GruveB's Blog

Suicide

2005-10-29T01:03:00.000-07:00

Suicide

I didn’t like the life we had. I had a new family, new job, new town…and it wasn’t like it should’ve been. We worked opposing shifts and never got to see each other.

I was given the opportunity to move down here and work for the family business. All would change, I hoped. But also, I’d get to know my grandfather. He was one of those people that you could know for years, spend hours and days with and yet know that you’d seen practically nothing they’d had to offer. This excitement and wonder was the tangible reason I moved back; it was what I coveted. I hoped for a dream of a happy marriage and fruitful life, but dreams are often difficult to understand. But I was excited about getting to know my grandfather.

After a month of being here he was diagnosed with a very rare, very aggressive and nearly untreatable cancer. He died shortly after, on Mother’s Day, 1997.

I had hardly spoken to him as a man.

Dante has something that my grandfather had. Justin’s mom, too. Wardo’s baby too. They’re fighters, they want to live. Whatever happens, they fought.

In the case of my grandfather and I also believe Justin’s mother, they knew how important they were to others. They knew the value of their lives. But Wardo’s baby and Dante both, at their fragile state, have something so virile and solid about life: the fight, the desire.

A 20 year-old student leapt from the 4th floor of the Student Union at the University of Arizona on Sunday night. I was walking to class early Monday morning as I always do, but my path, through the Union, was closed.

This kid committed the most selfish of acts. One where the individual only sees how they feel. Everything is about them, nobody else; they encompass all. To this person, there is no one else, just them, their feelings. No one can understand, they’re alone…and they take themselves from the rest so they can be exactly one. No more. Alone. Forever.

So to this person I say, good job, well executed plan. You’ve deeply wounded your family and friends, but at least your life ended young while your reach was still short.

He threw it all away when so many fight for just a chance.

Hi

2005-09-30T21:57:00.000-07:00

Been awhile...

2005-06-28T07:49:00.000-07:00

I've been too busy to use the computer, and that's a shame because I have a new keyboard and am out of dial-up hell! DSL RULES! I couldn't get it before b/c it wasn't offered here.

Anyhow, copy and paste these links. They're what I've been up to the past few days.

http://www.geocities.com/gruveb/gate3.jpg

http://www.geocities.com/gruveb/gate2.jpg

That was a pure bitch to erect (insert Butthead saying, "He said erect."). Anyhow, it's made from 9 railroad ties...and I didn't get one splinter! What a trip. Anyhow, I'm having 12 tons of stones delivered today. That'll finish out the wall (and then some). I actually have a lot of other walls to do too.

To finish the gate, I'll make two doors of 2 x 12's and beat the hell out of htem to make them look rustic before painting them. I think it'll turn out well.

..............

Then I went on a fishing trip with my brother-in-law. It was going to be a big ordeal. We had lofty goals of catching 60 pound flathead catfish.

First, my brother-in-law's new toyota four-runner BROKE! Well, the hatch wouldn't open. So we had to unload everything through the back doors instead of the hatch. Nothing was touching the hatch...but after it's all unloaded, it finally worked.

Then we go to rent a boat and there's a sign on the counter top says, "Have you seen Brian something or-other...last seen seeming towards the rocks." I assumed it meant the rocks opposite to the swimming beach.

There's good fishing there because of a deep channel. So our dilema was, should we not fish there b/c it would be really gross to find a body...I mean, every time your hook would get snagged, you'd wonder if it was a body....or should we fish there b/c it's already chummed?--insert Larry the Cable Guy's prayer, "Sorry God, and please help the pigmey's (sp) in Africa."

So I caught only one bait fish but also a bass. Then when we get to our spot for cat fish, I caught 3 consecutive channel cats, missed one and then on the fifth cast had one that started pulling our boat. My brother-in-law hadn't had a bite!

ANyhow, we're both excited as hell, thinking we got a big one, and it was. The drag was going out like crazy and the boat is doing circles. And then it was gone. I caught so much shit for letting that one get away. All night long.

Anyhow, we only ended up with 12 channel catfish, but all of them nice, a few were hogs. Then we caught the same twelve again. The lake was low and our basket got caught on a tree and pulled down about 6 feet. We fucked with that stupid thing for about 45 minutes before getting the basket back.

After 14 hours in the boat, we felt perfectly fine until we got on shore. Holy shit. Then I got attacked by fire ants and sliced my finger open cleaning the fish. DOH!

Anyhow, it was actually quite sad, reminded me of Jaws, seeing the entire beach roped off and rescue crews working to find him. They finally found him last night.

http://www.dailystar.com/dailystar/metro/81740

.............

Been a while...

2005-06-28T07:48:00.000-07:00

Guys running through my yard with M-16's...

2005-06-15T20:50:00.000-07:00

This evening the dogs started going absolutely nuts. I went outside and heard people walking around, then 9 guys carrying what was obviously bundles of drugs walked about 50 yards from my front door.

Three minutes later the border patrol was chasing them around. NOT COOL.

I told the agents which way the illegals always run (they have a "hidden" hangout where someone in the neighborhood delivers them McDonalds). They couldn't find them, called in the helicopter and finally found 'em.

I was really surprised to see them in my yard...haven't had any for a long, long time...pretty much since we got big dogs. Anyhow, I started looking around and checking out the house next door...actually there's an empty acre lot between us. The house is vacant. I went up there and there were tons and tons of empty water bottles and the front door was wide open. Illegals had run to that house in the past and hidden in the yard before. Absurd.

It was kind of freaky though seeing guys running around my yard with M-16's and shit. Not cool at all. I over heard one of the agents say later that they had a kilo on them. Of what, I don't know.

Then I was talking to him and he said that on his street there are 5 border patrol agents and just last week they busted a half-way house there that had 40 illegals living there! Right under their noses.

Anyhow, I guess they only got half of the group, the other people split off and went another direction. Sheesh.

For a reward...

2005-06-15T15:50:00.000-07:00

After I lose 70 pounds, I'm giving myself up to 500 bucks to buy whatever the hell I want.

For us right now, it's a pretty nice sum of dough. I am not sure what I'm going to buy with it though. Need ideas.

Yesterday...

2005-06-10T07:50:00.000-07:00

Apparently my children are teachers pets. Alex has received two cards from her teacher so far this summer and Brianna received her first yesterday. Brianna reads the card and was a little shocked about who it was from...

After a moment of thought, she exclaimed, "How did she find our mailbox?!?!"

.....

Yesterday I took my daughters to the lake to work with them on swimming. Alex wants to see how long she can hold her breath under water.

She says, "Count Mississippis, Dad."

So I do.

She comes up and asks, "How long was it?"

"Twelve seconds."

"No, Dad. How many Mississippis?"

.........

Apparently I haven't given cats the credit they deserve. This would've made a much better scene in Office Space.

"Cats use fax as toilet, spark house fire

Jun 10, 10:04 AM (ET)

TOKYO (Reuters) - Two kittens picked the wrong place to relieve themselves when they urinated on a fax machine, sparking a fire that extensively damaged their Japanese owner's house.

Investigators in the western city of Kobe have concluded that the fire in January was caused by a spark generated when the urine soaked the machine's electrical printing mechanism.

The fire damaged the kitchen and living room before it was put out by the house's owner, who was treated for mild smoke inhalation, said Masahito Oyabu, a fireman at the Nagata fire station in central Kobe.

The kittens quickly ran to safety, he added.

"If you have a cat, or a dog for that matter, be careful where they urinate," Oyabu said. "Especially keep them away from electrical appliances and wires." "

......

An old lady takes her German Shepherd to the vet. The vet checks the dog over and says, "Ma'am, this dog is perfectly healthy. What's the problem?"

"He keeps humping me," the old lady says.

"Oh, I see," says the vet. "Do you want me to have him fixed?"

"NO!" she says turning to lift her blouse up her back, "Trim his nails, these fucking scratches are killing me."

.....

I'm sending out two father's day cards and thinking...why waste the stamp and the cards. I mean, I usually get a card, read it and pitch it. I don't even let it set on the table for an hour or so (unless the giver is right there). I just don't get cards, ceremony or clowns.

.......

When I was 8 or 9 or so, I LOVED Fruit Loops. We were poor, very poor...and I wasn't usually allowed to get that kind of cereal. On Saturday afternoon my mom came home with groceries and in it was FRUIT LOOPS (insert beggin' strips commerical voice there). I was fucking stoked!

But I couldn't have any for dinner. :( Fuggin' parents.

The next morning I was primed. I'd dreamt all night about eating FRUIT LOOPS and sopping up the sugary-slice-of-heave-milk at the end. Oh man, I couldn't wait.

I walk into the kitchen and of all things my mom is making breakfast. She NEVER, NEVER, EVER, NEVER cooked breakfast.

"Can I have Fruit Loops instead," I asked.

"No, I'm making ham and eggs."

It was intentional. They were fucking with me. They wanted to send me over the edge, to the looney-bin with you kid. No FRUIT LOOPS for you!

I ate the damn ham and eggs. They were horrible, disgusting...worst thing ever. I was pissed. PISSED. I was RAGED...I'm talking Braveheart rage here.

We went to stupid church after breakfast. I fumed the whole way. Sitting in church I started getting sick. My dad told me to go sit in the car.

I did.

Then I puked fourteen times the volume of ham and eggs consumed all over the floor of the car.

Take that!

Am I?

2005-06-09T13:33:00.000-07:00

Let's get into stereo-types. Am I, or am I not, a redneck, hick, white trash. Pros and cons. You decide...maybe decide what stereo-type you'd be mostly likely classified as if by a stranger and post pros-and-cons.

So, pro will be something that fits the mold of a redneck, cons break the stereo-type.

Pro 1. All of my cars are American.
Con 1. I have all of my teeth.
Pro 2. I own a car that has parts more valuable than the car.
Pro 3. The car is on jack stands.
Con 2. The car runs, all of my cars run.
Pro 4. I own 4 cars, and only have two people in the house that can drive.
Pro 5. My goatee is longer than my penis...yup, it's at least 2.5 inches long.
Pro 6. I own a pair of cowboy boots and a cowboy hat.
Con 3. I only bought them because my wife likes that shit, I don't wear them. Actually, I wear the hat when I have to work outside on really hot days.
Pro 7. I am white.
Con 4. I have a tan.
Pro 8. I am unemployed, my wife works.
Pro 9. I do not have a college degree.
Pro 10. I do not have a trade.
Con 5. I am going to school...in my junior year of a math degree.
Con 6. I have been published.
Pro 11. So have lots of hicks.
Pro 12. I prefer fishing to golf.
Con 7. I own a house...NOT a trailer.
Pro 13. The house is a fixer-upper.
Con 8. I don't like country music.
Pro 14. I am a christian.
Con 9. I don't own a horse, a saddle, chew tobacco, smoke or drink Budweiser or Coors light.
Pro 15. I do like Coors however.

Whaddaya think?

Food of Love

2005-06-08T21:16:00.000-07:00

Ok, another food post. I get so proud of myself when my kids are eating this food and all I hear is "mmmm," and "oooh," and stuff like that.

Tonight was shishkabobs...big deal, right? All of that gay-ass veggie stuff between the meat, yuck. Spare me, just give me steak.

Well, I wrapped 13 to 15 count shrimp (JUMBO-Shrimp), wrapped in prosciutto...that million times better than bacon stuff and threw them on the skewers. I also took some sweet italian sausage out of the casings and made meat balls of those...seared them and put them on the skewers with pineapple, red bell pepper, onion, roma tomatoes and zucchini. For a side dish ( like we needed one after 18 STUFFED skewers), I grilled asparagus.

Oh my. Everything was SWEET, even the onions. And since I already had the prosciutto and the sausage, and the shrimp was $9.00 (on sale, big time), it was even a cheap meal. Kicked the shit out of spaghetti anyway.

Yesterday...

2005-06-07T08:27:00.000-07:00

My wife had a dermatologist appointment and myself an eye appointment. After that we went SHOPPING! Spent a whole $15.00. Our summer budget sucks ass this year.

There were lots of things we wanted to buy, but didn't have the money so decided to wait until we had more dough.

We're sitting in the parking lot, getting ready to leave and this truck pulls up in front of the store's door, and out run two men, with a cart full of boxes. They're being chased and yelled at by 4 or 5 employees, but the two me toss the entire cart in the truck bed, hop in and the truck takes off.

Unfreaking believable. Why didn't I think of that?!?!?!?!?

Actually, the group looked very suspicious, they didn't fit and one guy looked kinda weirded-out. It was a 50 something, scraggley looking black dude, and two 20-something hispanics and they were shopping around in the women's shoes. I guess the liberal medai got to me because I ended up dismissing my suspicions because I had to have been just being a prejudice asshole.

What I wanted to do was chase their stupid asses down, or at least follow them. And I wished I was outside of the store, NOT in my car. I would have tackled at least one of the bastards.

But what I really wanted was to walk out of the store with a bunch of stuff that we would've liked to have...similarly to how they did. Only I won't cross that line.

Fucking dirt bags.

I'm a smaller man...

2005-06-03T15:07:00.000-07:00

Twenty pounds smaller since March 15th or so. I've lost a lot more fat than 20 pounds, and put on a lot of muscle...and so the scale not moving gets frustrating sometimes, but I'm glad it's finally broken through the 20 pound mark!

Now for some beer and chocolate chip cookies to celebrate. :)

Big trouble

2005-06-02T17:08:00.000-07:00

Last night I took my family fishing. We caught a bat! It got tangled in two fishing lines! A BAT! I was able to free it eventually but I think it had a broken, um arm? Wing? Whatever.

Then this morning Rosco, our female English Mastiff, was out. No big deal right? Wrong. She is on the toughest collar you can buy and inside of a kennel. She got off of the collar and then punched a hole in the chain link.

She enjoys escaping to protect the neighbors cars...from the neighbors. They're trying to go to work in the morning and can't get in their cars. I wonder what they'd tell their bosses. lol

Here are some pics of Rosco and her damage. You'll have to copy and paste these links because stupid geocities will post an error if you just click on the link.

Here's the hole in the fence:

http://www.geocities.com/gruveb/gategoodone.jpg

Here's the collar:

http://www.geocities.com/gruveb/collar.jpg
And here's the "Sorry Dad," look:

http://www.geocities.com/gruveb/rosco-sorry.jpg

Irony and randomness

2005-05-31T13:54:00.000-07:00

I enjoy fishing overnight for catfish and bass. It's quiet, there are no kids that need entertaining, the weather is PERFECT and it's just quiet time. I stayed out last night until 3 am, and only caught one fish, not even a keeper. But it's enjoyable.

On the way home I took my usual short cut to the lake; a windy back road that's 99% void of anything but cattle. It's a beautiful windey road that mirrors a river bed and is lined with large cottonwoods. Best part is that it was a dirt road until a few years ago when they paved it...meaning the road is new, where most roads in this part of the state are worse than dirt roads.

Anyhow, I'm driving along and a county sheriff pulls up behind me and tailgates me for a long time. His damn lights were BRIGHT! I was getting pissed off, ready to pull over and either let him pass or save him the trouble of turning on his overheads.

Then I realized the song on the radio was, "I Shot the Sheriff." LOL

...............

On the way out to the lake, there was that stupid Nirvana song where the chorus is, "Rape ME..." over and over again. I actually like the song, but the words are stupid. If you request to be raped, then it's no longer rape. Role playing, sure, but not really rape.

...............

I bought four large bunches of broccoli yesterday and the cashier charged me for bananas. She looked at the screen adn saw that it was ringing up bananas and just kind of shrugged and gave a sheepish look, trying to see if I had noticed. Cool because bananas are WAY cheaper than broccoli.

..............

We have several dogs, one is a chihuahua. She is an amazingly sweet dog, but amazingly stupid. The weight of her stupidity is hard to explain, but here's a shot.

Cheryl walked into the bathroom one evening and Boo, the chihuahua, followed her. Cheryl left, turned off the light and teh dog started howling and crying. Cheryl went back in, turned the light on and the dog was just as happy as hell to see her. The dog got lost with the light off.

Yesterday Brianna had a friend come over to play. They dressed up one of our other dogs, Brigette, ( a schnauzer) in a dress and ribbons. Briggie and Boo had been playing for an hour together with Briggie dressed up like that. Then we let the two of them outside and suddenly Boo is vurious at whatever that creature wearing bows and a dress was. She literally freaked.

Lastly, she always runs and slides on the tile and slams into stuff...and she does it over and over and over again. She runs to jump on the chair and jumps too soon, smashing into the side of it...turns around and tries again, exactly the same way, exactly the same result. I think she should replace that litigation-happy John McCain.

Yea, FINALLY

2005-05-30T10:33:00.000-07:00

Alex, my 11 year old daughter has finally learned to ride her bike! We don't have a place that makes riding a bike easy, much less learning. But we decided that this summer we'd get it.

She was REALLY close, right away. I'd help her, and she'd be doing it and then get scared and stop. She'd practice on her own and HAVE IT, but not be sure of herself and quit.

So yesterday afternoon I was pushing her, and let go...and stopped...and she kept going, thinking I was right there. Then she turned her head and saw that I was 25 feet behind her and got scared again. But by then she saw that she had it and is now riding very well.

.......

My wife's brother and his wife came down Thursday and Friday. We went fishing and had a pretty good time. They brought Team America and I was laughing so hard because the movie was SO STUPID. But I loved the songs...those were the best songs of all time.

The following is true...

2005-05-26T07:55:00.000-07:00

It's said that everybody has a personal space; an invisible barrrier that if left unbreached, allows a person to feel comfortable. Once that personal space is invaded though, people get nervous and want to back away until their comfort zone is realized again.

It's also said that one of the most feared possibilities, one of the most common nightmares involves being naked in public. Worse yet, being seen in the bathroom.

.......

The warehouse latrine offered no comfort-zone. Each commode was a 18 inches from the next, no privacy dividers to write clever sayings or to read phone numbers advertising various oral services.

The urinals were gigantic troughs an arm's stretch from the toilets. If you were a crap-house pick-pocket, this would be your favorite hang-out.

I was in luck though...it was empty. My early morning rise during down time paid off! I would have my space, I would not be denied my privacy.

Fourteen pounds of gear hung around me. My load carrying gear, the stuff that your canteens, ammo pouches, first aid kit and other miscellaneous junk (like cigarettes and playing cards) are attached to, swung open hanging from my shoulders. My gas mask, attacked to my leg, lay over on the right side, touching the commode next to me. My M-16 lay across my bare knees and my helmet was between my boots.

More than nature's call, this was refuge. Quite time in a place where one was not required to salute officers or follow any other military protocol.

I sighed, the tension in my shoulders washing away. My neck relaxed. Four more days, then I could go back to the barracks, my bed, with my stereo and my stuff. Six more months and I'd be OUT and I could go home to my family and be Super Dad.

The captain walked in with his two little pet LT's. My shoulders tightened and my breath sped up. Time to be proud soldier again...proud soldier doing his duty.

Like a dog sniffing a pole, the captain walked beside the urinal selecting a good spot while reaching for his buttons. He found a suitable target, just askew from directly in front of me, and turned. Over his shoulder he said to me, "What's the word, Brown?"

"Dignity sir, dignity. If only my mother could see me now...," I said, letting the sentence trail off.

Like an old woman's chihuahua that heard a morsel of food hit the ground, the captain's pets snapped their gaze in my direction and began to scowl.

The captain bent over, laughing. Like a trapped living thing realizing its escape was real, its intensity, its drive and emotion grew exponentially. The Lt's then bobbed their heads up and down, smiling and holding their sides in mock laughter, gotta keep pace.

The captain though, his face was red when he looked at me, his eyes wet. He said in gasps, "Yeah, I supposed she be real proud right about now."

The best meal I've ever made...

2005-05-25T11:34:00.000-07:00

Maybe even the best I've ever had...its' called chicken saltimbocca. It's italian and I think it means "like having sex in your mouth."

Anyhow, basically it's chicken breast rolled and stuffed with a little cheese, prosciutto (if you've never had it, it's like bacon times infinity!), and fresh basil leafs cooked in this lemon/chicken broth sauce.

EDIT: I forgot to tell you how to put it together. You get boneless chicken breasts and if they're super thick, slice it in half, length wise. Then pound them thing. Place a pice of prosciutto in them, then a leaf or two of fresh basil and maybe a leaf of baby spinach for more color. Then sprinkle either a little (not much, too much cheese will ruin it) mozerella or fresh parmesian cheese over teh top. Then roll the chicken pieces and pin them with tooth picks.

Mix 1 can of chicken broth, a lemon with the zest, salt and pepper, maybe some thyme. Heat some olive oil, sear the chicken on each side, then add the sauce. Immediately turn down the heat to simmer, scrape the bottom of the pan (Do NOT USE TEFLON...cooking good stuff like this doesn't work as well), and cover for about 15 minutes.

When the chicken is done, remove it and cook teh sauce down a little, reducing it by about half. Then pour the remaining sauce over the chicken.

When I served it, I swear, I've never seen food disappear that fast. Heck, when my wife drove up the drive way, I tried to NOT let her know something special was being cooked, but she said that she could smell it outside. Dang it.

For a side dish, prosciutto and peas. Take 2 cloves of garlic and 2 or 3 shallots and chop them, sautee them in olive oil. Then chop fresh spinach into small pieces (basically dice it) and add the peas and spinach to the garlic and shallots after they've carmilized. If you're using frozen peas, which I do, thaw them. YOu don't want the ice getting in there and watering things down. After the peas are warm (but not soft) add the prosciutto and serve.

Prosciutto is expensive, very expensive. Like $5.00 for 3 ounces...so in the peas you can substitute canadian bacon or something like that.

Which brings me to my main point. I'm super husband! ;)

Any other favorite recipes?

Soap Box Post...

2005-05-25T06:27:00.000-07:00

What if, to compliment the NAACP, there existed a NAANCP? So you'd have the national association for the advancement of colored people, and in the spirit of equal opportunity, the national association for the advancement of non-colored (white-whatever that means) people.

Would the NAANCP then be consider racist because it was discriminating according to color of skin?

Dad stuff...

2005-05-24T14:57:00.000-07:00

I hung shelves and helped my rug rats organize their room today. They've only been cleaning their room for about 3 years now. I have absolutely no idea why it doesn't get, or stay, clean. Let me explain.

Two weekends ago we cleaned out the closet. Behind every imaginable molecule were stuffed clothes, toys, scraps of paper and weapons of mass destruction, seriously. These kids are bad mutha fuggers, don't mess with 'em.

Anyhow, we had a 'talk' about the clothes. They were deliberately shoved behind stuff instead of having been put in the proper places.

Fast forward seven days...we clean under the beds. No clothes under there, but tons and tons of 'things.' Little stuff, like uber-miniature groceries, millimeter-square scraps of paper and crayon shavings. We cleaned that out and went over where the trash can is, the purpose of the said trash can, the proper proceedure to follow when the trash can is full, and so on.

Fast forward another few days to today. We're hanging shelves, have already removed an entire car load of toys to the Salvation Army (have another load tomorrow, literally), and also removed 6 bags of trash...junk from school, broken stuff, and trashed clothes.

The room is finally in a condition where I can vacuum the floor. I lift the blanket hanging over Brianna's bed and there is a stack of clean, folded clothes.

I have no idea why their room is such a dump! Guess it's time to go back to nightly inspections. What a pain in the ass that is.

So my question is, did you keep a messy room and what did your parents do about it...and did it work?

So if your car leaks 4 quarts every 3000 miles...

2005-05-24T08:03:00.000-07:00

If you car leaks four quarts of oil every three thousand miles, does that mean you don't need to change your oil?

Newsflash...

2005-05-23T19:33:00.000-07:00

This just in: I have the stinkiest gas of my life. It's so bad, it's not even fun anymore. Usually when you have really stinky ones, it's kind of fun to gross everybody out.

But this is grossing me out. I know the cat has been missing for a week or so, I think I know where it is now.

Another Cherylism...

2005-05-23T09:58:00.000-07:00

We're working out the other day and she says, in all seriousness, "I feel like I'm hulking out." I lost it.

Blaine's Low Carb Cooking

2005-05-23T09:43:00.000-07:00

That show cracks me up. I mean, really. The guy is going to show people how to cook stuff so they can lose weight. The guy is just over 300 pounds! He cooks with fat and fat and butter and more butter...oh, and tons and tons of oil...but it's all ok, because it's low carb.

Oh man, I love how stupid people jump on trends and gimmics. Cracks me up.

I'll just stick with my parachute pants with bandanas tied around my leg. :)

I'm a little slow...

2005-05-20T15:10:00.000-07:00

My wife is SHORT. She's 60" even, a flat 5 feet. Well, lately, she's started claiming she was 5' 1". Cracks me up, where she got her new inch, I'm not sure.

Anyhow, here's an example of how slow I am. I started teasing her about her inch everytime she mentioned she was 5' 1". lol.

That was until I said something about her inch, and she said, "Hey, I dont' make fun of your inch, so leave mine alone."

Cracked me up.

.....................

More Cheryl Stories:

We're both workign out, dieting and so on. She USED to be one of those people who would watch commercials like the ab lounge and be totally amazed and sold...ready to just try out whatever was being pushed there. It's hilarious stuff really, those guys (the writers of those commercials) are brilliant. I mean, they get some foxy-ass 22 year old claiming that she had to throw away her fat-pants. LOL. She's never, ever had fat pants.

Anyhow, she's finally convinced, though not happy, that those things are gimmics and don't work.

So the other day, we're working out and she was a pair of cheap sweat shorts, the kind that fit anybody from that Flockhart-toothpick to Chris Farley (before he died...had to be clear you know). Anyhow, she gets done with a set of dumb bell shoulder presses and jumps up and pulls her shorts out as far as she can and enthusiastically said, "...and my fat pants didn't fit after just 5 minutes!" Maybe it was a "had to be there."

......

Next Cheryl Story:

We were bored one summer afternoon and decided to go for a ride. We started out in the direction of Tombstone and got hungry on the way. We found a Wendy's and bought a couple of burgers. She ordered hers without pickles. I never order anything special from a fast food place, the less attention my food gets from someone getting paid $5.15 an hour, the better...I'll just take whatever it is off myself, thanks...besides, they don't make your burger special, they just take it from the pile they just made and scrape whatever it is off.

Anyhow, they didn't take the pickle off...so she takes it off and proceeds to throw it out of the window...only the window wasn't down. It splated and then streaked its way down to the arm rest. lol.

...........

Last Cheryl Story, and this is one you can apply to your own life.

Ever go to a restaurant and have some little kids stare at you like crazy. You try to ignore them, but it's like those begging Etheopian kids on television?

Well, Cheryl figured it out. Show them sea-food. It's great and it works...for a while. Then the kids go get their friends so they can see it too. But by that time, there's a lot of attention and the kids get in trouble for causing scenes and for bothering other people.

First time she did it, the kid that was staring at us nearly fell over out of his chair. He was pointing and his eyes got gigantic. He started bouncing around and his mom finally paid attention to him and made him turn around and sit down. So far, none of the kids have told their parents what happened. It's wonderful.

Ok, Amburger...

2005-05-20T14:54:00.000-07:00

1. Number of music files on my computer:

About 600 or so on the computer downstairs, zero upstairs.

2. Last CD I bought was Johnny Cashs 20 greatest hits.

3. Not playing a song right now. :(

4. Five songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me(in no particular order):

Anything on the album, So Far , So Good, So What.

Put Your Lights On, Santana and some other dude.

Getaway Car, Audio Slave

Pride and Joy, Stevie Ray Vaughn ( probably my single favorite song)

Electric Funeral, as remade by Pantera.

5. I'm not passing this on to anyone. :) lol.

When sex and technology collide...

2005-05-18T11:14:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about Porkchop's recent post where she was commenting that the women in her office cannot operation computers. This is obviously a problem since computers are axiomatic to the business environment today. I’ll share my realizations with you.

In this post you will see that the windows operating system is the hallmark of a man's world. You will also begin to understand the plot behind the computer boom and how its #1 objective was to ensure that women are not paid as much as men.

Now please don't kill the messenger, I got bored to tears in computer science, I'm certainly not responsible for these things, nor do I advocate them. It's all Bill Gates' fault. That Allen asshole that is his partner too, yeah throw him in the mix. They're the ones that pushed it over the edge. Before Windows you just had confusing terms like monitor and keyboard instead of more descriptive, feminine names like plastic thingie with letter-buttons and crappy TV that doesn't get Oprah. Don't even get me started on hardware and software. Sheesh. Anyhow, those names were just made up by geeks that cannot get laid. They had no ulterior motives.

So you see, the point is that it all boils down to the Windows operating system; it crashes so easily and requires "rebooting."

Rebooting is key. See, in a woman's mind, rebooting triggers a shoe-shopping response...very powerful, more powerful than a man's sex drive in fact. It's true, science says so.

And why is it called rebooting? Well, that answer exposes the whole thing. It’s really just turning the computer off and on again, right? Has nothing to do with shoes or boots. Those bastards picked the name on purpose because they knew what it would do. They’re the party responsible for the research comparing male sex drive to female shoe-shopping drive. Oh, they knew alright.

Here’s what they knew would happen:

There are two principle results to a woman's response to the idea of rebooting.

#1. They want to go shoe shopping, and so subliminally, they want to crash their computers. The instincts are so subconscious and powerful that they think rebooting is actually a good thing. As a result, an estimated $1,000,000,000,000.00 in productivity is lost each day in businesses in America. On the bright side, the shoe industry has felt an unexpected surge in sales since the early 1990's.

#2. When a woman is working at her computer and "inadvertently," forces it to lock up, she often has a subconscious dilemma that makes it quite difficult to continue. Her work, which she is devoted to and takes seriously (much more than men on average), is lost. This is bad...yet rebooting triggers a primal influx of adrenaline and happiness. So she asks for help. The boss or an IT guy, usually male, will tell her she NEEDS to reboot! Oh, it's tragic. Not only do they want to go shoe shopping, now they’re told they need to by their boss or some guy that is paid to know this stuff!

Conversely, men hate shoe shopping and rebooting triggers an opposite subconscious reaction in men as it does in women. So, other than trying to trick women into bending over when they’re wearing loose blouses, the only thing that men take serious at work is avoiding rebooting their machines. As a result, it appears that men work harder and are more productive…but it’s not a fair scale.

I guess the saying by some anonymous woman, “To be considered half of a man’s equal you must work twice as hard and be twice as good,” may be true. But I don’t think that person knew that the reason you had to work twice as hard was because you made your computers crash “accidentally.”

I've got it...

2005-05-17T12:44:00.000-07:00

Ever felt like there's something that you really needed to do? Not like taking out the trash or getting the dog its shots or even like jiggling the handle on the toilet. No, something big?

I've had that feeling gnawing at me for a while. I thought, at first, that it was the dog vomit on the carpet, I'd been hoping for days that someone else would see it and clean it up. But it turns out, that's not it, not at all.

I'm changing my name, kind of like how muslims change their names. It's like that, all holy and spiritual and shit. So I've picked the name Bob. Yup, Bob. Not only is it an anagram (I think that's what they're called), but I can get a tattoo of my new name at a discounted rate. I'll get a "B" on each ass-cheek. Then when someone asks me my name, I'll just bend over and spread 'em. It'll be unforgettable.

Get it, I won't have to pay for the "O."

Some things require delicate phrasing...

2005-05-17T11:21:00.000-07:00

I showed my snake to all of the school kids today. Some of them were afraid, but they all wanted to pet and hold it. Some of them got really, really excited too. Some said they'd seen one before, but never got to hold it and never had seen on this large!

I took our 8 ft. burmese python to my oldest daughter's fifth grade class and then to a preschool class this morning. It's the second time I've been to the 5th grade class and the first time for the preschoolers. But it's a huge hit, the kids get really excited and for most of them, it's a new experience, something their parents are too scared and ignorant to do. lol.

Anyhow, it's really fun and I certainly enjoy doing it.

I'm going back this afternoon to show two other classes. Should be fun.

Why?

2005-05-17T07:43:00.000-07:00

Why are steroids in sports such a hot issue? I mean, does that really require an entire senate committee. I always believed those bastards never did anything worth while, now I know it. It's entertainment, private industry. If those guys are breaking the law, send the law after them, but keep the government out of sports.

After all, there are more important things to worry about, like completing our covert take-over of Canada.

Better yet, how about sending the idiots at Newsweek to Iraq! Now there's an idea.

Stuff and Things...

2005-05-14T14:23:00.000-07:00

Summer is here. Yesterday it wasn't summer yet. Today it is. Those who live in deserts will know what I'm talking about. There's a certain intensity to the sun...the kind that will melt the soles off of your shoes, literally. That's here today.

I sold my black rough neck monitor. I've had him for about two years now, and he'd have made a great pet if I spent more time with him. Anyhow, he's the last of my lizards to go...I love lizards and someday hope to have and raise them...but that's someday, not right now. Right now I need the space and since I dont' have time anymore, he's gone. But he went to a family that has a 16 year old son who wants to be a reptile specialist and has 18 other repitles...all tame as puppies.

So the only reptile I have left is Larry. Fluffy, the red tegu died last winter, so Larry the albino burmese python is it. Took him out today and took some pictues...he's 94" long already. I'm taking him to my daughters' school next week, should be fun.

Anyhow, I don't have any place to host pictures, except geocities, so I've made a small page and posted some pics of the Larry and the black roughneck monitor I just sold.

Here's the link.

I love Wal-Mart

2005-05-13T21:25:00.000-07:00

They had frozen, wild-caught single servings of salmon for sale, $0.50 a piece! I LOVE salmon, so we filled the freezer. Then, Balance double crunch chocolate bars were on sale, $1.00 a box! They're usually like $1.25 each. We bought all of the boxes they had left.

Good stuff.

So the Poopy toes thing, Annalisa, why haven't you told?

Dayum.

Amber

2005-05-12T16:16:00.000-07:00

I miss you:

|.............................................................|

^
|

That much.

Took my wife fishing today...

2005-05-12T15:39:00.000-07:00

she loves to fish and is good at it, certainly better than I.

So this morning, we're rushing to get all of our stuff packed so we can just leave after dropping our daughters off at the bus stop. Brianna is begging to go to a birthday party after school, Alex is taking 4 madagascar hissing cockroaches to her accel program...she's going to use them in her first report. It's about cooking strange foods. Anyhow....

So Cheryl is making turkey sandwiches and asks what I want on them. I say mayo and mustard. She says, she's definitely food safety conscious, paranoid actually, "What are we going to keep the sandwiches cold in?" She was referring to mayo being quite toxic if allowed to heat up and then consumed.

"Nothing, they'll be fine. If they're room temperature by then, I'll be surprised," I said.

She decided to believe me, this time, but only after demonstrative sighs and eye rolling.

We ate the sandwiches about 10:30 and by 11:00 were still breathing.

There was this 20-something young man fishing across from us and he hadn't caught a thing. Eventually this old man walks up to him and wants to fish in the area and is asking what the fish are biting on and what the young man has caught. Mind you, it's pretty quiet out there, we could hear very clearly.

Old Man: How's the fishing today?

Young Man: Slow, very slow.

Old Man: Catch anything?

Young Man: Yeah, I caught one pretty good sized bass, the size of my hand....

Of course, he hadn't caught anything, and a bass teh size of your hand is well, tiny.

Cheryl says, "Little fish, little penis."

On the way home, Cheryl says, "Ok, so you know how eating warm mayo can give you food poisoning...what about if you burp it up later and then swallow it?"

Something Zaney

2005-05-10T22:16:00.000-07:00

...rarely happens anymore. Things are either dead serious, or annoyingly mundaine.

In the past 2 years, nothing has changed. My wife works, my kids go to school and I'm going to school. I'm not going to graduate any time soon, so no new jobs (unless I pick up odd jobs) for a while.

So if something happens, it's either ho-hum, or extremely problematic. Example: Cheryl gets a pulmonary embolism and is hospitalized for four days. Example: The stupid dog gets out of the yard and brings the neighbor's trash to our yard and THEN tears it open.

It's a life of extremes, I know it's the price of fame and glory.

But still, I'd like something cool to happen. Like frozen airplane poop dropping from the sky and cracking my windshield. Oh wait, that happened. Damn.

Ok, well...still, I'd like some pretend excitment. Something that I can make a big deal about happening, even though, deep down inside, I don't give a rat's ass. Like when politicans talk about ... well, whenever they talk. Or like that white bastard with flip-flops and dread locks with peace and hippie stickers on his car that flips you off in traffic. Shit like that. I want to be a hypocrit, but only a fake one.

I'm a man of action...I'll figure out something. My marriage was too stable, nothing to fight about, no controversy. So I grew a 14 foot long beard just to annoy my wife. It worked. We started humping like bunnies. It's really hard to thump your foot up and down while screwing though, I don't know how they do it successfully.

Hmm, oh well.

Today I went to The Sport's Authority. Damn, if there ever was an impressive name, that would be it. Nothing stupid like Office Max or Cosco. No, these guys know their shit. They're not just experts, they're the fucking authorities, beatch!

Anyhow, I'm not sure why I ever went to any other sports store. Either I wasn't aware that there was an authortiy, or I didn't understand teh meaning of the word.

Man, I wish all things in life were that easy. I mean, chosing lunch when you're starvin-marvin, but nothing sounds good...if there was a restaurant that said, "The Restaurant For When You're Starvin-Marvin, Jonesin-like, But Nothing Sounds Good AUTHORITY," I mean, I'd definitely eat there. I'd know they'd know. Knowing that would be wondeful, you know?

A few years before I got married, I went to a Pizza Hut with a group of Army friends. I'd lived in Europe for 2 years, and was definitely out of the loop. When I left, there was thin or pan crust pizza. I'd never heard of anything else. Then, the waitress asked me if I wanted hand tossed. Right here at the table? Well, ok, I thought. Man, things changed when I left. Nothing like a hand job while you order. Imagine if I'd been gone for 4 years. Then I'd probably get a blow job while paying. I'll be willing to bet she liked meat lovers.

Last item for now:

I'm bringing Larry, our albino burmese python, to my daughters' school next week. I brought the snake and did a demonstration a while ago and it was such a wonderful experience. I did some stupid shit about having the kids imagine what it would be like to be a snake...after, of course, I explained what it was like to be a snake...the no hearing, only seeing moving and only feeling stuff with your chin kind of stuff. Anyhow, the kids were to write a story about what it would be like and the teachers told me later, that everybody participated enthusiastically, even kids that normally do NOT write. Now, whenever I see one of those kids they ask me where Larry (the snake's name...a normal name for me to pick) is.

So it'll be fun.

Skewl is done...for now...

2005-05-10T21:55:00.000-07:00

but I'll take it. I'm taking the summer off, it's the first time off I've had since spring of 03.

It should be nice.

Heartburn, ulcer?

2005-05-06T12:23:00.000-07:00

Never heard of them...but I may now.

I bought a package of "chuck tenders." Sounds like a contradiction in terms, but they're not bad. They're about palm sized circular steaks. I marinated them in that hot sauce that is so hot, one drop makes a plate of food unbearable, but so tasty I can't put it down. I put about 6 drops in some olive oil, then 2 halved jalapenos, chili powder, thyme, garlic and pepper...lots of minced garlic. I marinated it while I roasted 8 green chilies, 2 green bell pepper and a yellow pepper. I mixed the roasted stuff with some corn, tomatoes, red and black beans...seasoned and cooked down.

Then I grilled the meat until medium-rare. Served both over a bowl of wild rice. My nose is sweating like those people on those Miller LIght commericials that are drinking thimble sized beers.

Damn good.

Birds be kewl

2005-05-06T07:55:00.000-07:00

We have two parrots; a Meyers Parrots named Whirley Bird, and a Blue Front Amazon Parrot named Sweet Pea.

Whirley is very sweet, but also very neurotic. He's not emotionally stable, never has been. He is prone to bits of violent outrage.

Sweet Pea is very stable. She hates everyone, except me. I can pick her up, hold her upside down, whatever. She's never bitten me.

Blue Fronts are famous for their adventurous nature. Most birds do NOT appreciate changes in their routine, but Blue Fronts hate routine. So this morning I decided she could help me out. We brushed our teeth together, pooped together, made breakfast together. It was a real bonding moment. But she doesn't quite get the hang of not getting streaks on the back rim of the toilet...but it's all good.

Congratulations

2005-05-05T07:35:00.000-07:00

To my oldest daughter. She finally made it into the "gifted" program. There's some stupid nationally standardized test that is taken for admission and the child has to score in the 97th percentile in at least one of the six areas to be accepted into the program. She's taken the test twice a year since second grade and usually scored within 5% in several areas, but never broke the 97th in any one.

Well, she finally did it. And of all things, in math. She always struggled with it, if for no other reason than she didn't have teachers that enjoyed math, and as a result, most of the students aren't going to enjoy it either. Over spring break we worked on some problems because her math skills were, frankly, terrible. So we were both stunned that math was the subject she broke through in.

My youngest daughter didn't make it this time, though she was close in several areas also. She was in the 90's in 4 of the six areas.

Anyhow, those are my brags for the day.

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Why is the word eunuch spelled like that? I move we strike that word from the english language and just use dickless from now on.

Space

2005-05-04T08:10:00.000-07:00

Ever noticed how women and children have a supernatural capacity for stacking shit on top of an already full trash can?

Yet, you want to bring one engine block into the dining room and there just isn't space.

Finals next week...

2005-05-03T17:10:00.000-07:00

I was all stoked and happy, sure I'd nailed my last linear algebra test...especially excited since I missed 2/3's of the lectures. In this class, the lectures are the only way to learn b/c the book is beyond vague and obscure.

Anyhow, I didn't do so hot on the test, not at all. So I really need to nail the final.

For that matter, I need to nail the finals in all of my classes...so I'm spending the next 5 days CRAMMING!!!

Dear Annalisa,

2005-04-29T10:05:00.000-07:00

Don't bogart it!

RUDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Strangeness

2005-04-28T22:50:00.000-07:00

Ever meet someone and have instant chemistry? You just instantly get along with and feel completely comfortable with someone, male or female?

I've met 4 people like that. I'm married to one of them. One of them was a former professor of mine. Anyhow, this professor had been on my mind lately, in fact I'd woken with dreams about her 4 nights straight. Just dreams like both of our families at a lake here and we're talking, stuff like that. Nothing that should've even woken me up. Usually only dreams with violence wake me.

So my wife said I should stop by and see her today, so I did. (I have the coolest wife, by the way). I wondered if something was wrong with her(not my wife, this professor), but there wasn't...not at all. In fact, she said something to me that totally changed my outlook of where I'm at and how frustrated I am with my chosen program at the University of Arizona.

She pretty much has the same degree I'm working towards...basically a comprehensive math degree. Anyhow, I was extremely encouraged and felt very relieved about what I was doing (academically) after speaking with her. It was like a long, cleansing exhale.

But what's strange is that I don't know this person. Of the 4 people that I've met that I've fit with like this, I've only gotten to know two of them, yet if I were to meet this professor of the other that I never really got to know, I'd be extremely comfortable with them.

The other thing that is strange, of course, is that I'd not seen this person for a year, nor kept an open line of communication, nor thought about her at all. I've been frustrated with school, very pissed off about it, feeling quite down about it, and then she's on my mind persistently, disturbing my sleep. I see her, made up some bullshit reason for stopping by, stay there for like 5 minutes (she had a class to teach), and instantly have an entirely new perspective about where I'm at.

I don't get it.

2005-04-28T22:31:00.000-07:00

I've assembled engines from scratch, I can tie fishing flies, I auditioned for and won a college scholarship for playing classical guitar. I can type about 90 words a minute and have had lead sketches displayed in a world tour.

Yet, I can't take the ironing board down.

Annalisa is my role model

2005-04-28T22:26:00.000-07:00

Annalisa is my inspiration.

I’ve just shat on my foot.

On a side note, speaking of in-laws, they’re not so bad. Remember, they’re probably more similar to your spouse than you believe. Encourage your spouse to change the pattern personally, and the whole thing can and will change, whether the in-laws like it or are even aware of it, or not. Of course, I have generally mild-manner, rational in-laws and an intelligent wife…lucky me.

Other than one issue, things have been smooth sailing with my in laws. Sure, they’re quirky. I think in-laws feel it’s their right to behave around their new relative like they do around all of their other relatives. You don’t get the benefit of them hiding themselves and such. You get the whole thing, quickly.

When Cheryl and I were first married I was still in the army. I got out and moved to Salt Lake City where she lived with her parents. She’d been out on her own, but was in limbo b/c we weren’t going to live in the Seattle area. And no, we’re not mormon, although there are mormon connections that are quite interesting on Cheryl’s side.

We lived in her parent’s house for the first month or 6 weeks or so. It was fine, no problems. We moved out into a town house about 2 miles or so from their house. The relationship between us and them was still fine. Then we moved about a 16 hour ride south. Things were fine…until they came to visit.

The visit was a little tense, uneasy. Small house, 4 new people in a 2 bedroom, 1 bath house. Also, new situation for all involved. We’re out on our own, first time…they’re visiting foreign territory…domestic to their own flesh and blood.

Cheryl’s dad is the type who attempts to rationalize everything…but when the rational approach fails, namely when he gets emotionally involved, things go to shit real fast for him.

He had a close relationship with Alex. When we moved away I think he was quite pissed that we didn’t leave her behind. Anyhow, grandparents are excellent at spoiling children and have often forgotten the structure and discipline and punishment that little kids often require.

Example (tip of iceberg type): Every time they went to the store, Alex was literally bribed to behave well.

“Be a good girl and we’ll buy you a prize.” And she would behave and get a prize…sometimes just a candy bar, but usually a lot more than that.

Want to see a recipe for disaster, that’s it.

I’m a little different in my approach, especially when the child is not able to rationalize and communicate. With me, they know they better behave or else…and I don’t give a rat’s ass who is around.

Well, that was the problem. The straw that broke the camel’s back on the already tense visit was the night before Cheryl’s parents were going to drive back to Utah. We were newly wed, didn’t have enough furniture for Cheryl’s parents and grandparents plus the 3 of us. So we made due with plastic lawn chairs. Alex, being 3, liked to sit on the edge of them, tilting the chair forward while she ate at the table. She was short enough that her chin was above the table’s level. She was going to slip, the chair fold and she was going to smack her chin—bite her tongue.

She apparently thought that since grandma and grandpa and great-grandma and great-grandpa were around, she didn’t have to listen to whatever the hell dad had to say. Wrong. We ironed that one out…they have to be on better behavior when we have company. In the long run, it’s better for all involved.

George didn’t like the way I dealt with the situation. I didn’t spank her, just scolded her and told her, right there in front of God and country, that if she does it again, I will spank her. I explained why, I am a firm believer in that.

The next day, right before they left, George (father-in-law) pulls Cheryl aside and says to her that I’m not treating Alex right, that I’m, he didn’t use the word, but the message was clear, he thought I was abusive.

Cheryl asked him why he didn’t bring it up with me if it were such a problem. I’m not his son, was his reason. Cracks me up. If he was a bus driver “abusing,” his granddaughter I know damn well he’d deal with it.

See, the real issue, and this is often the case, was George was now on the outside looking in. He wasn’t in control anymore, wasn’t in charge. Cheryl was still, how should I explain, intimidated and wanting to please her family. So she listened, always listened. She didn’t stand up for herself. She was still in the daughter role, the child role. I wasn’t. I’d already avoided his indirect attempt to corner me to ask about my plans for the future and shit like that. If he’d been direct, I would’ve talked to him, but he wasn’t…I don’t play that game.

Anyhow, big blow up. Major upset for Cheryl. She was close to her parents, spoke to them several times a week. Then this.

Cheryl’s grandparents latter suggested that I take Alex from the room whenever she misbehaves to punish her. Screw that. You misbehave in public; you deserve to be called short in public. I didn’t say anything though. They were tactful and respectful.

Cheryl didn’t speak with her dad for about a month, (not a year LF). But it was still edgy. Nothing about the blow up was mentioned, ever. In the mean time, Cheryl’s brother, who was 20 or so, decided he had the knowledge and right to tell Cheryl all about what we were doing wrong. Cheryl got pissed, but still listened. She didn’t have the tools required to let her family know that she wasn’t going to play the beta role (like in a wolf pack).

We talked. She got the tools. The message was subtle, but extremely effective.

All she had to do was break ranks without being vocal or defiant.

See, whenever they get together, everybody stays in the same house. Cheryl hates that, she likes her space. So at a wedding, everybody was staying at her aunt’s house (which is the second biggest dump of a house ever…I’d been there 4 or 5 times, then on the next visit I said, “Hey, did you guys add this room?” It had always been there, just filled with shit…I thought it was shit stacked in front of a long wall, but no, it was shit that filled an entire large dining room. They bought a new, large shed, to store the crap).

Anyhow, Cheryl said she wasn’t going to stay there and got a hotel room. Oh, everybody bitched and moaned and complained and begged and nagged her… get the picture. But she listened, not allowing them to reach her (not getting mad…she knew she was in charge, not them), and wasn’t swayed…didn’t even engage or argue.

The message: It’s none of your business what I do and I’m not going to engage you regarding my business.

Next day, her mom said, in private and obviously envious, “I wish I would’ve stayed in a hotel, we had a terrible time last night, didn’t sleep.”

Since then, things have been cherry. A few times her brother tried to get bossy, and she got cave-bitch on him. He learned.

The funniest thing is I told my uncle that I wasn’t going to stand for their style of communication and that it was going to stop. He laughed, scoffed at what I said…but did so under his breath, like it was going to be a big ass joke on me. Very condescending. LOL!!!!

I get along with all of my inlaws, so does Cheryl, great now. It’s all about understanding relationships and helping your spouse to be strong and re-establish boundaries with her (or his) parents. At least in this case, working on the relationship with the in-laws was more about working on the relationship between my wife and her parents…it really had nothing to do with me at all. I suspect that this is often the case. Sure, I was the hot topic, the one that her parents, brother and grandparents wanted to bitch to her about…but it really had nothing to do with me at all. It had to do with re-establishing where she fit with them.

So don’t sweat it, just be smart, be calm. Understand that no matter how bad it is, they’re still the parents of your spouse and be forgiving and accepting. Oh, and if you’re feeling petty, you could always say, “I fucked your (insert son or daughter).”

Dear Blog,

2005-04-28T21:26:00.000-07:00

Dear Blog,

I’m having a mini-celebration, me-style. I’ve had an intense week. Here’s a review:

1. I’ve broken through my plateau.

2. Took my parents fishing, caught 19 fish.

3. Finished the rest of the work required for the semester in linear algebra and vector calculus.

4. Had a stupid department of education orientation…very disappointing. I think I’m sticking with math.

5. I dreamt about a former teacher four nights straight. I visited her today and was glad I did.

6. Drank Amstel light this weekend…had a lot of them, but I think they don’t contain alcohol. The flavor was OK, but missing something, not full.

7. For my birthday, I got a bottle of Woodford Reserve from my grandmother.

8. Started taking vitamins and counting calories, also balancing 60% carbs (as many complex as possible), 25-30% protein, and 10-15% fat, target calories between 2250 and 2500.

9. I’ve made two absolutely kick ass meals this week. One was a pounded flank steak stuffed with portabello mushrooms, avacado, asparagus, roasted red pepper and green chilies and onions. It was served over home made rice pilaf…all healthy, and served with a fancy-schmancy balsamic red-wine sauce. Dang dang. The other was yellow tuna steaks with steamed broccoli, wild rice (cook with chicken boullion), and new red potatoes (halved) and zucchini (ringed) tossed in olive oil, salt, pepper, rosemary and thyme, then broiled at 450 for about 30 minutes. Man, good stuff.

10. I’m having rum and coke.

I love eating health food...

2005-04-26T16:36:00.001-07:00

Tonight's dinner:

New Red Potatoes, halved, with sliced zucchini; tossed in olive oil and rosemary, thyme and salt/pepper, grilled at 450.

Wild rice cooked in chicken broth, and steamed broccoli crowns.

Yellow fin tuna steaks.

mmmm.

I love health food.

I love eating health food...

2005-04-26T16:36:00.000-07:00

Plateau

2005-04-22T07:28:00.000-07:00

That's what I've hit.

After losing 15 to 17 pounds, the scale hasn't budged in nearly two weeks. Damnit. I'm still burning fat, and I know that's the important thing...but I still have a silly part that wants to see the scale moving down.

Anyhow, I'm enjoying exercising and comfortably into my clothes, and fitting into clothes that never fit before, well, not for a while anyway.

Jim Morrison sends me post cards...

2005-04-21T15:27:00.000-07:00

Jim Morrison sends me post cards…

the fugger won't leave me alone!

I don't need surgery on my hamstring. In fact, the doctor wasn't sure he was checking the correct leg for strength. He couldn't believe I'd improved that drastically.

Continued random egocentric count...

32. An Army Ranger was trying to pick fights with people at a bar because they were swearing. I went up to him and asked him, "Do you have a fucking problem with my god damned language, shit head?" He said he didn't care if I cussed, but those other people were just cussing for the fun of it.

33. It was strange b/c I'm not the type to pick a fight and I'm not a gigantic person either...only 5' 10".

34. I enjoy a disease. It's distinguishing symptom is that the afflicted feels they are an expert in all matters...like those people in Holiday Inn Express commercials.

35. Right now I feel like really cutting loose, getting a little wild...like I'm caged up and need to go.

36. I periodically get those feelings, always have...I don't usually act on them.

37. Direct result: I've never been on cops.

38. I had 2 beers for my birthday, but minus those, none since March 15th or so.

39. I was drinking about 12 to 18 a week.

40. I like beer.

41. Where's the fucking trolley. (Annalisa, aka Poopy Toes will laugh).

42. The egghead's been laid.

43. I've been raped by a dolphin.

44. 12. The answer, according to Amber, is always 12.

45. My dad has the funniest magic trick of all time.

46. I'm failing my probability theory class.

47. I could not choose between a life time of chocolate or beer, and a life without the other.

48. There are no right angles.

49. All math is theoretical, fluff. But what's cool about it is that it expresses the reality better than any other language.

50. I saw Alice in Chains play in a cafeteria sized club in Germany. Best show ever. Nothing else even close.

51. My new excuse: Blogger told me to do it.

In light of Annalisa's post...

2005-04-20T11:36:00.000-07:00

Talk about me time...

1. I'm gay.
2. I'm a compulsive liar, everything I say is false.
3. I hate false-negatives.
3a. There's a mathematician who asserted that nothing can be proven on its own accord...review #2.
4. I never tell a lie for a reaction.
5. I'm married to my best friend of...um, 18 years.
6. We have two children, daughters...both would look just like me if they were 5' 10", fat and had a long ass goatie.
7. I think believing is understanding.
8. I think some people hope in God, but do not believe because they do not know.
9. Would you love God if it meant your own demise?
10. I try to tell and know the truth, even when it makes me look bad.
11. Cussing is fun.
12. I should be doing linear algebra right now, but I've already computed a half dozen change of basis matrices for different vector fields.
13. I'm thinking of ditching math and getting a PE degree in coaching.
14. I coached youth basketball, lost my first 4 games. Lost 3 more total the next 5 seasons.
15. I learned that kids respond to individual challenges and love tackling specific tasks.
16. My first, and worst, firction story was published first submission.
17. I think that magazine would publish a skid mark.
18. I have one short story that I am very proud of.
19. I'm about half way through writing a novel, but have been for 18 months now.
20. I doubt it'll be finished.
21. During a rainy Washington night of heavy drinking I had to walk to clear my head. When I returned I convinced my friends that I had stolen a HUMVEE from a motor pool (I was in the army) and went for a joy ride.
22. On a similar night I ran to my friends house off base, 4 miles.
23. The bastard wasn't there.
24. So I climed in his kitchen window.
25. It was about 10 inches wide.
26. I ran two miles in 11:30.
27. I competed in a semi-professional mountain bike race and finished.
28. I benched 285...could've done more, but that was all the weight I had.
29. I won the strong man competition for my senior class in high school, although 2 juniors beat me.
30. I qualified as expert with rifle, machine gun and grenade everytime.
31. I have to go, just got invited to lunch. I'll finish later.

I've found one of those men wearing women's shoes...

2005-04-19T17:57:00.000-07:00

Once again, the important stuff is buried. Here is the story. Basically, a chapter president of some women's lib club (amazing how militant and extremist these people are) has been caught crying wolf. She claimed she was raped by two men in the bathroom. I really think she was having a fantasy and then felt guilty about it and decided to punish some men, kind of the reverse sexism practiced in Islam.

Anyhow, it's a big stink because a lot of the women liberal belief structure is based on the idea that women do not and will not lie about rape. Which is plain and simple bullshit. Anybody will lie about anything, given the right set of conditions. It happens, unless you believe the whole sanctity of the female gender shit. I don't. They're as shitty as men can be, sometimes worse.

Well, see, I'm getting off the subject. This is really a story about a loser guy who could not get laid any other way than to join these femme-extremists. He's married to the wanna-be raped. He's just like one of those guys on campus the other day marching around in women's shoes to raise awareness of violence against women.

So take heart you lonely, horny losers. You too can get laid. Just join a woman's club, they're still women. Proof: They say they hate being subjugated to men and that sex is the greatest subjugation and submissal of al; however, they all want the big salami by two guys in the can, uh, I mean bathroom.

Ever?

2005-04-19T17:37:00.000-07:00

Ever feel like taking something large, with many intricate parts assembled delicately with precision and care and smashing it into millions of perminently destroyed, indistinguishable parts?

I never have, just wondered if anyone else has.

This just in...

2005-04-15T13:39:00.000-07:00

100% of those with stomach cancer swallow their own saliva.

Also, the average Floridian is born hispanic and dies jewish!

Don't be fooled by scientists, whether they're using statistics or not. Global warming is an out right joke in the math department at the University of Arizona, which houses extremely liberal professors... These are men and women who ride bicycles to prevent pollution, they eat tofu and are way too skinny. But they know math and they nearly split from laughing when we explore global warming.

We often end up evaluating weather and climate predictions for assignments, its' great. Did you know that one of the programs that these green-nazis use will predict global warming no matter what data is entered? Brilliant!

And it's sad because environmental soundness is too important to be used as a political tool like these idiots are doing.

Anyhow, here's more proof that scientists don't know what in the hell they're looking at, and most of them are not qualified to judge a theory as sound or not.

In that article, a couple of MIT students generated a metric ton of random data with a computer and did a double-speak write up and then submitted their "research" to some science thingie-ma-bobbie. They recieved $2000 sponsorship to present their "discoveries."

That's the flip side of my observation about math being difficult. Those grad students that came out of the bio-med seminar all excited, but "didn't understand the math," ...well, that's just scary. These are people who totally swallowed the presentation and yet completely FAILED to understand the mathematical foundations of the presentation.

Big deal? Damn right. Math is the language of science, and here's compelling evidence that most scientists couldn't understand a 5 minute blur from Sesame Street if it were given in an equivalent level of math.

I'm moving...

2005-04-15T09:54:00.000-07:00

Arizona is still a pretty level headed place with normal people, but there are so many idiots moving here that the balance is swaying. They're not all isolated in Sedona anymore either. That's the place where people go to get their spirits healed by the vortex and where you can find people who are actively preparing for the mother ship's return.

Anyhow, Tucson has become hippie-heaven...lesbo-luxury suites, commie-central, to the point that the #1 spot for Al-Quiada outside of the middle east, according to the CIA, is Tucson...because of it's accepting people. That means they're a bunch of tree hugging earth-worshipers.

Anyhow, here's what got me thinking. A small group of PETA (Not people eating tasty animals, but the extremist, sometimes militant animal rights group that likens butcher houses to the jewish concentration camps), did a protest in Brownsville Texas. Well, the Texans are right thinking people...so they followed this group, heckled them and carried megaphones to drown out these protesters. Man, I need to get farther away from Tucson.

And this is progress?

2005-04-15T09:22:00.000-07:00

Men walking around a university campus in high heels is progress? Man, are these women dumb. Let me explain.

There was an "event" hosted at the Univeristy of Arizona where a bunch of male students walked around in high heels so that they may be educated an sensitized about domestic violence and equal rights for women and all of that whiney shit.

The reason these women are stupid is simple. They believe they are moving forward --making progress, but, in reality, they are victims of what it is they try to prevent. Discounting the occassional queer, these guys are wearing high heels to get in the girls' panties.

Man, talk about a slick move, using a "remove sexism" ploy to get simply get a quick piece of ass. That's brilliant!

MRI

2005-04-14T21:20:00.000-07:00

I had an MRI on my hamstring today. Third MRI in the past 10 years or so. Sheesh.

Anyhow, after I got done, the tech came out to get me and asked, "How did you do that?" He said it as if he had intimate knowledge of my injury...although I'd never spoken to him before in my life.

Hopefully it means nothing at all...just making small talk. I don't think I'll need surgery, but if I do, I've been through worse and worse times, so not a big deal.

Anyhow...

I love sushi, but had never eaten at a sushi bar before...never eaten at a Japanese restaurant before for that matter. Man, was I out of my element--and I went without a coach.

The sushi chef gave me this small bowl of what looked like snow-peas and I popped one in my mouth...the husk was crunchy and woody as hell. Then I can't use chopsticks for anything except an ear-pick...so I was digging in with my fingers while everybody else was eating with chop sticks.

Then I thought that when you ordered a sushi, you got like one or two pieces, not a whole damn roll, like 8 pieces worth.

I ordered an eel roll, man, that was the best sushi I've ever had. The other stuff was excellent, superb quality, but that eel was friggin' tasty!

It was the best!

I learned something about blogs today...

2005-04-13T13:46:00.000-07:00

Ever hit that little button on the top right corner that says, "next blog?"

I clicked that little next blog button 37 times and found a bunch of kids, lots of foreign languages, a blog devoted to various types of gummy bears, and several blogs that were designed to help people with things like picking a good college. Yeah, all you need to know about college selection was on that blog, one paragraph even! Man, concise is beautiful, and that's friggin' georgous.

Anyhow, I hope the "next blog" button picks blogs randomly, otherwise I'm heading the line of a bunch of idiots and weird-o's! But I don't think it is...man, this is really starting to change how I think of myself, how I view the world. You know, it's best not to know what people really think of you, but blogger, blogger doesn't care. Blogger lets you know, says, "You belong with the gummy bear freak!"

Man, it's cold, hard medicine. But good. I'll take it like a man, I can handle it. I think I can. Sheesh. Know what I mean?

I'm a math major...a really stupid one. Don't know why I ever picked it, should've picked something easier, like, for example, bio-medical engineering.

Seriously.

I was walking down a hall today and I heard these grad students that had just come out of a bio-med seminar. Anyhow, I heard them say, "Man, that was so cool, awesome, but I didn't get the math behind it."

That's all I study...the obscure mathematical processes behind those things that are really, really cool and interesting. Sure, it can sometimes be kind of fun, but usually it's just fun because you worked so hard and wasted pages and pages and hours upon hours to come up with an answer like 12.

Here's an example...I killed a cat today and set it outside in the shade and tracked the changes in external temprature and the cat's body core temperature. It's for science, it's ok to kill cats for science. Anyhow, it'll be legal in Wisconsin soon anyway, already is in Minnesota and North Dakota. Here's the article.

I did it so that I could create a function that will predict the time of death of the cat provided you can get the cat's temperature and the external temperature. It's a fairly simple multivariable differential equation, practiced and known throughout the world, but hey, there's no learning that can replace doing, right? Only problem is that this function doesn't account for the mass of the cat, so it will only work for one cat...gotta get some more samples.

So as is now obvious, the simple pleasures can be corrupted by studying the complex mathematical explinations behind the happenings.

But it always boils down to basics, often arithmetic. Example: 2 + 2 = 5...for large values of 2. See, what the hell does that mean? 2 is 2, right? I can say
2 = 2 and sleep well at night right?

WRONG!

Second time in two weeks....

2005-04-12T13:21:00.000-07:00

and it wasn't too painful or uncomfortable at all. I was a little lost and confused, couldn't quite get positioned properly, felt like I was either in the way or that I just had no idea what I was doing. I was worried about stamina, but it turned out that I was able to hold out until the end.

I'm talking about school. I went back for the second time in two weeks. Things went OK, but I've got a lot of catching up to do.

I have an MRI on my leg on Thursday and will find out the following week if I need surgery to repair the hamstring or not. It's not very painful anymore (usually), and I'm able to get around, but there's still a chunk of muscle that just hangs there and things aren't working properly. So we'll see.

I'm hoping for now surgery because then the semester would be a waste, but then, surgery wouldn't be so bad either because I wouldn't have to worry about catching up. :) In all seriousness, I'm not too concerned either way, it's out of my control and I'll have to deal with whatever happens...that's how life works.

My dog is smarter than politicians.

2005-04-09T09:18:00.000-07:00

One evening, my wife went into the bathroom, and Senator, our brindled Boxer, followed her as she follows anyone into the bathroom. After a few moments, my wife turned off the light and left.

Five minutes or so later we heard Senator whining and crying. I asked if Cheryl had closed her in the bathroom, she said no.

I went to the bathroom and could see Senator sitting on the bathroom rug, dead center in the center of the room, crying...scared to death. I turned on the light, she snapped to attention, ears perked, confidence restored, and she bolted out of the room.

How is this dog smarter than politicians?

When an Average Joe flipped the light on, Senator saw the light, instantly realized it had been sitting on its own turd and did the right thing.

Grumpy Gets Gooed

2005-04-08T22:48:00.000-07:00

Ever notice how old men are grouchy as hell in the morning? I was 17, oldest child...means my dad was like, 41...old as hell.

Anyhow, we had this stupid dog that would pig out on fallen appricots and then puke inside...or get into the trash and get the runs and have shit-plosions all over the house. The dog loved to tear into bags of cotton balls and devour them...maybe they stopped her up a little, I don't know.

One day we came home from church and the dog had spilled the trash cans outside and had gotten her head stuck in a saltine cracker box. It was great calling her and watching her crash into things. We finally got bored with it, and removed the box. At the bottom of the box was a small dabble of butter. After all that, she still couldn't get to it.

Anyhow, it wasn't MY dog, why should I clean up a big steamy pile that was, suppose, in the middle of the kitchen floor just because I got up first so I could go to school? Sheesh.

One morning there was such a turd on the kitchen floor, dead center. I manuevered around it, no problem, got my cereal and sat in the dining room to eat.

My dad wakes up, sleep-crusted eyes, stubbled face and thin shirt stretched around his middle.

"Good morning dad," I said, being the angel I was.

"argh, grntnntddfrigngllefraglingkinskil," he replied as he walk to the kitchen to flip on the coffee pot.

"Hey dad, you might want to watch ou...."

He cut me off with more frankenbabble, but the message was clear, shut the hell up already, it's early!

So I did...and leaned forward in my chair, craning my neck to get a view over the bar. Oh, it was glorious, the grouch was heading right for it. One more step now...then his foot descended right onto the dog shit, the shit squishing up through the hairy toes. Bullseye!

"What the..." his voice suddenly sharp and clear and booming as he hopped on one foot, "why didn't you warn me about this?"

Amberlicious' skilz

2005-04-08T22:29:00.000-07:00

Amberlicious is my sister turned exotic dancer...at least that's what the name sounds like.

Anyhow, I'm bored, and while I've got a good liberal-bashing bent boiling up in me, I'm in the mood for something more difficult than liberal bashing.

So here's another little story. It fulfills one of the three criterium for all good stories. The story contains shit. Shit jokes are always great, shit stories are always great. No two ways about it, excriment sells second only to sex...now shitty sex stories, there's a humdinger.

Anyhow, Amberlicious was an evil sister, constantly lying about being hit and picked on, and always working at ways to get me, her older brother, into trouble.

Example: I was walking down the middle of the living room. She's sitting on a chair watching some stupid ass show and suddenly screams, "OUCH! Hey, give me back the mote!" Mote means remote. My mother comes in, shoves bamboo chutes under my nails, makes me shave my legs and drape large tin foil scissors around my neck while walking around the block in a house dress chanting the benefits of castration of all males.

No shit.

Well, I'm no pussy, I'm not gonna take this, no way.

Amberlicious has a sweet tooth, and there's little sweeter in a child's world than marshmallows...and unlike candy, there's a gigantic fuggin bag of it.

Well, we're out in the back yard playing around and I notice some really old dog shit that had turned white. It was quite a pile, and apparently the dog had been in the trash as a bologna wrapper, all shiney-red plasticy, wound through the individual turdlets.

I said, "Hey Amberlicious, look, a marshmallow."

Girl's got skilz...she could put marhsmallows, or percieved marshmallows, down the hatch like a skinny kid on one of those Christian Children's Charity or whatever-the-hell they're called commercials, anyhow, one of those bobble headed, bugged, ribsy kids could put down slimey beans.

Edit: Not all of this is true...Amber isn't really a stripper. She's a wonderful sister, without whom, I'd have no responses on my blog.

No wonder my pumpkin pie tastes like shit...

2005-04-08T16:04:00.000-07:00

My wife and I are both sick. I'm still not moving too well, so I'm staying home, more because of an exploded hamstring than the cold. So I decided to make home-made chicken noodle soup. Good stuff.

Anyhow, I've never made it before and my wife's version of it is sublime. So I asked her what she uses and she rattled off a bunch of typical things, and powdered ginger.

We have an entire cupboard of spices...only 5 different spices in there, but 14 bottles or bags of each, all in various stages of capacity.

Anyhow, I spend 20 minutes emptying, reading, re-reading and sorting the stupid spice cabinet. There's no stinkin' powdered ginger.

So I call her at work.

So I ask her, trying to be calm so I don't elicit a reaction to my anger, and trying to sound sincere like I really did look so I don't elicit a reaction from the assumption that I'm too stupid to find powdered ginger, "Honey, where's the ground ginger."

Before I heard her voice I knew something was up.

"In the pumpkin spice bottle."

Can you spell L-I-T-I-G-A-T-I-O-N?

2005-04-08T16:00:00.000-07:00

Lord knows, as does anyone who reads this blog that I sure as hell can't...I had to use spell checker.

http://worldnetdaily.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=43685

Cliff notes:

A man was pissed at Best Buy because they’re a shitty store with needle brain policies. But being an honorable man that pays his debts even when he disagrees with the ruling, he went to pay his $114 bill in cash, with fresh $2.00 bills.

He was handcuffed, put in leg shackles and detained while the secret service was called. The secret service said that the bills were legal tender.

The spokesperson for the idiot police station said, “We’re all a little tense in this post 9/11 environment.”

So the terrorist attacked the brains of police departments and idiot cashiers and countless underling-managers and store and department managers?

Just more evidence of the boundless stupidity of people.

Tasteless, but wrong

2005-04-08T15:40:00.000-07:00

Tasteless but wrong.

Remember that whole great sob story about that British bitch that died in a car accident, hounded to her doom by the same pack that made such a stink about her demise. I hate the entertainment industry for all of their self-righteousness and because they really, really believe that they have the answers…and since they have the answers, they have the money. In fact, it’s the money that has removed them from the realm of the real to the extent that they hold such illusions as truth.

Anyhow, Royalty takes that to an entirely different level…they’re not just brilliant and wonderful because they’re talented and superior due to effort and ability, they’re genetically superior.

Ah, what an appropriate name for Dianna, Princess Die.

Anyhow, shortly after the “tragedy,” (how many people, real people that are depended upon by others for real things die every day in car accidents?), there was a joke that was quite humorous.

The joke:

Joking asshole: It appears that princess Die had dandruff when she died?

Bored listener: How do you know that?

Joking asshole: Because they found her head and shoulders in the trunk.

I have an aunt who usually has no sense of humor, finds nearly everything offensive, in all contexts. But for some reason, this joke blew her away. So at a party she finds someone to be her bored listener. It went like this:

Humorless Aunt: Princess Dianna had dandruff…they found out after she died.

Bored listener: Huh? Dandruff? So what?

Humorless Aunt: Yeah, they found her shampoo in the trunk.

Great Response...

2005-04-07T20:08:00.000-07:00

The Atlanta Braves' opening game was a disaster. They absolutely sucked.

After the game when the idiot press is asking Bobby Cox (Braves' manager) idiot questions, one of the most idiotic of the bunch asks, "Bobby, (as if they're long time friends) after such a bad game, what do you do now?"

Bobby Cox says, "Well, I called Bud Selig (MLB commissioner) and he said to go ahead and play the rest of the games."

Apparently it's true...

2005-04-07T08:52:00.000-07:00

Travis married Carolyn. Carolyn's papa was Wallace.

After the ceremony, during all of the cake eating, toasts and that happy reception shit, Wallace pulls Travis aside for a, well, "talk."

Wallace: Well son, you guys plannin' on raisin' kids?

Travis: Eventually, but not right away.

Wallace: Oh, boy, don't want any accidents, right? Knowing about birth control.

Travis: Um, yeah, Carolyn is a nurse in a public health clinic, that's pretty much what she does.---translation, let's go eat cake and shut the fuck up already.

Wallace, with the ability of a egg crate to empathize and respond appropriately says: Well, I'll tell you. Condoms.

Travis: Yeah, what about 'em?

Wallace: They work, but they get expensive.

Travis: Yeah?

Wallace: But you can re-use them.

Travis: What???

Wallace: Yeah, you just turn 'em inside out, rinse it off.

Now what is more gross here? The idea of reusing a condom or the idea of Grandpa Wallace plugging it twice in a row, because I would imagine that water would dry the condom out. Hmmm.

Cover your mouth when you're coffee...

2005-04-07T07:53:00.000-07:00

My six year old daughter was looking for a DVD case. Amazing what a little ass-chewing can do. She would either leave the DVD's out on the entertainment center or put them in a case other than their intended case, chosen at random. So I was glad to hear that she was looking for this particular DVD case before watching a different movie.

Anyhow, I told her it was on the table. Parents can be so vague at times, we only have like 14-thousand tables.

She cut to the chase, "Which table, Dad, the coughing table?"

Baseball, kick 'em when they're down, and other random events...

2005-04-07T07:29:00.000-07:00

First, baseball is a beautiful sport. A game won by only one run is fascinating because every pitch late in the game recieves such scrutiny and attention by the players and managers and each manager is trying to outfox the other.

Many complain that it is a boring game, but no, no way. If you want to see continuous action, it comes at a price, usually substance...go watch the NBA.

But in baseball, oh baseball, it's a beautiful thing to see a batter try to out-smart the pitcher and of course, the other way around. Seeing a guy slap off foul balls until he sees 14 pitches from the guy and then holds off on one that the pitcher didn't finish because he was frustrated...well, that's beauty. Then the batter is on first, a long way from home base, but still, he's on first. It changes things. The first baseman is out of fielding position in an attempt to keep the baserunner from getting too large of a lead from first. This puts the defense in a pinch, not to mention the pitcher. Now, he has to concentrate not only on the batter (while remembering that the previous attempt didn't go so well), but he now has to keep that asshole on first base from stealing second and basically getting a double by fouling off 14 pitches.

Hit and run, smart hitting, superbly executed pitches and fielding plays, there's nothing like baseball, at least not until you get into football, but that's a different game entirely. :)

....

When it rains it pours. I have a bum leg, tried to go to skewl on Tuesday, but it was too much, I over did it. Been home since. So what happens Tuesday night? My irritating but minor cold turns into the flu. My throat feels like I've been sucking on shaved glass jaw breakers and I'm developing a very sensational ear infection. Although I found out that if I put my head on the floor with my butt as high as it will go, the pressure in my ear relaxes a bit...but of course, this position isn't easily accomplished with a ruptured hamstring.

What you should be asking is, how in the hell did you figure out that standing on your head makes your ear infection feel better...

....

Lastly, I'm glad to see feminists are finally coming out and claiming what they really are: man-haters.

Not that a quote from a single individual represents the whole, that would certainly be unfair, but here it is anyway. On second thought, here's the article: clicky here.

Anyhow, it's really sad to see these "progressive," groups turn themselves sour with their acidic foundations. When did focusing on the negative and pouring effort into assigning blame ever produce something productive? So papa broke it off in you and the cops didn't do anything about it...or nobody believed you. But hey, think if that never happened? Where would you be now, certainly not enjoy these man-hating rituals, eh? If you don't get the point, you probably never will, but I'll try: If you're sour about something that happened, and you're spending emotional energy on the event, you're reliving it, making it last, stretching it out, and savoring it for all its misery. What do you think you'd be if that bad thing never happened? Think of that, and do it.

Or don't. Sit around and threaten to castrate men or kill whitey, it's a free country. But everybody can see, it's your own damn fault that you're still miserable.

When you're not stoned...

2005-04-02T21:26:00.000-08:00

on perscription drugs taken in accordance with applicable laws and instruction from the doctor, sitting around doing nothing all day is really not all that bad.

The pain killers made me sick this morning, so I haven't taken any all day.

With drugs: This movie ain't bad for the 14th viewing. Damn my leg hurts.

Without drugs: This movie sucks ass, why did I ever watch this the first time. Damn my leg hurts.

This is why I quit watching the news...

2005-04-02T08:03:00.000-08:00

...because of overt bias in one direction or another. Either way the slant tilts, it is offensive because I'm fully capable of extracting pertinent information and forming an informed opinion.

Print has always been bad, but not, in my opinion, quite as bad...let me explain. Print cannot compete with television when it comes to emotive reaction. And when you're emotional, are you thinking? See, print has a harder time pulling those strings, so it has to use different tricks to confuse and misdirect and coverup.

A simple example. Please keep in mind this is only an example, try, if you can, to ignore the political or social issue here and see how things are portrayed and what is left out. Also, remember that one or two paragraphs of a "news," story is what is read on average...so this is an appropriate example.

QUOTE:

Hundreds of volunteers, recruited by an organization known as the Minuteman Project, were planning to take up positions along the Mexican border yesterday to begin patrolling for illegal immigrants. The civilian volunteers, some of them armed, will watch the border for a month and report illegal activity to Border Patrol agents. Law enforcement officials were worried about the potential for bloodshed, while human rights advocates contended the project may attract racists and vigilantes looking to confront illegal immigrants.

Do you agree with this effort to send armed volunteers to guard the Mexican border?

The first thing that happens here, and I see this often, is they story gives an exception, something that does not represent the whole and then later presents that exception in a fashion that will lead the unaware to believe that exceptional group is the majority.

Here they wrote, when describing the civilian volunteers, "... , some of them armed," and then when asking the question for the poll, phrased it in a fashion such that the reader, if not careful, would believe that the majority, if not all, are armed and more powerfully, that the intent is to send armed civilians to guard the border. Remember, during the paragraph, a few were armed, the intent was to watch and notify border patrol, and yet, when the kicker is given, it says the issue is sending armed civilians to guard the border.

If you don't know the difference between guarding something and watching something for suspicious activity and calling the authorities, then I'm not going to spell it out for you.

The second thing that happens here is only half of the story is given. The opponents to the minute man project are given voice in the paragraph, but not the supporters.

How fair would it be to go to court as a defendent and not be allowed to defend yourself?

What other issues do you think are presented in this fashion?

On a side note, the Border Patrol released public warnings about 2 months ago stating that it individuals should not go hiking, camping or four-wheeling because of violent encounters against US Citizens by those smuggling illegal aliens.

The two most dangerous days of the year...

2005-04-01T12:33:00.000-08:00

and today is one of them. April Fools Day.

The other is St. Patrick's day.

They are dangerous days. Very dangerous. See, those who expect me to participate or at least induldge, run an extremely high probability of getting smacked in the kisser.

Pinch me and say, "What? It's Saint Patty's day," and you better expect a size 12 waffle print across your chin and a reminder that God invented whiskey so that the Irish wouldn't rule the world.

Switch sugar with salt and I get a taste of salty when I want sweet and you'll be sh*ttin' salt shakers for a month.

With that said, happy ground hog day.

Nice tough...

2005-04-01T12:23:00.000-08:00

or nice stuff...however you like it. Not only am I completely lame in my left leg, I have a head cold and they both sound the same.

Anyhow, yesterday I was teaching Alex some things about fractions and algebra and we used a dry erase board. Later, not wanting to be left out, Brianna asked for problems that she could solve on the board.

Then it was bed time. As Brianna went up to bed, she pointed at the board and said, "Don't forget to read your message," and then she hopped and skipped and performed every possible method of bipedal locomotion excluding walking.

About 5 hours later when I got up, carefully, to go to bed, I saw the board. It read:

"Good night Dad, I love you. Get better soon." And then there was a 6 year old's rendition of a heart.

Very cute and surprising because most of the time it seemed as though she hardly noticed that I'm not up to speed. lol. Kids are surprising.

Takin' it on the chin...

2005-03-30T22:34:00.000-08:00

How bad is it now, really? Not so bad, right? Could be worse, been worse, right?

That's zombie talk.

With time, one can grow accustomed to anything and sometimes, like a turtle stuck on its back, an external hand is needed.

The thing is, willingness to try while knowing that failure is distinctly possible is tough. It's easier to say, "Eh, I cudda, but..." Even easier at times to not try at all, not hope and not to dream about what could be. Could be better, but could be worse too, eh?

Why do I bring this up? Because I was at the point of admitting defeat, conceding to failure. The courses I'm taking right now are exactly what I wanted, challenging. Very. It's not a matter of intelligence, it's a matter of focus, concentration, application and desire. Can't do the coast and cram in this stuff, not even close. True, school is stooped, skewl is dumb, and I'm sick of it, but I asked for the challenge and here it is, waiting for my response.

So I did some soul searching, decided that if I backed down from this now, who knows what ground work would be laid by such slothfulness. I'd loathe myself if I did.

Well, that train of thought has consequences as well. See, I'm a "both feet in the water," kind of guy. I believe that moderate action is what lands you in the middle of the street, ready to be run down. If I'm heading in a direction, that's where I'm going once I start.

So I got to thinking, what about other areas of my life that I kind of tend to be lazy about...what else have I conceded defeat to without pulling up my sleeves first and taking the best shot they can dish out right on the chin?

Well, quite a few areas are simply laziness, but one area in particular is more, it's defeatism. Zombie talk. I hesitate to speak the words ( or write them), because some things are so delicate that to whisper the name is to risk breaking it. I'm talking about losing weight, for real, perminently. I did it once before, lost about 30 pounds...

I got out of the army, quit smoking and got a desk job. I gained 45 pounds or so. A year passed, and I didn't like how I felt physically or mentally. I was getting, as is said in the army, soft. I decided to do something about it, and was successful.

Then on Good Friday of 1998, I was speaking with my sister and grandmother and went to sit on the floor and something went... pop. Orange-phosphorescent heat punched and ripped and rumbled, screaming, "Holy hell," all the way down my leg and into my foot. The Sioux probably wondered if the trains would stay. This one did.

The doctor said he didn't expect me to regain feeling or control in part of my foot.

But I did...but would've traded that for the painful and long recovery that followed. During the recovery, I ate whatever was easy, which means not healthy. But soon I was setting goals...I wanted to climb a particular mountain as soon as I could. Labor Day weekend I did it. Not three months removed from surgery, not one month since I was able to drive and I did it. I paid the price, I was sore, but I did it.

A few months later I went to a gym, started lifting weights for the first time and was amazed at how well I was doing. I was throwing 185 up and down 15, 16, 17 reps and then, pop, I tore my left pec...still hurts today at times. I gave up, it wasn't worth it anymore. That was it, I was tired of hurting, afraid of hurting. And with the back, it wasn't just hurting. I couldn't dress myself, didn't have the strength to pour a glass of milk. I hurt those around me.

Within 4 years of that time I had broken both ankles, suffered a severe and serious back injury with a legitimate threat of perminent paralysis, and then tore a muscle in my chest. I'd done perminent damage to my shoulder, or so I thought, only to find out it was likely caused by an injury similar to my back, but this time in my neck. Great.

So whenever I thought of getting in shape again, if I tried, I give a half-hearted effort and then when some minor ache or pain that goes along with it all and stop, give up. Wasn't worth it. After all, I'm not healthy, not in shape, but could be worse, right?

I shot that zombie.

If I take one on the chin, I'm coming back up, and coming up hard. Success or failure isn't a glimpse of how things stand on October 3, at 10:37 am. It's over all. I'll take my time, be ready for whatever licks are going to come my way.

That's what I thought, that's what I told myself.

Tonight I went on a walk with my wife and one of our dogs. We'd been walking for about half a mile or so and I decided to run with the dog. I took off, the dog caught up and kept pace, so I ran faster...she caught up, moved ahead, so I sped up and kept pace....she pulled ahead again, so I sped up again...

and then...

pop.

We're moving to Alaska...

2005-03-04T22:50:00.000-08:00

Why not? Adventure, something to do that will produce one of four things:

1. It kills us.

2. We sit around as old people and say, "Remember the time when...."

3. We say, "Man, who thought of that stupid idea," after moving back to the desert.

4. We love it and stay.

Pop-Little Shine Bright

2005-03-04T21:56:00.000-08:00

That should be a title of something...either a brand of popcorn that only makes "Old Maids," those partially popped nuggets of salty-bliss that you get at the bottom of a bowl or bag, you know? Either that or some sort of optical proceedure that improves night vision via some MacGyverish application of a paper clip, rubber band, clothes pin and ajax.

With that in mind, consider this:

My wife had the day off from work today, and I was sick, so I stayed home. We went fishing. We didn't catch much of anything, and it was maddening because fish were literally jumping out of the water about 50 feet beyond where we could cast. Not having a pop-little shine bright boat really sucks at times, you know?

Anyhow, these old men, both deaf as hell, had trolled up in a boat, right where we were fishing. I yelled at them, a few times, and finally ended up pointing and playing charades...the message, go over there, there are fish there...get off of my line.

I hear those old men, who probably thought they were whispering, yelling, "Oh, caught another. That's 5 for me Jess!" I'm sure aliens have picked up their signal in space by now...man, deaf old men are funny.

I went to lay down and nap under a tree. I was sick, remember?

I wake up, ask if Cheryl is ready to go. She wasn't. But being the wonderful woman she is, she says that if I'm ready, it's ok with her. I was. She finds a jar of power-bait with barely enough to coat one hook...she says, "Watch, they'll want this flavor."

****Note for non-fisherman-types. Fish want what you do not have, or want what you do have when you really aren't ready. (like women)... And always, when fishing is bad, they bite when you're really fed up and have decided to do something productive.****

She put the bait on her hook and cast. I turned to take the trash to the trash can. She says, "Hey, it worked!"

Yeah, right, sure...I thought. I picked up trash by the can that apparently jumped out.

I think, "Why the hell couldn't people pick this up?"

Cheryl says, "Hey, this is a big one..."

me-"Lazy people, right here by the trash...maybe racoons took it out..."

her-"Philip, I need your help."

me-"No, raccoons would've taken it away..."

Then I hear a splash.

We spent another 2 hours there, didn't have a bite after that one...but that was a big, tasty fish!

I shudda been a cop...

2005-02-26T22:28:00.000-08:00

Or something like that. I thought about being a highway patrolman once, looked into it. Decided not to. Same with border patrol...decided not to. But I'm overweight, arrogant, love guns and am a big pussy that knows how to abuse authority. What a fit.

In all seriousness though, (the last sentence is true), I have come back to the idea time and time again. Then after what happened today, it was solidified for me.

Before I explain, read this: http://www.gvnews.com/articles/2005/02/25/news/full_storyfree/news02.txt

Synopsis for those like me, a bunch of people were camping and got shot at by a smuggler...not far from where I was doing the same thing those people were doing at the time. It wasn't a "machine gun" though, and there are other things that are completely ridiculous about the article, but the story is what's important here.

And I like to help, like risk (stupid I know), and want to do something, anything to help somebody. It's not so I can brag, not that at all. I help old women with their bags of bird seed in parking lots, do other things similar...it's not a big deal, but I can help and as a result, I feel I should. I've been in conditions where I needed help, it's not fun...so when I can help, I want to. And when something is dangerous, that's when help is needed the most.

And I've come to believe there's no such thing as intellectually helping someone. People are do-ers, and thinking is only possible by first doing. How much time would you spend blogging if you had to actually produce what you consumed?

I spent most of the day doing math. From 9:30 or so until 4:30...then I needed a break. I took Rosco (our english mastiff) for a walk.

My house is on a road with 2 other homes, one of which is vacant (for sale). It's a steep road and about 1/2 mile long. At the top of the hill the road makes a narrow u-turn. There is a steep revine to the east, and another ridge about 1/4 mile away as the crow flies. Inbetween though, there's a lot of ground to cover, riddled with low covering mesquites and a nasty plant called a desert broom. Anyhow, when I came to the top of the hill, something, almost a shimmer of movement, caught my eye from the bottom of the revine. It had to be as far to the bottom as it was to the opposite crest. I looked and saw more movement. But at the top, there was a house, with a trampoline in the back yard. Could've been kids playing fort or something. I hid behind a tree, I didn't want whoever was there to get spooked, and looked more closely. I definitely saw movement.

I ran back home, told my wife what was going on, grabbed binoculars and ran back up, this time taking care near the top to avoid being spotted.

At the point where the pavement ends there is a ridge that veers northwest and I snuck up it. I stayed low, didn't want to scare whatever was down there. If it was just kids, I didn't want them to think that some pervert was spying on them. If it was something more sinister, I didn't want to scare them away.

I found my first spot and glassed them. I could see what I thought were legs. The 8x50 binoculars couldn't quite make the picture big enough, I wasn't sure. It could've just been trash blowing in the wind. It was very windy; heavy, dark clouds were sliding across an unseen shelf overhead.

I moved farther up the hill, careful to remain unseen. I glassed again and saw a wide brown face. The man probably has a family down south somewhere and wants to come north to do stucco work or lay tile for a few months. If you ever see one of those people sneaking through the desert, you'll feel sorry for them, provided you have a heart. There were three.

But it's not the illegal aliends I'm worried about. It's the guides. Those are the ones transporting drugs and money. There lies danger. It is they that shoot so they may pass through a canyon.

I ran home again and called the county sheriff. About a year ago there were some illegals that ran across my driveway. I called the border patrol. They told me to call the sheriff.

Of course this time, the sheriff said I should speak with BP (border patrol), but transferred me. Evidence that the higher the government level, the less helpful.

They sent one officer. He called me and asked for more specific details about count and location. I tried to describe where the three were at...but how could I tell someone over the phone that they were...under a mesquite tree in an arroyo and have that person know which arroyo and tree I meant when arroyos (revines) and mesquites are what is here like air on earth?

Of course he got there and went the wrong way. I say north, he goes south. I sat on top of a ridge right behind my house and watched. I whistled and clicked and scared the shit out of the agent...then he saw me and I pointed him in the right direction.

After 500 yards or so, he started to look at me with arms raised, wondering if he'd gone too far. He hadn't. Hadn't been close yet. So I walked on one hill side and "bird-dogged" him to the spot.

They were gone. Nothing there but signs of people sitting and laying. But they weren't far, another 200 yards or so, laying under different trees in another arroyo where they couldn't be seen until one was right on top of the hidden, or so the officer later said.

I heard a yell, in spanish. An urgent, paniced yell. The officer drew his pistol and ran. Two men, big men compared to this little officer, ran up and over the hill. More yelling. Then nothing.

There were eight. The two escaped. I watched one little man, 5' 7", 150, bring in those 6 men with their arms up, fingers laced, palms pressed to the backs of their necks. As they ducked and weaved through the mesquite thickets, I wondered why more didn't run. But these weren't violent people. Sure, they were breaking the law, but just because something is written as law, doesn't mean that it is right. The ultimate morality is taking care of those you are responsible for.

The illegals climbed into the back of the Blazer, the officer thanked me, said I did well and really helped him without getting in the way.

It was really exciting. Sitting out there, watching and listening. Not knowing. What if they had burlaps sacks filled with cocaine and I didn't see them. Then they'd have guns. What if they saw me, recognized my dog, knew where I lived.

But it doesn't matter. Those who wish to bring me harm want to do so not of vengence. They wish to do so because that is how they are. One cannot tolerate that type of person. Coddle them, try to avoid escalation and you'll only work yourself into a situation where you're really in trouble. Better to get them early, take them on before they're ready. If you come out short, so be it.

It's called initiative in the military. What it really means is getting the other guy before they get you. This group that I helped bust today was impotent, harmless. But the path they took is well worn, lots travel through and I know, for reasons I won't explain at the moment, that this is a heavy narcotics-smuggling region.

This is what I did today, that made me reconsider, again, for the third time this month, what I'm doing now.

And for the strangeness twist. Before I left I thought and even holstered a pistol. Decided against it and looked for a hand held radio set...asked everyone else here to look, but couldn't find it. I thought that I might need to call home for some reason.

Left without either, didn't need either, but it is strange that I wanted both when I go for walks frequently without though of a firearm or communciation abilities and this time, I could've definitely used the radio to call home and would've felt safer with the firearm.

Me and Joe Dirt

2005-02-17T21:26:00.000-08:00

Two Fridays ago I was driving home from school. I live about 70 miles from campus, a long haul, you know. I drive a 1989 Dodge Dynasty that my father-in-law gave me. It's a real POS, but it still runs, and I pick up more chicks by having a shit-box car than otherwise. Ok, I don't pick up chicks either way, so whatever.

I'm driving on I-10 East, near down town Tucson. I'm on an overpass, on the top, not below...explination will be clear shortly. There are no semi's around, either direction.

Then...

I see this grayish blob coming at me from the south east.

It's coming fast...

Really fast....

Looks like a meteorite.

Or something, not sure, I always get meteorite and meteor mixed up. If spelled wrong, go screw yourself. :)

Then it hits the windshield, HARD. Makes my ear ring. Now there's two large circular cracks on teh windshield and a big, grayish-blackish-brownish smear.

My car got hit by airplane shit.

And it went downhill from there.

Start 'em young....

2005-02-17T21:21:00.000-08:00

clicky

Funniest picture

ever.

And it's suitable for mixed company, or over-bearing nanny bosses.

Strange developments occur when parenting...

2005-02-17T20:57:00.000-08:00

Both of my parents were perfect children. When I asked them if they caught their children doing things that they had done themselves, of course they denied. Silly of me to wonder.

But I wasn't perfect, and I got away with a lot of little things because I always thought, "Can I get caught? Is it likely? Worth it?" Often I'd talk myself out of doing something trouble some. But something like pouring cheap cologne on the neighbor's rug at 1 am, no way I'd get caught for that...

No, my daughters haven't crossed that threshold...much more mundaine things.

Alex, my 5th grade daughter, has been exploring her ability to lie and trick...but she ain't got nuffin' on me. So easy to catch. The other day she lied about being the mastermind being a covert operation using her younger sister as the under-cover agent to trick their mother.

So I let her get out on the edge and then asked the question to push her over. I said, "Alex, if you didn't know that Brianna was going to ask this question, then why would you have asked her for the answer?"

Alex' face went slack.

I said, "Didn't think of that one, huh?" Game, set, match. Alex 14, me 2. God only knows how many she's really gotten over on me.

Then Brianna, my 6 year old, asks me to sign this paper that says she's been reading daily. She reads WAY beyond her level, doesn't need the practice, but whatever....so I look at the paper and realize, hey, I didn't sign it there, or there or there. She forged my signature THREE TIMES!

Now I never, ever got caught setting up my sisters to do dirty work for me, ever. And I never, ever got caught forging my parents' signatures. But then again, I never exposed an "operation," in front of my mother and never, ever forged anything that I planned on handing to my parents. DOH!

Dear Diary....

2005-02-17T20:44:00.000-08:00

Dolan demanded, Don't do dumb deeds!

I hate skewl...

2005-02-16T19:44:00.000-08:00

I'm so sick of all of the kiddie games, the ill-prepared lesson plans by lazy professors. I'm sick of all of it. I hate school. So I'm going to explore transferring to the University of Phoenix. A traditional university is outdated and ineffecient and definitely for kids and old hippies and misenthropes (if misspelled, see "I got it," post.) Sheesh.

Idiots

2005-02-16T12:36:00.000-08:00

An Arizona developer is being sued by the state for destruction of public land and for the poisoning of 12 Big Horned Sheep. The "poisoning," was done by allowing goats that apparently carried a disease that was fatal to the Big Horns to roam the land.

I said to someone that on the surface this looked fishy because Arizona is a state with more than its fair share of enviro-nazi-liberal-maniac judges and plenty of organizations that want to see absolutely NO MORE developing going on in the state, especially if it could ruin 900 year old trash (ruins). Hey, they're called ruins because it's broken shit. What is there to learn about old people that have died? Yeah, they ate mesquite beans, made crude tools and lived in half-earthen huts. Whoopie! How many more broken pots need to be recovered here? HELLO!!!!

Anyhow, I said that if he (the developer) went over a boundary line or something and plowed a little bit, big deal, he should pay for it and be on his way. If there was no harm done or intended, he should pay for the damage and the deal shoudl be done.

The idiot said, "Oh, so then I suppose poaching is OK since no one is really harmed?" I began to wonder if this was the guy with the bumper stick on his Volkswagen that read, "Vuldamort votes Republican."

I told him, "Poaching maybe OK to "YOU," since no one is really harmed, but I thought we were talking about the possible accidental plowing of public land."

Whiskey....

2005-02-15T20:39:00.000-08:00

Good whiskey is just amazing...I don't mean some $18.00 bottle of Jack either. Jack isn't too bad, but a little harsh. But something like Maker's Mark...mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Now that's good stuff.

When I was more stupidier I dun drink stuff like whiskey by the pound (yes, we measured). But no, that's not the way to go. Whiskey isn't meant for getting trashed...if you do, you're probably going to get into some trouble. No, this stuff, poured over ice, is just for sipping, relaxing and winding down after a stressful day/week/month/year. I fear sounding dramatic hear, so I'll cut it short of life.

Piggie day 2.

2005-02-12T20:07:00.000-08:00

Hard blowing rain, thick mud and nothing at all moving, except for Cheryl and I. Day two of spot and stalk javelina hunting in the live oak forests and nothing still. Not a big deal, the weather has been bad...oh well. Anyhow, after a few hours of today's torture, we decided it was time to head back to civilization.

We ended up catching only two trout before it was time to go home. I had all the stuff in the trunk and we've found that fishing results are inversly proportional to weather conditions...that is if you consider clear, warm and calm air favorable and catching fish favorable.

Here piggie piggie...leiderhosen and dignity.

2005-02-11T15:51:00.000-08:00

The 2005 Spring HAM javelina hunt started today. Javelina are commonly called pigs, though they're not pigs at all. I find it just too darn funny that the hunt is called a HAM hunt...acronym (if mispelled refer to the second post after this one please) for Handgun, archery or muzzle loader.

Anyhow, I hiked up and down rocky hills, falling, slipping, twisting and making all sorts of noise. I successfully wore myself out, but never saw any javelina, go figure. Now I'm completely spent, wasted, shot, done, tired....finished---KAPUT!

Kaput. I was lucky enough to get this cool detail in Germany (I was in teh army) where we had to drive up to some town on the Musil (spelling thing again probably). Flying down the autobon (spelling again) in military vehicles is kinda fun. Anyhow, we get to the shipping port and walked into this garage's office. Me and some friends are sitting around checking things out when this service man walks in and starts messing with a coke machine. After, oh, 2 seconds or so, he slaps the side of it with a loud pop and yells, "Das kaput!"

First week in country, I'm using a pay phone to call my parents and this guy in leiderhosen walks up and starts cleaning out the other booths. Leiderhosen!

First training exercise in Germany...first one ever...and it's like a right of passage, to NOT poop for as long as you can when you go out for the first time. I lasted almost 3 days...but eventually those MRE's get to you. Try passing a softball if you're wondering. How something can feel like volcanic rock and look like warm peanut butter defies all science.

Anyhow, I'd heard horror stories about the wild boar over there, and as it turned out, they were bigger than the deer. Anyhow, I finally muster up the courage to "make," but it's an ordeal. On your person is a helmet, 2 canteens, 4 or 5 M-16 clips, the M-16, a gas mask, first aid kit, flash light and usually a knife and multi-purpose tool...oh, and the toilet paper, reading material and an entrenching tool (miniature shovel). Try squatting with all that junk. I finally get it all balanced and positioned so that it will be safe when the time comes, get a pushin' and then from the narrow trail which I am next to, I hear a snort, then two grunts. Slurp, turtle goes back in its house. More grunts...coming closer and closer. I booked it. I made it another couple of days.

The last training exercise I did was in the Mojave desert. We were getting ready to go back to Fort Lewis...doing some maintenance and such...but still had to wear all that stupid gear. But there were porcelain crappers, so it wasn't all bad. The only problem was that the toilets were 18" apart with a gigantic trough urinal about 2 feet in front them. Huge crap-house about about 100 toilets in all.

But no worry about boars...so I picked a good lookin' crapper and took a seat. By then I'd learned how to position the straps of the gas mask so it wouldn't fall to the floor, learned to turn the helmet over on the ground and place the reading material in it, and how to drape the load carring equipment (carries the canteens and clips and stuff) and M-16 across my lap. There I sat enjoying myself when the Captain walks in with his two brown-nosin' leuitenants (see spelling post again).

Captain says, "Brown (my last name), what's the word?"

"Dignity sir, dignity. If my mother could see me now...." I trailed off, the Captain knew I was going to say something about how proud she'd be of her brave soldier. The captain was buckled over laughing....the Lt's slowly reacted and realized that while it could've been percieving that I was taking pot shots at service, that since the Captain thought it was funny, then it must be.

So why all this? What does it have to do with javelina hunting? Well, tomorrow if things don't kick off well, I'm gonna drop trau and wait.

Whelp, that's tit...

2005-02-10T15:42:00.000-08:00

I was shopping the other day, just looking and watching and listening. A potential patron of the establishment leaned over the glass top counter and I noticed that the young man's drawers were ballooning up, like when you jump into a pool when dry and your shorts can catch all that air. I wondered if the young man had farted or if he noticed that he had a cubic yard of paisley cotton wadded up his ass. I supposed not, since he didn't seem to mind.

The "help," behind the counter said something like, "Dude, that's a bitchin' tat you got there."

The young man straightened, pushed down the poofy drawers that protruded from his pants waist. "Yeah, that's my dog."

"No shit," the help said. "I've got a tattoo of one of my pets too."

"Cool."

"Yeah, I had an emperor's scorpion, this fuggin' big..." he held his hands out about 14 inches apart..."but I stepped on him and he died. But, check this out Holmes, I took tracing paper and traced him and then took the paper to the tatt shop."

Without warning or discretion, the help grabbed a corner of his shirt in his left hand and hauled it up over one shoulder. There it was...an enormous black scorpion with one pincher apparentently clamped on a silver-stud adorned nipple. I guess if I did something that bold, I'd be proud too.

I have it.

2005-02-10T15:30:00.000-08:00

On February 10, 2005, I had an epiphany. Yup, even if I can't spell it, I can have it...like a pancreas.

What's that? Oh, what is it? An internal organ that you don't really need. Remove as soon as possible with kitchen spoon.

Oh, you mean the epifaknee? It is that I do not need to be able to spell in order to have and understand something. It's the opposite of integrating a series of equations in 4 dimensions in order to calculate thier volume....see I can do that, but don't really understand what in the hell I'm doing. Yet, I know what "the," means, although I usually type out hte.

Yeah.

2005-02-04T21:12:00.000-08:00

Bow-wow-ow!

2005-01-28T14:36:00.000-08:00

We had a Great Dane named Katy. Katy liked to eat things that are not normally considered edible.

I loved a shirt. It was a long sleeved winter under-shirt (long johns). It made me look masculine, where I normally look effeminate. Big deal!!

I didn't see her eat it...just noticed that she wasn't acting right, her stomach looked strange...and I knew she wasn't knocked up (that's the classy way to say it).

Dogs get sick, so I figured I'd give her a day or two to get better. In the mean time, I couldn't find my shirt, anywhere! I figured it was with the odd socks and my sister's keys (she always loses them)...and only now do I realize where her keys actually are.

So how do I know the dog ate my shirt...no, it was not wrapped in homework. On day three after her strange behavior I see her running in tight circles while barking in a high-pitched almost yelp. Strange to see such a large and long dog chasing its tail. Then she dropped to the ground and began dragging herself across the dirt.

She stood up and I thought she was delivering a calf or something. This long, brownish white thing was hanging from back there, like a second tail, only not a tail. She whined and carried on, ran around...and then another dog came to investigate....I swear I could hear the dog say, I knew I'd find something up one of these some day...and then the dog took the shirt in it's mouth.

A little tug of war game didn't do the trick because Katy screamed. That settled my mind, I was NOT going out there to pull it out for her...although I wondered if I should get it before the other dogs decide to tear it up, it was a good shirt and would wash clean.

The thing about dead puppies is...

2005-01-28T14:13:00.000-08:00

they don't come when called...but on the bright side, they don't shit on the carpet either.

I've been called aggressive twice in the past two days! ME, twice! Once by an old man who looked to be on his death bed. I was at Wal-Mart and going around a corner. He was in the aisle I was going in, so I slid my cart to the side so I could get by.

He says, "Aggressive, huh?"

All I said was, "No," and left it at that. But I felt like telling him:

"No, I'm not aggressive, you're just slow and can't move your cart out of the way in a proficient manner as to be polite..." but didn't. I didn't want to prove him right.

The other was someone who accused me of insulting someone! Me, insulting someone...all I did was belittle their argument and I'm accused of being insulting. Hey, you say stupid shit, all I gotta do is show it, I don't need to say it's stupid shit...it'll be obvious. It's not me, not my fault. I did nothing. It's as if the dog shit on the rug and I point it out and am then accussed of having shat on the carpet.

So, I'm keeping dead puppies from now on. They're not responsive, but you get less shit.

My cat's breath smells like cat food...

2005-01-28T13:53:00.000-08:00

I checked.

I hate cats. They make me sneeze, they walk under foot and if you're wearing anything nice, it's cat-hair-magnetic.

Cats. Sheesh.

So of course, my daughter loves cats more than...Well, I haven't actually polled her on the subject, but she likes them. They're outside cats, and they're mostly wild, except for one or two. There are plenty of population control devices in effect here, coyotes, bob cats, hawks and owls, and of course cars... We'd have a few kittens, but they'd disappear sooner or later, the equilibrium of the kitty system usually around 5 or 6. Just the right number to keep snakes and mice away...But not enough to really have to worry about things like rabies outbreaks...Cats leave the yard, they usually got - got by something.

Until last summer. Then there were suddenly 30 cats here, and NOT ours. I said ours were wild, but they weren't really ferel, not like these.

Man, it was fun. At first, I just used a pellet gun with the intentions of chasing them away...Then I found that a well place ear-shot put them down instantly...Even better; cats are tough on the environment, not cool. Soon I moved up to a .22. Got two with one shot with that thing. Great stuff. Ok, maybe it made me feel bad (I'm only saying this for those who are offended), but it needed to be done. 30 cats is absurd.

I actually didn't have any animosity towards them, except one. There was one, Doberman sized, that always picked on the one cat that I actually do like. But this thing wasn't just big and aggressive, he was smart. He saw me and bolted. I could never get him.

Then one night, I removed the screen on the window and set out food...And waited. 1, 2, 3 cats came up...1, 2, 3 cats went down. I waited some more...And waited. It was getting cold and past midnight. I checked outside, getting ready to turn in, and I see him coming up. I got him right between the eyes...But his brains spurted out one ear and then through the back of his head...Really gross. What a waste too, I was going to eat them with eggs and hot sauce in the morning...But they were tainted now.

This was just before Christmas...2 days in fact. The next day my in-laws, all 4 car loads of them showed up. The first night they were here, Roscoe, our female English mastiff broke out of the yard...And found something tasty in the ditch down the road...A nice tasty dead cat...So she brought it home.

Probabilists are odd

2005-01-28T13:29:00.000-08:00

It's true. The dude falls over, trips on everything, erases the board with his fingers and constantly checks his fly (he must've been married at one time and at least learned one domestic trick).

He acts silly and happy, but when asked a question, he's short and curt.

So I asked him a question after class the other day and he responds, "We went over this in class."

"It wasn't clear," I said and held my ground...ball's in your court buddy, don't pull that shit on me, don't even try it.

"Oh," he replied and blinked a few times in quick succession. The thought that something he said could be less than clear to anyone had never occurred to him.

What an ass.

So I'm failing probability, as is all but one other person in the class. What are the odds, that a class made of successful math majors are all failing a math class? Shall we approach this Bayesianistically? Perhaps, and I should know how to, but the book and professor are simply unable to disclose information in a manner that is digestible.

So, here's to probability!

How's that you ask? Well, I bought a box of ammo, 40 S&W and went to the gun range and rented a Glock 22 ( I think). The gun was OK, shot with a decent amount of accuracy, for a beat up rental gun. Either way, I wanted to put my probability book down range and ask my professor to compute the probability that its existence on this earth as a text book that provided valuable information to its readers was about to end...but then I realized, this subtlety he'd surely miss.

But it's not all a loss. I'd never shot that caliber before and there's a smokin' deal on Springfield Armory XD-40's right now...but some have complained that the caliber kicks too hard...it doesn't not for pork-chop hands. So now I can buy the gun...new, with padded hard case, molded holster with external attachment accessory (so you can mount your light or laser on the holster instead of putting it in your pocket), and 3, 12 round clips for $424.00. That's a pretty sweet deal as the case is very nice, the gun is cool, the clips are $40 each and the holster is about $20.00...and the regular price on the gun alone is usually from $400 to $450.

I just need to give 3 more pints of blood.

Rough day...

2004-06-18T00:59:00.000-07:00

Philip says:

So I got my Camaro, T-tops...hang my arm out the side...my pony tails flips in the wind. Gotta be careful though, if I spit when I'm going too fast, it gets all over the back seat. Tobacco stains are a bitch to get out too. My girl don't like the smell, but I always give her something else to keep occupied, if you know what I mean.

Leaf says:
What do you want?

Philip says:
I was out shooting at varmits and stuff, you know, squirrels and raccoons and stray cats and the like...anyhow, I stepped on this big mesquite thorn, and it went right through my boot into my toes. I was jumpin and a-hollerin. Lordy-how that hurt. Like the dickens, I tell ya.

Philip says:
So I said, "Kimberly-Ann, I gots a pricker-bush in my toe. Come get it off for me, please."

Philip says:
She's like, I told you boots don't go with shorts.

Philip says:
So I shot her in the ass with my .22, what's boots and shorts got to do with a pricker bush in my toe? Maybe they'll trim some of it off for her when they take the bullet out.

Leaf says:
And...

Philip says:
And that's why I'm in jail, but my quarter's 'bout to run out. So can you bail me out?

Leaf says:
How much is bail?

Philip says:
The bail bondsman said my car's only worth $300.00, and I'm like, nut-uh, those rims cost me $800.00, and I know the primer looks bad and all, but it's got a good stereo.

Philip says:
Huh, oh bond. I was thinking about my stereo. I had a good song on there, Freebird, man, I can't get enough of that song. You like that song?

Leaf says:
Yeah.

Philip says:
I'm lucky they didn't find the meth in my car, least not yet.

Philip says:
They got it impounded, I'll bet that fat tow-truck dude is going steal my stuff, find my meth in there....I gotta little baggie too, mostly scratch, shake, you know, stems and seeds and shit....he'll steal it anyway. He better not take my Skynyrd tape though, I'll stick my boot up his ass.

Philip says:
Oh, and I need a new pair of boots too. Someone laughed at my bermuda shorts and red boots, and I got all huffy. His faggety-ass buddy pushed me from behind and my leg ended up in the can...and it was clogged. So I had a big turd in my boot and now I'm bare foot.

Philip says:
Can you believe that?

Philip says:
Leaf, you there? Leaf?

Mechanical Voice says:
If you'd like to make a call....