A Question

I saw yesterday, a piece about terrorists making dry runs, and I couldn't help but wonder:

Are dry runs anything like dry heaves?

A Proposal

The Meet in Helen, featuring a special guest appearance by Zeejus, is coming up in a couple of months, and the Son of Eli admonishes us to plan ahead for The Eclipse of 2017. Planning ahead is what allows for so many of us to hook up...

Well, I'm here to propose a possible meet. Judging by some facial expressions and "unfavorable" reactions, it may not fly, but you never know unless you ask, right? After all, I made my suggestion to three folks, and, while only one seemed to like it, three people does not a blogosphere make.

I know of a group of friends that are planning on hooking up in Central America. This is a good batch of folks, and there are some bloggers in their midst... and they are friends of mine. So I'm hoping that they don't take this proposal in the wrong way... Gott knows I don't wish for personal harm. Their's or mine.

I've read several accounts of bot fly infestations in the past couple of weeks, and Central America seems to be Capital of Human Bot Flies. So here's my proposition: about six to eight weeks after these fine folks return from their trip, we all hook up for a Bot Meet. Or rather, a Bot Meat(thanks, Ktreva)... the gathering of the three B's: Booze, Bloggers, and Bot Flies! We'll all get schnockered and pull bot fly larvae from their hosts! Hell, if someone comes up with a decent Bot Fly recipe, appetizers will be covered...

What say you?

Super Group

Stopped by Alex's place yesterday, and he had an interesting post that's had me thinking since. It could be alot of fun. Only thing is, there's so many possibilities, and combinations... not to mention genres. Go check it out.

Anyway, here's my response to his post. These are not necessarily guys that I think are the best at their instruments, but who would make a very interesting band.

Vocals would be carried by Geoff Tate. The Queensryche frontman has one of the most incredible voices in rock, or metal, music today. While I don't usually get into lyrics, his are deep, and draw you in.

While I don't think keyboards would be necessary, I do think that having Jon Lord at the keys would kick some serious ass. The guy played his Hammond through a Marshall, for crying out loud! An excellent composer.

On drums, who better to have than Cozy Powell? From Jeff Beck, to Emerson, Lake and Powell, or Black Sabbath, Cozy could play any style of music, and play it well.

Playing bass would be Mike Dean, of Corrosion of Conformity. Punk, metal, hard rock, jazz, Mike can play it all. Flea, and my personal favorite,Les Claypool, would also be strong candidates, but I think Mike's style would blend a little better, while still being distinctive.

Playing ye olde guit-fiddles, I'd have John Sykes, and Steve Morse. Both incredible musicians and songwriters, it'd be interesting to see how their collaborations would sound. I'm thinking that it would be a very powerful mix.

Soon to come, the Fantasy Metal Band!

Vegecide

It has been recommended that I eat vegetables. Nuts to you, you heartless murderers!

Bot What?

I ran across something, just before Ogfest, that I just needed to post... had to do it, because it reminded me of something that you'd see posted by the P.T. Barnum of the Internet, the Grady Stiles of the Blogosphere... the Velociman of the Velociworld. Just seemed to be velociworthy. However, I didn't do it, being the busy bastard that I am. I did save it, though...

Yesterday, I noticed that Leslie had a post up about something that squicked her out... essentially, the same thing I'd seen, but there was no video included. "Ah," says I. "This I can provide!"

Uh... if you've just eaten or have a weak stomach, you may not want to watch. (I linked a different removal... the other no longer works.)

Granted, this isn't from the head, as this clip is.

Kinda cool. You can carry your lunch around with you... just use tweezers or petroleum jelly to extract from the handy dandy packaging.

Blasphemy

They're back.

Each night this week, the gods have waged battle upon one another, o'er the valley known as Stillman. Their steeds' hooves pounding across the skies, the sparks and flashes of their axes and swords as they collide, and the torrents of tears and sweat raining down upon this humble town. Currently, we are under a flash flood warning, thanks to these bastards.

Why doth my kinfolk do battle? I'm beginning to think that it's over me and my doctor's blasphemy. Doc sayeth unto me, "One beer a day. Maybe two, but no more." I nearly smote the heretic right there and then. But he was merely doing his job. I s'pose that some of the gods are actually upset with me, for going along with what the ancient medicine man said. That in itself could be considered a form of heresy.

No beer = grrrrrr...

A Question

You've got a car, say a not so new '67 model. It's been giving you some problems, but nothing that has you too concerned.

It's not been running smoothly, but there's still plenty of power. However, the engine seems to be working a little too hard to gain that power.

To get it running at top performance, you're going to need to do quite a bit of tuning. That's going to run you some serious ching. Meanwhile, you know that if you take care of one little thing, it's going to be relatively cheap, and the performance of your auto will greatly increase. Sure, throw it on a dyno, and there's a lot of room for improvement, but overall, this little thing is going to play the largest part in fine tuning your engine.

Knowing that funds are limited, do you settle on the small fix, and wait on the other elements of the overhaul?

Or would you plunge yourself into debt to get it all done at once? Even knowing that if you would wait for another three months, you'd probably have a partner to help with expenses?

Lame Thanks

Yep. I suck at keeping up with life, right now. I don't know how others can do it. I'm behind on emails and phone calls, and put off a fitting for a tux until the very last minute. (Not intentional, just didn't have time.) Future SIL was not too happy with me.

Things are a blur around here, and I don't see them letting up any time soon. Got a couple of folks that are getting planted this week, a good friend of the family and a buddy's dad. I've, or rather, "my friend's," got an appointment with the doc this afternoon, the results of which will set off a flurry of phone calls between here and California... and concerned others. Always good for the ol' b/p. Hell, as Hammer noted, just going to the doc raises my blood pressure. And I already know there is going to be a butting of the heads over testing... that's not going to help much.

Anyway, I've been neglectful, and I know I'm going to continue being a bastard, so I wanted to take the easy way out.

Thanks to all of you who sent cards, emails, and birthday wishes. And especially to those of you who were able to make it to Ogfest. Holy crap... I walked away with more loot than I've gotten in the past decade! I was gifted with a t-shirt, declaring my right to bear (as in "Ursa") arms, and a cool beach style shirt. I received anti-wrinkle cream, and a sign ordering me "assume the position." (No, it's not what you pervs think..) "Guest appearances" by Torrie Wilson and Liberace. (Definitely not in relation to the sign.) A "Secret Life of Walter Mitty" movie poster, and a very kick ass caricature. Should I get lucky and find my camera, I'll post some pics. I also got a Guinness "night light," and a Band of Brothers box set... can't wait to get a chance to watch that!

Thanks again, to all of you!

For AW

Hi, everybody! Today is a very special day! Yes... that's right! It's Friday the 13th! But even much more specialler, it's AWTM's birthday! I think that almost everybody knows that she loves recipes, so Tammi is hosting a Birthday/recipe party.

Folks don't know it, but I can, and don't, cook. Here's one of my favorites:

Bread

You'll need to have the following:

Water
Barley
Hops
Yeast
A large kettle
A fermentor
A carboy
Thermometer
Hydrometer

If you need to run out and purchase any of this equipment, you can save time and steps. Hell... I recommend that all of you do that anyway. Ignore my recipe, run out to your local package shop, and pick up some Guinness... just keep in mind that a six pack is only a half of a serving.

Speaking of serving, if you've done all steps faithfully, the finished product should look like so:

Mmmmm... and good for your heart, too!

Happy Birthday, AW!!!

Contributing

So, I know this guy who has high blood pressure. We're not talking measly pre-hypertension. No, we're talking Stage Three Hypertension.

Stage Three Hypertension: A blood pressure reading of 180/110 or higher places you in the Stage Three Hypertension range. If your blood pressure reading is this high you need to seek medical attention immediately.

This guy easily clears the 180/110 reading, with readings of 196/148 and 188/155. According to this blockquote, he should seek medical attention immediately. Right?

As a matter of fact, the doctor and nurse who took the readings both told him to see his physician as soon as possible. Of course, this is after a couple of severe ass chewings. Nothing like making the B/P rise a bit, eh?

So the guy calls his doc to set up an appointment. He explains the situation, and the readings. The nurse setting up the appointment gives him another ass chewing, and then informs him that he won't be able to see the doc for six days.

Not that he's worried about it, but where's their sense of urgency?

And they wonder why it's high...

Getting Old

Many moons ago, there was a really nice guy, named T1G. T1G was known for minding his own damn business, and rarely agitating or annoying others. T1G was... well, he just was. You know... kinda like Gott just was. Only not that old.

Anyway, one day T1G happened to notice that someone was not very nice to him... not very nice at all. T1G, being the hella nice guy that he was, let it roll offa his back. Soon, others joined in, but T1G maintained his dignity and poise.

Then, one day, he walked into a local establishment to find a certain picture hanging upon the wall. While not happy, he let it roll, once again. That's was nice fuckin' guys do...

The picture has served as the amusement for many of the bar's patrons and visitors. Not to mention the bartender who constantly sends women down to T1G's corner to ask for autographs. T1G just gritted his teeth and bore it. "Hey, at least most of them were good looking."

Monday, T1G made his way down to his bar to celebrate his birthday, meeting up with Contagion and his brewtiful wife, Ktreva, and some local friends. As he walked into the bar, he stopped in stunned silence. For at each place setting, each bar stool, there was a place mat... with the same image. "Happy 40th Birthday!"

T1G shall remember all of those involved in this story. Especially the one who started the whole damned thing.

No more Mr. Cool, Calm and Poised...

Local Blogger Saves The Day

After a two week hiatus, Fritz's Wooden Nickel reopened its doors on Monday. They were nearly closed again.

As the shelves of nectar were being restocked, an extra bottle of Jack Daniels perched precariously on its shelf, the shelving straining against the weight of the bottle. Should the shelving have given way, the lives of those present would have been in jeopardy. Particularly, that of a local man who was at first identified as Amber Bock, due to his constant mumbling of the same, and who was trying to wring beer out of an Amber Bock tapper.

Luckily, the bar was equipped with the latest Jack technology, and, at danger's first ugly head rearing, the bar sent out a Jack signal, spotted by none other than Contagion. Our hero soon devoured the entire bottle, thus saving all present.

He rewarded himself by taking the barstool of a local patron...

Ogmeet

Friday morning text message: "I is in ur citi, chasin ur midgets. w00t!" That's how the weekend began, and it only got worse better from there.

Drunks.
Uniboob.
Beer.
Calf formula.
The ugliest Hooter's girl. EVER. Bearded even.
Beer.
5,000... no, 500... nah... I mean, 500,000 NASCAR fans.
Drunks.
Jesus Damn Fishin'.
Smegma.

Ogfest in just a few words. What a frickin' blast.

Thanks to Og and Tammi for trying to disguise a birthday party as a blogmeet, and to all of those who came. To the meet, that is. Harvey and TNT, Contagion and Ktreva, Oddy, Leslie, Teresa, Shoe, Jon, Grau, Bloodspite, 'Neck, Biloxi, and Thunderdaddy: Thanks again. You guys rock. Even if you are a bunch of assholes.

Those of you who couldn't make it, know that you were missed. Not to mention, total losers. :)

I'd go into greater details, but I've got an appointment at Fritz's... I'll try to post later.

Um... Something

I spent the day packing and sorting. There's a hell of a lot of crap around here... just packing books and cds has me with two huge piles of boxes. And I'm not done with the books... I've still got a bunch upstairs.

This has been getting a bit aggravating. I clean out one room, have everything packed and orderly, and in working on the next room, the "clean" room suffers a bombing. All of the little oddball items end up there, and I've got to go back through and clean it up. I know there's got to be a better way, but this place isn't very big... not much room to work, period.

Anyway, I've spent most of the day jamming on the Spudmonsters, and Stone Sour. Yeah, different styles, but it puts you in a great mood, and you can get a hell of a lot of work done. However, as it got later, I tossed my San Quentin DVD that my favorite sis got me for Christmas. It was supposed to be for background sounds, but I couldn't help but stop and watch.

Damn cool, it was. Video of the concert, and interviews of inmates and staff.

My pa had the original album, and hearing some of those same tunes, I felt like he was sitting there in the room with me, 'specially "Orange Blossom Special." Cash was easily one of his favorites, and has become one of mine, too.

Well, shit... my train of thought derailed somewhere along the line, no pun intended. That's what no sleep do to a foo.

Ah... I'll give you the links, and leave you with this:

Bumps

Yeah... that's what a caution sign in Hooters says, but I don't mean them. Them bumps is nice.

The road of life is rarely a well maintained highway; instead, it's like a gravel road. Some stretches are damn near smooth, and in others, it's washboard. Well, my life's roh-add, anyway.

Hey, I'm not meaning to complain... at least there's still plenty of road ahead of me. Unless there's a bridge washed out in that dip ahead.

Every now and then, you end up smacking some poor critter, throwing a big thump to you. Now, that isn't so bad when it's a damn cat or raccoon. That's what fun is all about. But it do suck when it ends up being you getting run over...

Had a great frickin' Saturday, but I'll have to get to you later...

Stretch

I frickin' hate it when you toss a load of towels in the washer, and discover that you got an armhole over the agitator...