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.
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