before I provide the question and pic, let me tell you right now, this may offend some folks. It might be a bit irreverant. It's probably safe to say that it's not safe for work.... blah, blah, blah. Just a heads up, is all.

What if, instead of me being like Jesus, Jesus had been like me?

Yeah... hate to say it, cuz I like you folks, but you'd all be screwed.