Update

Holy Wow... I'm busy as hell, believe it or not. Even worked on Monday. Sad, but it needs to be done.

Got to have supper with my cousin and her family, last night. Heheheh... that was cool. It was the first time that her little girl has seen me, and she was busting me up. As soon as I walked in the door, she looks at me, points, grins, and takes off running, calling, "Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, that... he's... your brother... who is he? Your brother is here!" So now I am again Uncle Joe. It's cool..

Supper was excellent, as was the company, and of course, they spent some time trying to talk me into making my stay here permanent. I couldn't hear much of what they were saying because of the roar of the sweat waterfall running off of me, but they said I'll get used to it. Then they insisted that if I didn't always wear the boots and jeans, I'd be much more comfortable. It gets a little strange when your own family is trying to talk you out of your jeans...

Don't know how long this is going to take, but we are making steady progress. Hopefully, we'll be able to get this thing running soon.

Hope to keep you informed, but just in case, I've asked a few folks if they would stop by and break bread with you guys.

Enjoy the company... that's what it's all about.

Here

Well, I'm here. I'll say nothing more about the heat. Besides, "I'm dying," of course. But that's it.

Still no blogging peeps hung with, but I did hook up with a cousin who's going to Gainesville. Much beer was consumed, and then we drank some more. Not a very good idea when you have to get on the road, and you are up 'til four drinking. I felt like crap the next day... and I'm talking "too serious vegan, eating bushels of nuts and berries and other fibre" explosive diarrhea... elephant diarrhea. Yeah, that crappy.

But I'm here in Apollo Beach now, and I'm looking at the work needing to be done. I'm fully confident that I can get it done... but I'm still a little worried. My uncle was a brilliant man, and these are some damn big shoes to fill. Hopefully, I can find a lot of newspapers to take up some of that room.

Blogging is going to be me posting, and then, if I'm lucky, reading elsewhere. I won't have much time at all. If you email, I'll try my best to get back to you. It may take a little while, though. I appreciate you checkin' in on me. Don't forget the questions for the interview at Basil's, and the map, I'm the map, I'm the map... oops, sorry.

Oh, and don't even think about dropping me out of the judges' slot for Middle Aged Bill.

And one final thing: You know how I mentioned Murphy's Law? Yep, Friday afternoon someone called for me to come in for testing... in Janesville, Wisconsin. I'm in touch, don't worry.

Peace out...

Hot

So I'm sitting here, at a rest area along the I-75 dragway, listening to the quiet sizzling of meat, enjoying the aroma of frying bacon, and pondering the sanity of a madman who volunteers to help family, without consideration of his own life. It is approximately 129.4 degrees Farenheit here in Georgia, and I am steadily melting away. There is a puddle, of either sweat or grease drippings, rapidly growing on the cement griddle beneath me. And this is only purgatory... hell lies a mere sixty miles to the south. Again, how wise was this?

I don't know how long I'll be down there, but Murphy's law dictates that within minutes of my arrival, I will receive calls and emails from jobs that I applied to back home, or in Arkansas. It's going to happen. I only hope that it waits until my aunt and I can get the business up and running, and sold. We'll see.

This has been an uneventful trip, so far, with the only exciting bit being the storms I ran into as I left home. Rain was dumping so hard and fast, that the front of my car disappeared... not an exaggeration. Kinda freaked me out. No hook ups with bloggers, yet, though I was hoping to hook up with Ogre and, later, Zonker. Unfortunately, it was not to be. There will be another time... unless I fry away to nothing while I'm down here. In the meantime, I gotta say, it kinda sucks... travelling and not getting to meet with peeps.

Gotta get rolling again...

Ah

Tricera... tricera... tops.

Onward

I've arrived at the home of the sinful gnats... only to rest and move on towards the weaver of webs. About 8 hours away...

Posting may suffer over the next couple of days, so here's a reminder: someday, I will be interviewed by Basil, but you can start asking me questions now.

And if you haven't already done so, mark yourself on my map... and I'll even say, "Please... damnit!"

Oo

Nebula... nebula.

The Ride

There's just something about a roller coaster that I enjoy. Hell, I love'em, as you could probably tell. Perhaps it's the adrenalin rush, or maybe knowing that you faced a fear and walked away relatively unscathed. It's similar to cresting a hill, and spying a perfectly straight stretch of road layed out before you. You roll on the gas, lean over the tanks of the bike, and fly... or try. My bike only hits 115... quick enough for the rush, I suppose. Also quick enough to decapitate you, should the windshield decide to let go. I don't do it often...

With roller coasters and sprints, it's just a short piece of time. Sure anything can happen, and you know that. It's part of the appeal. On the roller coaster, you know that chances are very slim that something will occur... the rails are set, and you're guided, no matter how it may feel at the time. Sprinting down a backroad is a bit of a risk, but unless you've no mind, you've already taken note of potential dangers, and you only ride the stretch that you can see. No heading into the unseen, unless it's at a safe speed. Leastways, that's how I am about it.

Funny that a person who likes that kind of rush, and brief encounters with uncertainty, is so damn wary of change. Thing is, on life's roller coaster, there's no way to know that the rails are continuous, or if they just drop off into nothing. Deep down, I know everything is going to be cool. But there sure are a lot of doubts trying to upset that.

Oh well, time to buckle in.

Heart Attack Jr.

HOLY MOTHER OF GOTT!!! I think I'm about to die...

I was jamming, rather loudly, on Static X's "Start a War," while writing the post above. Thinking about the post, and many other things, the music ended without my notice.

As I was walking through the house, I heard a voice scream in my ear, "EVIL INSIDE...," about knocking me to the floor. It was the damned "hidden track" at the end of the CD.

I wonder how long it will be, if it hasn't already been done, before someone sues a record company for "damages... to their shorts."

Like Black Flag

Some nights, the dreams of death get to be too much, so I'll get up and wander around the house in the dark, or I'll grab the laptop, and head outside. A great way to cool the sweats and enjoy the beautiful night. Well, that's done for the summer, I'm thinking... the junebugs are out, and in divebombing mode. I had a couple hovering around the light of the screen, bouncing off of it, and my face. I don't really need that...

They got me thinking. What the hell calendar do they follow? Is it Hebrew, Islamic, Indian, or Chinese? Maybe Julian. It sure isn't Gregorian... it's May, and the JUNEbugs are here. I'm thinking there's a market out there, untapped. Bugs need calendars, too. Otherwise, they'll show up too early, and throw everything off. A confused insect is not a good thing.

If you, or anyone you know, know how to speak or write Insectish, please get ahold of me. (The email addie is in the sidebar to the right.)

We can make a killin'.

Ugh

Viscera... viscera.

Another Suggestion For Grau

Bloggers are a different lot. That's a very obvious fact. Whether they take themselves too seriously, or just don't seem to care, they are all very similar. Oh, sure, their personal styles vary, but deep down, they share many qualities, with two of them seemingly dominant.

I like to say that I'm shy, but to be technical, I'm just quiet. Elisson and I were discussing bloggers during the Blown Star Blodge Meet, and he pointed out, correctly, that there is no such thing as a shy blogger. Anyone who is willing to toss their personal views, thoughts, or opinions out into a public forum is not shy. We also came to the conclusion that bloggers are all sadists and masochists. It's true. Why else would they post the things they do, whether it's a post on their blog, or a comment on another's?

The first time I noticed this, was back when Eric posted about his cyst. Since then, I've seen many examples, with some very recently: Contagion's exploded nards, Bloodspite's consumption of brewed bile (not despite warning reviews, but because of them), and now, Graumagus giving away his pride. Hell, I even did one myself, asking for help, though, it was just a hypothetical question. Sadists abound when you post these things.

The thing is, while these first seem like an attempt to gain sympathy from the dwellers of the intraweb, the masochistic authors know that the sadists will be lining up to kick them while they're down. That's what they want! We They get pleasure from their peers putting the boots to them. Most times, though, it's subtle begging... with Grau's post, I picture Mr. Buzzcut (only MUCH rounder, with a beard, and no hair), arms akimbo, screaming at the blogosphere, "KICK ME IN THE JIMMY!" *punt* "YEEEEAAASSSSSSS!!!! MORE, DAMMIT!!!" The man truly is a sicko... that's where my next suggestion for his mid-life crisis contest comes in. I think he'll truly appreciate it.

Army Wife and I were talking, and we were trying to come up with something that might initially humiliate him, but could later benefit him. Big time. We're talking book deals, and TV appearances. It falls inside his guidelines, too. Well, damn near. But rules are made for stretching, much like skin. The only catch is that we would need to collect some ching to do it, but he does allow for that; "1)Must cost less than $100 unless you bastards are willing to cough up the dough for whatever sick shit you inflict on me."

What the hell are we planning? Well, it's not totally original, but there's a benefit to that, too. He and the original guy can stage fights, competitions, or wet T-shirt contests if they want. It'll definitely bring in the dough for him. The cool thing is that we only ask a small cut from the profits he reaps.

Still don't know what the hell I'm talking about? Then you didn't click the link that mentioned a dude getting breast implants... and keeping them.

I think Grau may argue that we are breaking rule 7 (No permanent body modification. I'm not getting anymore tats just yet.), but he only mentioned tattoos. I think this could be a very good thing for him, and that is the only reason that I propose it.

Well, that, and I am a bit sadistic...

Uh

Spatula... spatula.

Sic'im

Graumagus, of Frizzensparks, is going through a midlife crisis. However, he’s just too damn busy to concern himself with doing it properly, so he’s leaving it up to us to decide how he celebrates “his downward slide into his permanent dirt nap.” Unfortunately, his rules eliminate many, many, options…

”So here's the deal folks: YOU are going to choose what utterly stupid shit I do to celebrate my downward slide into the permanent dirtnap. My "judges" (see below) will pick the five most creative submissions (posted in the comments to this post) and put up a poll so that you misanthropes get the final say. The deadline for entries is my birthday (5-29-06), the poll will be up from Tuesday 5-30-06 until the following monday. Sentence to be carried out as soon as feasible, photographic evidence posted here on the blog.
Use your twisted imaginations folks, buuuutt... there are a few rules...
1)Must cost less than $100 unless you bastards are willing to cough up the dough for whatever sick shit you inflict on me.
2) Must not be a criminal offense. Sorry folks, I have a family to support and I'm not going to jail and/or getting a permanent criminal record for your amusement.
3) Must not lose me my job (see above).
4) No genital piercings. Self explanitory (and besides, do you really want to see photos of my pasty nads with steel bits through 'em?)
5) Must not get me killed. Remember, the whole idea is that I live another 35 years, remember? Possibly in shame after this is over, but alive nonetheless.
6) Must not end up in divorce. In other words, the conjoined albino midget hookers aren't an option. Sorry guys. I'm sure this will end with me being in trouble (I'll be in trouble after Maranda reads this post) but nothing that's actionable in court, please...
7) No permanent body modification. I'm not getting anymore tats just yet.
8) No eating Lutefisk. Or other horrible poisonous things like scat, urine, eyeballs, etc.
9) No making me dress up like Emma Peel. This woman gets irate when I suggest that. In fact, I'm taking "Grau in drag" off the table as being too horrible to inflict on humanity in general.

Contagion, Harvey, and myself will be the judges responsible for his sentencing.

You don’t have to know the guy to enjoy making him suffer, so get on over there, and add your suggestion to the comments. Remember when you go there… this guy is partially responsible for you having to read this crap here. Make him hurt bad…

Dedication

I'm posting this piece for Ktreva, and brother Elisson, who knows great music.

Enjoy.

Gotta Wonder

Who the hell brings along a little dude to witness two drunken women, and two male social drinkers?

He's been greatly entertained, I'm thinking.

****Backstory...

Ktreva and Contagion stopped by Tammi's, along with Clone. I arrived a little later, in time to see the two drunken women chasing the poor young man.

The "Chaperone"

Well, my first trip as a chaperone went rather well.

I got to the school at a little before eight, just in time to be the first one there. Got checked in with the woman in charge, and climbed on the bus to quickly down a breakfast burrito and a gatorade that I had picked up on the way. Despite good intentions, I had stayed out late the night before visiting with a friend who had just got into town, so I was feeling a little bit rough. Anyway, it wasn't too long, and the bus was full of screaming savages. We were on our way. Thankfully, someone had brought a couple of movies, and those were thrown in on the way to and from Great America. It helped a lot in keeping the noise to a low roar.

We got to the school in Gurnee, where the choir was to perform as part of a competition. There were schools from Minnesota, Northern Wisconsin, Iowa, and Illinois... not sure how many, exactly, but it was a steady flow of kids in and out of the school. After a short wait, we got checked in, and the kids performed.

The choir kicked ass! I was surprised that kids, especially 6 - 8th graders, could sing like that. I got goosebumps during their last song, and, talking with some of the parents, I wasn't the only one. Beautiful. With no idea of how they might have done compared to other schools, we headed on out to the amusement park.

Here's where things got very cool.

We got to the park at around one, and we only had a few hours 'til we were supposed to meet for the awards ceremony. Chaperones were to take shifts, 20 or 30 minutes, sitting at an area they called the chaperone bench, just so the kids would always have someone there if needed. I was there with Fritz's three daughters, two of whom were to chaperon as well; however, while we were accounted for, we hadn't been added to their schedule. We were told not to worry about it. Heheheheh... the four of us took off to hit as many rides as we could. Three adults looking out for one sixth grader.

We promptly hit "Willard's Whizzer," a beginner's roller coaster, to see how well "Cheese" (Fritz's youngest) would do. After a short but nervous wait, we got on the ride... where Cheese announced that she did not like the ride one bit. This at the halfway point. Since she was sitting directly in front of me, I was thankful that she didn't dislike it enough to blow chow. We adults were all a bit worried that we might not get to go on anymore rollercoasters.

After a bit of teasing and lighthearted threatening, Cheese was willing to try one more, so we went to "The Demon," with it's two loops and two corkscrew twists. I thought that we were going to end up spending the rest of the day riding little kid's rides after this (which would have been fine), but Cheese loved it! Turns out that the reason she disliked the other one was it's fast turns on it's side... and I think the fact that it only had seatbelts, and not a harness. Going upside down four times was a blast to her. Well, to all of us.

Next stop was "The Viper," an old style wooden roller coaster. I'd never been on this ride before, but the two older girls were raving about how fun it was. Damn, they were right! You spend quite a bit of time floating just off of your seat on this one. I wanted to go back and do it again! While Cheese thought it was fun, she also said that she wasn't in a hurry to get back on it. Off to the next one!

"The Raging Bull" had been down for most of the time that we were waiting in line for the Viper, but by the time we were done, it started running again. We hurried over, and got in line just before it got really busy. As it was, we waited about forty five minutes (not that bad) for the ride.

The seats on the Bull are like saddles... your feet dangle. Now this might not be too bad, but the only thing holding you to your seat is a triangle shaped piece that fits over your lap. It looks like a bull's nose, and it's got rings for you to hold on. Nothing over your shoulders, or anything else. Just that triangle, which honestly feels very secure when you first get on. As soon as you take the first turn out of the station, and your feet sway, it doesn't feeling reassuring at all.

Now, I had been screaming like a little girl on the previous rides. I mean, dramatically screaming. It's always a blast to let out a fake yell, or falsetto shriek, when you ride these things. The girls had been doing the same. Heheheh... daughter 2 and I were riding in the very front of the Demon (this, after the ride was shut down to fix a problem) and we let loose as soon as the ride started moving. Funny... you could hear everyone waiting in line laughing... but we both were wondering if that really wasn't that bright of an idea. I mean, we WERE the first to go through after their difficulties. To get back to The Bull, after the long ascent to the top of the ride, I can guarantee that my fake scream quickly turned to a genuine "GOOOOOODDDDDDAAAMMNNNNN!!!!!" This was quickly followed by alternating insane laughter and obscenities. All at a rather high volume. Consideration for the ears of others was lost... I felt bad about it later, but at the time, I was only concerned with living through the experience.

Ever had those dreams where you jump from one thing to another, on the edge of forever, and you miss? You feel yourself flailing about, trying to speed up evolution and sprout wings, as that feeling of doom soaks through your guts. That's the feeling you get as you fall from the sky on the Bull. Don't ask me to describe the rest of the ride... I can't really remember much more than Cheese screaming "GET ME OFF OF THIS THING," and seeing daughter 1 reach over to shut her up. Yeah, that was near the end. I guarantee that none of us took our hands off of that locking bar until it was safe. I got off of that ride with my legs shaking, and made myself a vow.

Next time I'm there, I'm riding it TWICE.

From there, we stumbled our way over to "The American Eagle," another wooden coaster, and an old favorite of mine. This thing hauls ass, and will shake you to death... part of the charm of the wooden roller coasters. Nothing crazy to it, just some good hang times over the ups and downs. Always a blast. It ended up being one of Cheese's favorites.

About the time we finished there, it was time to report to the ampitheatre for the awards ceremony. What a frickin' madhouse. Rabid kids running everywhere, our's were pretty decent. Not angels, but they didn't get out of hand. We walked out with a couple of trophies, but they were awarded to everyone. We didn't do bad at all, though. Third and first for choir and orchestra. Or vice versa... I kept nodding off. Once we finished there, we had a little less than an hour to try and catch another ride. We raced towards the front gate, and "Superman."

I've gotta be honest. I wasn't too keen on the thought of going on a ride where you are lying on your stomach. Especially being the featherweight that I am. The line was long and slow moving, and the more I watched the riders fly overhead, the more nervous I got. Unfortunately, this was not unnoticed by the girls. "Suck it up, Marine." "Don't be a baby, Marine." They were all looking forward to getting home and telling stories. For some reason, the line slowed more and more. What should have taken about thirty minutes stretched out to over fifty... and counting. We ended up jumping the railings to exit the line, so that we could make it back to the bus only a few minutes late. I can't say that I was heartbroken.

Ride home was uneventful, and we made it in good time. A call had been made to Fritz's, and dinner was waiting for us when we got there. So was my video game nemesis... standing proudly beside the machine displaying "Try Joes Lil Sausage." What a dick... heheheheh. Didn't take long, and stories about me puking on the rides were going. And I know there'll be plenty more.

What a frickin' blast!

A Fine Example

Heheheheh... I just got asked to help herd a group of sixth graders tomorrow at Six Flags Great America. Hey, I'm just a big kid at heart... how was I supposed to pass it up? No repeat of last night's events, I'm going to have to behave tonight. I've gotta get up too early to really get stupid.

What happened last night? Uh... the usual weekend's worth of drinking. That would be FOR THE WHOLE WEEKEND. Yeah, I've done it before, but not so much while unemployed. It's just not practical. But every now and then...

See, there is an evil bastard that lives here in Stillman. No, not me. The man is a hustler and a drunk. Okay, not really. But it's true that when he and I are in the bar together, Quarters will be played, as well as video golf and hunting. There is also a very good chance that we will either run the bar out of Amber Bock, or put a serious dent in the Miller Lite supply, if not both.

He's former Army (late Vietnam era), and so there are a lot of verbal jabs at each other's service. Personal lives are shredded, and we call each other some pretty interesting names. The guy loves to goad me into swearing, and when done at the proper times, I tend to cuss rather loudly. As in almost being tossed from MY bar, loudly.

We are fiercely competitive with each other, but it's all in good fun... we try to oudo each other's scores on the hunting game, and then leave names for the other in there. Heheheh... the machine is set up so that instead of just leaving initials, you can leave a long first and last name. If you are boring enough to do that...

I'd like to say that he started it. I walked past the machine one day, and I saw the Most Perfect Sites had been won by "Gay Joe The Marine." Since then, I've been called "Potty Mouth Joe," and some other prize winning monikers. My favorite for him was "------ Huffs Choad." Heheheheh... it was hysterical until he called his wife, a very church going type, over to see it. She asked what that was supposed to mean, and he said he didn't know, but she should ask me... I put it in. Yeah. And she used to like me.

Anyway, last night we did it up big. And loud. I think we drove some of the euchre club's members from the bar with my swearing. Well, they might have thought it was swearing. Really, what I was saying, too frequently, was "foowaaahk." That's not a swear word, is it? Choad looked over at me at one point, and he said, "Man, you're getting some nasty looks from that guy." I told him rather loudly that we were the one's who were earning the bar money... those "foowaaahkers" only buy a pop every now and then. Wasn't too long, and they were all gone. Oops.

The true extent of the damage was discovered later. Much later.

Your money will go a long way at Fritz's, as those who attended the Fritz Fest can attest to. Usually, a serious night of drinking (beer drinking) puts you about thirty to forty bucks in the hole. Not including the cash that I had spent earlier in the day, my tab ended up being almost a hundred bucks after tip. I won't tell you the total for the day...

Choad is currently in the last month of his employment, and he's looking forward to his free time over the summer. He's already told me that he can't wait to hook up with me when he's unemployed. Golfing, drinking. Uh. Fun, but not good.

I really, really need to get a job, and quick. If something remotely decent comes along, I'll be all over it like a streaming horde of chipmunks descending upon a stack of pancakes.

An Enemy

While Silent Warrior has engaged their forces in the north, it seems that I have a "floater" cell of FART (Free Allied Rodent Threat) bringing their war here. I mentioned before the apparent alliance between the hornets and gophers, and my war with the bees. Not sure if I mentioned the bats, but they are no longer to be considered. They are long gone, as evidenced by the early appearance of mosquitos. The bats were annoying, but I wish they had stuck around the area when they moved. Anyway, looking at the current situation, I realize that these pests are well organized, and a serious threat.

The hornets are still hanging around. But they've yet to get a solid foothold on the territory known as my home. They've started nests in my doorway, but those are removed with swift and extreme prejudice. All landing pads are soaked in Raid at regular intervals. The light fighter units of ASS (Air Superiority Squadron) are no real threat at this time. I've got other concerns.

The super gopher that I mentioned the other day? Not the only one. This morning, I spied three of the little bastards, apparently all recovered from their feast of "special peanuts." The whereabouts of the other two are in question, but I'm pretty sure that they are soon to turn up.

It could be that they are a new set of gophers, moving into the abandoned tunnels haunted by their "pre-deceasers." I'd not put money on that, for I'm certain that the one that grinned at me the other day, flipped me off this morning. Double barrelled, even. He's fully recovered, and wants me to know. Or he's a totally different gopher, and he's just jacking with me. While fairly simple to do, it does show the intelligence these little rats have.

I'm thinking that they've even got technology on their side... I've heard beeping, like a heart monitor, when I've put my ear to the ground. Unfortunately, I can't pinpoint it... it seems to come from everywhere. But I'm certain that they've got an underground hospital, maybe even a couple of them, in their tunnel network. They probably got their little stomachs pumped, and stayed in the hospital until they could effectively pester me. Hey... now that I think about it, I bet the other two were near death, and they were put into a cryogenic state of suspended animation until the lab gophers can come up with a cure. I wouldn't put it past them...

Ah... there's one now... gotta run..

Don't Push

Play with this for a bit...while I recover from a very stoopid evening.

Hat tip to Steve for this game.

Moron

Hey!!!

Do you want to win the "The Moron Of The Week?" Or rather, properly guess the Moron, and win linkage beyond your wildest dreams? Samantha Burns has her weekly post up, and so far, NO ONE HAS GUESSED IT... SHE'S HAD TO LEAVE A CLUE!!!

To see the moron's silhouette, and take your guess, go to her main page, look to the right column, and click on the silhoutte to leave your brilliant guess.

Good luck.

Another Question

Okay... I'm drunk (a little), mildly retarded (again... a little), or just plain clueless (if I knew what that meant, I might agree to it).

Someone mentioned MacArthur Park today, and I can't make it any further in the lyrics than:

Spring was never waiting for us, girl,

it ran one step ahead as we followed in the dance,

Between the parted pages that were pressed,

A love hot fevered like a striped pair of pants,

MacArthur Park is melting in the dark, all the sweet, green
icing flowing down.

Someone left the cake out in the rain,

I don't think I could take it, `cause it took so long to bake
it,

And I'll never have that recipe again, oh no!

Italics added by me

Huh? What the Sam Frickin' Hell is that supposed to mean? "A love hot fevered like a striped pair of pants..."

And who left the birthday party so damn early that they forgot the cake?

I'm all cornfused...

Motivating...

Here's your goosebumps of the day: A short clip of the Silent Drill Team, from Military.com. (You have to register to see it, if you're not a member... for an even shorter clip, you can go here.) If you've never seen them, you're missing out. It's a powerful experience.

I got to see them at Lejuene... heheheh... got goosebumps just remembering. Our platoon marched back to the barracks with our shoulders back, and chests thrust out in pride. I'm suprised no buttons were popped...

Have you ever seen them? What did you think?

On Blogging

Yabu asks a question, and would like an honest answer.

Attention All Bloggers...or K-Mart Shoppers...Blue Light Special on Isle 2.

Do you blog for the hits, or you do this shit for some other reason? And if so, what is it and why?

I'm just curious.

I dare you to tell the truth.

While I'd like to say that I haven't a clue, that would be a lie; however, the main reason keeps changing with my situation.

When I first got started, it was to shut Harvey up, though, I will admit, I was pretty excited about getting it started. I really didn't know how things would pan out, but it was fun.

As I started writing my drivel, I got to loving it. It was a release. A way to vent the things that I thought of, trying to distract myself, during my work day. Hits had nothing to do with it. But I will admit, the thought that anyone was reading me was pretty damn cool. I thought that 30 - 40 hits a day was pretty sweet, and never really expected to get much more than that. And I was satisfied with it.

Now that I'm not working, it's changed yet again. Now, for some ungodly reason, I'm up to around 140 to 160 hits a day. And I seem to actually pay attention to it... I never did before. Part of it is that I like the communication; although, I've been terrible at keeping up with my blogrolls. Another part is that it's interesting to see some of the searches that bring folks around, and where visitors are from.

I'll probably never hit a steady 200 hits a day, and I'm cool with that. My writing isn't anything fancy, and it's not exactly proper, but it's for me. To have others laugh and comment about some of my scribblings is a huge side benefit.

Another benefit, and probably the reason that I've been doing it lately, is that I've had the opportunity to meet many bloggers... most all of them are damn good peeps.

Hanging with the peeps; that seems to be my main motivation.

No Help Please

I used to work with a guy who had a habit of asking how to do something, and then, after a person would carefully explain the steps involved, he would go back to his job, look at it, and then go ask someone else how to do it. I don't know if it was worry over screwing up, or a way to kill time... hell, maybe even a bit of both... but it would piss off everyone around him. Especially when he would cut off an explanation with, "Well, so and so said to do it this way." There are many ways to do a job, and as long as it comes out right, it doesn't matter which way you choose. But once you started doing the job one way, it's best to finish it the same way.

Whether he meant it this way, or not, it was insulting. Some guys would fly into a rage when he asked them stuff, and then ignored what advice they offered. It didn't take too long, and guys started giving him advice on what to do to himself instead of how to do the job. Sad thing was, in the eleven years I worked there, he never stopped doing it. Never caught a clue. Some folks are just frickin' dense.

I was watching television at the bar last night, and they had "Deal or No Deal" playing. Over and between the conversations, we would catch bits and pieces of the show, and add our insightful commentary.

One of the contestants was a woman who had either a fiance or husband over in Iraq. He was a sergeant, but I'm not totally sure which branch. Army comes to mind, but I couldn't see any chevrons or read his nametags. Anyway, that's beside the point. Once she got so far into the show, they had it set up so that he could help her with her decisions via satellite. Pretty cool, I thought.

I wasn't paying much attention until the woman had only four cases, and hers, left, with the highest possible winnings being $500,000. Now, anyone who has seen the show knows that it is very, very seldom that a person wins the highest amount. It's usually safer to deal with their "banker." If you need an explanation of the rules, click the link above.

She was offered $128,000 for her case, and she turned it down. I didn't hear if she had asked her man what to do in that situation, but I did hear Howie Mandel say to her, after she asked her man which case to eliminate, "Why do you ask him questions, when you won't listen to what he says?" The sergeant told her to get rid of case 12. She looks at it, tells them to pull it, then stops them, and says to pull case 11. It was the $500,000 case, and the next offer from the banker dropped down to $44,000. This time when she asked the sergeant, she listened when he said to deal. She took the money and ran. It was a good call, as her case held only $10.

I know I may be over reacting, but it pissed me off. She asks for his input, and then shows everyone exactly how much that meant to her. On national frickin' television, no less. All I can think of is the guy I used to work with, and I think, "Run, Forrest! Run!!!" It's doubtful that it is ever going to end.

But maybe I'm just too cynical.

Interwiew With The AWTM

Basil's got the interview with ArmyWifeToddlerMom up over at his place. Head on over to check it out... she did a good job answering most of the questions asked of her.

And speaking of interviews, I signed up for one. Though it's still a long, long, long, long, long, long way off, you can ask your questions here... I'll do my damndest to answer them.

Mother's Day

Just got back from our family's Mother's Day grill out. Or, "Grill In," since the weather wasn't very cooperative. Always a good time getting together with the cousins... it's just a bunch of thirty+year olds acting five again. Heheheh... we still drive the parents crazy, though, now we can get them to laugh with us. Sometimes.

You may have noticed that I don't usually reminisce much about times with my mother, writing mostly about what I can remember of my father. There's a good reason for that... she's still alive, he's not. Not a very fair reason, but it works. But as the saying goes, you don't know what you've got, until it's gone. That is, unless you take some time to reflect, and look back on things. I've got a hell of a mother...

As some of you probably already know, Pa was killed in a farm accident in '76. I was nine at the time, and the oldest of four, with the youngest, R, being four. Ma was left with the task of raising us, and trying to maintain the farm. She held out for nearly four years, selling animals off, renting out the acreage, and finally selling the farm in '80. We moved to a small farmette, and stayed there until she needed to move closer to work...

She may have given up the farming, but she never gave up on us. We weren't bad kids, but we definitely gave her reason enough to rip out hair... both hers and ours. But she kept on. I'm a little biased, but I think she did a damn good job. Hell, you would not believe how many of my friends' parents, especially mothers, wanted to meet her. Most just wanted to tell her that they admired the way she raised us. Most said that they KNEW they would have problems raising just their one or two kids, and here she raised four fine kids.

A couple of years ago, my mother sat us all down, and she apologized for the spankings that we got. She seemed to think that some were a bit harsh, and that she had overdone it. We looked at each other, grinned, then told her that, if anything, we had never gotten near enough... not that we got away with much, but we did manage a few times! As for being too harsh, we told her there was no way. We never had bruises. Never were beaten. Yeah, we like to joke about how we were beat to death, but that's usually when she can hear us. You know... just to goad her a bit. But we goad because we love.

I love my ma to death, even if I don't show it nearly as much as I should. I'm pretty damn sure she knows it, and not just because of the flowers I brought for her. I look at my siblings, and look at how we've all turned out, and I can't help but feel pride in my mother. Pride and love...

She's one hell of a woman.

I know it's late, but I just want to wish all of you mother's out there a very Happy Mother's Day. I hope that all of you will have your kids look at you with the same pride and love that my siblings and I feel for our mother.

Down

I'm beginning to get a little pissed. I've been down a little, but today seems like a good day to go down... you couples should take advantage of that.

First, the frickin' ISP is down, then, when I can finally get on line, MuNu takes a rest... now, gmail is down. Think I may toss in some Down and slam down a beer.

Speaking of beer, and seeing as I made mention of drunken monkeys, lately, check out these monkeys having their first drink of the day.

Hope you're down wit dat, yo.

Ties

Another string broken, another link removed.

Go with Gott, Fred. Tell Pa, "Hi" for me.

Rodent

I've got a super-gopher...

No, I haven't gone and given a new name to the schwanz. I've really got some damn invincible gopher hanging out in my yard.

A couple of days ago, I eliminated the little bastards who've been diggin' up my yard. Haven't seen one since... until this morning. The pellets are still in the holes, though most have been eaten, and here this little dude comes up from the depths. He was grinning.

No more pellet guns, no more poison pellets... I'm thinking it's shotgun time...

Gladiator

I was reminded today of a video that I had meant to post for you, long ago. Only after reading Basil's Headline News, did I remember... brought back by the headline: "Sex Toys Are Deductible In Australia," with Basil's comment, "IRS says, 'Try that in the U.S. and you're screwed.'" Heheheh...

Well, sex toys can also be brutal when coming in contact with a face... at least, at high rates of speed. This guy knows.

For Some Peeps

Got to thinking the other night, and I realized that I don't always cater to all of my readers. It ain't fair. So I figured that I should try to hook them up.

Here's to some prime mates of mine. Some cheesecake...

You may be asking, "WTF???" Well, here's the scoop: Monkeys are people, too. A little bit of cheesecake every now and again is greatly appreciated.

Hey, it's true. I was reading earlier today about how drunken monkeys mirror people. Duh... I could have told you that. Who the hell do you think writes half of my drunken posts? Between me and my crew of rhesus, we come up with the drivel that I force upon you.

Well, I checked into it a bit, and I found another bit of info, though it's not exactly the latest news. Monkeys pay for sexy photos, too. That link requires registration, so I'll quote the whole thing:

A recent study has found that male macaques will readily give up food in order to look at photos of a female monkey's bottom. Males gave up portions of juice in exchange for a half-second glimpse of a female macaque's genitals and anus. "Virtually all monkeys will give up juice to see female hindquarters," says the leader of the study, Robert Deaner. "They really value the images." The males would also give up juice in order to look at faces of the males in their troop, presumably in order to gather social information about their companions and rivals. But they would only give up very small portions of juice compared to what they were willing to sacrifice for a half-second glimpse of a female's behind.

That explains the credit card billings from "Monkey Ass Mommas." I'm gonna have to get myself a new crew... one that doesn't drink so much, or spend all of their time spanking each other.

Mowing Sidewalks

Anyone seen or heard from Redneck? I saw this today, and I'm just a bit curious...

;)

Trim

I don't really know why, but I thought I'd share this pic with you.

It's in dire need of trimming, but the bush still looks pretty damn good.

Serenade

I've mentioned that I play guitar a little bit. It's definitely nothing that is gonna earn me any ching, but it is pretty damn fun. I hadn't played for awhile, but a few months back, I picked it back up. I'm still not playing well, but things are coming back. Rapidly. It's become kind of an obsession.

I've started playing for hours at a time, and it's not always a whole song that occupies me... at times, I get hung up on a certain part, or a certain riff, and I play it over and over, until it has a certain fluidity. Hell, it might not sound good, but if it feels fluid when I play, I consider that a victory. And usually, the next day, it does sound good.

After listening to Rob, Denny, Jim, and Eric play, I decided that I've gotta do some work to hang with them. Sure, it's fun to play along with them, and that's really what it's about, but it would be nice to play at their level, or much nearer than my current level! So I've hit it hard lately, learning a song that Army Wife asked me to learn, and concentrating on the intro to "The Trees," by Rush. Heheh... that Rush song has kicked my ass. The chord changes are many, and often. After a couple hours trying to play that the other night, I awoke to find that I couldn't close my hand. Not good.

Ah well. I've got the chords pegged, it's just a matter of strengthening my hand. Maybe I'll treat you all to it at the next meet. Or not. Heheheh... I had been planning to play The Scrotum Song at this last meet, but thankfully, the timing was never right.

Is This My Mommy?

The other day, I posted pic of my father, and Raging Mom recognized him... she identified him as Richie Brockelman, a television detective. She may have helped me out by ID'ing him, but in my searches to find out more info, another question was posed.

I found only two images of him, and only one was a picture. My "mother" was a great woman, and not ugly, but she looked nothing like the woman seen in the pic below. I've got to wonder, "Is this actually my mom?" AND, "Is it wrong to think she's hot?"

Goody Two Shoes

Found this over at Baboon Pirates. Though, I've got to say, how you can consider "From Dusk Til Dawn," or "Evil Dead" B-MOVIES is beyond me. Those are quality films... soon to be classics.

Gimme some sugar baby.

Jesus Copperfield

I saw again, the other day, the article about Jesus actually walking on ice. Now, the guy proposing this theory, Prof. Doron Nof, is only offering a possibility, he's not saying it's gospel (pardon the pun). But if you ask me, and you didn't, asking us to believe that ice formed on disturbed waters, and then Jesus walked out three or four miles across a lake on that ice... well, that seems to require the same faith needed to believe that He just strolled across the waters.

The sixth chapter of the Gospel of John tells the story familiar to Christians: When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, got into a boat and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were terrified. But he said to them: "It is I, do not be afraid." (John 6:16-20)
Reuters reports that FSU professor Doron Nof credits this miraculous act to an unusual combination of water and atmospheric conditions in what is now northern Israel that could have led to ice formation on the Sea of Galilee. Using statistical models to examine the dynamics of the Sea of Galilee (now known as Lake Kinneret) and records of surface temperatures of the Mediterranean Sea, Nof determined there was a period of cooler temperatures in the area between 1,500 and 2,600 years ago. He says this could have included the time in which Jesus lived.
Had the temperature dropped below freezing, it could have created ice to form in the freshwater lake that was then called the Sea of Galilee. And that ice would have been thick enough to support the weight of a man. What's more, it might have been impossible for distant observers--especially in the dark as the Gospel of John reports--to see that it was actually ice surrounded by water and not just water.

Until I hear of Sven or Olie trotting across Lake Superior to catch up with their freighter, I'll be insisting that this is just as miraculous as the other. Shoot, a shifting sandbar is more likely, but still, a frickin' miracle.

You want to know what really happened? Keep reading...

It had been a long day, and JC was a bit frazzled... he was in desperate need of some lighthearted fun. His cousin had recently been beheaded by Herod Antipas, he had a crowd of five thousand following him while he healed their sick and tried to pass on his teachings, and then, when evening had come, he had to pull off one of the greatest illusions of his career… making five thousand people think that they all had eaten from a measly five loaves and two fish. Best part, was that when they gathered up the leftovers, they had twelve baskets full. “Hahah… suckers!” He thought to himself.

Trying to lighten things up a bit, Copperfield ordered his disciples to get into a ship, and head over, across the lake, to Capernaum, while he sent the crowds away. He told them that “after he had prayed,” he would meet up with them on the other side. He started up a mountain, until they were well out of sight, then, laughing softly to himself, he made his way to his Roman friend, Industrious Mechanicus; Sol, for short.

Sol: “Evening, Jesus. How goes it, g? You ready to jack with some minds?”

JC: “Heheheh… you’ve got it, bro. You got it finished?”

S: “Yeah, Jay, but I didn’t go with that ice angle you wanted to play.”

J: “Why not?”

S:“Dude… I know you of all people know that ice ain’t gonna form on turbulent waters. Look at the shit brewing out there now. I bet your boys are shittin’ bricks, right about now.”

J: "Heheheh... you know it. 'Specially Peter... I tell ya, that guy is dimmer than a 10 watt bulb."

S: "A what?"

J: "Errr... nevermind. Something that you won't be around to see. So, show me what you got..."

Sol walked to the door of his workshop, and, with great pride, revealed his newest creation.

J: "Uh... what the fu... I mean... what the heck IS it?"

S: "I still don't know exactly what to call it."

Copperfield shot him a look of exasperation.

S: "Oh. Sorry. It's a boat, actually, but it's powered by that belt in the center. You said you wanted to make it look like you were walking on water, not gliding. That was another flaw with your ice plan. Unless you planned on flipping your ice floe end for end, you just be pacing, not to mention the fact that you'll never catch up with your posse. This here belt drives these paddles underneath, and you, J, drive the belt."

J: "By walking?"

S (with a wink): "Ain't no one pulling one over on you, bro! The faster you walk, the faster you go."

J: "Okay, that's cool, but what the heck is the boat made out of? It looks like glass."

S: "You know my cousin, the general down at the garrison?"

J: "General Electricus?"

S: "Foshizzle. Anyway, he's also an inventor, and he came up with this stuff. He calls it 'Flexi-glass.' It's pretty strong, and it won't break when you bend it. When you get this baby out on the water, you can't even see it. Only thing visible is the walking belt, and you've gotta look pretty hard to see it in low light."

J: "Dude, this is gonna so frickin' ROCK!!! I can already see Peter's face! Heheheh... I bet he'll even try to walk out to see me, once he sees that it's me. I can't believe that guy is going to start my church once I'm outta here."

The two of them pushed the invisible boat out to the water's edge. JC climbed in, and walked/paddled His way back into the pages of the Bible...

And now you know, the rest of the story...

Good Day!

Aging

Back when I had hair down to my ass, I used to wear it in a ponytail, with about 5 or 6 rubberbands around it. It was kept back out of the way, and it was kept neat. I didn't notice it until I cut it back into a military style cut, but I used to play with my ponytail when I was thinking, or distracted.

Since Austin, I've had plenty of ideas for posts, but I'm so damn far behind on e-mails and reading blogs, that I don't think I'll ever get caught up. I'm getting distracted, and have a hard time focusing on the post at hand.

What do the two have to do with each other? Well, as I was trying to focus, I found myself swirling my hair in my fingers. Now, if you know me, or have met me, you know that my hair ain't that long. But then, it is... if it's from my ear. I don't know where it was hiding, but my Gottdamn ear hair was over an inch and a half long. Hurt like hell when I pulled it out, too. I think it's root was connected to my brain.

Hell, I tried to take a picture of it, but it doesn't show up well enough. With it being as white as it was, it disappeared everytime I snapped a shot.

Just thought you might like to know.

If You Ask It...

It's getting down to the last second, but there is still time to get your questions in.

"Questions? What the hell are you talking about?"

Hell, I'm glad you asked. Army Wife is being interviewed by Basil, and the deadline to submit your questions is this Sunday... May 7th. She's willing to answer ALMOST any of your questions.

To submit your questions, click here.

Wha?

Stopped for lunch at Fritz's... see the time stamp?

Cool day. I'm home, amongst some of my cool peeps, but getting a bit agitated... some bastard is pushing my eyeblrows down over my eyes. Turnin' cirlcels don't do shit... they must be running away, but I'll catch the losers later or sooner.

In the mean time, gaze into the logo... 'tis a pretty logo, very war m and welcoming... enticing, some do say. Look.. look.. lookk....

At The School Of Hard Rock

This is just for Ktreva, of Reality Ranch. I'd promised to send her the ABC song... as done by Psychostick.

Here it do be. Listen, and learn.

Language alert, for those that need that warning....

Blown Star State Meet

I'm sitting here shaking... not sure if it's from being tired, near death experiences, or just a bad case of blogmeet DTs. Well, I guess that line is a bit redundant. I mean, if you've ever been to a blogmeet, you know that being tired and close to death are just part of the package. It gives one something to blog about at a later date... right? Anyway, this meet was one for the books.

Tammi and I managed to arrive in the Austin area around 9:30 Friday morning. And this was after a few lengthy stops, once it was realized that we would arrive long before check in time. We made pretty good time, leaving Thursday, at around 1:30 pm. Not too shabby...

The first two folks that got there, shortly after we arrived, were Brother Redneck and Shoe. The four of us headed out to lunch, and met Dash at a little Tex-Mex place. Though the food may have affected me later, I've got to say that it was kick ass. An excellent choice.

Now, I've met Redneck before. That's a good guy, right there, and it was great seeing him again. But this was my first time meeting Shoe or Dash. Both were very cool, and I was glad to spend some time with them without having to share them with others. Shoe's a kick ass woman, and Dash is just a hell of a guy... if I were anywhere close to them, they'd probably get sick of me wanting to hang out with them...

Shoe took off to pick up another load of bloggers (Shoe's Shortbus Shuttle Service), and Dash had to head back to work to finish up a few things before the weekend got to rolling, so Tammi, 'Neck, and I ran back to the hotel, only to discover that the tavern was closed. They wouldn't open until two. Hmmmm.... while were were in deliberation on our options, Marcus and his shirt came walking up. Marcus isn't quite local, but he does know his way around Austin, so we figured we'd run downtown to hit some of the bars there.

Let me say this about the man; he is a living, breathing, human GPS. His navigation techniques are different (very), but effective... eventually. Finding your way around Austin by referring to the location of your exes... brilliant.

Anyway, once things finally looked right, we found downtown, only to discover that the bars there, or at least the one's we were interested in, didn't open until three!!! By now, it was almost two, so we headed back to the hotel, and the tavern there. Thankfully, it was finally open.

We got ourselves some drinks, and started visiting, and giving each other shit about things said or done during the Great Sixth Street search. I walked out into the hallway, where I ran into Acidman, the Confabulator, Jimbo and his loverly daughter, TJ, and ... I'm thinking there was someone else. (By this point, I was fried... I'm totally sorry if I've forgotten someone.) Shortly after, Denny arrived, followed by the Straight White Brotha, Oddybobo, Omnibus Driver, Bashar... er... Zonker, Nancy and Pup, El Capitan, Walrilla, and Elisson... things were off to a fine start. Unfortunately, that was where my day ended...

There was a large group of bloggers that got together at The Salt Lick, a local BBQ joint. Me? Not with them. I planned on meeting up with them later, but that never came about. Nerves, no sleep, bad food... what ever it was, I ended up sick. I'm talking "er than a dog" type sick. I missed meeting up with some folks that I had been looking forward to hooking up with, and some folks that I really thought might be interesting to visit with. I have really been looking forward to meeting up with Christina, and while I did get to meet her later, I missed her mother. I hear she was a riot... everyone loved her.

Come Saturday morning, I was feeling somewhat better, and after watching some of the races on the river, I headed down for breakfast with Bou, Tammi, and Oddy. When we got back to the hotel, we headed on up to the sixth floor deck, where we met with everyone else.

It was a good day, spent doing what bloggers do best... bullshitting with each other, and drinking to keep themselves "hydrated." Yeah. That's it. Jimbo, Acidman, and Denny, with Eric and myself occasionally joining in, played guitars and sang. TJ and Omnibus Driver singing along. (TJ even did a duet with her dad... I remember hearing someone say that they bet that family get togethers were a blast in the Jimbo family.) And I couldn't help but crack up when Acidman came out with kazoos, jew's harps, and some percussion instruments that looked like eggs, and sounded like maraccas. 'Twas a blast.

Come suppertime, we dissipated into the river's breeze, only to return to our rooftop haven after a visit to the SRV memorial along the river. There, we finished the night, and, for some of us, the meet.

I got to hang with some cool kids, and I'll try to acquaint you with them a bit. (Hey, I know everyone else is doing it, but it's my blog... I can do it, too.) I'm not exactly a social giant, but it was cool to be able to meet, and visit, with most of those there. Those I did not spend time with, please forgive me, and I'll try to fix that at another meet. I may be friendly, but I ain't exactly outgoing...

First, I'd like to thank Shoe, El Capitan, Christina, and Beth (of whom I did not have the pleasure of meeting) for your time and efforts that you put into this. You don't know how much it was appreciated.

Anyways, on to the meet and greet with the degenerates...

Acidman: One of the first bloggers that I read, Rob's come along distance, personally, in the past few months. This was the first time I've got a chance to meet Rob, and unfortunately, that's about all I did aside from playing guitar with the trio of Denny, Jimbo, and him. I had been looking forward to meeting him for awhile, and I kept thinking that I'd get a chance to visit with him "later," which never came... totally my fault. I will rectify that soon...

Bou: My blogsis. I've been lucky enough to visit with her a few times now. A beautiful woman who has been a hit at any meet she's been at, she claims that she's introverted. Oooookaaaay... ;)

Christina: Finally. I've met her. A great woman, who is just incredible... looks and personality are both covered by that description. I've been wanting to meet her for a long while now, and I wasn't disappointed, in the least. Thank you for coming back on Saturday night, Chrissy. I'm damn glad to have met you, and am looking forward to seeing you guys again... hopefully, soon.

Confabulator: While I sat in on a couple of his conversations, I didn't really get to visit with him. I listened as others spoke with him. The guy is a talker, and he had no problem keeping an audience. Definitely, one of those I want to see again.

Dash: My first time meeting him, but I already felt like I knew Dash. I was glad to have gotten a chance to visit with him, but I wish I could have visited a bit more. Again, he's just a cool dude...

Denny: The only time I've seen Denny grouchy, is when his infamous trolls beg for a tongue lashing. At both meets I've been to with him, his laughter has rang throughout. The guy also plays a great guitar, and sings some pretty damn funny songs. It's a privilege to know him.

El Capitan: The guy likes flame jobs on his vehicles, but not the classic flames of the fifties. No. This guy doesn't mess around with that fake shit... I got to visit with him a bit on Saturday evening. A hell of a nice guy, who I look forward to visiting with again.

Elisson: Kinda funny guy. Except for that "Bob Saget" shit (I may explain later)... that just wasn't funny at all. Okay, I'M LYING. One of the suprises of the meet, I knew that he had a great sense of humour, but, DAMN! He had me laughing my ass off! It was an honour and privilege to have met him...

Eric: What can I say, other than that this guy is like a brother. He and I have hooked up a few times now... each time an adventure. He and Knine had a story rolling, on the last night, that I thought was going to kill the bloggers listening. (Elisson looked like he was fighting with bladder control, he was laughing so hard...)

Jimbo: This was my second meet with Jimbo, and they've both been a blast. Joisey Jim... if you don't love him, there's something wrong with you. He's good peeps. I'm glad that I brought my guitar to play along with him.

Kelley: On Saturday, I got to meet and visit with "the mouth of the got-damn south." Not for long, unfortunately, but at least I got to meet her. Something tells me that it's hard to keep up with this woman, but it'd be a blast trying. She's a looker, too... If she weren't married, she'd have a drunken Yankee chasing after her.

Knine: I've got to be honest and say that I hadn't read him before meeting him, but he quickly made his presence known, and seemed to fit right in. I got to visit with him for a bit, but I missed he and Eric's collaboration. He took some ribbing, but it's obvious that he's a hell of a good sport. We'll meet again.

Livey: I met her on Saturday, and was greeted with a big hug. The woman is a ball of energy, bouncing all over the place. Jimbo said it best, "a human fire cracker." She had me simultaneously grinning and cringing... (I ain't used to having someone grab my ass! ) She's up der in da nort woods, and I've got a standing invitation to get some venison or bear.

Marcus: On the patio, there be "Cool." That's Marcus. In addition to being a GPS, he's a laid back guy. Kinda quiet, but he seems to be in the middle of all the shit going on. Methinks "instigator" is a title he likes. That, and loud shirts... heheheheh.

Nancy: Another new one to me, I only met Nancy. She seemed like a hell of a nice woman, and was able to fit right in. I feel bad about not getting to know her a little better. My apologies, Nancy.

Oddybobo: Only the second time meeting her, it was again one of those "I've known her forever" deals. I ended up stomping the hell out of her foot, but she still loves me. She's a sweetie. To repeat what I've said about her before, she's one of those people you always want to be around.

Omnibus Driver: I first met her at the local meet in January, and I enjoyed visiting with her very much. This time around, I didn't visit with her as much I'd have liked, but we will be getting together at Fritz's sometime soon. A hell of a person, you'll know exactly where you stand with her. I'm really looking forward to our Fritz's get together... Oh, and she harmonized rather well when singing with Jimbo.

Redneck: Again, only the second meeting, but it feels like you're hooking up with an old friend. (Not that 'Neck's old...) A good dude, with a quick wit, he'll have you laughing your ass off if you talk to him too long. Beware.

Shoe: A first time meeting, I loved this woman right from the start. I mean, you've gotta love someone who quotes Spongebob cartoons. (There were a couple of us doing that...) She put a lot of time and effort into this... Thanks, Shoe, and I'm looking forward to getting to know you even better. You really do rock.

Tammi: She's getting to be a regular sight at these blogmeet things. This one, she was again a hit, what with her attempted murder stories and all. Originally not going, things worked out that she was able to make it. I think that everyone there was glad it worked out that way.

T1G: I'm not talking to him, nor he to me. What a bastard.

Twisty: Also known as "TJ, Daughter of Jim." This girl is a frickin' riot. Beautiful describes it all... voice, looks, and personality. Jimbo's got a right to be proud as hell. She had most of the ladies in stitches, at one point or another. Hell, she had us ALL in stitches... I'll be looking forward to seeing her at other meets.

Walrilla: A fellow member of the "Quiet Observer's Club," I did not visit one on one with him. Again, that's something I regret. I do know that everyone likes him... seems like a really good guy. He doesn't seem to be affected by sunlight, even when placed directly in it's devastating glow.

Zonker: Pure and simple... Z-man rules. He truly do.

The folks listed above will be going on my "We've Shared A Flask" roll, probably sometime tomorrow. Make sure you check them all out... I guarantee that you will like most, if not ALL, of them. Some damn good peeps, and I'm looking forward to meeting with them again. The sooner, the better.

Damn, that was fun...

Kids...

A recap of Austin is in the works, though I guarantee that it is not the literary work of art that some folk have submitted.

In the meantime, my thoughts keep getting interrupted. I keep hearing two little voices saying, "Take my hand... now come play with me." And, "Come play with us, Joe." I keep finding myself grinning.

I'd have done it anyway, but Pink Ninja and Dash are a very good excuse to stop at Army Wife's... I mean, who could tell these little ones, "No?"

I think they know it, too...

Home... Again

I made it back home, safe and sound. 'Twas a great time; a great trip. Got to meet with old friends, some for the first time, and meet some new folks, too.

Gotta crash out, but I'll hook you up with some details on the morrow. G'nite.