So's You Know

Capthchas and goof ass codes suck. They may work to keep away spammers, but dammit... your fuckers are keeping out the drunks!

Oh... and Bloodyspite has set up a chat for you blog crawlers...

Breathing

Made a run to the pharmacy de mornin. Pharmacy. A never ending source of entertainment.

Walked back to the prescription counter (you know... I've given in to peer pressure, and am trying to have normal blood pressure levels, instead of being proud to be an individual), gave the pharmacist my info, and sat down to people watch.

Pretty much the normal folks... the Indian guy who keeps asking each girl behind the counter the same questions, the grumpy old guy, the impatient woman standing with arms akimbo. And then I noticed this guy sitting in a massage chair.

He sat there jumping and lurching as this chair worked him over. I don't know if the chair used magical fingers or electrical impulses, but he looked like he was in agony. Massage over, he'd hit the button to start it again.

I swear, as Buddha is a dead guy who is depicted to be fat, this guy was near convulsions. I watched as his shoulders would jerk, his head snapping back, and feet shooting forward. After the second time, I knew it looked familiar... SHITBRICK! Aka, Paul Finch. (If explanation needed, watch American Pie.) Either the dude was in his death throes, or he was having an orgasm.

I couldn't peel my eyes away... let alone, try to keep from laughing. After a particularly violent episode with his legs, he looked around, and then tucked his legs back under the chair. When the next "whatever" hit, he nearly did a face plant. I choked back a laugh, until I thought I heard "It only hurts when I pee" coming from over the speakers. (I think it was Melissa Etheridge singing "It only hurts when I breathe." 'Least, I hope that's what she said.) I about blew snot all over myself, and acted like I had a close brush with a sneeze when the others looked at me.

Thank gott that I got my meds almost immediately after.

Tamales

It's another sunny day here in California... temp is currently 56, and we'll have a high of 77. Can't beat that. 'Specially on a Saturday. I may make a run up to the mountains, or I may just stick around the apartment, pop open all of the windows, and simmer up some bascetti sauce. Yeah... I think I'll just stick around and straighten up the place a bit. My friends from Winchester should be here sometime this week...

Just finished a filling repast of breakfast tamales. "Breakfast tamales?" Yes. Sounds special, but really, they're quite simple to prepare.
1. Buy some tamales from a coworker. (I chose to go with pork and jalepeno.)
2. Remove from fridge and devour. (I don't even bother reheating.)
Prep time is no longer than the time it takes to remove the corn husks.
Serve with orange juice... and vodka. J/K

Or am I?

Talked with a fellow blogger earlier... Yabu. I got thinking... this blogging gig has been a cool ride. I've met some very kickass folks. Some of them, quite literally. You can see them over in my sidebar, under "We've shared a Flask." And not all of the outstanding folks I've met have been bloggers... Bou's family comes immediately to mind. And Major Dad. And Ebola. And....

Anyway, I love to get together with these folks. This coming month sees a couple of gatherings, and I won't be able to make either of them. Gottdamned job!

Heheheh... I'm starting to chuckle over the word "gathering." Sounds almost sinister. "Sinister bloggers gather over bucket of punch... launch mortars and artillery." "Record size Velocifish spotted flopping around in Chattahoochee River, near Helen, GA. Arrival coincides with gathering of bloggers..."

At any rate, I won't be able to make it to any of the gatherings back east. I'm more than a little bummed about it; however, I may be able to hook up with a blogger or two, out this way. That would help to make up for it.

Hope you bastards all have a great time at your gathering of the coven...

Footwear

So I'm sitting here finishing a bowl of granola and soy, the delicate fragrance of patchouli in the air, and I read that it's going to get up to 90 tomorrow. *mumblemumblemumblemuble* We have been enjoying days in the low to mid 70's for the past week. With the exception of today. With this warm weather on the way, it sounds like shorts weather.

Not really a shorts kinda guy, but since I ventured to Florida, I've taken to wearing them. Hell... I wore them quite a bit once I got back home, unless I was going out. Then, I'd mostly wear jeans...

Since I'm wearing shorts, dressing for warm weather more often, I'm facing a bit of a dilemma.

Should I wear Jesus sandals, "sport" sandals, or flip flops?

Thanks, but screw you weirdos... I'm sticking with tennis shoes.

Armed

I was up bright and early this morning... 5:30 to be exact. I did some laundry across the street, and then watched the sun rise over the tree tops. Not as impressive as the view from work, where we get to watch the sun creep it's way over the mountains, casting their shadows into the sky, it was beautiful nonetheless.

Anyway... I was probably the only one out and about in the complex. Save for the security dude. I spied his car parked over by the offices... he, staring and watching me, and I, returning the favor.

And then, I had a thought pop into my head. Yes... it's an annual event, and the timing coincided with today.

Long, long ago, at a church camp far, far away...

The Perfect One and I... hell... it may have been all four of us kids... anyway, we attended what we knew was probably going to be our last camp. For years, our family had spent many weeks at the United Pentecostal Church campgrounds in Shawano, Wisconsin. We attended Family camps, Ma cooked for Junior camps (with us kids helping... and stealing all of the best cookies that each church sent), and we kiddies attended Youth camps. Youth camp, or Senior camp, was for any singles, from teens to twenties. Once most hit eighteen, they either stopped going or became counselors.

This year was going to be our last, and while we'd been asked to be staff, we had passed. Why be responsible when you can screw off? Besides, we'd talked with some of the Youth pastors who were going to be staff, and they were going to let us run wild on the second to last night; however, if they caught you, you'd spend a couple of hours the next day policing the campgrounds. It was their way of a good final cleanup.

During the week, we talked with one of the pastors from Eau Claire, and he got to talking about some of the places that they used to run and hide out from the "guards", night security, when he was a youngster. We payed close attention, and then filed those places in our "do not go there" file.

The head of security was from Madison, and a pretty decent guy. He felt pretty confident that no one would be able to keep from being caught by his crew. He said that a couple of them had nvg's (night vision goggles). I don't know if they did or not. I do know that he, himself, was a sneaky bastard. He could sneak up on you without you having a clue. It came about that he asked us if we were going sneak out that night, and The Perfect One and I just grinned at him. Then we told him that if we were stupid enough to sneak out, we'd grab something from the other side of the girls dorms, across the campground, to prove that we were there. He smiled and accepted the challenge.

The night of the Great Escape, TPO and I got ready for bed. Security man John came around to check on everyone, reminded us that whoever got caught had police duty, and then called for lights out. Within five minutes of his walking out the door, guys started to sneak out. TPO and I, along with another friend of ours, changed into our BDU's (cammies) and climbed into our beds.

It wasn't long, and guys started showing up in the dorm, caught. John had gone out and snuck through the cornfield alongside the dorms to get to the backside of the building. That is the best place to sneak out, as there are no lights back there. He stood there in the dark and took names as he caught those trying to sneak out. A few of them took off before he could figure out who they were, so the great hunt was on.

A couple of times, he would come in and would do a bed check. Each time, he'd stop by and talk to my brother and myself. We could tell that he was trying to figure out if he was going to have to hunt us or not. While hanging in the dorm (waiting to catch sneaks), he spotted one of the guys heading for the camp kitchen, and he lit out. We hopped out of our beds, stuffed them, and were off.

We were out the door like a cannon shot, with one of our friends, who'd been caught already, holding the door so it wouldn't slam. It was a short sprint to the cornfield, and then we were alone.

Crossing through the cornfield, we made our way to the campground perimeter. We moved slowly and steadily, never swatting at the hundreds, more like thousands, of skameetos that were sucking the blood out of us. Once, we had two of the guards stop within twenty feet of us. TPO and I were caught out on the edge of the treeline, so we pulled off our cammie covers and held them over our faces, hardly daring to breathe when their flashlight beams swept past us. After a few minutes of small talk, they took off. We couldn't believe our luck.

It took us over an hour to work our way across the campground, but finally we reached the ball diamond. It was located right behind the girls dorms, and we could see the guards hanging out around the dorms. (Heheheh... there were hardly any girls that were willing to make their way out, but they knew that most of the guys would be heading for the ladies' dorms.) Around the diamond, there were the bases, and an equipment bag full of bats, balls, and gloves. I grabbed the gear, and the other two grabbed the bases. This is where we split up.

Getting to this spot had taken a long time. We'd lost blood to vicious insects, and we were soaked from low crawling to the diamond... a good part of that was through an alfalfa field that had been baled only weeks before. It provided decent cover, but it also held all of the dew. Our buddy Jeff decided he wanted no part of the return trip, figuring that he could take a path (a regular path) through the woods, and from there, cutting through the cornfield that let around to the guys dorms. This was one of the spots that the youth pastor had told us about. I tried to warn him, but he was off.

TPO and I grabbed up our loot, and low crawled back through the alfalfa. We actually left the campgrounds, a no-no, crossed the road, and booked back in a big arc through some farmer's hay fields. I mean we ran... we were tired and wanted to get back to the dorms to get some sleep. Leaving the campground like we did, we were able to lose noise discipline without fear of getting caught. The hang up was that we got stuck in the cornfield behind the dorms.

John Security guy was camped out in our dorm, waiting for us. We were lying there in the mud and the skeeters watching his silhouette through the windows. Thank Gott that the lights from out front gave him away. As it was, we didn't think he was ever going to leave. He kept walking to the back door, looking out at the field, and then making his way to the front door where he would stand to the side in hopes of catching us. Finally, he left. As soon as he walked out the front door, our buddy who had held the door for us popped it open and hissed for us to come in. I guess we weren't as quiet as we had thought we were, though John didn't hear us.

Turned out, Jeff had gotten caught almost immediately after leaving us. As a matter of fact, TPO and I were the only ones who did not get caught. We set our bags of loot beside our racks, and went to sleep.

John was laughing about it the next day. He had walked into the room after we had taken off, and was talking to my rack, thinking that I was still in there. He was initially pissed, but he had gotten a huge kick out of our lugging all of that stuff back to the dorm. While he wanted to know how we did it, we never told.

Seeing the apartments' security guy today, I had the sudden urge to sneak back through the complex and jack with him. Toss a few rocks at him or something... I don't know if it was his car that I saw later, or not, but I was glad I didn't opt to do it.

Seeing the words "Armed Response" kinda takes it out of you...

Someone You Should Hear

An album called "Glowsticks for Clubbing Baby Seals", and some kickass tunes, earn Indorphine a listen.

Dead

Today was a good day. A damned good day.

Got to work outside today, and as I was working, I watched a vehicle pull up to the automatic gate, wait for it to open, and then drive off. After a few minutes, the gates started to roll shut, and as they did, I noticed a ribbon of white start flipping around.

A gottdamned snake!

I watched its death throes with a mixture of glee and pants pissing fear. (I severely hate snakes.) I walked over to the ex-snake, and gave it a look. It was only about a foot long, and a RATTLER! Dead. Just frickin' dead. Serves it right for trying to sneak up on me. 'Course now, I'm going to have to be careful out there. Plenty of places for them to hide.

Ah... a dead snake. 'Tis a good thing, indeed.

I knew it was going to be a good day when I saw that roadkill cat de mornin'.

Nyah, Nyah

About an hour north lies this shithole. Bet you don't want to go...

500

Congrats to Jim Thome, of the Chicago White Sox, for hitting home run #500!

Thome follows Frank Thomas, a former Sox slugger and a personal favorite, and Alex Rodriguez, of the dreaded Yankees and who I hope the Sox pursue in the off season, in reaching this milestone this year.

It couldn't happen to a better guy. Thome is from Peoria, Illinois... and a real class act. Even on the hated Indians, I enjoyed watching the guy play.

As Phil Rogers of the Chicago Tribune said in his article, "It's a shame Thome and Frank Thomas didn't get the chance to play alongside each other with the White Sox. That really would have been something to watch."

For Bou...

... who seems to think that little chocolate donuts are bad for you.

Irina Boobagovich

Yesterday, I mentioned that Harvey was looking for his family as a celebration of his birthday. Well, the way he phrased it, he was looking for boobs. I didn't really have time to spare to lend a hand in the search for his kin, so I just wished him a happy birthday. I kinda felt bad...

But thank the Lawd above, today I found someone who may just be related to the ole perv...Irina Boobagovich, professional ball wrangler.

There you go, Jackass. Happy Birthday.

Gone

During a conversation today, I was reminded of one of the many posts that I write, but fail to finish and post. I figure it needs to be posted anyway...

I've posted about my pa... pics, some stories, some clues for you to figure out the obvious: I think the world of him. While I've posted about my ma a couple of times, it's been nothing like my postings about my dad. Hardly seems fair...

It's not like I don't love my ma. Not at all. The cold truth is that she's still here. We tend to forget to mention how much folks mean to us until they're gone. 'Leastways, I do. I can be rather piss poor about doing so.

Ma raised four young kids all by herself. At first, there was a farm to run, too, but she handled it. I personally think she did a kickass job with raising us, and I know I've mentioned it before, but many of our friends' parents thought so, too. We weren't angels, but we were decent kids... and not phonies.

One of the things I loved about my ma is that she never thought, "Oh, my kids wouldn't do that." Even if we wouldn't. We got talked to, and she decided if we were up to something or not. Hell... we didn't lie to her too often. It's much better to keep one's backside where it belongs, and not wrapped up around one's ears.

We didn't have much, at times, eating plenty of rice as filler and desserts. She stretched what we had to last through some very tough times, all the while, never letting us know how bad shit was. And while things have only recently gotten better for her, she was always quick to offer help, physical and fiscal, if we ever needed it. We didn't even need to ask, and she was there.

This move to Fresno hasn't set well with her. She's happy for me, while wishing that I'd have stayed near to home. Cool thing is, she came out here with me on both trips... the scouting for apartments, and the final move. We had a pretty decent time. Cut that... we had a hell of a good time. Ma even drank with me, this past Saturday. That's something that you won't see very often.

We went out to Target this past weekend, and she was all in her element; "Oh, you'll need this, and you should have one of these... and you'll definitely need some of these." She hooked me up with plenty of gear, and I could tell that she was glad to do it. A mom thing, I guess.

Anyways, she and my aunt just left here, heading back to their hotel. Tomorrow, while I'm starting my new job, they'll be heading back home. Before they left here, I got a big hug from them both... Ma hanging on for quite awhile. As she backed away, she wouldn't look at me, and I knew she was crying. She finally managed a half turn as she walked out the door, and let me know that she'd be back out.

Funny, but I don't remember swallowing that rock that seems to be stuck in my throat...

A Pair

It's Harvey's birthday today, and he's looking to locate his relatives. Well... I'm not helping out, but I am wishing him a very Happy Birthday.

And speaking of boobs, RSM graduated from basic today... as Honor Grad.

Go bug these two bastards...

Gettin' There

As is obvious, the great plan to catch up is working with fail.

I'm still settling in, though I've got the main rooms taken care of... kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom all look good. Really, that's about all you need, right? This office is going to suck... it's where I've got all of the extra shit. Even paring it down, I've got too damn much. Gotta get it done soon, though, 'cause some friends from Winchester are going to be coming through in a couple of weeks. It'll be good to see them... haven't seen them in many moons.

I'm thinking that some help would be good. As a matter of fact, some help is greatly desired...

Mmmmmmmm.... help.

So You Know

Fingers are not meant to bend sideways.

The Four Groomsmen

Things usually work out the way they should, though not always desired. One cool thing, with all of the hype about my bloodpressure (get it? Hahahaha! Hype... as in Hypertension??? Bwahahahaha!!!), was that I was able to be at home for my brother's, The Perfect One, wedding.

Seen here are (left to right) Juice, R, myself, and Ye Olde Perfect One.

More pics later.

Ten

Handcrafted using fresh botanicals

You know it's got to be good for you! Tastes like it, anyway...

Home

HAHAHAH! I've got internet... finally!!! I've not been totally without, as I've stolen bandwidth when I've had the chance, but whoever I stole from seemed to be on top of things... they kept shutting me down. I guess I deserved it, but it still makes them assholes. In my book. Up to a point. Well... not necessarily.

So I'm here, sitting in Fresno. For the most part, settled in, though there are quite a few boxes piled up. As a famous procrastinator once said, "I'll take care of it later." The job is going so-so. Hey, it's a job... it's not supposed to be a damn party. A fact that I've forgotten in my two years away from the ranks of the zombies employed. Yes, I worked for my aunt, but it's not quite the same. That was a personal thing.

Packing up for this move, the best description is "clusterfuck." Seriously.

Long ago, I had to move an uncle. When we got to his apartment, we discovered that not a damn thing had been packed. Nothing. Dirty dishes still in the sink. Laundry clean but not put away. I vowed that I would never, EVER, put anyone through the same thing. While not nearly the same, it felt just as fucked up to me.

Thanks be to the gods that I had Jerry and Tammi, as well as my Ma and sis come out to help. Not to mention my bro hauling off my bike. You guys all rule. I don't really know what you rule, but you do, nonetheless.

The trip out here was relatively uneventful. As my aunt describes it, "sitting, eating, sitting, eating, sitting, eating, sleeping." There was some pretty awesome scenery, and I did take pics, but they are on my laptop, and will be uploaded at a later date. I tried to take some video while I was driving, but that came out about as well as... constipation.

Again, once we arrived, we headed for Yosemite. Got a few pics from there, as well, but they are also on the laptop. 'Twas the first time there for my aunt, and she almost sounded like she had a serious problem with all of the "Oh"s she kept yelling. I got a book of day hikes in Yosemite... now all I need is an annual pass, and a book for the Sequoias and Kings Canyon.

Anyway... just letting you folks know that I'm here and looking forward to getting back in touch with you all.

Peace out, peeps.

Alrighty....

... good morning, gentle rubberneckers..... Eric of Straight White Guy here......

.... I got a call from T1G yesterday and he asked that I throw up a few lines to tell y'all how he is doing..... in short, he is doing just fine......

…. as a matter of fact, California must be agreeing with him since I could barely make out his soft, dulcet tones through the cacophony of crunchy granola bars being gnawed upon & Pet Shop Boys blaring in the background.... oh, and he said something about work being "hard" and his shoulders "being sore" and something about how we need socialized medicine STAT!....

…. But yes, to answer y’all’s questions, he is doing well….. and I wish him nothing but continued success in this new adventure of his….. I know that his family and friends back home will be missing him greatly – just as he is missing all of them…. And just as we bloggy-friends are missing him too….

… so for those of you wishing for news, there you are…. he is there and doing well…. enjoying his new apartment… working hard…. And thinking of his friends and family during his down-time….

… I’m off to the airport myself now… and if I hear any more news of T1G, I will be sure to let everyone know…. until then, good luck, Joe!....