Way to go Cubs…since you were mathematically eliminated again this year before the All-Star break – get rid of everyone that could help next year…
Oh well, as the traditional Cub saying goes –“Wait ‘til next year”
Go Red Sox? Now I don't care as long as it isn't the Yankees.
July 31, 2006
July 30, 2006
Foggy morning blues
Do you ever write something you really like? The title to this post is one of those. I also really like the title to the post down below called "Pineapple Dreams". If I ever write a book or a song one or both of those phrases will be the title. Consider them both copyrighted.
I read a line yesterday I thought was cool: "Failure is an opportunity to start over". I think it is safe to say I am getting tired of restarts, I am ready to finish the race.
It is foggy here this morning. Another hot humid day is on tap. I need to mow, maybe I will, maybe I won't.
Have you noticed the change in reporting on the Israel; /Hisbully situation? At first it was all "Go Israel", now the tone is reverting to pro Arab. I heard an interview on Fox or CNN or whatever yesterday while channel surfing. This Lebanese guy was blaming the US! He said that Israel and the US were to blame for everything. I may not be up on the news, but I am pretty sure we have bombed no one in Lebanon, yet.
Mucho traveling is on slate for the first half of the week. Posting will be light, depending on internet availability at the hotel/motels I choose. Otter, post at will.
I read a line yesterday I thought was cool: "Failure is an opportunity to start over". I think it is safe to say I am getting tired of restarts, I am ready to finish the race.
It is foggy here this morning. Another hot humid day is on tap. I need to mow, maybe I will, maybe I won't.
Have you noticed the change in reporting on the Israel; /Hisbully situation? At first it was all "Go Israel", now the tone is reverting to pro Arab. I heard an interview on Fox or CNN or whatever yesterday while channel surfing. This Lebanese guy was blaming the US! He said that Israel and the US were to blame for everything. I may not be up on the news, but I am pretty sure we have bombed no one in Lebanon, yet.
Mucho traveling is on slate for the first half of the week. Posting will be light, depending on internet availability at the hotel/motels I choose. Otter, post at will.
July 29, 2006
July 28, 2006
24(Like the Show) Otter Style- Kind Of
The following takes place on Thursday, 28 July 2006
1:00 PM– Arrive at Indianapolis airport late from my meeting.
1:20 PM- Arrive at airline counter to find out my flight was cancelled.
1:23 PM – On standby for the 4:00 PM flight – booked on the 5:50 PM to Philly. Scheduled to be home at 9:30 PM
1:45 PM – Through security
1:46 – 3:45 PM – Reading and one of my favorite pastimes, people watching
3:55 PM – 4:00 flight is full
4:00 -5:35 PM - Reading and one of my favorite pastimes, people watching
5:38 PM – Boarding for Philly
6:02 PM – Announcement that we have a two hour ground hold from Philly due to weather.
6:08 PM – Deplane and rebook my puddle jumper flight from Philly. Scheduled to be home at 11:30 PM.
6:19 PM – Rebooked my flight from Indianapolis to Pittsburgh then Philly then the puddle jumper home. Scheduled to be home at 11:30 PM.
6:28 PM – Boarding for Pitt.
7:28 PM – Arrive Pitt for 8:05 PM flight to Philly.
7:37 PM – Flight to Philly delayed until 8:50 PM
8:47 PM – Flight to Philly delayed until 9:35 PM – Still OK on my puddle jumper connection – Pitt to Philly scheduled time 45 minutes – A lot of weather delays and the puddle jumper home leaves Philly at 10:45 PM. Still scheduled to be home at 11:30 PM.
9:15 PM- Boarding for Philly.
9:37 PM – On runway for takeoff.
9:38 PM – Announcement that we have a 45 minute ground hold. Next update at 10:30 PM.
9:45 PM – Scotch.
9:58 PM – More scotch.
10:13 PM – What the hell, one more scotch.
10:24 PM - Announcement that we have another 45 minute ground hold. Next update at 11:15 PM. Scheduled to be home at 11:30 PM?
10:30 PM – Return to the gate from the runway for more fuel. This impeded the scotch program damn it.
10:35 PM – Cleared to depart. Everyone back on the plane… Please don’t forget the fuel.
10:51 PM – Lift off……with the bad weather, 45 minute flight, there is still a chance that I will make my puddle jumper flight.
11:02 PM – Realize I would be home if I had driven.
11:30 PM – Due to weather, we are in a “holding pattern”. It’s OK because my friend Johnny Walker was with me.
11:45 PM – Cleared to land.
11:53 PM – Just kidding – in a “holding” pattern.
11:55 PM – One more scotch just “because” and they are free and I can.
Friday, 28 July 2006
12:06 AM – Cleared to land.
12:10 AM - Just kidding – in a “holding” pattern.
12:15 AM - One more scotch just “because” and they are free plus I can.
12:25 AM – Cleared to land.
12:35 AM – Land
12:38 AM – Optimism because the planes are backed up for takeoff….
12:47 AM – Customer service desk to check on the status of my puddle jumper.
12:50 AM – It’s gone……booked on the 8 AM flight. No hotels…only option is to sleep in the airport. So I decide to go to terminal my flight will leave from in the morning and sleep there.
12:57 AM – The info board in the main terminal shows my puddle jumper at the gate with a 1:15 AM departure! Scheduled to be home at 2:15 AM.
12:58 AM – The shuttle is not running. I will take the walk bridge that connects the terminals. The #$%@*% walk bridge is closed! Outside in the rain to get to the other terminal.
12:59 AM – Dead run…well at least for me. An old guy with a walker did pass me….
1:04 AM – Arrive at the terminal, only to see the security gate down. “I need….pant, pant….in for the puddle jumper flight at 1:15”….. The reply, “Do you have a boarding pass”? Hell no asshole – I enjoy running around Philly in the rain at 1 in the morning just to talk to you……. “Yes” I kindly reply. His retort, “Then you need to use a white courtesy phone to have an airline representative meet you at the security gate and escort you to your departing gate”. What the F***K. I have a boarding pass; I have to go across the entire terminal to get to my gate…I am out of breath, wet, and half drunk.
1:06 AM – Waiting for the page operator to answer the phone.
1:07 AM - Waiting for the page operator to answer the phone.
1:08 AM – Waiting for the page operator to answer the phone.
1:09 AM - Waiting for the page operator to answer the phone.
1:10 AM – Page complete…
1:14 AM – “Wat you wunt?” “I am trying to get on the puddle jumper flight at 1:15”. “That flight aint gonin’. You all are gunna take a bus. But let me check foya”.
1:20 AM – Nothing
1:25 AM – Confirmation that the flight is cancelled and we are taking a “four hour tour” on the bus home. Scheduled to be home at 5:30 AM.
1:30 AM – Trying to find the luggage from the two flights that were cancelled and make up the bus tour.
1:45 AM – Mass bitterness, mass bitching, mass assholes.
1:47 AM – I have my backpack – let’s go – I don’t care about your luggage, It will eventually get home…
1:49 AM – “Your luggage will be at the airport when you arrive”.
1:52 AM – “We found you luggage we are loading it on the bus”.
1:55 AM – “Oh I forgot, I need everyone’s ticket”
1:58 AM – “Thank you folks for being patient”.
2:00 AM – The tour starts.
2:08 AM – I’m asleep….
4:18 AM – I’m awakened because we stop at a truck stop for fuel, cigarettes, pee break and whores I guess.
4:20 AM – Realize I could have driven to Cape Cod from Indianapolis.
4:30 AM – We depart again.
5:20 AM – Awakened when I hear, “Where you going”? “My ‘Tom-Tom” says to take this two lane mountainous road, it’s faster”. Leave the interstate for a two lane road with a tour bus? You have got to be kidding.
5:23 AM – Return to the interstate system.
5:28 AM – Back asleep.
6:06 AM – Arrive at the puddle jumper airport.
6:18 AM – Get in bed……..
That should just about wrap-up my shithole bad luck travel for a few months……
1:00 PM– Arrive at Indianapolis airport late from my meeting.
1:20 PM- Arrive at airline counter to find out my flight was cancelled.
1:23 PM – On standby for the 4:00 PM flight – booked on the 5:50 PM to Philly. Scheduled to be home at 9:30 PM
1:45 PM – Through security
1:46 – 3:45 PM – Reading and one of my favorite pastimes, people watching
3:55 PM – 4:00 flight is full
4:00 -5:35 PM - Reading and one of my favorite pastimes, people watching
5:38 PM – Boarding for Philly
6:02 PM – Announcement that we have a two hour ground hold from Philly due to weather.
6:08 PM – Deplane and rebook my puddle jumper flight from Philly. Scheduled to be home at 11:30 PM.
6:19 PM – Rebooked my flight from Indianapolis to Pittsburgh then Philly then the puddle jumper home. Scheduled to be home at 11:30 PM.
6:28 PM – Boarding for Pitt.
7:28 PM – Arrive Pitt for 8:05 PM flight to Philly.
7:37 PM – Flight to Philly delayed until 8:50 PM
8:47 PM – Flight to Philly delayed until 9:35 PM – Still OK on my puddle jumper connection – Pitt to Philly scheduled time 45 minutes – A lot of weather delays and the puddle jumper home leaves Philly at 10:45 PM. Still scheduled to be home at 11:30 PM.
9:15 PM- Boarding for Philly.
9:37 PM – On runway for takeoff.
9:38 PM – Announcement that we have a 45 minute ground hold. Next update at 10:30 PM.
9:45 PM – Scotch.
9:58 PM – More scotch.
10:13 PM – What the hell, one more scotch.
10:24 PM - Announcement that we have another 45 minute ground hold. Next update at 11:15 PM. Scheduled to be home at 11:30 PM?
10:30 PM – Return to the gate from the runway for more fuel. This impeded the scotch program damn it.
10:35 PM – Cleared to depart. Everyone back on the plane… Please don’t forget the fuel.
10:51 PM – Lift off……with the bad weather, 45 minute flight, there is still a chance that I will make my puddle jumper flight.
11:02 PM – Realize I would be home if I had driven.
11:30 PM – Due to weather, we are in a “holding pattern”. It’s OK because my friend Johnny Walker was with me.
11:45 PM – Cleared to land.
11:53 PM – Just kidding – in a “holding” pattern.
11:55 PM – One more scotch just “because” and they are free and I can.
Friday, 28 July 2006
12:06 AM – Cleared to land.
12:10 AM - Just kidding – in a “holding” pattern.
12:15 AM - One more scotch just “because” and they are free plus I can.
12:25 AM – Cleared to land.
12:35 AM – Land
12:38 AM – Optimism because the planes are backed up for takeoff….
12:47 AM – Customer service desk to check on the status of my puddle jumper.
12:50 AM – It’s gone……booked on the 8 AM flight. No hotels…only option is to sleep in the airport. So I decide to go to terminal my flight will leave from in the morning and sleep there.
12:57 AM – The info board in the main terminal shows my puddle jumper at the gate with a 1:15 AM departure! Scheduled to be home at 2:15 AM.
12:58 AM – The shuttle is not running. I will take the walk bridge that connects the terminals. The #$%@*% walk bridge is closed! Outside in the rain to get to the other terminal.
12:59 AM – Dead run…well at least for me. An old guy with a walker did pass me….
1:04 AM – Arrive at the terminal, only to see the security gate down. “I need….pant, pant….in for the puddle jumper flight at 1:15”….. The reply, “Do you have a boarding pass”? Hell no asshole – I enjoy running around Philly in the rain at 1 in the morning just to talk to you……. “Yes” I kindly reply. His retort, “Then you need to use a white courtesy phone to have an airline representative meet you at the security gate and escort you to your departing gate”. What the F***K. I have a boarding pass; I have to go across the entire terminal to get to my gate…I am out of breath, wet, and half drunk.
1:06 AM – Waiting for the page operator to answer the phone.
1:07 AM - Waiting for the page operator to answer the phone.
1:08 AM – Waiting for the page operator to answer the phone.
1:09 AM - Waiting for the page operator to answer the phone.
1:10 AM – Page complete…
1:14 AM – “Wat you wunt?” “I am trying to get on the puddle jumper flight at 1:15”. “That flight aint gonin’. You all are gunna take a bus. But let me check foya”.
1:20 AM – Nothing
1:25 AM – Confirmation that the flight is cancelled and we are taking a “four hour tour” on the bus home. Scheduled to be home at 5:30 AM.
1:30 AM – Trying to find the luggage from the two flights that were cancelled and make up the bus tour.
1:45 AM – Mass bitterness, mass bitching, mass assholes.
1:47 AM – I have my backpack – let’s go – I don’t care about your luggage, It will eventually get home…
1:49 AM – “Your luggage will be at the airport when you arrive”.
1:52 AM – “We found you luggage we are loading it on the bus”.
1:55 AM – “Oh I forgot, I need everyone’s ticket”
1:58 AM – “Thank you folks for being patient”.
2:00 AM – The tour starts.
2:08 AM – I’m asleep….
4:18 AM – I’m awakened because we stop at a truck stop for fuel, cigarettes, pee break and whores I guess.
4:20 AM – Realize I could have driven to Cape Cod from Indianapolis.
4:30 AM – We depart again.
5:20 AM – Awakened when I hear, “Where you going”? “My ‘Tom-Tom” says to take this two lane mountainous road, it’s faster”. Leave the interstate for a two lane road with a tour bus? You have got to be kidding.
5:23 AM – Return to the interstate system.
5:28 AM – Back asleep.
6:06 AM – Arrive at the puddle jumper airport.
6:18 AM – Get in bed……..
That should just about wrap-up my shithole bad luck travel for a few months……
Paris in six hours or less. Part 1
ED: Please disregard the spelling of foreign words and places in this post. I am too lazy to look it up.
We left the US on a Friday evening. Dave, my young engineer colleague and I were off to important business meetings in France. This was not the first trip to Europe for either of us. We had upgraded to business class, and we left early to take advantage of lower fares for the Saturday stay. We also hoped to see the sites of Paris if possible before taking the train to the Loire Valley location of the factory on Sunday. I tried to get as much sleep on the plane as I could, long ago I had learned the best way to deal with the time difference and jet lag was to get on the new time zone as soon as possible. As we would arrive at Chuck de Gaulle airport in the morning, French time, I planned to stay awake as long as I could after arrival.
We arrived, went through customs etc. with no problem. The hotel was a short shuttle bus ride from the airport. We agreed to take a quick hour to relax, freshen up and shower then we would meet to go see the sights of gay Paree.
We took the shuttle back to the airport and bought train tickets to downtown Paris. The airport is some distance from the city. We got off the train at Mont St Michel, across the Seine from the Ille de Citie and the great Cathedral of Notre Dame. Like any good tourist we came from the underground station and looked around for a cafe to enjoy a beer after the arduous journey. After a quick "mission accomplished" we crossed the bridge to the Cathedral. It was much less impressive than I expected. The facade was covered with scaffolding for restoration work, but it was much smaller and less ornate than some of the huge churches we had seen in Germany. The churches in Regensburg and Bamburg were bigger and more ornate. We toured inside and tried to take some pictures of the dim interior. I would scan and post some pictures here, but I do not want to distract from the story. Plus I am too lazy. We spent about 20 minutes at the Church. I saw no hunchbacks, no hot chicks with goats either -- damn cartoon.
We decided we had to hit the Louvre (I do not know , I think it is pronounced Louvre like Favre). I asked a thin guy looking at the flying buttresses. He looked French, or at least European. If you have been to Europe you can pick out the Americans from the Europeans, we are fatter, and dress different. I studied French for four years in high school. I also had an advanced course in that language in College. I had not spoken a word of it in 20 years. Other than curse words, I was a bit rusty ( I could still read it though -- at least 50%). I politely asked the man if he spoke English. He looked me over. He could tell I was definitely American, not only did my white sneakers give me away, but my jean shorts confirmed his suspicion I was a damn American. The subsequent conversation began this story.
Here we were, short on time, trying to see the sights of Paris in one afternoon. We had no map, no plan, little language skills, and no desire to take a formal tour. We were on the Ille de Citie and need some help.
One of the most disturbing scenes in Europe (and especially France) is how heavily armed the police are. There are police with machine guns, soldiers with body armor and machine guns and police dogs patrolling the streets. I approached one such gendarme, his "assault weapon" slung from his shoulder. "excusez moi, ou es la Louvre s'Il vous plais?" He gave me directions in French. Then asked me in English to repeat them. He was very nice. We had to go up a few blocks and turn left. The Museum was on the left on that street. We took off at a fast clip. I guess not ALL French are assholes.
We found the Louvre and the glass pyramid entrance made more famous by that crazy "code" book. The lines were long. There appeared to be the equivalent of a whole tour bus of Chinese in line in front of us. At one point they decided to take a group picture. While they were getting organized we did the ugly American thing and pushed to the front of the line. The resulting "Hung yan who ha hee hang" or whatever they were shouting was really funny. Dave called them Commie Bastards, or maybe that was me. WTF, we were in a hurry.
Next: HB and Dave do the Louvre.
"Pardonnez moi, Monsieur, Parlez-vous Anglais?" I asked the thin man looking at the facade of Notre Dame.
"No I do not, and I am busy", he replied in slightly accented English.
We left the US on a Friday evening. Dave, my young engineer colleague and I were off to important business meetings in France. This was not the first trip to Europe for either of us. We had upgraded to business class, and we left early to take advantage of lower fares for the Saturday stay. We also hoped to see the sites of Paris if possible before taking the train to the Loire Valley location of the factory on Sunday. I tried to get as much sleep on the plane as I could, long ago I had learned the best way to deal with the time difference and jet lag was to get on the new time zone as soon as possible. As we would arrive at Chuck de Gaulle airport in the morning, French time, I planned to stay awake as long as I could after arrival.
We arrived, went through customs etc. with no problem. The hotel was a short shuttle bus ride from the airport. We agreed to take a quick hour to relax, freshen up and shower then we would meet to go see the sights of gay Paree.
We took the shuttle back to the airport and bought train tickets to downtown Paris. The airport is some distance from the city. We got off the train at Mont St Michel, across the Seine from the Ille de Citie and the great Cathedral of Notre Dame. Like any good tourist we came from the underground station and looked around for a cafe to enjoy a beer after the arduous journey. After a quick "mission accomplished" we crossed the bridge to the Cathedral. It was much less impressive than I expected. The facade was covered with scaffolding for restoration work, but it was much smaller and less ornate than some of the huge churches we had seen in Germany. The churches in Regensburg and Bamburg were bigger and more ornate. We toured inside and tried to take some pictures of the dim interior. I would scan and post some pictures here, but I do not want to distract from the story. Plus I am too lazy. We spent about 20 minutes at the Church. I saw no hunchbacks, no hot chicks with goats either -- damn cartoon.
We decided we had to hit the Louvre (I do not know , I think it is pronounced Louvre like Favre). I asked a thin guy looking at the flying buttresses. He looked French, or at least European. If you have been to Europe you can pick out the Americans from the Europeans, we are fatter, and dress different. I studied French for four years in high school. I also had an advanced course in that language in College. I had not spoken a word of it in 20 years. Other than curse words, I was a bit rusty ( I could still read it though -- at least 50%). I politely asked the man if he spoke English. He looked me over. He could tell I was definitely American, not only did my white sneakers give me away, but my jean shorts confirmed his suspicion I was a damn American. The subsequent conversation began this story.
Here we were, short on time, trying to see the sights of Paris in one afternoon. We had no map, no plan, little language skills, and no desire to take a formal tour. We were on the Ille de Citie and need some help.
One of the most disturbing scenes in Europe (and especially France) is how heavily armed the police are. There are police with machine guns, soldiers with body armor and machine guns and police dogs patrolling the streets. I approached one such gendarme, his "assault weapon" slung from his shoulder. "excusez moi, ou es la Louvre s'Il vous plais?" He gave me directions in French. Then asked me in English to repeat them. He was very nice. We had to go up a few blocks and turn left. The Museum was on the left on that street. We took off at a fast clip. I guess not ALL French are assholes.
We found the Louvre and the glass pyramid entrance made more famous by that crazy "code" book. The lines were long. There appeared to be the equivalent of a whole tour bus of Chinese in line in front of us. At one point they decided to take a group picture. While they were getting organized we did the ugly American thing and pushed to the front of the line. The resulting "Hung yan who ha hee hang" or whatever they were shouting was really funny. Dave called them Commie Bastards, or maybe that was me. WTF, we were in a hurry.
Next: HB and Dave do the Louvre.
July 26, 2006
This makes me sick
Yates planned it, carried it out, and shows no remorse. Insane my ass. She took care to make sure the subsequent kid did not catch on she was murdering them one by one. I hope she rots in Hell.
She did it, admitted such, and should have already faced the needle, the chair, the noose, or the gas chamber. EOS.
She did it, admitted such, and should have already faced the needle, the chair, the noose, or the gas chamber. EOS.
Pineapple Dreams
I am sitting here eating a rare breakfast,
No,no, that did not start out right. The breakfast was not rare, it is just that I rarely eat breakfast. I was eating fresh pineapple, orange juice, coffee and one Archway sugar drop cookie this morning and I was thinking about the trips I have planned in the next weeks. As you are probably aware, I am a traveling salesman. Sadly, I have yet had my car breakdown on a country road and had to spend the night with a farmer and his beautiful daughter.
I have been lucky enough to travel the world on the company's dollar. I have seen the Cathedral at Cologne (that is it,above), the Eiffel Tower, London, Amsterdam. I rode a train through the Rhine Valley, marveling at the castles of old. I ate lunch at a picnic table along the Danube. I drank beer beside the mountain lakes of Austria.
I spent a week in Tours, the site where Charles Martel kicked Muslim ass and saved the West from becoming the Middle East. Where are you now, Hammer, we could use your kick ass mentality, especially in France? The Cathedral in Tours is far more impressive than Notre Dame.
I have been to Mexico, Canada, Britain, France, Italy, Germany, The Netherlands, and Austria. I have seen New York City, the Vulcan in Birmingham, and the majesty of the Rockies. I have visited the Motor City, San Francisco, Philadelphia, and LA. I have attended the Indy 500 and seen the Cubs at Wrigley Field. I have sat for hours looking at the natural beauty of the Cascades and the Columbia River Gorge. I have swam in waters of the Pacific, the Atlantic, the Gulf of Mexico. I have touched each of the Great Lakes.
I have been to the Alamo, Gettysburg, Shiloh and Stones River. I have walked the hallowed ground at Antietam. I have traipsed the smaller battlefields at Perryville, Tippecanoe, Fort Pillow and Spring Mill. I have seen the memorials in the Nation's Capital and found myself awed by the sad grandeur of Arlington National Cemetery.
I realize I am truly a lucky man. Where have you been?
July 25, 2006
Hunting a post
I looked back at my archives for July 2005 and found an idea that I had planned to make a regular feature of Fat in Indiana. It was my intention to hit the "next blog" button up there on the right and critique the next several blogs I got at random.
I tried it today and found a hilarious blog:The Concept of Irony. I also got several foreign blogs, a few strange ones and one about a woman going through an abusive relationship. Nothing amusing there. I decided to try one more hit, that would make twenty, and I got Big Dick's Place -- one of my regular reads. I guess that was a sign of some sort.
Let me know if you find any strange blogs out there.
I tried it today and found a hilarious blog:The Concept of Irony. I also got several foreign blogs, a few strange ones and one about a woman going through an abusive relationship. Nothing amusing there. I decided to try one more hit, that would make twenty, and I got Big Dick's Place -- one of my regular reads. I guess that was a sign of some sort.
Let me know if you find any strange blogs out there.
Here we are
It is Tuesday. I have lots of readers stopping by to see what words of wisdom, or ridiculous sentences I can offer for your entertainment, and I have nothing.
I have the malaise so aptly described by that worthless President Jimmah Carter. Life, work, money, other issues are beating me down. I am not in jump off the bridge mode, but the spark just ain't there. The internal politics of life, the effect of others' decisions drags me down like weights on my ankles during an swim in the deep end of the pool. Look, I know most of you have bigger problems than I. This is no pity party request, nor an excuse. I write this by way of explanation.
I just have no tales, no jokes, no stories, nothing to enliven your day. Politics, sports, weather, I am bored by it all today. All will be right tomorrow, or the next day, or maybe in an hour. The idea that I cannot be creative brings me down even more. I guess writer's block it is. If you new me, you would know I always have something to say. Heck, if you have stopped by here for long you know that!
Otter, post at will.
I have the malaise so aptly described by that worthless President Jimmah Carter. Life, work, money, other issues are beating me down. I am not in jump off the bridge mode, but the spark just ain't there. The internal politics of life, the effect of others' decisions drags me down like weights on my ankles during an swim in the deep end of the pool. Look, I know most of you have bigger problems than I. This is no pity party request, nor an excuse. I write this by way of explanation.
I just have no tales, no jokes, no stories, nothing to enliven your day. Politics, sports, weather, I am bored by it all today. All will be right tomorrow, or the next day, or maybe in an hour. The idea that I cannot be creative brings me down even more. I guess writer's block it is. If you new me, you would know I always have something to say. Heck, if you have stopped by here for long you know that!
Otter, post at will.
July 24, 2006
Hello Blog World
It is Monday. Most of you are working -- I am on vacation. One day only.
Otter says I should blog more. Trying to entertain you people is already taking up a great deal of my time. I must say I enjoy the shit out of doing this, though. Thanks to all of you who visit here everyday. Why do you do it?
Here is what is pissing me off today. Why do the people who live in my house refuse to replace the empty toilet paper roll. I have shown each of them how to do it. It is not hard.
My garbage disposal died on Friday. While it was full of some really nasty mexican dip (should Mexican be capitalized?). I scooped out what I could, but by the time the hardware store opened Saturday it made the house smell like garbage. Some ass really tightened the pipes when he installed the last disposal, so knuckle banging and cursing was heard. Oh wait, I installed the previous disposal. Anyway, when I took off the cover to undo the wiring, the white wire was not connected. Did I knock off the connector while banging around? I hooked the electricity back up -- the old one was aliiiiivvvve! I then replaced all the pipes etc. and I now have to head to Sears to give them back the unused, unopened new disposal. The Mrs. somehow decided we had just saved seventy dollars and we needed to go to the mall. I still do not see how we came by this windfall.
What is pissing you off on a beautiful, pleasant Monday?
Otter says I should blog more. Trying to entertain you people is already taking up a great deal of my time. I must say I enjoy the shit out of doing this, though. Thanks to all of you who visit here everyday. Why do you do it?
Here is what is pissing me off today. Why do the people who live in my house refuse to replace the empty toilet paper roll. I have shown each of them how to do it. It is not hard.
My garbage disposal died on Friday. While it was full of some really nasty mexican dip (should Mexican be capitalized?). I scooped out what I could, but by the time the hardware store opened Saturday it made the house smell like garbage. Some ass really tightened the pipes when he installed the last disposal, so knuckle banging and cursing was heard. Oh wait, I installed the previous disposal. Anyway, when I took off the cover to undo the wiring, the white wire was not connected. Did I knock off the connector while banging around? I hooked the electricity back up -- the old one was aliiiiivvvve! I then replaced all the pipes etc. and I now have to head to Sears to give them back the unused, unopened new disposal. The Mrs. somehow decided we had just saved seventy dollars and we needed to go to the mall. I still do not see how we came by this windfall.
What is pissing you off on a beautiful, pleasant Monday?
July 23, 2006
Thats my luck
As two buddies were enjoying their beers at a local pub, one asked,
"Did you know that lions have sex ten to fifteen times a night?"
"Damn," says his friend, "and I just joined Kiwanis!"
via Otter
"Did you know that lions have sex ten to fifteen times a night?"
"Damn," says his friend, "and I just joined Kiwanis!"
via Otter
July 22, 2006
Like Custer at the Little Bighorn
Well it looks like gorgeous Goldbloom got it right. The Dragon has conceded defeat. Do I accept with class? Hell no. The Hoosier duo wielded the power of the internet, and the idea of Goldbloom coming to Alabama in a few weeks to administer a proper butt-kicking (and taking away the coffee) put the fear of the Hoosierboy into MS. Dragon.
She will claim it was all for me, help the children, feed the starving blah, blah blah. We all know the truth.....don't we? It was my mad photoshopping skills that turned the tide.
July 21, 2006
Cool Stuff
My Dad sent me some cool pictures of Truck / Trailers. Most of these come from Europe -- I hope this really catches on here. You know the drill -- click to make it bigger.
July 20, 2006
You had to go and say something stupid...
Today begins the next step in the tournament trail for the little one's baseball team -- The Ohio Valley Regional. If we win this won we are off to the World Series.
Posting will be light, my attentions focus elsewhere, vacation through Monday.
Alli left a comment that reminded me of one of the craziest stunts I have ever pulled. A bunch of were sitting around playing Euchre. Like guys do, a challenge was issued, the bet was on. We were going to join the century club.
This drinking game involves drinking a shot a beer a minute for 100 minutes. EVERY minute. It does not seem like much -- 100 ounces -- about 8 beers. I drank way more than that on a regular basis. I just did not do it in an hour and a half.
We headed off to the liquor store on Friday night to get our beer of choice. Always hovering on financial insolvency I went for what was on sale, Blatz. It was cheap and it was advertised as a "light" beer.
The evening went well. I remember eating an apple around number 50. Number 75 found the beer still going down smoothly, with just a buzz. Around number 85 things got tough. It is hard to drink your shot, go to the head and get back by the bell. I was starting to feel a little sick, and bloated, and well -- drunk, by number ninety. Things were a little fuzzy by now, one guy had dropped out some time ago, just three of us still toed the mark as the (sober) timekeeper called drink at number 100. One of the many observers decided we would just be pussies to quit now. Someone suggested we had better keep going in case the time or the count was wrong. We were just drunk enough to agree. I think my buddy Gary and I tacitly agreed to quit around 117 shots in 117 minutes. I am told my Irish buddy Burk hit 130 before he fell out of his chair.
This night was one of the few in my life where I was walking and talking and moving about in a complete alcohol fog. I have little recollection of the events latter in the evening. I guess I carried on conversations and posed for pictures.
The next morning as we cleaned the detrius of the party, a wise guy pointed out something that was apparent to the casual drinkers and observers of the contest -- we were using jiggers (1-1/2 oz)instead of shot glasses (1 oz) in our quest to achieve drinking immortality. Yes, readers I am a member of the Century Club Plus. It is a wonder we did not end up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning.
Posting will be light, my attentions focus elsewhere, vacation through Monday.
Alli left a comment that reminded me of one of the craziest stunts I have ever pulled. A bunch of were sitting around playing Euchre. Like guys do, a challenge was issued, the bet was on. We were going to join the century club.
This drinking game involves drinking a shot a beer a minute for 100 minutes. EVERY minute. It does not seem like much -- 100 ounces -- about 8 beers. I drank way more than that on a regular basis. I just did not do it in an hour and a half.
We headed off to the liquor store on Friday night to get our beer of choice. Always hovering on financial insolvency I went for what was on sale, Blatz. It was cheap and it was advertised as a "light" beer.
The evening went well. I remember eating an apple around number 50. Number 75 found the beer still going down smoothly, with just a buzz. Around number 85 things got tough. It is hard to drink your shot, go to the head and get back by the bell. I was starting to feel a little sick, and bloated, and well -- drunk, by number ninety. Things were a little fuzzy by now, one guy had dropped out some time ago, just three of us still toed the mark as the (sober) timekeeper called drink at number 100. One of the many observers decided we would just be pussies to quit now. Someone suggested we had better keep going in case the time or the count was wrong. We were just drunk enough to agree. I think my buddy Gary and I tacitly agreed to quit around 117 shots in 117 minutes. I am told my Irish buddy Burk hit 130 before he fell out of his chair.
This night was one of the few in my life where I was walking and talking and moving about in a complete alcohol fog. I have little recollection of the events latter in the evening. I guess I carried on conversations and posed for pictures.
The next morning as we cleaned the detrius of the party, a wise guy pointed out something that was apparent to the casual drinkers and observers of the contest -- we were using jiggers (1-1/2 oz)instead of shot glasses (1 oz) in our quest to achieve drinking immortality. Yes, readers I am a member of the Century Club Plus. It is a wonder we did not end up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning.
July 19, 2006
Hello Blogworld
I have completed long overdue maintenance and have finally added many people to the blogroll. Check them out over there on the sidebar. Sorry it has taken so long, everyone!
I will get back to you later, Dragon.
I will get back to you later, Dragon.
July 18, 2006
Dear Dragon
As the Godfather said, revenge is a dish best served cold.
I think will get really drunk tonight. I am told alcohol kills brain cells. If I kill half my brain cells, am hungover, and sick, it will likely be a fair fight...
Why me?
I am a middle aged man, my shoulders and knees wracked with pain from arthritis, my vision getting worse every day. I have little computer expertise, no photoshopping skills. I try to put out a blog to share a few jokes, some stories about my childhood. Sometimes I write a nice little opinion piece about politics. Fat in Indiana is never about the hate, the angry vitriol that you find on some blogs.
I find a catchy, yet old school way of advertising the good work we do here, and an angry woman/dragon finds a way to hurt me.
I may not have the best spelling skills, or the sharpest mind, but to attack a poor defenseless middle aged man, well, that is just low. I try to work hard, to eke out a meager living for my family. Tending to garden of life, I do no evil. Yet I am attacked by the Alabama Hezbollah, just for being me. I use what feeble means I have available to defend myself, yet I get this.
Who will help the Hoosierboy defend his tiny little piece of land in the blogworld? Who will come to my aid against these aggressive attacks from Alabama Dragon? Poor little Hoosierboy, needs your help defending TRUTH JUSTICE and the AMERICAN WAY. Do it for the children. Do it for the bunnies, and puppies the kittens and butterflies. Do it for the little guy. Support me against the bully on the beach kicking sand in my face.
I will use my weak and skinny arms to fight the Dragon on the beaches, in the hills, in the cities. We shall not waver, we shall not bend, we will endeavor to persevere in this onslaught. Did we give up when the Nazis attacked Pearl Harbor -- Hell NO!!! And I will not give up now. Who is with me?
July 17, 2006
The Hoosierboy Challenge
How many of you are brave enough to post this on your blog? Do it and let me know in the comments. The one who sends the most visitors to this site will get a prize.
I double dog dare you...
Hot Town, Summer in the City
It is hot. It is summer, get over it.
We had ball practice yesterday evening, being a fat guy, my shirt was soaked before practice was half over, and I was not doing anything. The kids did not seem to mind so much, they were focused on the task at hand -- hitting, fielding, throwing.
We did not have air conditioning when I was a boy. Screens, fans, and a sprinkler were the methods of cooling down. Otter and I spent most summer nights sleeping in a tent in the backyard. Between Boy Scouts, Reenacting, and summer sleepouts, I bet I have slept outside 400-500 nights. Sometimes it was even too hot to sleep in the tent, then we would wait until the lights were out in the houses and run the neighborhood. Well, Otter did, I was a good boy who stayed in the tent like I was supposed to. Sometimes we would get up in the night and go inside to sleep. But it was hot in the house, and often as not, a sweaty, uneasy night is all we could muster.
On hot summer days we would hop on our bikes and head to the public pool. I think the year before high school my friend Jeff and I went to the pool every day. We spent the time hitting on the girls and trying to get a handful of boob or a quick feel of firm butt. I am not sure what we would have done had we actually got some girl to give up the pussy. The chase was half the fun, but young hormones make a boy crazy. I often wonder if the girls were supercharged too?
After swimming I would often ride up the street to my Grandma's house for a coke and some cards. We would play some rummy or maybe cribbage and cool off on the back patio. Grandma always had some flower or such she wanted me to see. Sometimes she would get me to pull some weeds, or haul some rubbish to the back of the yard to burn later when it cooled off.
My swimsuit and towel rolled into a tight roll and bungeed to my handlebars, I started the trip home. I would ride past the red haired girl's house, maybe a couple of times. She had the biggest boobs in Jr. High. I had a crush on her (or maybe it was her boobs?). She was never outside. Down Washington Street I rode, coming home to a warm meal and lots of love. Maybe I would have one of those homemade kool-aide popsicles and in the little tupperware things. Did you have those?
Summer, days of nothing that add up to a great boyhood.
We had ball practice yesterday evening, being a fat guy, my shirt was soaked before practice was half over, and I was not doing anything. The kids did not seem to mind so much, they were focused on the task at hand -- hitting, fielding, throwing.
We did not have air conditioning when I was a boy. Screens, fans, and a sprinkler were the methods of cooling down. Otter and I spent most summer nights sleeping in a tent in the backyard. Between Boy Scouts, Reenacting, and summer sleepouts, I bet I have slept outside 400-500 nights. Sometimes it was even too hot to sleep in the tent, then we would wait until the lights were out in the houses and run the neighborhood. Well, Otter did, I was a good boy who stayed in the tent like I was supposed to. Sometimes we would get up in the night and go inside to sleep. But it was hot in the house, and often as not, a sweaty, uneasy night is all we could muster.
On hot summer days we would hop on our bikes and head to the public pool. I think the year before high school my friend Jeff and I went to the pool every day. We spent the time hitting on the girls and trying to get a handful of boob or a quick feel of firm butt. I am not sure what we would have done had we actually got some girl to give up the pussy. The chase was half the fun, but young hormones make a boy crazy. I often wonder if the girls were supercharged too?
After swimming I would often ride up the street to my Grandma's house for a coke and some cards. We would play some rummy or maybe cribbage and cool off on the back patio. Grandma always had some flower or such she wanted me to see. Sometimes she would get me to pull some weeds, or haul some rubbish to the back of the yard to burn later when it cooled off.
My swimsuit and towel rolled into a tight roll and bungeed to my handlebars, I started the trip home. I would ride past the red haired girl's house, maybe a couple of times. She had the biggest boobs in Jr. High. I had a crush on her (or maybe it was her boobs?). She was never outside. Down Washington Street I rode, coming home to a warm meal and lots of love. Maybe I would have one of those homemade kool-aide popsicles and in the little tupperware things. Did you have those?
Summer, days of nothing that add up to a great boyhood.
July 16, 2006
July 15, 2006
Sufferin Succatash
My favorite New Yawker, Moonbatty, is infested with super-duper smart city mouses. She has tried everything to get rid of them. I think she has some rare giant mouses as depicted in the scene from a documentary I saw as a kid. Careful, Batty, these giant mice like to fight!
July 14, 2006
A cautionary tale
Joseph was born into the Klan. He hated blacks with every fiber of his being. It was their fault his family no longer owned the fields west of the river. What ownership his family had ever exercised was tenuous, and unclear, but it was those uppitty blacks that caused the misery in Jimtown. According to family legend, all was right with the world before the war, in those times (long before Joseph was born), the "niggras" knew their place, Joseph was told by his Grandfather.
Joseph had a sign in his yard, proclaiming that it would be unwise for persons of color to be near his property after sunset. The sign was phrased in a manner more crude. Joseph was very religious. He read his Bible every day, he knew his beliefs were in line with Scripture. He could quote passages defending his position. He went to Church, attended the Klan meetings and spent his days building hate through discussions with his neighbors, who felt just as he did. Occasionally the Nazi symbol or flag could be seen in their pamphlets and newspapers. The church school taught the children about the sins and evil nature of the darkies across the river. Religious text was preached proving Blacks carried the mark of Cain, they were subhuman, they deserved to die. Joseph believed he was doing God's work every time he beat a Black child. His greatest dream was to go across the river and kill as many blacks as possible.
"They" were strange and evil, believed Joseph. There were whispered rumors about them eating babies, and trying to seduce the women of Jimtown. Once Joseph and his friends blew up a restaurant over the river because he had heard one of "them" had looked the wrong way at a neighbor's wife. Joseph was not going to put up with that kind of disrespect.
Most of us would find Joseph repugnant, a relic of a bygone era. His thoughts, his religion, his hatred an anethema to us all. What if we replaced every reference to Black, etc. with Jew? What if Joseph was really Yassar? What if his "Bible" was the Koran? This is the hatred of the Palestinians. This is the hatred of a wide sect of Muslims. This is what the liberals are supporting when they give money and support to Hamas, and the Palestinian Authority or the PLO. There is no cure for hatred. There is no cure for those too stupid to recognize it.
Joseph had a sign in his yard, proclaiming that it would be unwise for persons of color to be near his property after sunset. The sign was phrased in a manner more crude. Joseph was very religious. He read his Bible every day, he knew his beliefs were in line with Scripture. He could quote passages defending his position. He went to Church, attended the Klan meetings and spent his days building hate through discussions with his neighbors, who felt just as he did. Occasionally the Nazi symbol or flag could be seen in their pamphlets and newspapers. The church school taught the children about the sins and evil nature of the darkies across the river. Religious text was preached proving Blacks carried the mark of Cain, they were subhuman, they deserved to die. Joseph believed he was doing God's work every time he beat a Black child. His greatest dream was to go across the river and kill as many blacks as possible.
"They" were strange and evil, believed Joseph. There were whispered rumors about them eating babies, and trying to seduce the women of Jimtown. Once Joseph and his friends blew up a restaurant over the river because he had heard one of "them" had looked the wrong way at a neighbor's wife. Joseph was not going to put up with that kind of disrespect.
Most of us would find Joseph repugnant, a relic of a bygone era. His thoughts, his religion, his hatred an anethema to us all. What if we replaced every reference to Black, etc. with Jew? What if Joseph was really Yassar? What if his "Bible" was the Koran? This is the hatred of the Palestinians. This is the hatred of a wide sect of Muslims. This is what the liberals are supporting when they give money and support to Hamas, and the Palestinian Authority or the PLO. There is no cure for hatred. There is no cure for those too stupid to recognize it.
July 13, 2006
July 12, 2006
July 11, 2006
You owe me
Read this post by Alli at Fox Rants and see if it does not get your blood boiling. The reparations movement is ridiculous in the extreme. First only a small minority of blacks in this country can trace direct roots to former slaves in the US. Imagine the howls of outrage as we subject those eligible to racial purity tests. If one of my relatives married a dark-skinned possible descendant of a former slave am I eligible?
Two, a significant portion of Americans NEVER owned slaves. We should immediately exclude any taxpayers who have ancestors that arrived here after 1865. My grandmother's family would fall into that category, so would I? My family on my father's side arrived in the early 1700's, but lived in the north. There is no record of them ever owning slaves. Will I be excluded?
Three, 500,000 Americans died freeing the slaves. Their families suffered hardship and hunger while the men were off fighting. Those who died left their family without income, who knows the suffering those families endured. Maybe the blacks owe them a reparation? My family has been poor for generations, where is my reparations? Great, Great Grampa Andrew Hoosierboy never fully recovered from the TB he contacted while serving in the Union Army -- you owe me.
In short, the whole idea is a joke. What do we do about the Irish, the Chinese, the Italians, all of whom were discriminated against at some time? Hispanics now feel targeted.
Give me a break.
Two, a significant portion of Americans NEVER owned slaves. We should immediately exclude any taxpayers who have ancestors that arrived here after 1865. My grandmother's family would fall into that category, so would I? My family on my father's side arrived in the early 1700's, but lived in the north. There is no record of them ever owning slaves. Will I be excluded?
Three, 500,000 Americans died freeing the slaves. Their families suffered hardship and hunger while the men were off fighting. Those who died left their family without income, who knows the suffering those families endured. Maybe the blacks owe them a reparation? My family has been poor for generations, where is my reparations? Great, Great Grampa Andrew Hoosierboy never fully recovered from the TB he contacted while serving in the Union Army -- you owe me.
In short, the whole idea is a joke. What do we do about the Irish, the Chinese, the Italians, all of whom were discriminated against at some time? Hispanics now feel targeted.
Give me a break.
July 10, 2006
The crack of the bat
Here are some interesting statistics from the weekend of baseball. If this bores you skip on -- it is my blog and I'll write what I want to.
Offense:
17 runs
18 hits
5 strike outs
2 batters walked
2 errors
Defense:
20 runs
23 hits
6 strike outs
4 walks
2 errors
What if I told you this was ONE game. This contest was between two of the best teams in Indiana, if not the Midwest. The winning team won the Ohio Valley last year (Wis., Mich, Ohio, Ind, W. VA, Ky). We lost to them last year by one run in the SE Indiana Championship game, and they have put us into the losers bracket again. These are clearly the two best teams. Keep in mind these runs were scored against 70 mph pitching (at 45 foot mounds). Overall we are 3-1 and still alive to face teams we have previously beaten. We have every expectation to come out of the losers bracket to the championship in this double elimination tournament.
This was one of the best baseball games I have ever seen -- at any level. Two teams that bashed the ball into the gaps against excellent pitching (note the low number of walks -- these are 12 year olds). At the end of the contest, both teams reeled like punched out fighters. There were 18 combined runs scored in the last inning alone. The crowd sat stunned, swelled by other teams and fans who came to see if the boys from the little farm town could knock off the reigning champs. We came a little short but live to try again.
BTW, the little one is batting nearly .400 and playing well.
Offense:
17 runs
18 hits
5 strike outs
2 batters walked
2 errors
Defense:
20 runs
23 hits
6 strike outs
4 walks
2 errors
What if I told you this was ONE game. This contest was between two of the best teams in Indiana, if not the Midwest. The winning team won the Ohio Valley last year (Wis., Mich, Ohio, Ind, W. VA, Ky). We lost to them last year by one run in the SE Indiana Championship game, and they have put us into the losers bracket again. These are clearly the two best teams. Keep in mind these runs were scored against 70 mph pitching (at 45 foot mounds). Overall we are 3-1 and still alive to face teams we have previously beaten. We have every expectation to come out of the losers bracket to the championship in this double elimination tournament.
This was one of the best baseball games I have ever seen -- at any level. Two teams that bashed the ball into the gaps against excellent pitching (note the low number of walks -- these are 12 year olds). At the end of the contest, both teams reeled like punched out fighters. There were 18 combined runs scored in the last inning alone. The crowd sat stunned, swelled by other teams and fans who came to see if the boys from the little farm town could knock off the reigning champs. We came a little short but live to try again.
BTW, the little one is batting nearly .400 and playing well.
Monday Morning She Came Calling
It is MOnday, back to work, a long exciting weekend of baseball, with more to come tonight. I will tell you more later. It is bright and clear this am, but rain is on the way. I have to get ready for the long commute to the office. That 20 feet is a long way, better get me some coffee!
Is it me, or has the blog world been sadly lacking in jokes lately? I have several days of blog reading to catch up on, plus I guess I need to work. More later.
Is it me, or has the blog world been sadly lacking in jokes lately? I have several days of blog reading to catch up on, plus I guess I need to work. More later.
July 7, 2006
Naked Skateboarding
Posting may be light this weekend. We are of to the hills of Southern Indiana to compete for the 12 year old Cal Ripken SE State Championship. The brackets look tough. If the team comes to play, they will be fine.
While I am not posting you will find plenty of entertainment over there on the sidebar. I read those blogs every day, so I know they are good. Just to be safe, I know you do not want to miss anything, you should check here every hour to make sure I have not posted anything. This will keep your anxiety at bay, and I need the hits. Go that extra mile and link to random past posts here on Fat in Indiana. You would if you loved me...
Here is a picture for your weekend enjoyment. What were they thinking?
Clickee to makee bigger. That is probably offensive to someone. Do you think I care?
Have a nice weekend.
While I am not posting you will find plenty of entertainment over there on the sidebar. I read those blogs every day, so I know they are good. Just to be safe, I know you do not want to miss anything, you should check here every hour to make sure I have not posted anything. This will keep your anxiety at bay, and I need the hits. Go that extra mile and link to random past posts here on Fat in Indiana. You would if you loved me...
Here is a picture for your weekend enjoyment. What were they thinking?
Clickee to makee bigger. That is probably offensive to someone. Do you think I care?Have a nice weekend.
Heck yes, Bob
I am a little late in posting this, but here is an excellent analysis of the differences between the liberals and the rest of us when it comes to freedom in this country. It is well worth the time to read.
ed. link fixed.
ed. link fixed.
July 6, 2006
The Big July 5th Celebration
We had a big cookout last night. Hamburgers, potato salad, macaroni salad, baked beans, cottage cheese, strawberries and bananas, deviled eggs -- the works. All five of us ate together for the first time in a long time, and the oldest boy had a guest and the daughter brought along her boyfriend.
After baseball practice, the boyfriend broke out a huge sack of fireworks and we set off parachutes, roman candles, bottle rockets and firecrackers for a good period. A great time was had by all. For the hell of it, I made chocolate chip cookies at about 11:00.
A great July 5th Celebration was had by all.
After baseball practice, the boyfriend broke out a huge sack of fireworks and we set off parachutes, roman candles, bottle rockets and firecrackers for a good period. A great time was had by all. For the hell of it, I made chocolate chip cookies at about 11:00.
A great July 5th Celebration was had by all.
July 5, 2006
Eleven
The little one chose number eleven as his uniform number for the all star team. He has had various numbers including seven, eight, and eleven before. He chose eleven for the travel team and his recreation league number as well. He says it is his favorite number now. Mine too. This movie made me a believer. Look at the picture, you have to agree the numeral eleven is a fine number indeed.
My son is a fine handsome boy. I love him. He does not even come close to wearing the number eleven with the same style as the Kansas City Bomber.
Ooh ooh that smell
I am afflicted with allergies. As a boy I had a perpetual runny nose, watery eyes and cough. As a young man I had hives when I mowed and then sneezed the night through. As I get older I have less severe reactions. I get watery eyes, and sneeze a lot (nearly always in groups of three). I only occasionally have a runny nose, usually in the morning. I get occasional headaches and migraines, but nothing like I had in my late twenties and early thirties (ever had a headache so bad you puke?). I still get an occasional whopper of a migraine, but things are better now. Unfortunately I have passed my allergies to my kids, especially the daughter. Love you kids -- how about a hyper active immune system?
Anyway to my point. I spent a significant amount of my life not able to smell anything, except maybe in January, when I was outside. As my allergies have receded, I now smell things I never could until a few years ago, and often I feel as if my nose is being assaulted. As I type this, the scent of the wife's anniversary roses are almost overpowering, I can smell them from the next room. The bananas ripening on the cabinet mingle with the odor of my coffee. With every sip I get a whiff of the orange juice in the glass.
I know this is normal for most of you. To be honest, some days I long for a stuffed up nose and my Grandpa's never-ending refrain; "Joe, get a Kleenex".
Anyway to my point. I spent a significant amount of my life not able to smell anything, except maybe in January, when I was outside. As my allergies have receded, I now smell things I never could until a few years ago, and often I feel as if my nose is being assaulted. As I type this, the scent of the wife's anniversary roses are almost overpowering, I can smell them from the next room. The bananas ripening on the cabinet mingle with the odor of my coffee. With every sip I get a whiff of the orange juice in the glass.
I know this is normal for most of you. To be honest, some days I long for a stuffed up nose and my Grandpa's never-ending refrain; "Joe, get a Kleenex".
July 4, 2006
Baseball
I know most of you will not care and will be bored (great salesmanship, eh?) but the little one's team just finished the first round of tourneys for the Cal Ripken tournament (12 year olds). The team emerged victorious in the district round undefeated. They outscored their combined opponents 38 to 9. Our pitchers struck out 40 opposing batters in 21 innings of total play (2 games were stopped short by the ten-run rule). The team gave up only 19 hits and 4 walks all weekend. This is really remarkable considering 10 hits and 4 runs came in the championship game last night.
Our team had a total of 24 singles, 7 doubles, 2 triples and 6 home runs. The little one hit .500 with an OBA of .571. He had just one strikeout.
As I posted before, this team is very good. If they play every inning smart, they could go a LONG way. We are off this weekend for the SE Indiana Tournament. Wish us luck ( I can say "us" because I am one of the coaches).
Our team had a total of 24 singles, 7 doubles, 2 triples and 6 home runs. The little one hit .500 with an OBA of .571. He had just one strikeout.
As I posted before, this team is very good. If they play every inning smart, they could go a LONG way. We are off this weekend for the SE Indiana Tournament. Wish us luck ( I can say "us" because I am one of the coaches).
July 3, 2006
Hillary Clinton is a Liar
That is my opinion. Read this and see if you agree. He does not post nearly often enough, but when he does it is always good.
Dear Dragon
Why do Whales beach themselves, and do you think it has anything to do with the unrest on the Rosebud Reservation prior to the Great Sioux Uprising of 1890?
MrsJoseGoldbloom | Homepage | 06.28.06 - 6:23 pm | #
A) Because they can. Do you ever get tired of swimming? Of walking? Of standing? Have you ever considered parking your bones on a nice sandy beach? I sure have. I am not a whale, and neither are you, so how do you think a mega-ton mammal/fish feels?
B) NO. I refuse to elaborate on the activities of Native Americans residing on the Northern Plains in the late nineteenth Century.
July 2, 2006
Dear JT
Well, you said anything, and I was just wondering...
I could revise it to something else if you like. How about: "If someone with multiple personalities threatens to kill himself, is it considered a hostage situation?"
Or the old "If God can do anything, can God make a rock that God can't pick up?"
How about you tell me the causations of the Sioux War of 1890?
jt | Homepage | 06.29.06 - 7:58 am | #
Well JT, never let it be said I shy away from a tough question. Do you believe I can make it impossible for you to pick up a shiny quarter from the sidewalk? How about if I add superglue? Have you never heard the phrase "With God all things are possible"? Let us say I can build a car. I can lift each of the component parts with ease, yet I can not lift the whole without mechanical help. If God can be of three personalities, and if he can make himself human and accept our sins, then die, and live again -- surely he can create a rock such as the one you describe. If he cannot heft it, I am sure the Holy Ghost could toss it like a pebble into the ocean.
The HUMAN laws of physics do not apply to the gods. If God created the universe, then who created God? We could play these games all day.
This one was too easy, I should have tackled the Indian question.
July 1, 2006
Dear GuyK
Do you really think the price of eggs in China is worth the wear and tear on a hen's butt?
Also, will you do a post sometime on the Battle of Wounded Knee?
GUYK | Homepage | 06.28.06 - 5:26 pm | #
Guy, I share your disdain for yardbirds, nasty, foul creatures. I do think they should continue to flourish in China, wiping every communist from the country with a malicious, commie-only killing bird flu strain. Then every hen and egg in China will be of value.
At this point I have no plans to do a post on the Great Sioux Uprising of 1890.