Tunes R Back

Things have been... well, they've been. Lots of stuff to blog about, but nothing that I can actually blog. Or that I want to blog. And it's not like being reluctant to write about the tribbles that were left behind on my shower drain when my aunt's ma came down to visit. I know you can take that and run with it... hell, please do. Make me laugh. It's been one of those weeks turning into months.

One of the very few cool things that have recently come about is the arrival of my new car stereo. Months ago, an overly helpful, overly drunken neighbour, decided that my aunt's lawn needed watering. It just so happened that the fuckin' sot watered my stereo, too. Unfortunately, it did not grow at all. Except to short... hahahahah. (My window was down because I was gluing my rear view mirror back on after it melted off, and, Florida being on the fringes of hell, it was too hot for the glue to cure properly unless I vented the car. Thus, open windows, and soaked car.) I haven't had a stereo until today. Since music is one of my outlets and getaways, it's been hell.

This is the new baby, a Panasonic CQ-C8303U. Got a great deal on it, and from what I've read, it sounds like other buyers have loved it, as well. I bought it, as you may be able to guess, from Crutchfield.

Let me say this; In a week of dealing with assholes, and speaking on the phone (a hated past time, anyway) to many more, it was great to deal with these folks. Nice as hell, both on the phone, and in their e-mail communications. I actually enjoyed dealing with them... they treat you like a person should be treated, and then some. I can not recommend them enough. A great product, most excellent customer service, and the instructions were clear and easy to read. Seriously... I think even that Tammi could put in a stereo with their directions. ;) And if she were to try, and have any problems, they give you a number to call for help. I did not need to call, but I can only imagine that they would be as helpful as the others with whom I spoke.

*Raising a pint of Guinness* Cheers to you, Crutchfield! And, Thank You!!!

Slain

In between dreams of going back into the Marines, last night, I kept dreaming of Sarah Michelle Gellar. Not that she's not dreamworthy, but I couldn't figure out why. And it's not like they were "those" kind of dreams... I just kept seeing her all over the place. No matter where I was, she was there...

This morning, I see a comment from Grau (to the post below), and it all clicked:

"Pound an oak stake through their hearts and if they die it means they were a vampire.

It's so obvious that the jury will have to agree...."

Duh.... BUFFY!!! The Vampire Slayer.

And here I was thinking that perhaps this seeing this pic of her the other day set in mind the alarms that The French Open and Wimbledon are on the way...

Silly Sarah... you can't play tennis in high heels... but I definitely appreciate the effort.

Now that I've got that figured out, I've got to work on figuring out why Lindsay Lohan keeps showing up with a Radio Flyer loaded down with a keg of Guinness, and carrying a pipe wrench...

What It's All About

The Perfect One and his woman are getting hitched, come August. Me... being the overly helpful bastard that I always am... I've decided that I'd help out. So I'm trying to convince the Moose that she should have this song played at their reception. And while I'm at it, I'm thinking that this would also be perfect for Mo, sister of Bou.

What do ya think?

Vampires

Whether you believe in Gott, or you believe that life came about from an explosion, every creature and/or person serves a purpose. Or that's the way things were originally designed. We beings that are civilized no longer believe that killing is a necessary thing... I gotta wonder.

Now, I ain't saying that I want to go off and wipe somebody out. I'm just wondering what the purpose is for the human mosquito... or the human leech. There's no health benefits in having these bastards bleed you to death. Scum sucking bottom feeders at least get rid of scum... these other bastards kill ya. I do believe that in the times afore civilization, they were put here to hone our killing skills. Now, I don't know...

Civilization is an evil, evil thing...

Ass Vomit

I was heading into first,
when I felt the burst,
Diarrhea... Diarrhea

I made the turn for two,
when I felt the goo,
Diarrhea... Diarrhea

I was running into third,
when I splashed a runny turd,
Diarrhea... Diarrhea

I was sliding into home,
when I felt the foam,
Diarrhea... Diarrhea

Funny, the things that pop into your head from seemingly nowhere. I've had that kiddie song stuck in my head since... excuse me... I'll be right back.

It Begins

"Once I take over, there's going to be some major changes taking effect. Like this shit here... no more kits sitting here forever. These will be torn apart, returned to stock, and used for other kits. We don't need this crap..."

Me: "Dude... those are new kits, built just this week. We don't need to tear shit apart, because by week's end, most, if not all, of them will be gone. Sold. We have to do this every week to keep up with demand..."

Creamed

Since I've been down here, my aunt has been buying these Sweet & Salty Nut Granola Bars, by Nature Valley. Pictured is the peanut variety... you can get a closer look by clicking on the pic. Peanuts and granola dipped in a peanut butter coating. It says right there in the banner on the front of the box. These things rock... and there are four different varieties.

My favorite has been the cashew bars. Cashews just plain ol' fashioned kick ass, and mixed with granola and dipped in cashew butter (yes, cashew butter), you can't find much better. There's also an almond bar, dipped in, you guessed it, almond butter. I've had all four types of bars, and they were good, but the fourth type... well, I haven't bought them anymore. I can't bring myself to do it, after reading the box. Who the hell is going to intentionally purchase food that's been dipped in nut butter... mixed nut butter? Probably the sicko that sent me (click at your own risk) this video.

Anyway, despite having a decent product, I'm thinking that Nature Valley needs to do a bit of rewording...

Pluh

Because one can never hear too much Psychostick:

Endangered

Not so long ago, on the plains of Munuviana, there lived thousands of creatures known as "comments." Some cute, some ugly, some serious, some funny, some short, some longwinded and pointless, comments were much desired by the folks of Munuviana, known to some as bloggers. While many bloggers may claim otherwise, their dependence upon the little creatures is well known.

Along came packs of vile beings called "fucking spammers," who infected the comments of the peaceful plains. Comments started to die off, upsetting the helpless bloggers. Efforts were taken to hold the effesses at bay, but alas, they have overun the Munuvian comments. Some fear that the comments may have gone the way of the Munuvian Trackbackalo... exctinct.

For those effesses reading this, I raise a glass to you and offer a toast; "May you enjoy the same fate as our trackbacks, only by claw hammer and needlenose pliers."

Startled

As many of you know, I went to Claxton, Georgia, last weekend, to hook up with a bunch of rowdies researchers. ‘Twas a rattlesnake roundup, and the perfect place for us to test out our theories.

See, rattler poison affects the blood, and we figured to see the effects of rattler venom if we replaced our blood with alcohol. Unfortunately, or possibly fortunately, nobody got bit for us to see the results. A better group you'd be hard pressed to find: Eric, V-man, Zonker, Denny, Elisson, and Ric and Georgia, friends of the late great Acidman, and of us all. Probably a good thing nobody went and got themselves bit. Though it does suck to work so hard on the blood/alcohol exchange, and not be able to prove your theory...

You ask, "Why the hell would you go to such a place? Ain’t you askeered of snakes?" Hell fuckin' yes, folks. But I think it’s healthy to occasionally confront the little girl inside of us all, inform her that we are not buying her cookies, and kick her ass. I thought I managed to beat her down pretty good, but I ain't so sure...

Whilst at the festivities, we were a bit upset to find that there were no snakeses to eatses. No chili, no snake bites... nothing. Seems a bit strange, eh? We did get a few souvenirs, though. Rattler hatbands for Vman and Elisson, shirts, and a couple of actual rattles.

Have you ever heard a rattler? I'm not talking about movies, or television shows. I'm talking about out in the wild, just you and Ma Nature, and Mr. Rattler. It's a sound you never forget... it raises the hair on the back of my neck. When we went near the snake pit, loud as the crowd was, you could hear the rattles of the snakes over the crowd. I couldn't help my nervous laughter...

My aunt hates snakes worse than I do... she freaks out in a bad way. So I brought my souvenir in the house, and put it away so that she wouldn't run across it. Once stashed, I forgot it. Until this morning... I was moving some of my clothes, and I dislodged my momento.

I heard that rattle and about ran into the wall...

Correct

Personally, I think she's right.

Smart

My cousin sent me a quote, attributed to Robert E. Lee:

"It appears we have appointed our worst generals to command forces, and our most gifted and brilliant to edit newspapers! In fact, I discovered by reading newspapers that these editor/geniuses plainly saw all my strategic defects from the start, yet failed to inform me until it was too late. Accordingly, I'm readily willing to yield my command to these obviously superior intellects, and I'll, in turn, do my best for the Cause by writing editorials - after the fact."

Whether or not Lee actually said it, it's a great line.

Out

Yesterday, we all packed up and headed out to Plant City, for the Florida Strawberry Festival... kind of a diversion, considering that it was the anniversary of my uncle's death. A festival for strawberries. I didn't really want to go, but I was hounded into it. Turned out not to be so bad, though I still can't see celebrating hairy berries. Other than hitting puberty. And that's kinda personal.

It is a really big thing, this berry festival. You wouldn't believe all of the folks cramming into this little town. The grounds were crammed and pissing me off, and the larger part of the crowd had yet to get there. Martina McBride was playing there that night, and when we left, cars were backed up to I-4. Hate to see some of the other nights... there were some very big names scheduled to play there over the week. All country music, though...

While my aunt hasn't said much, her mother is here, and she can't help but keep talking about finding my uncle dead in his chair. I suppose that's her way of dealing, but it does bug the fuck out of me. I don't really need to hear the events over and over. I'm just glad my aunt hasn't heard any of it.

The date of the exodus has been set... April 14. Joses makes his way out of Florgypt, back to the promised land. Things are cool here, and a little bit tense. Nervous, tense. Not angry, tense. I know that I've done more than many would, but I can't help but feel like I haven't helped enough. I kinda feel like I'm leaving her in the lurch. At least this time, she's got plenty of time to prepare. I just keep hearing the words of our polisher: "If something were to happen to you, we'd be back in the same spot as when Russ died. Have to start all over again. At least we'd know we could do it." I guess there's a bit of comfort in those last words...

Blogging probably will suck for the next month or so. Suck more than usual, that is. I'll be stuck in the shop late each night, so that I can spend a little bit of time on the weekends trying to see folks before I head out for good. Seeing old friends, and hopefully meeting some new. A chance to break away, too.

Peace out, peeps.

Too Late

Don't return their calls, or emails. Don't communicate regularly. If you don't let them know that they really do matter, they'll go find someone else.

Luck to ya, Liz.

There's more fish in the sea.

Acrtic Temps

I wish I could say that I was joking.

"It's going to be in the sixties... dress in layers."

Only in Florida...

In A Nutshell

Busy.
Busy.
Busy.
Daytona International Speedway.
Great seats?
No.
Most frickin' excellent seats.
Budweiser Corporate Suite.
Hover over finish line.
Whole track in view.
Photo finish.
Invite to party.
One of NASCAR's well known families.
Very well known.
Trip home.
Won 53 bucks on flight.
Suitcase first one on baggage conveyor.
Back to 'sconsin.
Great Wolf Lodge.
Family and fun.
BLIZZARD...
Too damn cool.
Laptop broke.
Streak ends.
Back in oven.
Busy.
Busy.
Busy.