Rats! 2

3 lbs, 35 inches long... Mother of Gott! Giant rats... can't help but wonder what the Ratmobile files would have looked like if Bou had spotted one of these bastards...

A Question

Say you are asked to meet a certain qualification as a minimum. It could be a written test, or a physical type test. You are given the minimum requirements, and then evaluated. Keep in mind, even if you do better than the prescribed minimum, it will not be to your advantage. It won't hurt you, but it will not help in anyway.

Do you strive to meet the minimum, or do you push for the very best you can do? If 50% gets you in, are you happy with that? Or do you shoot for 100%? If 10 pullups were acceptable, do you still try for the "perfect" 20 or beyond?

This isn't meant to be a judgemental question, it's just to see how folks are. If you don't feel comfortable answering, change your info and answer anyway. Hey, I'll even say, "Please."

Me? Well... there have been a couple of instances when I've been happy with the minumum, but most times, it's a matter of personal pride to do the very best that I can do, even when it really matters not... to me, it does. But I'm kinda anal about that. There's my answer, where's yours?

Out With N

Well, the cousin took off on Thursday morning. Yep… before Thanksgiving chow. She only had the week, and then had to make it home for dinner with her in laws. We still had a good time while she was down here, considering the fact that I was stuck in the shop for most of it.

I knew it was going to be a good week, when I got home from work, had to make a call, and went outside to use my phone. I turned around, and there was N with a Paulaner in hand. For the first time in quite a while, I was drinking some decent beer. We had Warsteiner, Paulaner (of course), and a beer I hadn’t had before, Hoegaarden’s Witbier. That tasted quite a bit like Hacker-Pshorr… mmm mmm good.

Last Saturday, we ran up to Ybor City. Though I was babysitting (she hadn’t had a chance to go out and act up in a long while), we had a blast. We looked around at a couple of tattoo shops, and then hit a couple of bars.

N danced on the bar at Coyote Ugly, we checked out The Green Iguana, and we hung out listening to a very cool blues band at The Blue Shark. We also put some time in at an Irish Pub, though I can’t remember the name of it. A door or two over from the Iguana, and a very cool place, it was at the top of a serious stretch of stairs… that much I do remember. She wanted to go back up there later, and I had to say “no.” I thought she had too good of a chance at taking a header down the stairs.

We didn’t get back to Apollo Beach until 3:20!

We did make it back out one other night, to a local watering hole, and had a pretty good time then, too. But we were much more restrained. Heheh… I think the hangover from Saturday’s adventures dissuaded her from imbibing too much.

One new trick for getting free beer. Hang out with a good looking woman, and folks may try to flirt with her while keeping a wary eye on you. Make it known that she's merely a cousin, and you'll be drinking free beers from someone looking to get lucky, while you keep a wary eye on him.

Worth It

Somedays, like today, it just seems like all is for naught. Then you get home, and you see something like this, and it makes it all worthwhile.

I make it a point to be fair and helpful to all of my customers, but I've really tried to hook up my Marine brothers in Okinawa.

It's a good thing.

Involuntary

Being kept in the dark is often a blessing.

But it makes successfully walking on eggshells impossible.

Tracking Santa

Matt gives us the info for NORAD’s tracking of Santa. It’s a cool thing. Reminded me of when I was a kid, and doing chores on Christmas Eve.

My pa kept a polka station playing in the dairy barn, and they would broadcast Santa’s location as darkness fell. I can still remember tossing down bales of straw, or breaking them up, and stopping every time an announcement came on. I used to get so damn excited… especially once he was spotted over the US. I bet Pa was busting up, watching me.

Not totally off topic, how old were you before you realized that Santa was a bit closer than you thought?

Boiled

Chuck was one of those guys that everyone liked, and everyone LOVED to pick on. He was a great sport, and put up with some pretty stupid shit. He'd just smile and shake his head... even after waking in the middle of the night to find that certain idiots had sucked all of the oxygen out of his dorm room by discharging a fire extinguisher through his window's box fan. No... that wasn't me. I was one of the two who kept lighting off bottle rockets under his door. Chuck just took it all in stride.

I've been reminded of one of the better pranks pulled on him.

The plumbing in the dormitory was a complete clusterfuck. Flush a toilet, and whoever was in the showers suffered. Yeah... I know this happens much, but in these dorms it was really bad. Anyway... Chuck worked late, and was always coming home long after most folks went to bed. That night, we all sat in the darkened living room, across from his room, waiting for him to get back, an ingenious plan about to be put in place.

Chuck arrived home and headed to his room, where he grabbed his shaving kit and shower gear. He then headed on down to the restroom before heading on to the shower room. One of the guys, wearing bedclothes and a severe case of fake bed head (he used hair gel), waited and then followed him down to the head. Once Chuck went into the shower room, he raced back down to get the rest of us, and we quietly thundered down the hall to the can.

Four stalls, six urinals... all flushed on the count of three. NO cold water made it to the showers. We could hear his yelp from two doors down. 'Course, most of us were already sprinting out the door after flushing, so that we could be near the showers when then second part of the plan kicked in.

It was November in Minnesota, so it was a bit on the cool side, and we had set a five gallon bucket of water outside. When our lookout had run down to get us, one of the guys had grabbed the bucket and crept into the shower room. His readiness was what our countdown was based on. A plastic chair was always in there, and he carefully placed that in the shower stall next to Chuck. Once Stew was standing on the chair with the bucket, we were given the signal.

As we raced to the shower room, and Chuck's shrieks, Stew made ready with the bucket. Once we opened the door to shower room, Stew dumped the bucket over the stall wall. Poor Chuck. Screaming, he flew out of the shower so fast that he ripped down the shower curtain as he fell. Gotta hand it to him... as soon as he saw what was going on, he laughed, promised that he'd get even with us, and hopped into another shower.

I can now identify with what Chuckles felt like... in the past week, I've had the pleasure of having my flesh boiled from my bones, and then blasted with arctic waters. ‘Bout knocked me over three different times. She ain't ever done it before, but obviously, when my aunt has company coming to visit, the morning is the best time to do laundry.

I don’t know if you call if fate, karma, kismet… all I know is that it is an ugly old beast.

Sticks

Just got back from meeting another blogger, this time Sticks, of From Chaos to Serendipity. She was in the area, so we met up at a local Cracker Barrel. Nice to spend the afternoon with a good looking woman.

Unfortunately, we only had time to visit over lunch, but it was a very nice visit. And, as always, now I've got a voice and a face to put with the blog.

'Twas a pleasure meeting you, Sticks. We'll have to do it again.

My Visitor

Being a single guy, I'm not really used to sharing my space with anyone. The thermostat is low, the toilet seat is up, and I sprawl across the double bed. I've only got to worry about myself.

Last night, a bitch snuck into my room, and crawled into bed with me. "WHOA, HEY!" I figured to let her stay... after all, it's been awhile since that's happened. Big mistake.

She flopped around all night, kicking me, and took up the whole damn bed. Being stubborn, I refused to give up my bed. After all, it's my bed. But, by the time morning light slowly started to brighten the room, I was hanging off the side of the bed, barely able to sleep.

Pretty impressive for a bitch built like this.

And then this morning, as I'm standing in front of the porcelain (the bathroom door doesn't always latch), another bitch walked in on me... midstream. Talk about Kegel excercises! At least she bolted when I yelled at her. Hey... you can only be so nice.

I can't help it the bitches like me.

Future

I'm pondering piles of ponderances.

Potential professions, possibly pissing off the parental unit. Previously previewed possibilities... piss poor?

Probably.

Wonder No More

Just got done watching a hokey frickin' movie... Path of Destruction. Stupid. Dumb. Stupid and dumb. Funny, though it's not meant to be that way. Only thing of interest in the show was Danica McKellar. She could stand to eat a little more, but Winnie's definitely grown up and turned out to be a looker.

A Question

If someone is a hard nut to crack, and they like it that way, does it mean that they like getting their nuts busted?

The Day

So, I just got back home. It was an Eyepod day, if ever there was one, and of course, I did not bring it. HOLY MOTHER OF GOTT!!! One word... LOUD!!!

Okay, just to be fair, DELICIOUS!!! My cousin put a hell of a lot of work into the dinner, and it was frickin' awesome.

The football games were pretty good, what little I was able to see between flickering eyelids. Loved Harrington whooping up on his old team, and the John Fogerty halftime show wasn't too bad. 'Twas good hearing him sing those CCR songs again. Dallas beat the piss out of the Bucs (did Tammi and Shoe make a bet?), and their halftime show wasn't all that bad, either. I will say that I was a little let down. I mean, what was with Carrie Underwood and those boots? Good Gott... if you're going to wear boots like that, you could at least wear fishnets, and not just tight jeans. Hey, the jeans did work, but the fishnets and a short skirt would have been much better. Or some daisy dukes... mmmmmmm... I know I'm not partial to blondes, but...

Hope you all had a good one.

Thanksgiving

I was working on a Thanksgiving post, but it's been "lost." I was going to expose the true origins of Thanksgiving, and show how it evolved from Satanic ritual to Christian Festival. It's true... trust me. Would I lie? Okay... maybe just a little, but it's for recreational medicinal purposes only. Whatever that means...

Anyway, after showing how turkeys were ritually sacrificed and dismembered (possibly even worse), all in an effort to keep up with the Jones (it's true... look at all of the other countries that have celebrated "Thanksgiving"), I returned from the shop to find my screen blank, all of my work lost. So I figured I'd put up the story from last year in the extended entry. Enjoy again...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To all of you reading this tripe, "Have a Happy Thanksgiving!"

And thanks for stopping by!

Owned

Well, it has begun, yet again. 'Neck has commandeered another blog... this time QW of Quality Weenie, or as it's now known, Quality Whiney. Poor girl lost a wager.

Speaking of wagers, when 'Neck took over Shoe's place, another lost bet, I seem to remember Tammi proposed a bet with Chou on tomorrow's Dallas/Tampa Bay game. Funny, but I haven't heard anything else from that wager...

I'm half tempted to bet Shoe on Friday's game in Austin. Most of my friends from Texas were Aggie fans. Hey, I know it would be a stupid bet, but it would allow Shoe's altered egos to run free...

Snap

Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da
... la te da

What a way to go over the edge...

A Reminder...

A while back, folks who had Insight Broadband had problems accessing Mu.Nu. Pixy Misa offered a fix... using the Mu.Nu servers as their DNS servers. Well, come the end of this month, "those servers will no longer be available." That means that unless you change your DNS settings back, you will lose internet access, period.

I can't remember all of the folks who I passed this fix on to, but if you're one of them, you might want to fix this soon.

Rust

Got a call from my best friend growing up the other night, and it's been weighing on my mind.

As many who read me know, I lost my dad in a farm accident when I was nine. This is right about the age that you start to realize that there is a lot to your father, and you just start to get to know him. I never did drive a tractor, other than the old lawn mower (though I ran one into the rabbit hutch), and, though he talked of hunting occasionally, I never did learn about shooting or hunting from him.

I met my best friend just before our church started its school, and when the school year began, we were both enrolled. We became close friends very quickly, and we spent much time at each other's houses, our parents getting new kids in the deal. His father soon became a father figure to all of the kids in my family.

Al took us up North to camp, and in the fall, he took us hunting, telling us what to look for, and where most deer would be seen... and why. When he built a small bunkhouse to go along with the trailer that he had up there, we boys were right there. Heheheh... the Perfect One, in trimming the posts that we used to mount the floor joists, left one a little tall. After the cabin was finished, we noticed it. It's been called "the pivot point" ever since, as it's right where you need to turn to go out the door. (Imagine the Minister of Silly Walks pivoting and kicking, and you've got a picture of what we do when we hit that spot.)

For years, we boys went hunting with them, hunting their land and the surrounding acreage. The owners encouraged us to hunt it, as we were responsible, and it helped to push the deer to other areas, keeping them moving. One land owner died, and soon his land was forbidden to us. We stopped going up there, as there was only so much room for 8-10 people to hunt, and 40 acres didn't cut it. Besides... that's right around the time I moved to Illinois, and I could not afford to pay for the non-resident license. I've really missed it, and John called to let me know that they all missed us coming up with them. Then, just before he hung up, he told me the news that's been bugging me since...

Al needs a cane to walk.

Al is a big man, powerfully built, and almost my height. He's always seemed indestructable, even the few times that he'd been hurt. It just doesn't seem like it can be... he's in his late fifties.

Many years ago, all of the kids from our family got together and bought him a beautiful Browning A-bolt .300 magnum rifle. A powerful gun, it left its mark on three of our eyebrows. Heh... not mine. Anyway, at the time we presented it to him, we made it clear that we were all going to go out west elk hunting. Unfortunately, schedules did not cooperate, and over the years, it was dropped to a low priority.

Now... I don't know if it will ever come about. But believe me, I'm going to try to work something out, if it's only Al and myself. He deserves it...

Growing up on and around farms, I know about death... I know things age. This doesn't bother me. It's life. What bothers me is the speed with which it pounces upon you... something you'd have thought I'd learned long ago. Lord knows I've gotten bitchslapped by life more than once...

The night I got that call, I had so many thoughts running through my empty head and nothing seemed to come out right as I was writing about it. It seemed like I was feeling sorry for myself, or for Al, or thinking that life just isn't fair. Hell... that ain't the case at all. Life just is... deal with it. Then I ran across a post from Mushy, which kinda sums it up in a different way. It may seem fatalistic, but it's the damn truth.

Folks rust...

Saved

Greetings, my faithful!

Good morning, T1G!

(raises pint) Cheers to you!

And also to you!!!

*SLUUUURRRRP!!!* BEEELLLLCH!!!

You may be seated. This morning's devotional passage comes to us from the Book of Fermentation, Keg 2, Bottles 23 through 28.

"And as I traveled through the land of the buzzards, I came upon a four headed beast, and its name was Janiswilliebobguthrie and it did make an awful noise. Through the night, the beast did wail and shriek it's nasal screechings, and I was afraid, even as umoving.

And as the cock crowed, the beast said unto me, 'C'mon take another little piece of whiskey river all alOOONg the police officer station.' And lo, I was confused.

And I cried unto the beast, 'O foul one, what the fuck are you talking about?' As I had no clue... The beast looked upon me, and the fourth head sayeth, 'The answers you seek are at Alice's restaurant.' The third head then spoke. 'The Watchtower is what ye shall seek.' 'Whiskey River holds the answer for you within its amber waters, oh drunken one,' sayeth the second head. 'Where's my Mercedes-Benz,' asked the first head. And I did flee.

As I ran through the land of the buzzards, I found there was no escape, and the beast did follow. And there was much cackling and hippy music. And nasally whining did follow.

And in my darkest hours of despair, there appeared an angel on wings of silver. And the angel delivered unto me the key to mine escape. And it was called Eyepod.

And Eyepod did cast down the four headed beast back to the hell from which it did come. There was much rejoicing, and the hosts of heaven did heavy metal play."

Can I get a "Hallelujah and beer me?"

HALLELUJAH!!!! BEER ME, BROTHER!!!

Thank Gott for technological advancement.

Beer Time

Cousin flew down yesterday, and is going to be staying here for a week. She'll fly back on Thanksgiving morn. It's going to be a good time, and much beer will be consumed.

YAAAAYYYYYY!!!

(Though blogging may suffer. Um.... even more.)

Buzzards

I'm thinking that Florida's state bird is the buzzard, or vulture, if you will. Seems that the state is frickin' full of them. Really. They are everywhere.

While flying, buzzards are graceful and strong. Watching them riding on the winds, circling, is beautiful. It's not until they land, and begin their dirty tasks, that you realize how ugly they truly are. They do take their job seriously, though... you've got to give them that. They are thorough, sticking their beaks and nasty heads into body cavities, shredding offal, taking full of advantage of Mother Nature's gift. Ugly they may be, but you can't really hate them. After all, they only do what they know.

We've got a few human buzzards, too. About the only difference these bastards have from their avian counterparts, is that they will attempt to console their prey, while tearing them to shreds. Always circling, but not always in sight, it's a guarantee that at the first stumble, the first signs of stress, hell... the first bit of boredome from the buzzards' point of view, and they will land and "console," all the while picking at the soon to be carcass. "Oh, it's alright... I'll be there for you. I'm your friend. Damn, your liver tastes pretty good for an alkie!" Yeah... thanks for that.

On a lighter note, once I started writing this, all I could think of was the buzzard from Bugs Bunny... "My mama done tol' me, 'get something for dinner.'"

Can't hate buzzards for doing what they know. Some of them will make ya smile... jes' remember what they've been feeding on.

Still Going...

Yo! Vinnie's back... this time in New England.

Good luck. And I mean that.

Jack's Pumpkin Spice Ale

Well, it's been a little while since I've done a beer review. If you remember, I don't do nearly as thorough a job as Contagion does. Ah well... suffer through it.

I don't normally care for Anheuser-Busch products, with the exception of Amber Bock, but I picked up a six pack of Jack's Pumpkin Spice Ale on the way home.

Now I'm sitting out here by the canal, enjoying the cool 60% temps... some consider it cold, but it's pretty damn nice, if you ask me. Granted, it ain't like being home, but it'll work. ;) Anyway, I'm sitting here, enjoying the annihilation of said six pack.

Upon opening the bottle, you get an immediate whiff of cinnamon, and some sort of spice... reminds you a bit of pumpkin pie. (Imagine that!) Can't really see any lacing or any such thing, The color of the beer is dark, but if I were inside, it would be a dark, orange-ish, amber, but I'm not inside, so it's pretty damn dark. I can see through it, as I can watch the light reflecting off of the water through the bottle.

A medium body, it's got a bit of a zing to the finish. This is a pretty damn good beer, and after a work out, it's exceptional.

Go get ya some.

In the meantime, I'm going to get back to work on getting the Chinese to change their zodiac to be something more PC. As it is right now, poor Sissy's a cock.

Pretty damn rude, if you ask me.

Accents...

Yeah, there was something similar that came out before, but Sissy found another one... one that I think Bou had a hand in. (She's convinced that I've got an accent, and if you've ever heard me talk, you know that's a crock.) Anyway, here's the results of my "test:"

Bartles & Jaymes Wild Berry

One sip, and then...

Mountain's Mississippi Queen, The Rock Aqua Jays, my old LeSabre, Club 708, the faint smell of pot, Rumpleminz peppermint schnaaps, a calendar of Calvin Klien Award winners, Tom's Triumph Bonneville chopper, playing basketball while drunk and talking to my pastor, Jane's ass, stale cigarette smoke, Stevie Ray Vaughan, The Blarney Stone and the pickles splattered all along the back wall, Peavey amps, real Metallica, Emo Phillips, drinking contests... during lunch hour, Candy's ass, Reign in Blood, Geri's burgers, Mr. Bumblebee ...

I haven't drank a wine cooler in about twenty one years, though I used to drink many. In getting rid of one that sat in my aunt's fridge (for Gott knows how long), I was hit with a flood of memories.

I savored that cooler.

Chinese Zodiac

Tor those of you who are curious about the animals mentioned in the celebrity match post below, which are not explained on the site (the elements are), Hubba (Bou's mom) mentions that they may be referring to the Chineses zodiac. It makes sense, so I posted it in the extended entry.

Chinese Zodiac Meanings and Symbols

MI (Snake): 2001, '88, '77, '65, '53, '41, '29. Wise charming and romantic. A deep thinker and intuitive. Needs effort to keep a sense of humor and not to be overly tight with money.

UMA (Horse): 2002, '89, '78, '66, '54, '42, '30. Independent and a hard worker. Although friendly, may have a tendency to be selfish. Must guard against being egotistical.

HITSUJI (Goat): 2003, '90, '79, '67, '55, '43, '31. Charming, elegant and artistic but quick to complain. Tendency to be pessimistic at times.

SARU (Monkey): 2004, 1992, '80, '68, '56, '44, '32, '20. Must guard against being an opportunist and being distrustful of people.

TORI (Rooster): 1993, '81, '69, '57, '45, '33, '21. Hard worker and shrewd. Tendency to seem boastful. A dreamer, flashy dresser and extravagant.

INU (Dog): 1994, '82, '70, '58, '46, '34, '22. Honest and faithful to loved ones. Tendency to worry and find fault.

I (Boar) :1995, '83, '71, '59, '47, '35, '23. Intellectual and sets difficult goals. Sincere and honest and expects same. Somewhat naive. Tendency towards materialism.

NE (Rat) : 1996, '84, '72, '60, '48, '36, '24. Imaginative, charming and generous to loved ones. Tendency to quick temper and being overly critical. Somewhat an opportunists.

USHI (Ox): 1997, '85, '73, '61, '49, '37, '25. A leader and inspirer of confidence. Conservative and methodical. Tendency to chauvinism and having one's own way.

Tora (Tiger):1998, '85, '74, '62, '50, '38, '26. Sensitive, emotional and capable of great love. Despite this, a tendency to be hotheaded and stubborn.

U (Rabbit): 1999, '86, '75, '63, '51, '39, '27. Affectionate, obliging, pleasant. Tendency to be overly sentimental. A conservative.

TATSU (Dragon): 2000, '88, '76, '64, '52, '40, '28. Intelligent, gifted and full of vitality. A perfectionist who must guard against making unduly demands.

My Celebrity Match

Via Contagion, I found this very important piece of info: Who's your celebrity match?

I was astounded, as I usually am. Believe it or not, Jennifer Aniston and I are only a 57% match, and Salma Hayek and I are only slightly better, at 60%. WTF??? Something is not right. Elizabeth Hurley is an 83%. Okay... that will work. But you know who they said would be my match? I'll give you the top three, at 93%.

Eva Longoria, Kajol, and Tara Reid. There are others rated at 93%, including Tina Turner, Suzanne Vega, and Mackenzie Phillips... as a matter of fact, if I did not put an age limit, Phillips was the number one match. I don't even have a clue who the hell she is! Anyway, the search was done for 10 years younger, and 5 years older. And these are who I got.

Hmmmm... Eva Longoria. Who the hell is that? Heheheh... just kidding. I think I know who she be. ;) She's classified on the site as such (you'll have to check on the site to see what they all are):

Element: Wood
Outer Animal: Rabbit
Inner Animal: Rabbit

Beautiful, no doubt, but a little too skinny for me. Just a little. She do have some pretty nice curves for a skinny chick, though.

Then we've got Kajol. Who??? I seriously hadn't a clue as to who she was, other than I thought that maybe she was for Bollywood... and I was right about that. But the cool thing is, her born name is Mukherjee. If that doesn't sound familiar, well, I don't blame you, but the name has appeared on this blog before... earlier this year. Only that was Rani Mukherjee... her cousin. Pretty damn good looking family...

Anyway, she's classified thusly:

Element: Wood
Outer Animal: Rabbit
Inner Animal: Goat

Then there's Tara Reid. Not really partial to blonds, but I've got nothing against her. Nothing serious. Anyway, she's this:

Element: Wood
Outer Animal: Rabbit
Inner Animal: Pig

Heheheh... I'm not sure if they are saying that the Tara in this pic is the one for me, or if they're trying to tell me that the Tara in this picture is who I should be hooked up with.

Can't help but laugh about the inner animal crap. That's supposed to be who you really are, as opposed to your outer animal, which is the person you want others to see. Says Tara's a Pig... that's a little rough, ain't it?

I still can't believe Jen and I ain't 100%...

And this is the crap just needs to be blogged when you cain't sleep...

Valour IT, It Ain't Over

Valour IT Update:

Whoo Hooo!!! The Navy won the race to 45,000, with the Marines coming in second, but that's no reason not to toss a little donation to the Army or Air Farce teams... 'specially when you've got Zonker matching donations (up to a point) for the Air Force team. Get over there, and lend a hand to the stragglers.

Marine Corps B-day!

I'd been hoping to write up a great post, but that did not happen. (Gottdamn time...) Don't let my ineptitude keep you from wishing your Marines a Happy 231 Birthday! I've taken my list from my sidebar and put it in the extended entry. Stop by and leave them a message, but before you do, click on that Team Marine button in the upper righthand corner and give to Valour IT on behalf of the Marines.

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

Yep, I know that I need to update, as a few may no longer be current. If you know of more Marines, please leave their urls in the comments, or drop me an email. Thank you much, my peeps.

Hang In There

Yes, it's still nuts around here. But check this out:

From September to October, business has increased by nearly 66%!!!

And November is looking pretty damn good, too. Probably not that much of an increase, but you never know...

Between business, and limited internet access, my blogging is confined to just a short time each day, with entries being written during the night when I wake up... and most times, my mind's just blank.

Hang in there, I've got something special for the faithful patrons in the works.

Yet Another Question

QW is going to a Bob Seger concert, and Sissy, who's first concert was Alabama, is lusting after today's new country artists. Get rid of the country lust, and this was a discussion at the shop just the other day.

My aunt and our part time polisher were discussing concerts, and some of the artists that they had seen. My aunt had mentioned that she'd always wanted to see Bob Seger, and our polisher said that he had, and it was the best show he'd ever seen (hope it's just as good for you, QW!). My aunt's favorite show had been seeing Willie Nelson. They also talked about their first shows, but I wasn't listening by then... I was trying to figure out how I'd answer the question if they asked me. Unfortunately/fortunately, they didn't. Wonder why? ;)

So here's a question for ya:

What makes a show, or concert, "good" in your eyes? And who was your favorite?

Is it sound, energy, interaction... something different?

And another:

Who played your very first concert?

My answers below the fold.

My very first concert was The Statler Brothers, at the Winnebago County Fair, in Pecatonica, Illinois. I can't remember a whole lot about the show, as I was pretty young, other than the harmony... that was a very cool thing. At least to me.

I still haven't decided what specifically makes a show great. Sometimes, the artist's interaction with the crowd, and my proximity to them, plays a huge part. One of my best shows where this came into play was a Sepultura, Clutch, Fudge Tunnel, and Fear Factory show at R&R Station (no longer there) in Madison, Wisconsin. I was able to get right up against the fence, where I was handed picks and high fived by the different band members. I took a beating, and up until a few years ago, I still had the faint scars to prove it, but it was a blast.

I fondly remember another show where energy and the crowd reactions made it such a great time. Brown Airfield, San Diego, California: Metallica, Candlebox and Fight. The place was packed, and the crowd was nuts... dust filled the air when Fight started playing, and I don't remember it ever settling down. Kickass show, with a memorably horrible ending. Took us four hours to get out of the place...

When it comes right down to it, I could go on and on... and on, naming concerts and artists. I've had many shows that I've enjoyed, and they aren't all heavy rock. Hell, one of the guys I used to like to catch was Lance Appleton, a Christian artist. That guy could play a mean harmonica... while hammering out tunes on the piano.

Anyway, I'd have to say that my favorite show of all time was seeing SRV, and The Allman Brothers Band at the Wisconsin State Fair. I had to use binos to watch the show, but Stevie was just phenomenal. Never seen anything like that before, or since.

The Shovel

For Brother Yabu, who requested a demonstration of folks' photoshopping skills.

Attention Elves

If you are reading this, and you are one of the original elves of the cobbler, or a surviving family member (I don't know how old you bastards get), please be advised... I know of a place that can use your help. Desperately.

Leave me a comment, and I'll give you directions...

BTW... underpants gnomes need not apply.

Toes

There are times when one must do what shouldn't really be done. This, my thought on this fine Sunday morning.

Fresh from the shower, I decided to trim my back claws. They weren't too bad, yet, but when you've got heels that demolish the backs of your shoes and socks like mine do, why give them reinforcement from their brothers on the front, the toenails? I grabbed my shears, and set to work.

Have you ever stopped and looked at the funk underneath your toenails? I mean, gotten right down there, or examined a clipping, and given it careful consideration. There is some nasty looking shit going on, and I'm fungus free on the ol' hooves... another advantage of not eating mushrooms. (I know it's got nothing to do with it, but it sounds convincing...) Cleaned or not, funk abides. It draws a shudder... you've really got to wonder about folks with foot fetishes.

Now, it may seem a bit off for me to say that, but then to consider Quentin Tarantino to be one of the luckiest bastards alive... because he got to suck on Salma Hayek's toes in "From Dusk 'Til Dawn." That's a damn fine leg to be looking up, but most importantly, there was alcohol involved. Yes, alcohol, killer of germs and possible funks, was being poured down that incredible leg, over her beautiful foot and toes, and down Tarantino's throat. Purification by alcohol.

But I'm kind of drifting away from the point... some things must be done, no matter what. Someone needed to suck on Salma's toes, and Quentin stepped up. I salute the lucky son of a bitch brave soul. That took something special, to be able to do that. (I'd have switched places with him if it were mud... mud cleanses, too, you know.)

These are my all important, albiet muddled and sleep deprived, thoughts, on this fine November morning that doesn't seem a bit like November but actually June, or early July... maybe even late May.

Anyway, happy Sunday. Don't forget to thank Gott for inventing alcohol.

Bah...

Bastards and bitches, they be.
Bastards and bitches.

Misunderstood

Frustrating is what it is...

I send a guy a belated birthday present, and he misinterpets it as a personal attack of some sort. Gee. What sort of movie would inspire such a reaction? A damn funny movie, that's what. A comedy... or properly, "A Romantic Comedy. With Zombies." Folks, it doesn't get any better than that. 'Specially when you're the star of the flick...

Make big by clicking

Sorry, my brother, that you misunderstood my gift. I only meant well... heheheheh....

Busy, Busy, Busy

Damn...

I was going to tell you how busy it's been here, but how well we've done. About how it kept me from hooking up with a couple of bloggers, and made the few I did manage to meet a hurried get together. About Carmen's wedding, and how her very tall midget sistah in law was walking around in 10" heels. About a kickass Czech restaurant that I know for a fact Og would have loved. But... I haven't the time. (I don't even have the time to provide the proper linkage!)

However, I did promise wedding pics, and I have made the time to get them loaded to another server, as MuNu isn't taking uploads right now, and coded. Just for you folks. They can be found below the fold.

Here's the lovely bride and her bridesmaids...

And the groom with his studly batch of groomsmen...

The happy couple posing...

And I'm not sure if she's grabbing a handful, or trying to pick him up.

Hey, I know it's not Carmen... I only promised wedding pics. I didn't say WHOSE wedding.

Saintly

Hope you had a Happy Halloween! Had a few trick'or'treaters come by the shop yesterday, and while we had nothing for them, they looked like they were having a ball.

Saw a few jack o'lanterns, and was reminded of my nephew's name for them... something I had wanted to blog about, a month ago, but have forgotten/put off.

"Ejaculanterns." When my sis asked him, "You mean Jack O' Lantern," he said, "Yeah. Ejaculantern." Heheheh...

May be that I'm getting slightly older, but it seems like Halloween and the Holiday season come earlier every year. I'm thinking the proper nombre should be "Premature Ejaculantern."

Anyway, today is All Saints' Day, so be sure to show your reverence and respect to folks just like me.

Peace out, heathens.