August 30, 2006
Toilet Paper: A Question
Positioning of the roll:
Over, or under?
And how much does this affect your sanity?
August 28, 2006
The squeaky wheel gets the oil, they say. If it squeaks too louldly, it may get drowned in the stuff.
I may not be posting too much this week.
August 27, 2006
*Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding*
Last call for asking me questions for my interview with Basil. Time for you to ask questions is closing this evening, so if you haven't done so already, get those questions in. It's also the deadline for questions for Tink, of Tink's Tribulations.
I don't know about Tink, but you can ask about books, music, guitars, jobs, people I've met, imagined writing skills, or godliness. Whatever you can think of... pretty much.
Speaking of guitars, check out one of my babies back home. And remember SRV today...
Weird... I just woke up from a strange nightmare, just as a giant spinning blade was coming towards me. This dream was ultra weird...
I was trying to get back into the service... the Marines did not want me because of my heels' deformity, but the Army is all for it. I show up for training, and nobody talks... no one. They just do. How they know what to do is beyond me. NOBODY talks... they will laugh if you make them, but your ass is grass if you do. My ass is grass often.
The base general has something weird going on. I think it is something to do with voodoo. Not sure, but when I go down into the basement of this building that they were using as a chow hall, or whatever the Doggies call their eataria, shit gets wild. I run into an old black man who is skinny as hell... it is me. I hear a voice pleading with me, coming from a ladderwell leading to a sub-basement, and discover my grand daughter looking up at me with terror in her eyes. "Gramma is back. You need to stop her." Then she disappears. Stupid me, I know that couldn't have been my grand daughter, but I decide to head down after her. I descend into a hell of sorts.
Slimy water runs over the floor, which I soon discover is covered with glass shards and razorblades. Snotty looking crap drips off of the ceiling. It's dark, with very little light, but I can see that something is moving underneath the floor. I set across it, anyway, and end up in a huge room, with a large mixer in the center of it. It's pancake day, and Dana Carvey is the cook. He's singing, "Con Gria, Con Gria.... wash your face with diarrhea. Con Gria...." It's more like a chant, and I'd almost lay money that when I wake up in the morning, I'll have that stuck in my head.
This dream jumped all over... one second, I was here. The next, I was there. At one moment, white... another black. The longer I'm awake, the less I remember, so I'll just finish with the last thing I can remember clearly. In between all of the bootcamp and training, I had two women, Sarah Jessica Parker and Gillian Anderson, chasing after me, nonstop. It was weirding me out. As a matter of fact, that's how I ended up with the giant blade coming at me... I was trying to avoid Sarah, and fell down a shaft in an old mill... which was our chow hall. When I got my bearings, I found I was in the bottom of a giant blender, and my friend Dana Carvey was chanting again, as he turned the giant appliance on.
I know where the "snot" part of the dream came from, but as for the rest, I don't know. I think the spaghetti sauce may have been bad...
Anyways, I'm heading back to bed to see what else Dreamland has in store for me...
August 26, 2006
this weekend that I'm going to remind you of my interview with Basil. Hahahah... thought I was done, did ya? Time for you to ask questions is drawing to a close, tomorrow, so if you haven't done so already, get those questions in. It's also the deadline for questions for Tink, of Tink's Tribulations.
Time's running out...
It was a Sunday, and a pretty decent day. A friend and I had been talking about going to catch a big show less than forty miles away. We had to work on Saturday, and after the shift was over, he told me that he didn't think he'd go. He had his kids for the weekend, and he didn't feel like trying to make the arrangements for them to get back to their mother's house. We had planned on buying our tickets there, as you could occasionally get some good seats if you waited to buy the day of the event, so we weren't out any money.
For most of the day, I kept thinking about the show, and how great it would be to go. But in the end, I didn't want to head in there by myself. Like a long trip through the mountains on a bike, music is great alone, but it's even that much better when you've got someone with you. I passed it up, and made a mistake.
The show turned out to be one of the best that many had seen. The guitarist that I had wanted to see, in particular, was phenomenal, and the evening was capped off with a jam session that saw some modern blues greats playing a 20 minute version of "Sweet Home Chicago." A favorite song of mine, I'd have loved to have been there just to see that... Eric Clapton, Buddy Guy, Robert Cray, Jimmie and Stevie Ray Vaughan all jamming away. Buddy Guy would later say, "It was one of the most incredible sets I ever heard Stevie play. I had goose bumps."
It was SRV's last show... he and four others were killed early (near 1 am) in the morning, August 27, when their helicopter crashed into a ski slope at Alpine Valley, in East Troy, Wisconsin. One of my old stomping grounds. (BTW... these pics of Alpine Valley are just to show you the venue. They are not from that show.)
I first heard of Stevie in '86, when I happened to catch his video for "Superstition." While the video is kinda funny, the sound of the guitar just blew me away. I ran out immediately, and bought "Live Alive" on cassette. After listening to that tape until is started to stretch out, I bought another copy, along with "Texas Flood," "Couldn't Stand The Weather," and "Soul To Soul." When "In Step" came out, I had it within a day of its release. I loved his music, and his playing that much...
I was lucky enough to catch him live. While I missed his '86 appearance at Summerfest in Milwaukee, I did catch him the following year at the Wisconsin State Fair. After watching him play, I wanted to be SRV... I'd never seen anyone play like that before, and I just watched in awe. Behind the back, behind the neck, playing with his teeth, ripping off a solo with one hand... while the guitar strap was loose. He did it all. Yep, those are not unique things, but, while they were impressive as hell, his stage presence was incredible. You felt like you were watching a once in a lifetime event when he was up there. You were watching the equivalent of Moses getting the tablets handed to him. Okay... maybe not quite that, but it was damn close.
When I came into work on the 27th, my friend, Guillermo, met me with a newspaper in his hand. He looked sick. He asked if I had gotten to see the show, and then handed me the paper, open to the article announcing Stevie's passing. I did not cry, but it was an emotional slam to the gut. I thought that I was going to puke. I was in shock...
I always thought that folks who carried on about celebrity deaths were idiots, but I disovered that his death affected me in much the same way. But, while I felt bad for the man who had finally overcome his demons, and seemed to have his life back on track, it wasn't all about him. I mourned him. But I mourned also because of what he meant to me... what his music had meant to me, and all of the memories that were associated with it. I cannot accurately tell you how I felt.
This spring, while at the blogmeet in Austin, I was able to go visit the memorial statue alongside Town Lake, or what I kept calling "the river." It was a very cool thing to see. Chrissy was kind enough to snap some shots and send them to me, but I've lost track of where they're at right now. I do know that I was trying not to grin like an idiot when she took them, but I'm not sure if it worked. Heheheh...
I was going to post the video for "Little Wing" and part of "Third Stone From The Sun," but the heavens just told me to post its link, and to post this instead:
As the sky pours down its tears, Stevie, I raise a toast to you: Thanks for so much. Rest in peace, my brother.
When I first started writing this, the sun was shining through the clouds, and when I hit the part where I was reminiscing about the State Fair, it started to rain. By the time I was finishing up, the sky was sobbing... just pouring down. I'm glad I found that clip.
I think God's even a bit sad that he took him away so early...
August 25, 2006
Angry Baboon Inquiry
"We're the class of '88,Funny how some of the simplest things can get some of the strangest things stuck in your head. No, not like a nailgun. Just a couple little letters... not even a word. Walked past a box today, and on it's top, barely legible, was ABI. Immediately, though I hadn't heard it sung in almost twenty years, that song came to mind. ABI.
Reach those souls before it's too late.
The Lord has opened heaven's gates,
to the class of '88...."
ABI '88 Class Song
"ABI," you ask. "Angry Bastard Intoxicated? Always Been Inebriated? What's that supposed to mean?"
Apostolic Bible Institute, my friends. That's what it do stand for. A Bible school... yep. Me.
Someday I may post about my short stay as a student, but right now, I'm just thinking that it's funny how seeing those letters threw me so far back. That song was stuck all day...
Okay, actually, after I heard about the meet and started to try and make plans, my cousin went and set his wedding day for that very weekend. While I'd love to hang out with my friends, and meet some more, I feel that I should be home for my cuz.
My cousin, the one down here, is paying for me to fly home for the weekend. It's not free, however... I have to drive my aunt's new car back for her. Rough. The damn thing even has air conditioning... something I'm not used to having in a car. Should be a piece of cake.
I wish like hell that I could be there with those who are attending the "Yellin' in Helen, but hey... I'm going home, short time that it do be.
Okay... last time for the week that I will remind you of my interview with Basil. Time for you to ask questions is drawing to a close, Sunday, so if you haven't done so already, get those questions in. It's also the deadline for questions for Tink, of Tink's Tribulations.
August 24, 2006
I realize that I'm way behind the times, when it comes to watching television programs. So most of you have probably seen this show, but this is for you that haven't.
The past couple Wednesdays, I've had the chance to watch Criss Angel's "Mindfreak." What a badass show! I'm definitely hooked. Even if you don't care for his dialogues (like my aunt), the "magic" that he performs will blow you away. Mindfreak is putting it mildly. There's a better "f" word... I watch the show, then spend the next couple of hours trying to figure out ways he could have pulled it off. Not that it takes that much to mess with my mind, but it does make the old mush busy. Catch it on Wednesdays at 10 EST, on A&E.
Speaking of messing with my mind, it's your chance. Again, my interview with Basil. Time for you to ask questions is drawing to a close, Sunday, so if you haven't done so already, get those questions in. It's also the deadline for questions for Tink, of Tink's Tribulations.
Remember: Ask now, or forever hold your peace!!!
August 23, 2006
A Slice of Heaven
Air Conditioning = Repaired
Inside Temp = 76
Outside Temp = who cares? It's hot... outside.
Drinking = Samuel Adams' Black Lager (which = very tasty)
I also picked up a bottle of 17 year Macallan... I'll have a tumbler or two after supper. Which is in just a matter of minutes.
Doesn't get much better than this. Technically, I guess it could, but I'm not being technical...
How's your eve?
Okay... I blame the heat for the post below. I'll admit it is a bit strange, but I won't delete it. I wrote it, I'm sure that there is some bit of brilliance in there. No matter how well it's hidden...
Heheheh... and as luck would have it, that's the post that Basil linked to in promoting my interview. That should chase off a few folks.
Again, I'm reminding you of my interview with Basil. Time for you to ask questions is drawing to a close, Sunday, so if you haven't done so already, get those questions in. It's also the deadline for questions for Tink, of Tink's Tribulations.
Remember: There's no such thing as a stupid question. Just stupid people who won't ask them.
August 22, 2006
Saturday, somehow managing to stay conscious after my injury, cousin's hubby and I walked into their house, lugging our forties of Mickey's fine malt liquor brew. S asked us how the day went, and B (her hubby) says, "Damn, your cousin is a puss. He got a blister sweeping a tiny room out. I swear it wasn't no bigger than (motions an area about 4 x 4) this." We both laughed, and then I watched in shock as my cousin lit into him...
"You're a walking, talkin' penis. You know that??? I can't believe what a dick you can be..." B and I looked at each other, and then B said, "Easy... it's just a guy thing. He showed me that blister, and you've got to make fun of him. It's expected. I wouldn't make fun of him if I didn't like the guy!"
To which I responded, "And I never would have shown him the damn blister if I wasn't comfortable around the guy. I expected him to make jokes... hell, I started it by mentioning how sad it was that I got a blister that easily..." She still thinks he was being a dick, which is kinda cool, in a way. I never thought my cousin would rush to my defense like that...
Anyway, it got me thinking about how so many of us are so cautious with what we want to show of ourselves (personality or otherwise) to other folks, and then once we reach a certain comfort level, we expect to be given a rough time about those things. Where we once kept things hidden, all of the sudden we feel the need to toss those very things out for ridicule... a definite sign of comfort, if not a bit strange.
It applies to blogging, too. For instance, I never would have shown you folks my crotch if I weren't comfortable around you weirdos. Hell, I almost posted a pic of my chest encased in a soaking wet t-shirt the other day, but I didn't. Hey. I'm a sensitive guy, and I knew that posting my crotch ruined Quality Weenie's weekend... I wasn't about to throw her off again. Because I care. Though, I think I may be on to something... crotch... Quality Weenie. Crotch. Weenie. Quality Crotch. I may just be too damn tempting... she wasn't really turned off like she tried to sound.
Thus were the thoughts behind the blister posting. I knew that I was going to get a bunch of shit, but that's what it's all about. Lob the softball, give up the hits. It's about entertainment. But after reading some of the comments, I don't know. I'm thinking that I best go back to being shy and
You folks really are perverted bastards. A blister, on my left hand, from wacking off? C'mon. Although, I thank you for the compliment.
Looking at the postion of the blister, I'd have to be hung like an elephant to get a blister there...
Air conditioner = none
Repair Work = Not until tomorrow... if then
Humidity = high
Current Temp = 90+
T1G = Freakin' Out
Update @ 7:35: Heading back to the shop for a couple of hours = Relief... temporary as it is.
Not sure what triggered it, though I think that writing about the wolf laughing this morning may have done it.
Nevertheless, this song, Mother Goose, has been stuck in my head since then... especially the first verse.
As I did walk by Hampstead Fair
I came upon Mother Goose -- so I turned her loose --
she was screaming.
And a foreign student said to me --
was it really true there are elephants and lions too
in Piccadilly Circus?
Walked down by the bathing pond
to try and catch some sun.
Saw at least a hundred schoolgirls sobbing
into hankerchiefs as one.
I don't believe they knew
I was a schoolboy.
And a bearded lady said to me --
if you start your raving and your misbehaving --
you'll be sorry.
Then the chicken-fancier came to play --
with his long red beard (and his sister's weird:
she drives a lorry).
Laughed down by the putting green --
I popped `em in their holes.
Four and twenty labourers were labouring --
digging up their gold.
I don't believe they knew
that I was Long John Silver.
Saw Johnny Scarecrow make his rounds
in his jet-black mac (which he won't give back) --
stole it from a snow man.
*Lyrics from here.
I got a prank phone call last night. A pretty rude call it was. Someone, off in their own little world, was talking about hitting a brew pub, and dropping names of folks that would be there.
In the background, I could hear a wolf howl... with laughter.
Remember: If you don't ask, I can't be your friend.
August 21, 2006
Not being used to actually working, much like my brother in unemployment, I injured myself Saturday. It is quite the disgusting injury, but I took it in good humor. Between sobs, I was actually laughing. Or crying so hard I was laughing. I even made the comment to my 'boss,' "This is pretty damn sad... check it out."
The injury is in the extened entry. I'm warning you folks... this is NOT for the faint of heart.
Click to view carnage up close
Sweeping can be a very dangerous job. Leave it for the professionals.
I got to spend the weekend working... for actual money! It was doing something that I really think I may enjoy, and may be considered tempting fate by some of you folks... I was pulling breakers, cleaning them, and reinstalling them. Breakers, as in circuit breakers. Big breakers, too. As in, 440 volts. Heheheh... there's your lighting for ya!
Working with my cousin's husband was cool. Wasn't sure how it would be, but it worked out slick. We managed to get a ton of work done in the fourteen hours that we worked, and we worked well together. It is probably going to be something that we do every other weekend. A big help financially, but it's a lift for my spirits, too. Not that I've been way down in the dumps, but still...
As some of you know, I used to work for a company that made paper making machinery. Most of that stuff was freakin' huge. I wasn't one of the regular road guys, but I travelled quite often for the company. Sometimes as an advisor, which I hated, or as part of a work crew... something I loved. It was hot and potentially dangerous work, but it was out of the shop, and you had the satisfaction of seeing your work in action. I took great pride in the work that we did.
Being in the mill, and around the large machinery, this weekend, reminded me of that in many ways. And when we were done with each switch house, I felt the same old satisfaction. 'Twas a good feeling.
Anything like that for you?
Well, it was a busy weekend, but it was a good one, nonetheless. Even though it wasn't paper, it was good being in a mill again. I'll tell ya about it when I get home from the shop sometime this evening.
In the meantime, I'm reminding you that my interview with Basil is coming up, and questions will close on Sunday, same day as Tink, of Tinks Tribulations. You can ask your questions of me by clicking here, and to ask of Tink, click here. We've got a Bad Example Interview week going...
Remember: If you don't ask, you may never know!
August 19, 2006
Amelie has finished the "Scarevella." Very cool job, she did.
Get thee hence, and check it out!
Can't Wake Up
What the hell am I doing waking up at 6 on a Saturday morning? Oh, I know that many folks do it, but I don't. It's a day of rest. Or it's supposed to be. Instead, I'm going to be doing a side job, working with the cousin's hubby for the weekend.
That's if I can manage to wake up. Just this little note took fifteen minutes to write.
Have a good one, folks.
August 18, 2006
"This Food Is Divine"
Hey, Kids!!! You can be the coolest on your block, with people lining up at your house! It's divinely simple! Just spot the Virgin Mary hiding out in your chow!
Seems to be a popular thing, this Mary being found in food items. Whether it's a frickin' pretzel, a burnt poptart, toast, or even a peanut, Mary makes her appearance. Anything goes when it comes to manifestations... she's recently been discovered in a stalagmite of chocolate drippings. Dark chocolate drippings... mmmmmm.
While I do not discount the possiblitly of miracles, I find these instances almost pathetic. Mary manifests herself in your sustenance... who made her god to do that? And why do people worship her? She carried a miracle, but she sure as hell wasn't the one who originated it. I thought Christianity and Catholicism were about Gott, not worshipping His servants.
Still... you can't help but wonder; Is this for real? Is Mary trying to tell us something? What does it mean?
Do you really need to ask? If it's real, it should be obvious.
Mary's telling us, "BITE ME!!!"
1/20th of a Millenium
Nope, no nekkid firemen or Marines. Sorry ladies, but only one pic on the main page at a time. BUT, if Tink uses these tools properly, she'll be able to get herself some. Nekkid people, that is...
Happy Birthday, Tink!!!
Ever done this?
That’s a clip of a Manchester (England) firefighter tumbling in a dryer. Four firefighters, including the tumbler, were suspended for the incident.
"Due to the serious nature of the incident, the decision has been taken to suspend them until the outcome of a disciplinary hearing," said Greater Manchester's Deputy County Fire Officer Tony Proctor.Serious nature? WTF? Okay… I might give them that if the dryer was throwing heat, but damn… the guy was surrounded by help. Yeah, it was juvenile, but it’s not like we all haven’t done that at one time… right?
I remember when I was going to Bible school in St. Paul, and we got some new dryers for our dorms. Now, they weren’t brand spanking new, but they were better than what we had.
A couple friends and I got to looking at those new dryers and noticed that it only cost a whole ten cents to run it. Not only that, but the gas wasn’t hooked up to it, yet. Do the math and a frickin’ rock could tell you what happened next.
One of my friends was about my size, and so we talked him into climbing in. He couldn’t fit all the way in, so he braced himself, and had his head out the door, while I held the safety switch in. After a couple of times around, we stopped it, and I climbed in. The same thing happened with me, only the dryer had to work a little harder. We stopped it, and let the last guy climb in. He was much smaller than the two of us, so he managed to cram himself all the way into the barrel. We held the door open so that we could hear when he wanted to stop, and let it run.
After a couple of trips around, he developed a bit of trouble. Being as small as he was, he couldn’t properly brace himself against the sides of the dryer. He was upside down when he slipped.
Sympathetic bastards that we were, we let it spin some more. He managed to get another purchase on the sides, but lost it soon after. One o’clock in the morning, and the laundry room is filled with loud banging and thumping, screams in accompaniment, and two idiots laughing their fool asses off. We decided to get out of there posthaste. Eric, the skinny one, kept slamming into the walls of the hallway as we made our smooth getaway, he was so dizzy.
Who knew that ten cents could be so much fun?
Let’s hear your dryer stories… I know you’ve gott’em...
August 17, 2006
Fauxto Pt. 2
I think it's time the Garden gnome joins the battle. Here's the rules: Take any alleged "real" photograph from one of the propaganda news agencies and then add the gnome.I don't know how many more entries are out there, but there were a few. One each from Ogre, Murray, and Team Swap. (Oh yeah... it's not about spoofing the war, it's about spoofing the photographers.) Some pretty damn funny stuff, if you ask me. Even if you don't ask me, it's funny.
Granted, you can tell that some of these were photoshopped. Murray's entry points out our flaws. But we've staged no pics. And I'm going to expose some photoshopped AND staged photos. These photos can be seen as published at the zombie time site. When this imagined expert took a second look, he discovered that gnomes actually were at work behind the scenes.
This photo is ovbiously staged. Notice that there is no dust on this "victim." Other than that, it looks very realistic. Job nicely done.
The "Green Helmet" unmasked...
Anyway, this will conclude my exposure of fauxtos, staged or shopped.
Hymn Be T1G
I woke up with one of the hymns from my childhood stuck in my head. I can't get rid of it, so I thought maybe if I shared, it would leave me alone.
All hail the power of Jeebus’ Name! Let bloggers prostrate fall;I might be a little bit off, but I think it's close to something like that...
Bring forth the royal keg of beer, and crown him Lord of all.
Bring forth the royal keg of beer, and crown him Lord of all.
Let highborn hotties tune the lyre, and as they tune it, fall
Before That 1 Guy Who they all want, Aniston most of all.
Before That 1 Guy Who they all want, my Salma most of all.
Oh buy him many pints of ale, a trip to Hooters take;
A tall Guinness for him to drink, hot shrimp upon his plate.
A tall Guinness for him to drink, hot shrimp upon his plate.
August 16, 2006
My Name Is...
I was goofin' around, and I found this name thingamajiggy. It tells you about yourself based on your name. I thought mine came out kinda interesting. A little eery.
Check it out in the extended entry.
There are 16 letters in your name.
Those 16 letters total to 68
There are 6 vowels and 10 consonants in your name.
Your number is: 5
The characteristics of #5 are: Expansiveness, visionary, adventure, the constructive use of freedom.
The expression or destiny for #5:
The number 5 Expression endows with the wonderful characteristic of multi-talents and versatility. You can do so many things well. The tone of the number 5 is constructive freedom, and in your drive to attain this freedom, you will likely be the master of adaptability and change. You are good at presenting ideas and knowing how to approach people to get what you want. Naturally, this gives you an edge in any sort of selling game and spells easy success when it comes to working with people in most jobs. Your popularity may lead you toward some form of entertainment or amusement. Whatever you do, you are clever, analytical, and a very quick thinker.
If there is too much of the 5 energy in your makeup, you may express some the negative attitudes of the number. Your restless and impatient attitude may keep you from staying with any project for too long. Sometimes you can be rather erratic and scatter yourself and your energies. You have a hard time keeping regular office hours and maintaining any sort of a routine. You tend to react strongly if you sense that your freedom of speech or action is being impaired or restricted in any way. As clever as you are, you may have a tendency to make the same mistakes over and over again because much of your response is glib reaction rather that thoughtful application. You are in a continuous state of flux brought by constantly changing interests.
Your Soul Urge number is: 5
A Soul Urge number of 5 means:
The 5 soul urge or motivation would like to follow a life of freedom, excitement, adventure and unexpected happening. The idea of travel and freedom to roam intrigues you. You are very much the adventurer at heart. Not particularly concerned about your future or about getting ahead, you can seem superficial and unmotivated.
In a positive sense, the energies of the number 5 make you very adaptable and versatile. You have a natural resourcefulness and enthusiasm that may mark you as a progressive with a good mind and active imagination. You seem to have a natural inclination to be a pace-setter. You are attracted to the unusual and the fast paced.
You may be overly restless and impatient at times. You may dislike the routine work that you are engaged in, and tend to jump from activity to activity, without ever finishing anything. You may have difficulty with responsibility. You don't want to be tied down to a relationship, and it may be hard to commit to one person.
Your Inner Dream number is: 9
An Inner Dream number of 9 means:
You dream of being creative, intellectual, and universal; the selfless humanitarian. You understand the needy and what to help them. You would love to be a person people count on for support and advice.
Some of this is bull, but not much. Not much at all. Those that know me, whattya think? And how close is yours?
The other day, I read over at Tammi’s about how she gets off. I thought it a bit strange. Weird even. Drums?
So I thought I’d share what gets me off. A blast of cold water (hell, even a blast of hot water), stones, an edged weapon, or even a gun. But most times just a good solid push will do.
Of course, I’ll usually just get off if you ask nicely. Whatever it is I’m standing on…
What gets you off?
August 15, 2006
I'd like to respond to some of the comments for my Lucky Days post. Not that it matters...
And, "No," Oddybobo, I was not wearing shorts with my boots. Not exactly. And what's wrong with me dressing like this guy*?
Granted, I wear ropers, not the tall boots. And I wear a black hat and bungies. Er... or I would, if I dressed like that.
And those suggesting I need a beer (Richmond, Tree Hugging Sister), you guys don't even know. I haven't imbibed much since being down here. As a matter of fact, I'm thinking that this may be part of the problem. Heheheh...
Gotta have a few here, and soon, or I may end up quitting. And nobody likes a quitter...
*Now you ladies can't say I didn't post anything for you!
Itchy And Scratchy
2nd evening of going up into the attic. Not so bad tonight. I just checked to make sure it hadn't leaked anymore, tore out some of the damaged insulation, and then put plastic over the hole. Done in an hour.
Only bad thing, the fibreglass.
Call me Itchy and Scratchy Joe.
I've gotta run down to Manatee today and give my fingerprints up for the feebs.
It ain't the first time I've had to get printed... obviously, you're printed when you join the military. But I'm a little curious as to what they're going to find.
Heheheh... no. No criminal records. I've ripped out a chunk of one of my fingers since the last print taking. It looks normal, but you can see the scar. I'm wondering...
Do the whorls, loops, and arches grow back over or on the scar tissue? I realize that there are still nine fingers that will match, but I'm just curious about the one.
August 14, 2006
Saturday, I did an incredibly talented thing. We had gone out into the bay, and stopped on an island for the day. About three quarters of the way through the day, we had some heavy rains hit, but no lightning, so we stayed out and enjoyed the rain. After about an hour, they passed, and the sun came back out. A nice wind kicked up, drying everything off, but also making the water a bit choppy.
When we left, I went up front to pull up the anchor. I almost lost my balance once, as I was walking out, so I should have known what was about to happen. Anyway, the boat is going forward, I'm pulling up the slack, and we pass the anchor (which was firmly anchored, I might add). Normally, if you just brace yourself, you can let the boat's motion pull the anchor free. Saturday... I don't know what happened. One second, I'm doing fine, the next second, my feet were up over my head, and I SLAMMED down onto the deck. I tore my back to hell. Thank gott I missed a two inch long, 1/4 inch pin that was sticking up from the anchor line door... by a whole inch. They are still laughing about
SWEET!!!! A DOLPHIN JUST WENT UP THE CANAL AS I WAS TYPING!!! (I'm outside enjoying a thunderstorm)
Anyways, they are still laughing about how , when they asked if I was alright, I faintly said, 'No. No, I'm not." I don't remember that. I do, however, remember hanging on to the damn anchor... at least I was focused. Not only did I scrape the hell out of my back, I bruised the top of one foot, and the bottom of the other. Then, as my cousin was trying to clean up the mess, the frickin' bench dropped out from under me. Oh, it was awesome.
Yesterday, I didn't hurt too bad, except for the foot where I bruised the top, and that was only because of wearing my boots. I imagine that if I were going barefoot, all would have been cool.
Today, damn. My back was killing me. Luckily, we picked up some orders, a good number of them, so I was too busy to think about how much it hurt. We worked late, and got home about six. I called the cousin's hubby to let him know that I was putting off working out until tomorrow, when I walked into my room, and SUPRISE! A 2 x 3 chunk of ceiling is laying on my bed... and the bed is soaked. The air conditioning unit is jacked up. So I spend the next few minutes cleaning that up, and then make my way up into the attic.
The attic was designed for serpentine access. There's a trap door in a closet, but you've got to put a ladder outside of the closet in order to climb up. There is a shelf (not removable) that comes out almost to the front of the closet, and a couple of feet from the top of the closet door. In my present condition, it took awhile, but I made my way up. Coming down was no problem, either... one tip of the ladder, and you come a long way out of that attic fast. No, I didn't fall. Exactly. I caught myself, giving myself another nice cut on my hand.
My aunt has told me that she thinks I may be bad luck. I didn't tell her the old saying that my sister and I used to use: "Joe luck is no luck." And sometimes, it seems to be true. But I've gotta say, in this case, I know it's not true. That damn thing would have fallen on me while I was sleeping, if so!
So, how was your day?
August 13, 2006
Nine And Out
Remember awhile back, when I wrote about the undercover cat? Well, guess what? He found out what happens to stoolies. Sure, they're saying it was an accident, but that's pretty dubious. Although... he did get a new job teaching kids how to care fir animals. I guess that was an example of how not to do it.
"They" offered to let him swim with the fishes, but he looked too happy when they did, so they simply ran him down.
I don't watch much, TV, a fact that I've stated before. But since I've been down here in Florida, during the little bit of free time we get, my aunt likes to watch television. When she's busy elsewhere, I like to flip the station back to Discovery, The Learning Channel, History Channel, or National Geographic. If there's nothing on them that piques my interest, there's always cartoons, though today's 'toons suck.
One of my favorite shows to catch is MythBusters, on Discovery. It's exactly as it sounds... the hosts of the show, Adam Savage and Jamie Hynemen, set about "seperating truth from urban legend." Very cool show: informative, fun, and... oh, I nearly forgot one of the cast members, Kari Byron.
Definitely not the only reason that I watch the show, it sure helps to keep your interest when things are slow!
*Pic from FHM photo shoot.
August 12, 2006
Members of the crack garden terrorist arm, Hezgnomah, on parade this past week. ©Rotters
Hezbollah has been training a group of elite fighters, which they revealed earlier this week. Infidel veggies best beware.
"We have gathered the best of the best, when it comes to garden fighting. By recruiting gnomes, the regulars in our division will have a keen insight into proper gardening and garden patrolling. They in turn will train the gnomes to fight viciously, and proudly, with no surrender but death. The western infidel vegetables will be destroyed without mercy," Hezgnomah spokesman, Ahipa Arugula.
Posted in accordance with the laws of Ogre.
With apologies to all, here is my contribution to the Scarevella. Links will have to be inserted later, as I've got to leave right now. Time hasn't been friendly this week (I've not even the time for a rough draft). While nowhere near as scary as I'd have liked, I hope it set the table for Amelie to follow up.
Here it be...
In the violent fury of the storm, a form could be seen making its way through the heavy night. It moved with purpose, and strength, seemingly effortlessly. Forsaking the safety of the road, it cut through the woods, unhindered by deadfalls, and the marshy forest floor.
A bright flash of lighting, bringing daylight to night, revealed the face of the figure. Cold eyes, which either had lights dancing in their depths or were reflecting the lightning above, outlined with deep wrinkles. Skin, with little muscle tissue remaining underneath, draped over a skull that looked eerily inhuman in the flashes of the storm. Inhuman and ancient.
“I must get there before the little one causes more trouble,” the old man muttered to himself
He was known as Bastien, and though he lived in the area, no one could tell you exactly where he resided. He just seemed to appear and disappear. Some thought him a holy man, and others, evil. Some thought he was a shaman, and others, simply crazy. It was rumored that he spoke with the dead… and the “others.” All knew that, when a loved one was in torment or on their death bed, they could call on Bastien to settle them and send them on their way peacefully. However, Bastien never needed to be called. He was simply there. While he was respected for his talents, he was a man feared.
It had always been so. His own mother had left him with the priest when he was but 3 years old, afraid of his “visitors.” Especially on nights like this one. While Father Laframboise did his best to work with his young charge, he was a bit wary. Bastien’s gift was not demonic, but it wasn’t considered godly, either. With the things he knew, and his ability to communicate beyond this world, it was no wonder that folks were afraid of young Bastien.
Like young Pascal Niette, he too had been drawn to the power and darkness of the storms. He had also been sickly, and now suffered from arthritis that crippled him, but when the storms gathered, or when someone was in need, he became as strong as the young man that he never was. Nothing slowed him on his errands…
The smell of decaying vegetation had been giving way to another scent, one that was beginning to be overpowering. The sweetly putrid smell of decaying flesh.
He’s begun his foolishness, Bastien thought as his hand unconsciously went to the crucifix and gris gris about his neck. He had seen so much with his “gift” that he denied no god. The more, the better, had been his philosophy. Tonight, he would need all who would hear him.
He remembered the first time that he had met with the Niettes and their young son. He had tried to explain that Pascal had a very special gift, and that they should not fear it, nor their son. The parents were obviously terrified, and his presence did not help matters. Fear breeds a quiet contempt in the heart of a boy, and seeing a person grovel before anyone brings about a perverse sense of power. Young Pascal had learned well, and he smiled smugly as Bastien tried to talk sense into the adults.
“The boy is passing judgment on his mother.” The voice came from the darkness all around him. “Best hurry, old man, if you hope to save anyone.”
Ahead, he could see the outline of the Lafleur house. He began to run. Shadows began to tear at his legs, trying to slow him down, but he was too strong to be hindered.
As he came into the house’s clearing, he saw Lady Niette and Corrine running from the house, with the boy’s laughter following. The laughter of a very young boy, it sounded as if he were playing with a toy, until he called in a soft sing-song, “Come on back, Ma mere. Your turn!” Then Pascal stepped out onto the porch, with shadows, too many, following on his heels. His voice changed. “Time to pay for your sins!”
Bastien spoke, “Hold, Pascal… you shall judge no one.”
August 11, 2006
For those of you who've come by checking for the Scarevella, Chapter 4; uh... the dogs ate my story. Does that work?
I'll have to get it posted once I get back from the shop this evening. Or early tomorrow mornin'.
Sorry for the delay.
August 10, 2006
Due to high levels of comment spam, commenting at mu.nu has been suspended for a brief period. You will be able to comment again as soon as the flood of spam abates somewhat. Please try again in a minute or two.No offense to Pixy and crew, but: No. No you don't. And now Blogger comments are down for maintenance, too.
We apologise for this, and believe us, we hate spammers even more than you do.
Ogre pointed this out, about the Cincinnati fans being given a "jerk" line to report bad behaviour. While it is meant for unruly fans, Harvey, a submissive type of fella, has been calling this number non-stop. "I've been real bad... what are you going to do to me?"
It's not that kind of "jerk line," Harv...
In a semi-related note, I've found the perfect job for Harvey. As a punching bag/bar staff.
If taking a sledgehammer to a grenade doesn't qualify, I don't know what will... okay, I do.
August 08, 2006
The rope isn't getting any tighter, but I feel the gallows' floor starting to give...
August 15 - 29, 2006
Kunshan International Beer Festival: "Come and enjoy an evening in the German Tent, with an authentic Bavarian atmosphere!"
Bavaria... In Shanghai!
This sounds like a must see, so if you guys pay my way, and give me a couple grand for beer money, I promise to mix the finest of live blogging, and drunk blogging, followed by sleep blogging. Two weeks worth.
Please, queue up in an orderly fashion and no pushing. I'll take your donations, but only if you're well behaved.
August 07, 2006
Hummingbirds. Nature's helicopters. Yabu was reflecting on them. Then Richmond revels in hers, and when Eric contemplates them, and their nests, I leave a helpful comment. Ricmond seems to think that I really would like to sup upon the little creatures. Not really, not enough meat. You'd need a bunch of them... kinda like what you'd find here... a frickin' swarm of 'em.
There's alot of breasts there... bird breasts, dammit, you pervs.
Below is a fine example of how the media works things to their liking. Or not...
Spotted at, and stolen from 40oz Loudmouth's house. Check out his reviews of fine malt lagers...
When grinding metal parts, it is wise to either keep very good track of which parts were just ground, and which pieces have been sitting for awhile, or let all pieces cool before handling.
Another tip: Should you fail to do the above, soak the burn in cool water, then apply aloe or an antibiotic ointment.
N. C. (Fat Albert style)
We were invited to a suprise birthday party over the weekend. I wasn't looking forward to it too much, but I went anyway. Kinda glad I did... it was a pretty good time. And I was able to catch up on some drinking. (Don't wanna fall too far behind on that, you know.)
I was a little uneasy because there was going to be some big money there. I don't know why, but I feel a bit out of place at times. Yes, I do have a couple of friends that have some major ching, but you'd never know it. They have no airs. Some of these folks did. While they've got some money, they've got no class.
I went to toss away my plate, and noticed that the garbage can was full. And because it was full, someone had dumped their plate down the wall behind the garbage. Accidents happen, but from the splatter marks on the wall, it looked like someone had just thrown the plate at the receptacle. I got the hostess, and we cleaned it up.
A short time later, I watched some dumbass dump the last of his beer in the pool as he walked back to the cooler... which was right next to a sink. Pissed me off, it did. Later, he came back and did the same. I was floored.
Now, I'm a peaceful man when drinking. I've woke up with my face hurting (yeah it's killing you) from smiling so much. I hardly ever get mad. But that set me off. I wanted to beat the crap out of the guy.
Not wanting to cause too much trouble, I just made some loud comments, which got me shushed. "He's just that way... " Well he's just an asshole, says I. And being shushed didn't improve my mood. Thankfully, he didn't come back on by. I might have gotten stupid.
I don't know. Maybe I'm just too anal, but I don't think that you should treat someone's house that way when they've opened it up to you. Just because they say, "Make yourself at home," doesn't mean you can mess their shit up.
But then again... I may be wrong.
August 06, 2006
What a great country we live in! The right to choose is ours...
"My daughter is one of 950 girl scouts urged to get rabies shots? Gee, thanks for the notice, but we'll pass."
In China, the authorities would take your daughter clubbin'.
This morning offers proof that I only need to work on six of those points...
August 05, 2006
When I was growning up, we weren't supposed to watch TV... we were Pentecostal. So my ma finally goes out and gets a VCR and a "monitor," and a bunch of old movies. Can't be anything wrong with old movies, now, can there? We watched tons of Danny Kaye, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, Gene Kelly, Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, Cary Grant, and Jimmy Stewart, just to name a few. I still love those movies. Evil sex symbol that she was, we even watched Marilyn Monroe.
I didn't really care for her that much. Oh sure, she could sing, dance, and make ya laugh, but she irritated me in some ways. I used to mock her. Even though I would admit that she was pretty damn good looking, I just didn't see the appeal. That is, until we had a garbage sale, and my aunt had a book on Marilyn that she put up for sale.
Mostly a picture book (it even had some nekkid pictures!!!), it had some biographical info. After reading that... which was after looking at the nekkid pics... I kinda changed my mind. Or maybe it was the pics... I can't remember.
Marilyn was discovered while she was working in a factory inspecting parachutes, and spraying fire retardant on airplane parts. She began modeling and appeared on numerous magazine covers, which attracted the attention of a talent scout in 1946. She had some minor roles in a couple of films, and then went back to modeling while she tried to improve her list of contacts in Hollywood.
It was around this time (1952) that she played Cary Grant's receptionist in Monkey Business, one of my favorite Grant movies. While I liked Grant and Ginger Rogers' parts (especially once they started acting younger and younger), and Monroe's character did not have a big part, she seemed to help carry the movie. She had some pretty funny lines, and delivered them well.
While she starred in some serious films, notably Niagara, and proved that she could actually act, and do "serious" well, she was in more comedy type movies. And that's what I remember her for.
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, How to Marry a Millionaire, The Seven Year Itch, and one of my favorite movies of all, Some Like It Hot. The pic on the left shows Monroe as Sugar Kane, and over her shoulder, you see Jack Lemmon, and Tony Curtis. (Sorry, Eric... I couldn't find a pic of her climbing through the porthole in Gentlemen...) She looks pretty damn good, no?
Unfortunately for Marilyn, and perhaps the rest of us, she died in 1962, at the age of 36. As a matter of fact, she died forty-four years ago today, an apparent overdose. Suicide? Murder? Doesn't really matter now... her physical heart stopped beating. Look around, though, and you can see impact she made. That heart beats on.
I suppose you're wondering why I posted all this. Well, I am, too. See, though I no longer mock Marilyn, she still doesn't do a whole lot for me. Yeah... she was a looker, and she had some great curves, but I've never needed a drool bucket for her. Although, there are a couple of scenes where...
Anyways, the whole purpose of this post was to tell you that, while not a Marilyn fan, I was gifted with a portrait of her, some time back. It was passed along to me by a good friend, and it meant alot to me. At least, while I had it.
When I was home in July, it became clear that the picture was no longer with me. It may have decided that it was time to move on, or perhaps it didn't like hanging out in a blast furnace house. Either way, it is no longer in my possession.
I know that I can get another copy, but that's not the point. What mattered was that picture alone... it's not like any other. I can't really explain it, but should you ever run across it, you'll know immediately.
That pic had class. Whoever ends up with that is a lucky bastard...
August 04, 2006
Next up, yours truly... That 1 Writers Block Guy.
Things I Learned While I Was on Liberty in San Francisco, California, and Really, Really Drunk - Part 14
(A Guest Post by Harvey of Bad Example)
In the good parts of San Francisco, they hire people to hose down the buildings with a powerwasher.
In the bad parts, they have bums do it with urine for free.
Guest Blogger's Note: Since T1G is posting every day, I'm going to bow out for a while. I've got some more San Fran adventures in reserve, though, just in case he ends up in the drunk tank & can't make bail.
August 03, 2006
The past couple of days have been slow. When I first got down here, we were getting orders, and shipping something everyday. Now, it's hit a wall. We're waiting on some parts for a machine, and we've got more hardware ordered. Sure, that slows you down, but you need orders to actually have it affect you. And that's something that hasn't been happening.
In some ways, it's nice. My back was getting very upset about hunching over a grinder and buffing wheel all day. It's grateful for the break, as are my legs, today. But in most ways, this is not good.
Not currently selling anything obviously hurts our chances of selling the business. With a broker that is pretty much worthless (I'd write about that, but I don't want to endanger anything), we REALLY need to show what this shop can do. Unfortunately, the business was closed for quite awhile after my uncle's death, and some steady customers have gone elsewhere. We've got to fix that, and soon...
On a personal level, this ain't good at all. I've run very low on funds, and, while we're this slow, my aunt can't afford to pay me more than room and board. That would be fine if I didn't have rent to pay back home. Yes, I do have a stash, but I'm trying not to touch that unless I absolutely have no other options. Hopefully, that won't have to happen.
We are getting items up for auction on e-bay, and the website has been reopened. We're working on an e-mail to all past customers, letting them know that we are rolling again... the business is in gear.
Now, if we can just keep the clutch from slipping.
The holy drumsticks art sore....
Oh, well. It'll take from the back pain.
August 02, 2006
Seems that this summer, the questions have been dropping off. So Basil is offering a DVD to a lucky someone. Details are to be found here, but essentially, the more questions you ask this month, the greater your chances are to win.
That's cool, because that means if you were to ask Tammi questions (which you can do by clicking here), you could get a DVD. Go to Basil's upcoming interviews and check out the other interviews he's got lined up.
Oh, and while you're at it, submit your questions for me. My interview is at the end of the month.
Ask. Or prepare to be smacked with a lightning bolt...
Anyway, I can identify with what she's talking about. Granted, my tunes are a bit different, though I do like quite a few of the tunes she likes. But when I'm going to lift, I toss in some good, brutal, metal. That gets ya fired up...
The cousin's hubby and I have started working out. We've been lifting for the past couple of weeks. On my way over to their place, I'll blast a bit of Slayer or Slipknot. I've been hooked on one song lately, and at loud volumes, the adrenaline starts pumping like crazy. It's a perfect tune for the pit, or a soundtrack to a rugby game. Which kinda fits... it's called Scrum. That'll get ya going for sure.
Speaking of which... we did legs tonight. Uh. I might have overdone it. My frickin' quadriceps are twitching. I'll probably be crippled in the morning.
I'll let ya know, then.
Things I Learned While I Was on Liberty in San Francisco, California, and Really, Really Drunk - Part 13
(A Guest Post by Harvey of Bad Example)
Whenever I see this, I always think of Tyne Daly's famous line from the Dirty Harry movie, "The Enforcer":
If there was any point to that scene other than to prove that the movie was shot on location in San Francisco, I can't imagine what it was.
Beer. Lots of it.
1 Backcracker. Perhaps one like Og's.... heheheh. Ow.
August 01, 2006
I know that I've written before about having air on station for our mortar shoots, and what a rush it was to have the fighters buzzing the tops of the trees overhead. I love that shit...
Then there was another time, near Ellsworth AFB in South Dakota. A buddy and I were out there for Sturgis, and we went cruising one night. Rather than take the normal way back to Custer from Rapid City, we just hopped on a highway and rode. Maybe not the smartest thing to do, but it paid.
We got out in the middle of nowhere, and we could see a military base off to our left. He motioned for us to stop, so I pulled over. We got out a map to orient ourselves, when we heard a roar. Looking back over our shoulders, we discovered that we were in line with a runway, and a jet was taking off. Two jets to be exact.
What a rush!!! They went right over our heads, not much more than a hundred feet if I were to take a guess. The roar was deafening, and the night was lit up as the afterburners kicked in. I watched in child like fascination, and found that I wasn't the only one. My buddy just sat there grinning, then turned to me. "That... was... FUCKING COOL!!!" When we hooked up with our friends in Custer, that was all we could talk about.
I had those thoughts come back to me today when I saw this video. Short but very sweet. Check it out...
Buzzed by a Harrier... how sweet! I get goosebumps everytime I watch it!