(I'd like it noted for the record that I've been trying to upload these five photos for over two hours, but can't complete them. Apparently blogger's got an elephant cock so far down it's throat that it can't make room for some uploaded pictures. I'll keep trying).

Photo posting update: We're now well into the fourth hour of blogger dot com not working worth a runny shit.

I can NOT wait to get moved to my own site.


Another update: It's now been five hours since I started trying to upload pictures. Fuck it. Here's a link to them:

photo 1

photo 2

photo 3

photo 4

photo 5

We call this one "Drunken Tater Fight." Sorry it's so cruddy, but it's a cell phone movie.

My friend Ethel is participating in Blogathon 2006. That's where folks blog every 30 minutes minimum for 24 hours to raise money for a charity of their choice. Ethel is doing this to support our friend and fellow stalker Clare, so go check it out.

Oh, and she's the second funniest woman I know in real life, so it'll be worth it. Especially when she's lookpy and going on and on about Harry Connick Jr.'s ass.

The Ethel Experience

Since GBD won't take the time out of her schedule to maintain her blog, I thought I'd post this here. This is the typical lazy day of a work-at-home-mom. Enjoy.

It's my day off, so I had a few errands to run. My main goal was to go to the tag office and renew my tags. (Believe it or not we are STILL dealing with issues from the trade-in on my old car due to the dealership). It's a long story and I won't bore you with the details - but I had to get a new tag and attempt to get an $85 credit from the DMV .

So after Sophia's nap we piled in the car and off we go.

As soon as I pull in the parking lot I hear "grunting" from the back. Yep - she pooped. There's the smell.

Ok, I change her in the car because I don't want to do it in the DMV. I took off my old license plate, got the girls situated and we went in.....to a HUGE line! Let's say 40 people in line and only 3 DMV workers.

To their credit they moved the line pretty fast. Of course we had "Jimmy talks A LOT and really LOUD" in front of us who wanted to carry on a conversation (like he didn't notice I had my hands full with the girls).

Anyway, we get to the window and I tell my story blah blah blah (at this point I'm just glad to be away from "sir talky". The lady is very nice, but I quickly realize this is going to take longer than I thought. I had called my insurance company prior to leaving because they had to make a correction in their system to show we never had a lapse in coverage (it was the dealership that turned in the wrong VIN number).

Of course, she didn't do what she said so now I'm on the phone at the window and the line behind me is growing and growing. Lauren is playing hopscotch in the color tiles on the floor and I'm trying to get her closer to me and away from the angry line.

Meanwhile, "Jimmy" hasn't shut up at the window across from us (seriously telling the DMV lady his life story which everyone can hear because he's so flipping LOUD). I finally got the insurance company to do what they needed to. Now the DMV lady needs to get a refund form (in triplicate, btw) but she can't put her hands on it, so she goes to ask someone else for one.

The line is now out the door (and it's 98 degrees outside) and I can hear the people moaning.

Sophia decides she is hungry so I attempt to give her some cheerios to hold her over. Of course now Lauren wants some cheerios and she is fighting Sophia for them . DMV lady comes back and says she can't find the form so she's called her supervisor back from her break and is waiting for her return. OMG the people in line are forming a lynch mob now.

"Jimmy" finally stops talking and is leaving the window and get this....everyone in line starts clapping - SERIOUSLY!!!!!!!! Ok, so he's bugging the crap out of everyone not just me - whew!

But now I have become "that person" in line who is taking way too long and they've all started to focus their attention on me. I pull the girls closer and try not to make eye contact with any of them. Then Lauren looks at me and says "Mommy I have to poopy really bad". I think this is where the twitching began.

I beg her to sit on the floor, dance, hold her bum, whatever it takes. No dice - she's gotta go right now. So the DMV lady says go ahead and take her while we are waiting for my supervisor. So I say "Ok, where are the bathrooms"? Right around the corner she said. Yeah, right around the corner from the angry mob!!!!!!!

So I'm running past everyone pushing Sophia in the stroller and pulling Lauren behind me. Lauren lost a flip flop and tried to stop and get it - but I kept pulling and said "just leave it we'll get it on the way back". We made it to the bathroom in one piece (minus a shoe) and I'm trying to explain to Lauren that she can't just sit there - she MUST push and get the poop out!

She made pretty good time and I was able to retrieve the shoe on the way back past the fire breathing mobsters. We return to the window and the supervisor is just walking up - whew!

Wait - who is screaming??? Oh, right - that's Sophia because now she is STARVING and the cheerios are gone. Ok, I can make a bottle with one hand, sign the form with the other and keep a close eye on Lauren - no problem. I talked Lauren into holding the bottle for Sophia while I filled out the forms.

About 45 minutes later we're done. I'm dripping sweat at this point - but I have my license plate in hand. Lauren is thirsty from all the cheerios but the water fountain is in the middle of the line so there was no way in hell I was sending her into the lions den. I ran out of there - got the girls in the car and put my plate on.

At this point, I've decided that I am NOT going to the grocery or to get my oil changed. I had already promised Lauren we would go to the car wash (one of those full service car wash places) because she LOVES watching our car go through, etc. Lucky me, the car wash place does oil changes and since I'm getting my car washed it's half price. So we go inside to wait and there it is.........that smell........that familiar stinky smell........ Sophia pooped AGAIN! But now I don't have my car to change her in so I take all of us to the bathroom in the car wash place. Of course there is no changing table so I attempt to change her in the umbrella stroller! Yeah, that went as well as you would think - NOT! Poop everywhere. Lauren is gagging from the smell and Sophia is laughing. They had a full length mirror on the wall and I looked up and just started LMAO! I looked horrible - the sweat is back, I have poop on my hands, I'm trying to stop Lauren from gagging and Sophia from falling out of the stroller.

Well Lauren is hungry and still thirsty - but luckily this place sells drinks and snacks. So I get her a slushy and a huge slim jim (gross I know - but she loves them). This place also has legos so now Lauren is set while we are waiting. I sit down and try to take a deep breath (but still can't do that). Then Lauren is spitting the slim jim out of her mouth saying HOT HOT HOT. Son of a bitch- I bought her a tabasco slim jim by mistake. So she's chugging her slushy (and cussing me under her breath I'm sure) while I go buy her a regular slim jim.

I'm waiting in line and I hear a crashing sound - Lauren had built a tower with the legos which have now fallen over and the legos are from one end of the place to the other. The twitching returns.

Now it's Sophia's nap time and it's taking FOREVER for them to detail the car. An hour later the car is ready (and so am I)! We get in and they moved Lauren's seat all the way forward. I have NO idea how to move it back. So she rode home with her knees in her eyes basically. My FIL calls me on the way home and as I'm talking to him Lauren yells "Mommy mommy - safety violation!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" WTF? I never buckled her in. Seriously. I had to pull over to the side of the rode to buckle her (trying to hide this safety violation from my FIL but trying to get off the phone at the same time).

Ok, we're home now and Sophia is sleeping. I think I'll go poop now. It's my turn....

I need to get something off of my chest, so here goes.

For some time now, I've noticed that more and more drivers are driving very much like a bunch of blind, insane, 90 year-old asian women trying to eat a salad, talk on the phone, smoke, and put on make-up, and at the same time changing lanes whenever they feel like it, speeding up or slowing down for no reason, running lights, failing to yield the right of way, making U-turns anywhere they'd like, stopping in the middle of the road, diving in and out of HOV lane, dicing six lanes across traffic to make an exit in the last 100 feet, driving in the GOAR, cutting in and slamming on their brakes, making right turns from the left lane or left turns from the right lane, driving and passing in the emergency lane and racing up on the right side to pass one extra car before the lane ends at a brick wall, and many other specific offenses too numerous to mention.

To all of you selfish bastards, I say this:

You better watch the fuck out.

You see, for many many years I drove very VERY defensively. I was way poor. Not that I'm not poor now, but back then I was "buying sammich meat and milk at the gas station at 10 times its normal price just because they would take the credit card on which I could not afford to make the payments. Our two paid off cars were our only real assets and we were willing to do about anything to avoid having anything happen to them.

But you see, we are now a tick better off than back then. That is to say that I could make an insurance deductible payment without worry. And let me tell you, this reveleation should concern you a great deal.

I recently decided that I would take your nonsense no more.

Now, that's not to say that I am going to run around trying to issue Barney Fife-like citizen's arrests or any such nonsense. But I will take opportunities, when presented, to correct you.

I will honk and wave and talk clearly to you even in slow or stopped traffic. I will happily pull up next to you and ask if you've had some sort of cardiac episode that made you do that, or are you just retarded.

But what should worry those of you out there that break the golden rule of driving, which is passing me on the right in a lane that you know ends shortly, is this:

In times past, I would have eventually relented and let you in line for fear of damaging my precious vehicle. But now, I hate my car. Well, I don't hate it hate it, but I don't like it, and I want out of it. I don't care if you hit the right side of it. And I will drive you into that cement wall at the end of your lane rather than let you in front of me.

And do you know the best part? When the law arrives, it will have been your fault.

You see, your lane ends, and is marked by signage that it ends. That means that YOU have to yield to get in line, not that we have to yield to let you in line. YOU ARE THE ONE ASKING PERMISSION, NOT US!

Want in behind me? Fine. There's a spot right there. So many other motorists are so tired of that shit that you often see two, three and four of them nose to tail, literally bumper to bumper, refusing to let your dumb ass in line. It almost renews my faith in some of my fellow men. I and my fellow motorists have recently started acting as a unit, using an unspoken language of upwardly raised thumbs and wild gesticulating applause when we successfully leave you behind to try to merge from a dead stop in front of a wall instead of you being able to merge in behind us at a decent speed.

And why do they do this? Because they too believe that their time is just as valuable as the douchebags that try to skirt the law and generally use bad or no manners and act as bullies in 6,000 pound cars figuring that their aggressiveness will be accepted merely out of fear by their fellow motorists and taxpayers.

Remember the movie Billy Jack? Remember how he taught the kids at the school to take and take and take until eventually he couldn't take any more?

Well look out, folks. Billy Jack just came to town, and he's had about enough. Instead of taking off his hat and his shoes and quietly placing them on the park bench, he's sitting at an intersection in Gwinnett County near you in a Chevy Trailblazer and he's had about an assful of your nonsense.

Have a great weekend everybody.

I frequently read a blog by a guy named Ben. It's funny. He makes me laugh. Ethel (and others) think I have a man crush on him. To them I say "Who cares? Maybe I do. But as long as Ben's okay with it, then the rest of you can fuck off."

Actually, I say I don't and that I'm comfortable enough to say when a strange guy on the internet makes me laugh. Well, I don't know for sure that he's strange. But he's a stranger to me, or a Don't Know according to my daughter and John Walsh and the people from The Safe Side videos.

Anywho, here is something he came up with, along with my answers at the bottom (so you don't cheat).

Enjoy.

**********************

Today's useless tidbit is animal hearding. See if you can correctly guess what each group of animals is called when there are several of them together. Example: A pack of wolves.

1. Lions
   
2. Crows
   
3. Turkeys
   
4. Fish
   
5. Geese
   
6. Horses
   
7. Ants
   
8. Beavers
   
9. Hummingbirds
   
10. Hyenas
    
11. Jellyfish
    
12. Kangaroos
    
13. Leopards
    
14. Lizards
    
15. Crocodiles
    
16. Camels
    
17. Butterflies
    
18. Locusts
    
19. Hawks
    
20. Owls

We'll make the worth 10 points each, leading up to a possible score of 200 (clarified for those who might not do so well on normal IQ tests).

Yes, it would be very easy to just look the answers up on the internet, but seriously, give it a try before you do. Write down the answers before you open the comments box. No copying others!

Some groups have multiple answers. Answers will be posted on Friday. Let's do a prize too, shall we? Highest score gets a plug on my website, and I'll post on the subject of their choice for a day.

At the end of the day, this is the honor system. There's no money involved, so please be honest.

**********************

See? I hadn't even read the rest. Just answer in the comments and I'll pick a winner or write about a subject of your choice or post a nude photo of myself (a tasteful one of me washing the car or working out). Good luck!!

I've come to a conclusion regarding jokes and the telling of jokes.

Don't bother telling, sending, repeating, or even starting a joke with a real person in it. I'm not listening.

Politics have become contentious enough, and it's made it impossible to even enjoy jokes that start with:

"President Busch, Dick Cheney and Bill Clinton are on an airplane..."

The thing is, I know where this is going. It's dumb, predictable, low-brow and tired. And I'd say the same for a "Hillary, Bill and Monica check into a hotel" or "Ariel Sharon, Yassir Arafat and Ronald Reagan are at the Pearly Gates" or "Bill Clinton, Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan walk into a bar / are building a house / die in a plane crash" and so on.

They're not funny. Ever. And all they are is a chance for a cheap laugh with people of similar beliefs as you or to make fun of / browbeat someone whose beliefs differ from yours.

Now, if you want to see a couple of funny jokes, here are some. Be warned that funny to me might be call the cops unfunny to someone else. But if you've read this far, you know me and know for sure what you're in for.

Number One:

A blonde woman was speeding down the road in her little red sports car and was pulled over by a woman police officer who was also a blonde.

The blonde cop asked to see the blonde driver's license. She dug through her purse and was getting progressively more agitated.

"What does it look like?" she finally asked.

The policewoman replied, It's square and it has your picture on it."

The driver finally found a square mirror in her purse, looked at it and handed it to the policewoman.

"Here it is," she said.

The blonde officer looked at the mirror, then handed it back saying,
"Okay,you can go. I didn't realize you were a cop."


Number Two:

A man absolutely hated his wife's cat and decided to get rid of him one day by driving him 20 blocks from his home and leaving him at the park.

As he was getting home, the cat was walking up the driveway.

The next day he decided to drive the cat 40 blocks away. He put the beast out and headed home.

Driving back up his driveway, there was the cat!

He kept taking the cat further and further and the cat would always beat him home. At last he decided to drive a few miles away, turn right, then left, past the bridge, then right again and another right until he reached what he thought was a safe distance from his home and left the cat there.

Hours later the man calls home to his wife: "Jen, is the cat there?"

"Yes," the wife answers, "why do you ask?"

Frustrated, the man answered, "Put that son of a bitch on the phone, I'm lost! and need directions!"


Number 3:


A kid goes up to his father and says, "Hey, Pop, know how old I am
today?"

His father says, "No...how old?"

He says, "I'm eleven!"

He goes into the kitchen and says to his grandmother, "Hey, Grandma,
know how old I am today?"

She says, "Come closer..."

She unzips his jeans and reaches her thin, spotted arm down into his
underwear.

She fondles his genitals for a few minutes and then she says, "You're
eleven."

He says, "How could you tell?"

She says, "I heard you tell your father."


Number 4:

A man comes home from work and sees his girlfriend's bags packed by the front door.

He says, "Where are you going honey?"

She replies "I'm leaving you, you fucker."

Shocked, he asks "But why?"

"I just found out that you're a pedophile! That's why!"

"Pedophile? That's a pretty big word for an eight year old."

Once a month, GBD goes out for MNO. No, it's not Men Need Oral. It's Mom's Night Out.

See, GBD is in a mom's group and has been since 1doh was a few months old, and once a month these broads get together for a meal and cocktails and probably bitch about their husbands.

Well, mine doesn't bitch about me because I'm perfect. But I'm sure the rest do.

Anyway, I'm always complaining about not having a Dad's Night Out. Granted, I don't actually complain about it to her, since if I was the one working at home with the kids, I'd have gone insane about 3 days after starting that job. Needless to say I appreciate her efforts and therefore I don't complain openly, TO HER, about MNO.

But I've always wanted there to be a DNO. UnkTodd and I talk about it often, and we agree there should be a DNO.

So last night, without UnkTodd, I decided to make a little DNO of my own.

See, my buddy Camp Cashion had his brother and sister-in-law in for the week, and I haven't seen them since the horseshoe tournament three or so years ago that saw their dog smacked with a wayward horseshoe. It was the dog's fault by the way, and he ended up with a $500 root canal.

So since I missed the Sunday grill out and bullshit session, I decided it'd head over there last night or a few beers and fellowship.

Well I had a few beers and enjoyed some fellowship, getting bitten by their "gentle" bird, getting my toe split open by a very excited Huck, and then the sad realization that regardless of how many beers I had, it was Thursday and not Friday night, so I had to go home and get sleep so I could get up for work today. That realization sucked donkey balls.

It was also nice to see former BDL teammate Waller again. I further enjoyed seeing a BonCash unfettered by childcare responsibilities and in the comfort of her own home socially without the responsibility of a post festivities drive. If you get a chance to sit with BonCash for a few minutes when she's got a buzz, do it. It's totally worth it.

That said, these are some things I enjoy:

* Beers with friends, both new and old.
* Talking about the finer points of "The Brazilian" with an actual Brazilian. Oh, and I learned something, by the way. I was told that it means to be hairless from "the anus to the clitoris." (Her words, not mine). Yet that description was followed by a gesturing and a repeat saying "hairless to here," and the gesture ended at the belt buckle.

I've got news for you. If THAT'S where the man in the boat resides, then I've been looking in the COMPLETELY wrong place for that little bastard.

* Proving to someone that their bird is not harmless by letting him bite me in the fucking finger.
* Seeing little girls with suntans and eggshell white bums getting out of the tub. Mine, the Cashion's, whomevers. They are just cute enough to make you burst into flames.
* The laughter of any kids under five when you hold them over your head. It's funny, but they ALL go insane with laughter when you do that.
* Talking about and seeing photos of CampCashion's BIL's new house, to be moved into in mid-August. THAT is going to be goodtime central fo shizzle my bizzle.
* And mostly, just the easiness of hanging out with true friends. There might not be anything better in the whole wide world.

Here's one that made me laugh, until I got the results:

You Are: Stan

You are Stan. You live a very sad life. That is why you try to flex every little bit of power you have over others. Maybe you were always picked last in gym class or they guy who always stood by the door at parties. Whatever the reason you have a chip on your shoulder and can't let it go even though it keeps you from achieving any amout of success in this world.

Here's a quiz that I made up for you. If you like it, send it to someone that knows me. If you don't like it, my wife made me

So today, after inadvertantly putting it off for months, I had an appointment to have my cholesterol, lipids and other stuff checked via blood test for my cardiologist.

I like early appointments and I select them over mid-day ones if I can help it. I cannot STAND missing 3 hours of work sitting in a Doctor's office lobby in the middle of the day. When I have my regular cardiologist appointments, I make them for 7am so it's over and it doesn't waste half the day.

So this morning, the earliest appointment was 8am, so I took that. I got there at 7:30am just to be safe and assure my place in line as FFTGS (First Fucker To Get Seen). I LOVE being FFTGS. That's how I roll.

This gives me the chance to enjoy some banter with the ladies at the counter / check-in area. Halfway thru my sign-in, which included my agreement that you shouldn't be charged a co-pay if you're getting poked with a needle, one of the ladies says "you're only 38 and you've had bypass?"

So I give the 45 second answer, complete with my having formerly been a needlepuss, but now I'm very brave thanks to friendly but pro-needle pricky folks at their practice and at St. Joseph's of Atlanta. I even told the "I fainted giving blood for my marriage license" story, which they all loved.

Anyway, at 8am all the lab patients get called to a sub-waiting room with no televisions, and we all sit down. That is until one woman says "Have any of you done this before?"

I figure she's scared, so I say "I have, but not here. It's no big deal. I've had a bypass."

She replies "No. I mean here. See, that paper they gave you? If you don't all put that in the basket over there, you'll never get called."

By the way, the sign behind the basket said (in all caps) PLEASE PUT PAPERWORK FACE-DOWN IN BASKET.

So we all do that, and for the sake of courtesy, we let her go first. I went second.

It proceeds to take roughly 15 minutes to call the first person, and another 13 to get her blood draw done. Since I had to fast since midnight last night, I am now officially starving to death. Literally. I have had two quarts of water while in the lobby hoping to fool my system into thinking I'm full, but all it knows is that I've got to pee again and risk missing my turn by not being there when the nurse calls my name.

Nevertheless, I pee again, and get back (the second time) at 8:27am. My name is called at 8:29am and I hustle in, ask her for an arm preference to which she replies "either."

I give her the right arm, she looks, pokes, and is done in seconds. I was literally in my car at 8:31am.

On the way thru the way back thru the lobby, the same three gals looked up and more or less in unison shouted "HEY!! You didn't faint!!! Have a great day!"

Nice.

Before I left yesterday, my boss had said "See you around ten." I had told my boss in return that if I was here a second past 9am I'd be pissed.

I'll have you know that I was at the elevator...I mean the stairs...at 8:58am and if I hadn't fielded a call in the lobby that I didn't want to drop by walking into the elevator, I'd have been at my desk at 9am.


Thumb's up to me.

After doing a good deal of research (and stealing from my friend Ethel), I believe I have selected the person to help me migrate from blogger dot com to wordpress to the blog's ultimate home:

(drum roll please)

Your Blogging Type is Artistic and Passionate

You see your blog as the ultimate personal expression - and work hard to make it great. One moment you may be working on a new dramatic design for your blog... And the next, you're passionately writing about your pet causes. Your blog is very important - and you're careful about who you share it with.

By registering thru some country-provided website, I am able to enjoy the daily police intake records from my area (complete with accompanying photos).

Now, 99.99% of the time, you don't know who they are or where exactly they live. But I will say that the .01% of the time that you either know them or of them or their situation, it's exponentially funny. One example of this is the step daughter of someone I know that's 21 getting busted for possession of meth and coke while in the company of a meth and coke head 56 year old loser, all while on probation. Another example is the dumb fucker on my nephew's football team who is 18, despite being in tenth grade. He was recently busted for burglary, which I believe stemmed from either breaking into cars or basements. He was also (more than a little) suspected of absconding with almost every cell phone, wallet or ipod left unattended in the locker room over the last two years.

Oh, there's another good example where three aspiring MENSA members were busted for breaking into houseboats at Lake Lanier and stealing plasma televisions and similar electronic equipment. Now, these are kids who most assuredly couldn't keep their parents from catching them masturbating, but suddenly they think they are starring in Mission Impossible 4: committing felonies as teenagers and not getting caught either by the law or running their yaps (This is still a working title by the way).

Anyway, today's entries made me laugh and I will share them with you with descriptions and charges (but no names or addresses. That'd be rude). I will list the charges and then show the pictures, and you try to guess which person was charged with what:

(edit to add: I would have posted this in a much fancier method if blogger dot com didn't suck giant elephant balls and was able to post photos once in a blue fucking moon).




Which one do you think was charged with possession of marijuana and which one was charged with DUI and failure to maintain his lane?

(Quite frankly, I think the second guy might have also had a failure to maintain his position in the vehicle or a failure to maintain a shut freaking pie hole when talking with a law enforcement officer).

I mean, look at the second guy. I've seen better bandagings done by six year olds on cats. It looks like someone took a handful of Subway napkins out of a glove compartment and slapped them on his bloody head.

Well, you're not gonna like this then. Here's a recent photo of film "star" and "professional" boxer Mickey Rourke.


Holy crap, people. This is the guy that all the girls were damp over just under two decades ago. Whatever happened to the dreamy and mysterious guy from Wild Orchid or Angel Heart? This guy didn't age gracefully at all. He didn't start looking mor eand more dignified. He turned into a combination of Mickey Rooney and Doctor Evil.

Oh, and when I googled him to see what movies he'd been in, I got this story:

Hollywood star MICKEY ROURKE has an unusual way of dealing with his anger - he cuts off his finger. The actor was taken to hospital and had to endure eight hour surgery to save his finger. Rourke is no stranger to violence, he trained as a boxer in his youth and took a five year break from his acting career to take the sport up professionally. The eccentric star says, "I cut my little finger off because I thought I didn't want it. I was angry about something so I decided I didn't need the end of the little finger on my left hand. "I didn't cut it off completely - it was still hanging on a tendon - and an English friend, GARY, carefully carried the end of it as we went to hospital to try to rectify the situation. It took the surgeon eight hours to sew it back on. I still can't bend it properly."


Ummm....what? He "thought he didn't want" his little finger?

Jesus Christ, dude. That's screwed up.

Oh, and while I was looking and reading this story, I found a few more fabulous pictures.

Yes, it was after moving around 300 bags of charcoal, but this is how bad my psoriasis has gotten in the past two weeks. I'm already finding another dermatologist and hoping this one will be a tic more aggressive.

(I posted this in January, but I only had two readers then, and I already know my mom's answers to this).


I was working on the laptop of a guy at my office and we were talking during the "work," when he said something like "How many jobs have you had?"

"A lot," I replied.

"I've had a lot too," he said.

I always thought that I'd had a lot of jobs. Then he proceeded to show me a list of all of his jobs. He is a little older than me (maybe five years), but his list of jobs was extensive.

See, since I was 25 years old, I've only had two jobs. But between 13 and 25 years of age, I had jobs o' plenty.

And that got me thinking. How many jobs have I actually had?

And the thing about looking back and trying to remember jobs is that it's similar to trying to recount or remember sexual partners (I assume). A job / person or two always gets overlooked.

Anyway, just to get the ball rolling, I am going to list jobs that I had over the years to the best of my recollection. If at some point I remember more, I will simply copy and paste the old list into a new entry and add the recently recalled job.

Enjoy everybody!

(I am going from most recent to oldest as best I can).

1. Hardwood Lump Charcoal Sales and Distribution
2. Catering
   
3. Computer Systems Consultant
   
4. Network Administrator for world's largest condom manufacturer
5. IT Tech Support rep for worst RF equipment manufacturer in America
6. Customer Service rep for Primerica Life Insurance
7. Telemarketer (for about 30 minutes)
8. Customer Service Manager for phone-based job listings search company
9. customer service rep for 800 and 900 number service provider
10. Bouncer and Waiter for Atlanta sports bar
    
11. Customer Service Rep for Mitsubishi in Irvine, California
12. Customer Service Rep for Toshiba in Irvine, California
13. Bouncer and Waiter for Atlanta sports bar
14. Waiter at Buckhead Mellow Mushroom
15. AP clerk for the IRS in Atlanta
    
16. Stocker for Turtles records and tapes
17. Pizza kitchen and appetizer"chef" at Denaro's Restaurant in Auburn, AL
18. Pizza Delivery guy for Morton's Pizza in Auburn, AL
19. Shift Supervisor / area designer for Pizza Hut Delivery
20. Stock boy at Bargaintown in Opelika, AL
21. Landscaper / shrub planter / pinestraw spreader
    
22. Order taker at Pizza Hut delivery
    
23. Busboy at Fuddruckers in Atlanta
24. Runner / cleanup guy at J.C. Penny's in Atlanta
25. Bagboy at Kroger in Atlanta
26. Dishwasher at Mario's Italian Ristonrante
    
27. Dishwasher at Swenson's Ice Cream in Atlanta

I think that might be it. Actually, I'm fairly certain that's not it at all, but until I hear from someone who hired me or fired me or laughed when they heard about either, this'll be the list.

How about you? How many jobs have YOU had? Can you list them?

It's not often a reasonably funny joke comes to you, or at least it doesn't happen that often to me. I mean, I think of funny stories, but not Sheckie Green like jokes. But I did today while selecting an item from the complimentary tray our company provides us.

I like my women like I like my bagels.

The smaller the hole the better.


Now, it's not laugh out loud funny, but it's not horrid either.

Happy Friday everybody!!

For those who aren't down with reveling in someone's complaining about a skin condition, feel free to either hit the "Next Blog" button or just type Storm Large into Google to see this Rockstar: Supernova contestant's prior "work."

Now that the disclaimer is out of the way, let's get on with it.

Until one year ago this past May, I didn't know how to spell psoriasis or even what it was. Hell, I'm not reallly sure that I know what it is today. I only know that I have it.

Actually, I knew a guy growing up whose father had it (I believe). I know he always had medicine on his arms from his elbows to his wrists and if I am recalling correctly, it was quite similar to what I am enjoying today.

First of all, Psoriasis is NOT contageous. I know that folks don't know / believe that (since when they see it, most don't know what it is), and I know that when people see what it looks like on the hands and / or elbows of someone that they don't know, they look long and hard before ultimately taking a wide berth.

This disease is one of the more mysterious chronic, non-lethal diseases that there are. No one really knows where it comes from, whether it's genetic or not or what causes it, and there is no cure for it.

According to webmd, psoriasis is:

"Psoriasis is a chronic skin condition that causes skin cells to grow too quickly, resulting in thick, white, silvery, or red patches of skin. The patches range in size from small to large and typically occur on the knees, elbows, scalp, hands, feet, or lower back. Psoriasis is most common in adults, although children and teens may be affected.

Normally, skin cells mature gradually and are shed about every 28 days. New skin cells replace outer layers of the skin surface that are shed or sloughed off during normal daily activity. In psoriasis, skin cells do not mature but instead move rapidly up to the surface of the skin over 3 to 6 days and build up, forming the characteristic patches (plaques).:

What this means in layman's terms (without the benefit of a digital camera while I am writing this) is that I have what looks like moderate to severe poison ivy on my wrists, elbows and the bottom of my forearms. It's also on the tops of my toes and my knees to some extent, but not like my fingers and forearms. There is also some peeling and flaking on either side of my nose and in my eyebrows.

Oh, and the palms of my hands look like they are either healing from severe burns or a serious sunburn, complete with peeling after the blistering has subsided.

The other bad part is that my hands are so dry that, even in the summer, the peel, crack, split and even bleed. The webbed portions between my fingers hurts second only to the deep tears in the center of my palms. If I were my friend Robert, I could say that I was the second coming of Christ and that the palm injuries were merely healing from the crucifiction, but I don't think that would fly with most folks.

I had been dealing with what I thought was just regular old dandruff since college, and it's been irregular in its frequency and severity over the years. At least until recently.

About 18 months ago, folks I knew pretty well (including friends and family) started asking me about my elbows and suggesting things like loofas and special steroid creams and such. Finally, my SIL referred me to a dermatologist who looked at me for about .00001 seconds before saying:

"You have psoriasis. There is no cure, and anything we treat it with will eventually be rendered useless due to the fact that the psoriasis morphs and becomes resistent to treatments. We will continually rotate treatments for the rest of your life, up to and including daily injections that you will have to give yourself, not unlike those received by a diabetic."

Wait. Do you mean that at some point, I will have to give myself daily shots for this? Me? The guy that passed out giving blood for his fucking marriage license?

Sweet Christ.

Another fabulous side effect of this disease is this: Psoriatic arthritis. I didn't even know about this until the last few weeks. I just thought my knees hurt from working out vigorously. But the husband of a friend informed me otherwise. He's my age, has psoriasis, and deals with the same symptoms, including the arthritis.

From webmed again:

"Psoriatic arthritis is a form of arthritis that sometimes develops in people who have a skin condition called psoriasis. It causes swelling and pain in joints—most often in the fingers and toes—in an irregular pattern that may be different on opposite sides of the body.

Treatment for psoriatic arthritis includes pain medication, patient education, and physical and occupational therapy. Severe cases may require more powerful medication called disease-modifying antirheumatic drugs (DMARDs) or steroid injections."

So, in addition to treating the psoriasis with shots, I could end up having to get steroid injections? You know....steroids. The things that make people angry, sleepless, bald, and make their dicks small?

Perfect.

Is there anything else?

Oh yeah. It can be made worse by stress (stressed? Me?), drinking alcohol (don't even say it), and beta-blockers, which are common treatment tools for cardiac patients.

Wow. Why not say that folks that like NASCAR and eating bbq from the Big Green Egg will get it too?

So there it is, folks. When you see me, that's what's on my hands and elbows and the backs of my hands and knuckles. Know that I not only hate it, but I am more than a little self-conscious about it.

"So what's the upside?" you might ask.

First, salt water and sunlight are great for it. I asked if I could be medically required to move to Hilton Head, but he said no. I have been told that I need to hit the tanning bed a couple three times a week, which while a tick gay-sounding, probably wouldn't be terrible.

The other upside? That's easy. In discussing the "condition" with my cardiologist yesterday, I came to the quick realization that it was better to be alive and heart-healthy with psoriasis than to be dead, leaving a widow and two fatherless children and NOT having psoriasis.

My pity party is over folks. Look all you want. I couldn't care less. Hell, wince if you must. But know that I am thrilled to be alive to see you recoil at my condition.

with my caridiologist.

Actually, it was my 8 month checkup, and it was with some other cardiologist and not my own. I am beginning to believe that my actual cardiologist was either a figment of my imagination or Batman. Either way, he's someone I haven't seen I let him stick some tube in my groinal area and poke around in my heart like a kid putting a fork in a wall socket.

I got there half an hour early, was first to be called and had to wait because the doctor I was seeing was late. Go figure.

My blood pressure was 117 over 77, my resting heart rate has gone from 93 bpm to 63 bpm since I last saw someone and my weight is at 208. Oh, my turn-offs are rainy days, girls that smoke and litter. My turn ons are sunny days, girls that read and girls that have a good sense of humor. Oh wait. They also need to have nice tits.

I also asked if I would have to be treadmilling at any future date as a result of this surgery and I was assured that as long as I was doing 4ish miles a day five to six days a week on my own, there'd be no need for that now or in the immediate future.

I do have to go back next Thursday to get my cholesterol checked, but other than that, it's like it never really happened.

Well, that's not true. the fact that I now keep the region cleanly shaven is a direct result of the two procedures. And as Dr. Evil likes to say, "There's nothing quite like the sight of a shorn scrotum. It's breathtaking, really."

Happy Thursday everybody.

Guess who sat up all by herself for the first time on her 8-month birthday?

Give up?

Well that depends on whom you ask.

If you ask me, I'll tell you it's the mindless twit following me thru BJ's today kicking his cart's under basket thingy with every single fucking step throughout the entire store.

If you ask anyone else at BJ's, they'd tell you that the real dumbass was the dumbass that left a case of Bud Select bottles on the bottom basket thingy of his cart as he deposited it into the cart return and headed back to his office.

Who was that, you might wonder?

Me. That's who.

Stupid farktard that I am.

Oh, I went back and did find it. The other wandering idiots had missed a case of beer sitting in the bottom of a cart right by the front door of the store.

: )

Remember those hot summer days when you were a kid and you'd be following your mom around the house saying "I'm bored...I'm bored...I'm bored...I'm bored?"

Well, that's been 1Doh's mantra as of late. So today, GBD helped her alleviate that problem. Check out Casa de 1Doh, complete with bed for stuffed animals and an arts and crafts area where she can create works of art to decorate the casa and for daddy to bring to work.

Besides sleep!

Yesterday, despite looking for every excuse imagineable to get out of working out, I did it anyway. I did 4.2 miles and felt great during and afterwards for the first time in a while. I have taken to wearing five pound wrist weights and doing punches and shoulder rolls and wide arcs and stuff just trying to increase the flexibility in my chest. There's still a spot from where they harvested the artery that hurts like shit after I work out, and I think it's because I haven't focused on it enough.

Anyway, we (and by that I mean GBD) finally got every load of laundry washed, dried, folded and put away. I think it was close to 20 loads. How absurd is that? I mean, people shouldn't have 20 loads worth of clothes period, but 20 loads of dirty clothes is beyond the pale.

So after doing some photo uploads to flickr.com, I showered and settled in for a little Rockstar: (non) Supernova. I can't even discuss how bad this is right now. I will get into that another time.

For the third night in a row, the itches came. Not like the last two nights, but it was still there, so I took two Benadryl and hoped for blissful slumber.

How wrong I was.

On my way down to get said Benadryl, I bumped into 1Doh leaving her room after ending her streak of going one night in a row without wetting her bed. She's just switched to sleeping in underpants and no pull up, and she's not doing badly. Besides, 10:30pm is WAY better than 3am for that stuff.

But I got to change the pee-proof sheets (hush Budgyrl), start a load of wash, re-make the bed and find some acceptable pj's and underpants. Oh, and she wanted water. Man, I hate the battle of "no, you better not have water, lest ye pee agai."

2Doh woke up to eat around 11:30 and hit the rack again around midnight. Then she got up at 4:30am or so for some ibuprofen and some snuggling, after which I put her back to bed and slept another 40 minutes.

Sometimes it feels good to get some work where I can get some real rest.

Well yesterday was good but finished on a not particularly high note. When I got home yesterday, there were several tasks of equally high importance that had to be completed. They were as follows:

- Find the Nikon 18-55mm lens that was to be returned RMA since it is a duplicate of a lens I already have instead of the 22-70mm lens it was supposed to be.

- Locate the Nikon battery charger.

- Find my family crest ring that was misplaced sometime during the evening on Saturday after we arrived home from Casa de BIL across the street.

- Fold approximately eleven jumbo sized loads of laundry.

- Locate my new voter registration card

I know that last one sounds absurd, but we've been swamped lately and quite frankly, GBD absolutely abhors folding laundry. I'm pretty sure she'd rather service me daily than think about folding laundry, so I told her that I would fold if she would have it washed and in our room instead of stacked to the ceiling in the laundry room.

How bad was the laundry pile? There were two of my bathing suits in it, and we haven't been to the pool in three weeks. YIKES!!

Oh, and I also had to workout so as to stay on pace and get back into the swing of my evening workout regimen so I can knock off the last 11 pounds that will bring me to a BMI of 24.8 and within the "Average" range.

Oh, and we had an air conditioner repairman scheduled to come by between 4pm and 6pm since for some reason recently, we have been unable to keep the house below 80 degrees.

First off, the lens was located in my office, and I immediately decided that a cleanup was in order since I could probably lose one if the kids in there. The Man Room / My office has turned into the nook where everyone throws shit they don't want out right now, but it makes my secret space look like a flop house for crackheads.

Next up was the charger, which was in a kitchen drawer all along, but well hidden under a few pot-holders. (Nice searching on my part).

The ring upset me pretty bad as it was an anniversary present from GBD from many years ago, and it is, without question, my most cherished gift from her. I searched every sofa, chair, and bed as well as under all of the aforementioned furniture. I looked under cabinets, in coolers, at the BIL's house (twice), in Chewy's car, and even searched the laundry basket and every pocket (or so I thought) of every item of clothing in it.

After not finding it (again), I began to feel despondent. Then, GBD marches upstairs, is gone 10 minutes and comes back down with my ring. It was in the lower right pocket of the cargo shorts I wore Saturday. Apparently the only pocket I didn't search was that one.

So the day was looking up now. The AC guy found the primary problem (dirt building on the outside units and low freon) and fixed both issues for $387. He did inform us that the upstairs coil was leaking and that unfortunately it couldn't be fixed since no one made 10 SEER units anymore.

Yay.

A replacement unit will run around $2,500 installed, so I guess I know what TMSB project Spring 2007 will be.

But right now it's all good. The vents are reading 55 degrees when on, meaning a differential of 25 degrees, which is awesome. The repair dude said he just hoped it made it through this year and we'd do what we have to before next summer rolls around. Time to start getting quotes.

I did 4.25 miles last night and feel much better, although my weight doesn't quite reflect it. I got back up to 211 this weekend, which meant I gained 6 pounds in two days, which I find absurd. I think it's probably water, but it could be beer too. Gotta lay off that stuff for a while.

After my workout at 9:05pm, I started folding and didn't finish until nearly 10:30pm, and that's when the itching started again. Not on my legs and arms like last time, but my face, neck and chest were killing me. I finally took some liquid benadryl and used some benadryl spray on them around 11pm and by around midnight I was able to get to sleep. I feel an OCEAN better than yesterday, the pending AC / Furnace replacement bill notwithstanding. Hopefully it won't happen today, otherwise we're gonna have to start eliminating options like rewashing all clothes in different detergent or something.

After her first dry night all the way thru on Sunday night, 1Doh had a small misfire this morning, but thankfully we have two sets of the dry sheets and since I wasn't using a set at the time, the backup set was ready to put on her bed in a few seconds. Hopefully this will end somewhat quickly and she'll be pretty reliable about not peeing in bed before long.

Today's election day in Georgia and elsewhere, and since I located my card (thanks GBD), I'll be stopping to vote on the way home. I won't say who I am voting for, but I am NOT voting for Mark "Big Guy" Taylor or Ralph Reed. Douchebags, both of them, as far as I'm concerned.

I was not shocked to hear that low turnouts are expected, but I was surprised at the reason:

The Heat.

Apparently it's just too fucking hot to vote.

Can someone explain to me why this is the case? The room where you vote is air conditioned. It's not like waiting in line for Stones Tickets at the venue. A nice senior citizen will lead you inside and you can stand amidst the modern comfort of central air waiting for your turn to show your gas bill or some linens N' Things coupon as your proof of identification. What's so tough about that? I wish this country handed out $100 fines to every person over 18 that didn't vote. Talk about a good cash generator.

I'm also happy to see Israel kicking some ass finally and Bush and Blair supporting the effort and blaming the folks responsible. Hezbollah and the governments of Lebanon and Syria and Iran that are state sponsors of these terrorist pricks. If Israel threw a nuke out there, I wouldn't care at all. The time for passive aggressiveness is over, and it's time to right a 27 year old wrong in Iran, and maybe THAT would let Syria, Lebanon and the rest of these fuckers know that we were serious about putting an end to this sociopathic behavior.

Wow. This entry went from folding laundry to world politics. How amazing is that?

One more thing. I don't care if Bush said "shit" over a hot mic on semi-live television. I don't even really care that Fox bleeped it but CNN didn't. I am curious if Bush or the White House will have a huge fine levied against them by the FCC since cuss words over the airwaves apparently hurt and / or kill children and baby kittens.

Shalom for now everybody. Hopefully I'll get some new pictures up tonight, including Saturday's white trash entertainment that saw 1Doh and Nephew 2Doh slip and sliding in the yard wearing a trash bag. You know, to decrease friction and thusly increase speed and distance at the end of the run.

Duh.

Let me tell you a story about my neighbors. I won't give their names, but I will refer to them as Mikka and Chewy.

Mikka is a slender blonde mid-twenties medical sales rep and chewy is a 30ish something sales rep. They both went to an SEC school and are sports fans.

It's been almost two years now since Mikka and Chewy moved in down the street. We were cordial early on but weren't sure if we'd like them or not, them being younger DINKS with whom we might not have much in common.

Then, over the last six months or so, we started talking with them more and more and having them up for cocktails and daytime cooks on the weekend and such, and we've gotten to be fairly close. We've had some really good times with them and are glad we became friends.

Well, after the first few meetings, we got a hint about the real Chewy and his warped sense of humor, and I was thrilled. Chewy is willing to say hideously inappropriate things at precisely the right time, and he's one of the few people that can make me laugh out loud.

Well, Saturday night we went out for dinner and drinks for GBD's birthday, and then we headed back to the BIL's place for drinks and a game of TMLSB bashing trivia where I am forced to be on the women's team and GBD on the men's because we often are opposite on the spectrum of gender specific trivia. I know a lot of chick stuff and my wife can be one of the guys better than about anyone else's wife.

After that it was back to our house for late night messiness. We stayed up WAY too late but had a bunch of laughs, until finally it was time to go according to Mikka.

She looked at her husband and said something to the effect of "It's really late and it's time to go."

Chewy responded immediately without considering who was there and said, "Young lady, you've just earned yourself a little anal."

And she just shook her head with a sly little grin as if he'd done nothing more than told an off-color joke or had burped or something.

I nearly wet my pants laughing at that. I will do my best to document some more of his shenanigans.


p.s. After they got home, Mikka looked at Chewy and said "You can't say stuff like that, or they're going to think I'm a whore."

Chewy replied "You have to be comfortable with who you are, honey. You ARE a whore."

Just knowing her and that that conversation occurred has had me laughing all day.

Last night I was having trouble sleeping, which is odd because beers and Mexican food generally put me into a coma by 9pm.

Actually, I had no trouble falling asleep, but I started itching on my arms and chest sometime around midnight. Then it was my stomach, legs (upper and lower), as well as my feet, back, neck and face.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and got up around 2:30am to have a look. I could find no bug bite marks or anything like that, but I was clearly having an episode of some sort. i then went benadryl hunting in the kitch. I found the cream which, didn't work out well since applying it caused me to itch more since rubbing it on was kind of like scratching anyway. The wife came down and helped me find the liquid and ran me a bath of baking soda and water which is also supposed to help with hives and the likes.

So I got in the tub and CHRIST THIS IS COLD!! Turns out we had no hot water for some damn reason, so now I'm sitting in a tub of cold baking soda water waiting for the benadryl to kick in.

Oh, and then 2Doh got up for some food. Yay.

We watched dateline until around 3:30am when I finally fell asleep. My alarm went off at 5:10 like usual and GBD said "I don't want you leaving yet. Just stay in bed a while longer and we'll see where we're at with this."

I reluctantly agreed and went back to sleep...

UNTIL 8:30!!

My itching was gone but I was still in the clutches of a Benadryl fog which I fought enough to get to work by the crack of 10am.

A sidenote here. I now understand why so many people come to work late. It rules!! Getting here at 6:10am blows when you could roll in at 9:45am, go to lunch in two hours and then screw around and leave at 5pm. I may have to rethink my schedule.

Anyway, as of this writing I still feel a bit foggy in the brain which always irritates me. It feels like the back end of a percocet high. But hopefully I'll be 100% when I get home to:

1) help with the kids
2) fold laundry
3) find my camera lens to be returned
4) find my camera battery charger
5) find my ring that got lost in the house sometime saturday night
6) anything else that comes up.

Whew. I think I'm gonna go lay down under the conference room table.

I play on a racing messageboard in some of my spare time (and some of my work time, but don't tell anybody). I've made some cyber-friends there as well as real in person ones (see Ethel), and it's generally a good time for all (trolls not included).

Well recently one of the founders, MrsCableracer, started a thread called "Ask me anything," and people did. Then, my friend Ethel did one as well, which inspired me to plagiarize the idea for myself, and the only difference was that I stated that I would prefer not to be asked rhetorical questions like "Does the Pope shit in the woods?" or "Why is there air?"

Anyway, after about a week of this, I thought I'd post the results here. Hope you enjoy them.

Nuggie99 wrote:

When are you going to make GBD post to her blog?

you know, there are many questions about that. Number one, our family website hasn't been updated since 2Doh was about 11 minutes old.

second, she made me help her do that and help her pick a name so she could comment, and now she doesn't.

third, since we got her the laptop, or as I call it, the mixed blessing, she spends 99% of her free time on it working on her own messageboard.

(luckily for her, sex with me requires only a portion of her remaining time, so I'm not really all that inconvenienced). It leaves me free to play xbox and mess with my camera and talk to you guys.

Wrangler#3 wrote:

When are you paying me back the 100G's you never borrowed from me?

If you really knew me at all, you'd know that the only thing you could borrow from me is debt. I've got plenty for everybody.

TazChick29 wrote:

I read where you imbibed last weekend...Which of the Cs did you pee on? Couch, corner, closet, clothes?

first of all, I imbibe every weekend. I am willing to do many things for my health: quit smoking, exercise, take vitamins, eat better, etc., but I'm not giving up one of my favorite hobbies: drinking socially.

That said, surprisingly enough, all four C's were intact and, more importantly, dry each morning last weekend. Must be all the clean living I'm doing.

Oh, if I were to have taken bets though, I'd have bet on C: my (office) CHAIR.

BUDGYRL wrote:

Why are you such a copy ?

1) I'm very insecure. Always have been. This seems like a way to get people to play with me.

2) It's a cool idea. I meant to do it after Mrs. C. did, but I forgot. I was probably busy peeing somewhere.

3) There aren't really all that many original ideas left for guys whose last names aren't Cuban or Gates or something. My last name's Berger and I'm a dumbass.

black3 wrote:

What is Po Po Zao?

Po Po Zao is, according to teh internets:

Popozao is written as one word and with a tilde over the 'a' like this: Popozão. It comes from Rio Funk slang and just means 'large, yummy ass'. A woman endowed with a Popozão is called a Popozuda. (Google image search link). Theoretically, a man would be a Popozudo but, arguably, large asses on men aren't yummy.

Po Po Zao is a song that, thru no talent or skill of the author or performer, will make him money, mostly since people like ethel buy it as a joke. Remember, people have been elected like this.

Ethel wrote:

1. When are you going to work on getting yourself a tivo? B. What the hell is that smell? 3.1415927. Who will be booted off Rockstar tonight? Three and a half. Why do I still call it Rockstar: INXS? Fore. What color undies am I wearing?

1. No tivo should be this hard to get. It's cheaper to just get one.
ii: i just farted at my desk. How'd you know?
Pi: i don't know, but I hope it's that evanonsense girl.
5-1.5: Because apparently rockstar supernova is about to be against the law to use since the band still exists (a punk band that's still making records in socal)
foe: trick onne, but I'm gonna say red. but soon that'll be none since you'll be at home posting nude or at least pantyless.

chopper pilot wrote:

How do you get the tilde over the letters? Why do you look so angry in that red room?

I have no idea about tildes beyond using MSWord.

I have no idea, but it's pretty cool how that came out.

BUDGYRL wrote:

Why is it that certain coworkers walk into my cube to look at my screen when it's purpously hidden so those coworkers won't be so damn nosey? Why can I not remember the correct spelling of certain words no matter what I do? Why is there a coworker standing directly outside my office staring into space and when will she stop?

a: I don't know, but I think it's worse to occasionally misspell a word like I do with maintenance about half the time.

2: I hate that. I intentionally face my display inward to avoid that issue, and folks still do it. When that happens, I just close the lid.

Nine_Cats wrote:

Why is BUDGYRL asking so many questions instead of working on her "100 Things" post for her blog?

she's busy helping you not do yours.

TazChick29 wrote:

When will Nine quit being such a skeerdy and work on his "100 Things" post for his blog? Who invented the tube top strapless bra and were they thinking? The Taz twins no.likie.

If it wasn't me it should have been. I love both ideas. Tubetop and strapless. I don't care what the twins likey. Me likey plenty-0.

Ethel wrote:

Why am I so freaking hungry today and why am I craving meat?

you're lacking protein (in one form or another). I recommend a turkey sammich.

or a blow job. Giving one I mean.

danimal wrote:

Ethel wrote: Why am I so freaking hungry today and why am I craving meat? TMLS, how long will it take me to get there?

at least 8 hours. You will polish the dolphin at a traffic light, fall asleep and wake up in time for work tomorrow.

sorry.

chopper pilot wrote:

What is the purpose of water-saving toilets with the small tanks? You have to flush the fuckers twice to clean 'em out

great question. I was just thinking that today while I was flushing some...umm...gum.

See, in a regular old bowl (like at my parent's house) you just shat until you were done, tidied up and flushed and left.

Now, I have to flush during, at least once, then I inevitably have to flush during cleanup to avoid the plunging if I don't flush during cleanup. Every single trip is a minimum 3 flushes. Was the old toilet 3 times bigger? I don't think so.

I'm thinking of calling canada and ordering old flow toilets off the black market and just letting it be our little secret.

chopper pilot wrote:

Why does David Caruso, who plays Horatio Kane on CSI Miami, always have his head tilted down and to the right?

he's watching his film career spin down the toilet.

now, if he was at leadfoote's house, he'd be tilting it down and to the left.

chopper pilot wrote:

A Boeing 767-400 is flying at a ground speed of 525mph, leveled off at 35,000 feet altitude. Consider no head wind. How far will the plane go if it looses all power, including hydraulics?

doesn't matter. However far it's going, it's going right into the fucking ground. Or the water.

So the question is, where was it when it got p-fucked and ran out of fuel?

Blaatzee wrote:

What's the difference between a duck?

That's easy dumbass. Eleven.

Tiny Tim wrote:

What is the plug gap on a 2006 Ford F-350 with a 6.0L engine?

that's easy dumbass.

eleven.

right back atcha.

chopper pilot wrote:

Who coined the term "backbacon"?

blaatzee when referring to TL's hindquarters?

Ethel wrote:

Are we there yet?

if you have to ask whether or not you're anywhere, regardless of where "there" is, then no.

You're not there yet

Ethel wrote:

Does size matter?

it does to the guy with a small dick.

BillP wrote:

Tai kwon do or ching ching pao?

Tae Kwon Do. But mostly becuase my daughter can't say the other one. Neither can I, for that matter.

Nine_Cats wrote:

Button - zip or Zip - button?

tough one. I don't ever unzip the slacks, but if it's shorts, I go button then zip.

On the way down, it's the same.

Wierd.

Ethel wrote:

Why haven't I uploaded my race pictures?

because you're too busy at work covering for miss sore ass, and when you get home, you're too tired due to the lack of protein, so you try to sleep, but you can't because you are an occasional insomniac.

oh, and because you're too excited to see what potential supernova-esque rocker is going home tonight...

Ethel wrote:

How did you get to be so lucky that you ended up with GBD so you could make such stinkin' cute urchins?

I am the global definition of terms:

marrying up outkicking your coverage.

Ethel wrote:

Why didn't you answer my last question? What's for dinner? Are you going to watch The Office tonight? What did you get GBD for her birthday? What color am I thinking of? Who let the dogs out? Who left the cake out in the rain? Top bunk or lower bunk? Stairs or elevator? Sesame Street or Electric Company? Smurfs or Snorks?

Ethel,

sorry about that. I signed out (I think) and missed it. Lemme answer these now.

First, my parachute is Blue. As in Blue and Orange. As in Auburn Blue.

Dinner last night was a cheese sammich with mustard and some grilled chicken.

No. I was playing FIFA 2006 on my XBox instead.

A new laptop and desktop pc. That was her call to have that cover the b-day. And today I got her a couple of these.

The color you are thinking of is NUDE!!!

My Nephew Nick ALWAYS let's the dogs out. Or at least he lets the really dumb, not likely to find its way home dog out.

I don't know about the cake, but I left my Thermoworks Thermapen digital thermometer out in the rain the night you were at Casa de TMLSB. But don't worry. It's fine.

I can't believe you'd even ask the bunk question. I'm a pee-er ethel. Of COURSE I'd want the top bunk. DUH!!

Stairs down, but the elevator up in the morning. I can't hardly do shit at 6am.

I always thought the electric company was cooler, and I completely lost respect for sesame street when snuffalufagus stopped being invisible because it encouraged kids to lie to their parents about their friends or some such nonsensicle bullshit.

I remember the snorks, but the smurfs were all that and a bag of chips.

danimal wrote:

Are you going to make a pick for America's Favorite Race Game, RKO? It's not really America's Favorite Race Game, but I'm really, really insecure. Really.

I did, but thanks for the reminder.

danimal wrote:

Will I ever learn to check first, post later?

not with me. I have demonstrated a "pattern of behavior."

Ethel wrote:

Is it 5pm Central yet? Why are some people so mean? Why does it have to be so freaking hot this weekend? What air conditioned place should I visit to take pictures this weekend? Could you move Chicago and the ATL so they are a little closer together? Have you won the lottery yet?

yes. It's saturday now.

Because they're not as good as we are. Very few people are. It's tough to accept, but once you do, life is much easier.

Because Al Gore invented global warming. Wait, that's not it. It's hot because girls need to wear cutoff shorts and bikini tops.

If I were seeking air conditioned, climate controlled, target rich environments, I'd hit the chicago zoo and head for the reptile building. Cool and damp and dark with scary things there.

I tried before. I moved DeKalb here and made it a county. Turns out I can move town, but the building are very heavy and thus, the move is nearly worthless.

Dude, I am so over not having won the lottery yet. It's almost like the odds aren't in my favor or something. What gives?


More to follow...

I'd like to take a moments to share a story that will tell you why I aspire to be the kind of father my BIL is.

Now, keep in mind, there are thousands of these stories and this is but one, but it's one that tells a lot about the man.

Thursday afternoon we were relaxing in the driveway in our semi-circle of camp chairs when young Jack ambled up and asked to go on a walk or play tennis or (insert activity here). It was around dinnertime and the BIL said "Sure. After dinner," and we went our seperate ways.

About an hour later, I walked outside to a DRIVING rainstorm, and our front gutter (over the garage) was pouring water over the rail by the bucket. So I got out my shitty semi-ladder to see if I could tell what the blockage was. Now keep in mind, it'd been raining since about the time we started eating.

Anyway, while I'm standing there on my shitty ladder under an umbrella (what a chick I can be), here come Jack and UnkTodd riding home on their bikes. So I holler over to them:

"How far'd you get before it started raining?"

UnkTodd replied "Oh, it was raining when we left."

I was flummoxed. I said "Why on earth would you start your ride in that kind of rainstorm?"

UnkTodd said "I don't know. It just seemed like it would be fun and when I asked Jack, he was 100% on board, so we did it."

I know that doesn't sound like much and it didn't cost anything, but that boy will be telling his grandkids about the time his daddy took him for a bike ride in a rainstorm that was so bad you couldn't see 200 feet in front of you, and it was AWESOME!

Sometimes it really is the little things that make the difference. Now if you'll excuse me, 1Doh and I are going to go do some white trash sledding down my neighbor's front yard in an Amazon box.

I should be more clear in what I said two posts ago.

I don't hate elections. I love elections and I love voting. What I abhor is campaigning.


Please return to your regular programming.

I'm not sure if the election calendar is the same in every state, but there is a primary election scheduled here in Georgia on July 18th, and it can't come and go soon enough for me.

I like voting and consider it an honor, but I hate elections, especially here in the shit-slingin' south.

See, all of the candidates "talk" about how mudslinging is wrong and that the other guy is doing it, but they're all doing it. And I mean all of them.

In the battle for the democratic party's right to get their ass kicked by Sonny Purdue, Cathy Cox and Mark Taylor are in an all out pissing match where each runs ads that shit on the other faster than I can catch my breath.

Every ad sees Cox's folks referring to Mark Taylor as "The BIG guy." Yes. Mark Taylor's fat. We get it. You've said it in your ads over and over and over again. But that's not a reason to not vote for him OR for him to be attacked. And Taylor's folks are no better. It's just "Cathy did this" or "Cathy didn't do that" and it's all nonsense.

Taylor and / or Cox may very well not deserve to be elected and they may be as crooked as a mountain road, but let the voters decide based on the candidate's records of attendance, voting and general behavior and ethics and not on some political consultant's creation and spin.

I mean, it gets to the point where I feel dirty giving my vote to any of them since it's way closer to voting for the least shitty person instead of voting for the most qualified candidate.

And what's worse is that it's our tax dollars that pay for this hootinanny.

See, anyone running for state office is to be given equal time on television and the tv time is free. Free is relative. It's free to the candidates. That means that stuff is paid for by us.

And I am now of the belief that candidates should only be allowed to mention their opponent's name in an ad if they themselves pay for the ad. If it's a freebie, the candidate can only mention themselves and what they themselves plan to do to make life for their potential or constituents better. Does that sound like it would be so tough?

I mean really. The rule would be simple. If you submit an ad that shows an image of or mentions your opponent's name, you get a bill for the airtime and it's due immediately or the candidate would be arrested and not released until the day after the election in question.

Oh, and I have one more mandatory rule I would put into effect. Each candidate would be required to participate in a debate. Not a bullshit debate but a neutral site, moderated debate. I mention this because Cynthia McKinney is going to be re-elected in a walk-over and is refusing to debate her challengers, and I find this (and her in general) arrogant, disgusting and appalling.

Now, one candidate which I support being covered with mud and hopefully indictments is Ralph Reed. I don't understand how you can launder cash for a convicted felon in Jack Abramoff, sell yourself as the anti-gambling Christian anything while working with the Indians in the background to get casinos and gaming set up for them.

Ralph Reed is about as set in his convictions as a windsock on a blustery day and I hope to God this Casey Cagle wins. I don't care what the guy supports either. Literally. He could support secession from the Union, necrophelia and be a member of the Flat Earth Society, and I'd STILL vote for him. I might volunteer just to help e\insure that that shitass Ralph Reed doesn't get elected in my state.

Anyway, this is all going to get worse before it gets better. midterm elections are coming up and then everyone will ramp up for 2008 in early 2007, so basically they'll get about 100 days of work done before we start all of this shit again.

Yay.