the Flu

Wednesday night my youngest daughter started projectile vomiting all over the house. By Thursday, my wife had contracted it. Friday night I could feel it coming and by Saturday morning, I had it full blown. Actually Saturday started with me laying in bed, unsure if I had it or not and unwilling to move for fear that I might find out.

The boy walked in and said, " good morning !...ummm by the way, I threw up twice last night."

"where"

" Uh, in my room, I'm sorry"

I walked into his room to see vomit strategically spewn all over his covers, the bed and the floor. Any doubts at to whether or not I was going to spend the day nauseous were sealed right there and then. The rest of the weekend was spent prone watching TV and hoping not to die.

Which reminds of a story of one other time i had the stomach flu.

I was in school and had it bad. I sweated it out for two days in my room, getting up only to got the the bathroom where I would howl in pain and grab the seat so as not to get blown out of the stall. After about 48 hours of of sweating the fever and emptying the lower half of my intenstinal tract it started to lift. The fever came down under 101 and I could sit upright without having to barf. With all the strength I had I got dressed and started heading down to the health campus in hope that they had some medicine to cure Lupus or whatever I had contracted.

I live about 1 mile from the infirmary and had been walking for about a half mile when I had the uncontrollable desire to fart. Now being a veteran of such incidences, I knew better than to let one rip. The last thing I needed was a spoonful in my trousers. I stopped in my tracks and very gingerly, oh so tenderly, I slowly loosened up the sphincter and tested the waters with the tiniest of flatulence. A squeeker if you will. Whew...nothing but gas.

I continued on my way somewhat relieved, but still not totally satisfied as there continued to be slight pressure on my lower half. Again I paused, gingerly relaxed, and as inconspicuously as possible provided myself some necessary relief with a nice solid, although purposely quiet fart. Ahhhhh, no worries at all. I continued on my way.

Now about three quarters of the way to the health campus the gas pains returned. Now this was getting to be a bit ridiculous. Hopefully when I got to the infirmary, they'd be able to give me something for the gas as well as the fever. Emboldened with confidence of my first two attempts I figured I'd just let this one go 'on the fly' and get to the infirmary and get things over with.

Then it happened.

A big and expected whiff of gas came out and the swelling in my belly subsided. Then, without warning, and with all the power of the Hoover Dam busting at the seams, the last remnants of my bowels started emptying into my pants. I instinctively tightened my sphincter, but to no avail. This was like a jailbreak. I even stopped in my tracks and clenched my buttcheeks, but it was no use. I might as well have been trying to stop a fire plug with two boxing gloves for all the good it was doing.

For a good 5 seconds, which anyone who has been in a similar situation could surely tell you is an anal eternity, the entire remaining contents of my lower bowels emptied into my pants. I had been worried about a spoonful....a got the whole gallon.

I stood stood there...still....stunned....ashamed....Panicked. Then I noticed a very very odd thing.

Despite what had to be a good quart of poo emptying out of my bottom, I couldn't....and i hate to be graphic here....I couldn't feel anything running...you know...anywhere.

Then I realized that a very surreal, dare I say, miraculous thing had occurred. In my haste to get dressed and out the door, I hadn't worn jeans and boxers. Instead I slipped on a pair of brief and and old pair of sweatpants. The combination of these two items had created sort of a catch basin...or depository, if you will....that all of the offending material was now precariously perched in. Everything I was worried about was hanging somewhere between my testicles and knees and was bordered on either side my the elastic bands of my undershorts.

By all means, this wasn't a solution...but it did offer hope. Slowly and steadily I turned. With the grace of a ballerina and the iron nerves of a bomb diffuser I waddled my way back toward home. Somehow, some way, it what is really a blur that I attribute to divine intervention, I negotiated my way through the sea of students and all the way back to the dormitory bathroom where I was able to extract myself from the shorts and shower all in one relatively safe manner.

First Eddie, now this

The used to be Phil Specter



thanks to Matt Howey at Spokepost

taking action

From: Bxxx LXXXXXX
To: 'Consumer.Affairs@fritolay.com'
sent: Fri 3/24/2006 11:12 AM
subject: straighten up !


Dear Cracker Jackians:

I have 3 children ages 7, 5, and as of yesterday…4, and I’m trying to bring them up ‘right’. For me this has been increasingly difficult to do as all the good Bugs Bunny cartoons have been edited to remove overt acts of violence ( oh I long for the days of Baby Face Finster), all the see-saws and metal slides have been removed from the parks, and baseball cards should come with syringe needles instead of dusty flatboard gum.

One of the things that I really thought I could count on was Cracker Jacks. I mean it’s in the baseball song for cripesakes. But it’s with a heavy heart that I have to write this email. I picked up a bag of Cracker Jacks yesterday and could not have been more disappointed….( well that’s not exactly true, if I found a severed finger in the bag I suppose that would be more disappointing, but I think you get my gist)….anyway, here are my list of complaints:

• A BAG !?!?!? Cracker Jack in a bag is like getting Pringles in…well…a bag. Cracker Jacks should come in a box. Period.
• There were exactly 4 and ½ peanuts in my 1.5 ounce bag. I don’t want to hear any nonsense about settling or the randomization of packaging or anything of the sort. The product is advertised and known as Caramel Coated Popcorn and Peanuts….not Caramel Coated Popcorn and a couple of shriveled up lumps in the bottom of the bag. Hell, at the rate you’re going you can pretty much remove the warning label that reads CONTAINS A PEANUT INGREDIENT. Anyway, you get this idea…more peanuts.
• Lastly, and this is my biggest beef….what the hell kind of things are your trying to sell as prizes these days ?!?!?! I bought your product excitingly expecting a blow spinner or a tattoo…at worst a magnifying glass. But instead I got some sort of math problem…seriously ! a math problem…are you even aware of the fact that’s what you’re giving out ? I don’t even think I have to expand upon my point here.

Hey, don’t get me wrong, I love you guys. I WANT to be a customer. But if you keep this up you might was well change the name of your product from “Cracker Jack” to “Cracker Puh-leeze”. You wanna go the way of Astro Pops and the Reggie Bar ? You wanna be replaced by….do I dare say it…..Fiddle Faddle ? Come on guys, get it together. Keep America Strong.

Sincerely,

Bxxx Lxxxxxx

cracker jacks

I just had my first cracker jack in years. The prize sucked.

Added to that is the fact that it came in a bag ?!?! and not a box.

Finally, there were...and I counted...4 and 1/2 peanuts in a 1.25 oz bag. This is an atrocity. Sailor Jack and Bingo must be turning over in their graves.

I'm frankly getting a little pissed at the watering down of my youth-years favorites.

I bought Othello for my kids and the board and pieces are half size. I got rock'em sock'em robots for the boy last weekend and althought the thing functions the same, the guys are downsized to about 65%. And now the cracker jack prizes suck. I mean it always sucked to a certain degree, but you could get a couple minutes pleasure out of a tattoo, blow spinner, or magnifying glass.

The only two games things that I've bought that have retained their integrity are chutes and ladders and connect four, but I'm not sure how you could screw either one of them up as they were pretty bottom basement, althought fun, to begin with.

Also, Ants-in-your-pants, has now been bastardized into a Spongebob Squarepants game. While Spongebob is mildly entertaining ( big fan of the Bikini Bottom X-box game), there's no reason to screw with Ant-in-your-pants. I mean conceptually it plays on ants in YOUR pants, not in Spongebob's pants...besides, there are no ants in the bottom of the ocean. Maybe Plankton-in-Spongebob's-Pants would be more accurrate, but really what's the point. I just find the whole thing a bit disturbing.

I was going to link to the cracker jack collectors association ( affectionatly the CJCA) website just now, but the 4 dorks who comprise the entirety of that organization apprarently don't have a programmer among them and their dancing java graphics have fucked up my computer.

Sorry for the rant and the lousy post. I got through yesterday mostly sober and had more than 4 hours of sleep last night. That rarely works well for my writing. I'll see what I can do about going on a nice bender this weekend and have something decent up for Monday morning.

The poop lady

We get a fair number of wackos who walk through the door each and every day here at local government central. I just got done with a lady who insists that our snow plow dug up her driveway, although it's been 6 weeks since we've had a plow out on the road. But one of the more interesting ladies that we've had come through here I affectionately refer to as the poop lady.

One morning a women in her early 70s came into the office with a complaint about her sewer, " Your sewer main is clogged !" she insisted.

" Ma'am. That's possible, but not likely. The sewer main is 8 inches wide and pretty tough to clog. And if it was clogged we'd be hearing from everyone in the neighborhood."

" IT'S CLOGGED I TELL YOU ! I HAVE MY NEIGHBORS FECES BUBBLING UP ON MY LAWN !"

As patiently as I could, " Ma'am, I don't doubt that the sewage has backed up through our vent pipe and on the lawn..but what's likely hapening is that YOUR lateral is blocked up...and it's your sewer that's backing up. I'd suggest that you call Roto-Rooter or some other plumber"

" DAGNABBIT ! Not MY FECES...I said it was my NEIGHBORS FECES ! Don't you listen ?"

Now I was getting a little pissed, " With all due respect, how would you the difference between you and your neighbors fecal matter ? "

" CAUSE I CHECKED IT !"

I'm not sure how I can explain my expression at that point...but astonishedly dumbfounded is pretty close.

She continued, " When that poop bubbled up on my lawn I went and got my trowel and examined it. And do you know what I found ?"

Still astonished and mouth agape, all I could do is shake my head no as she leand up on the counter putting her face a good 12 inches away from mine...

" CORRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNNNN !"

then she eased herself back off the counter can continued, " ....and I don't eat corn....but I did go to my neighbors recycling bin and do you know what I found ? "

" An empty can of corn ?"

"RIGHT ! an empty can of corn. So if you'll please fix you your sewer pipe, and quickly, I would appreciate it."

" yes ma'am"

And with that she turned around and walked out.

Seriously.

Now if that wasn't enough, about an hour later the phone rang. It was the little old lady, " I'm calling to apologize. When I got home I called my son to tell him about the situation. And do you know what he had for lunch on Tuesday ?"

" Cormn ma'am ?"

" That's right...corn. So I'll call a plumber and get this thing fixed."

"Thank you ma'am. And have a nice day."

Fire Water

8 pm last night
- $84 in my poker acct
- chess rating 1280
- just got done riding hard for an hour, felt great
- clear head
- happy

NOW ADD ON FULL FLASK OF WHISKEY

8 am this morning
- $26 in my poker acct.
- my chess rating is so low I can only play after 3:30 when the elementary school lets out
- this screen is blurry, but does clear up when my head pounds really really hard...which, thankfully, is about every third heartbeat

I woke this morning a mess. The first thing I dealt with was a clogged toilet. As I may have mentioned before, my family doesn't seem to realize that you can take the toilet paper off of the roll. I'm pretty sure they think that you are to take the entire roll, stick your finger in the tube, and wipe with the whole thing. Then I walked down stairs and started my daily search for my shoes. I checked under all the couches to no avail. I went to the closet and started rooting around and the broom fell over and hit me in the head, so I flipped out and got in a fist fight with the broom screaming the whole time that the house was a shithole and that I was going to wear my wifes shoes to work to teach everyone a lesson ( how cross dressing was going to teach anyone anything is still beyond me, but seemed valid at the time). Unfortunately my shoes were sitting right in the middle of the floor...well they were right up until my wife picked them up and threw them at me.

So here I sit with rot gut and rot head. Whiskey never helps...it only hurts....just ask her...mmmmm, that looks comfy.

The boy

I have a 5 year old son who loves video games so last night before heading out to play some poker, I got him Legends of Wrestling and two new Xbox controllers.

I set the thing up as best I could, but it had no instructions in the box so I told him after dinner I'd play a game with him and help him figure out the controls.

All during dinner the little fucker was talking smack..." you're going down"...."downtown"..."you're going so far down, that at the bottom theres going to be a door and your going through the door into a black hole ....down"

So I fired up the game and we got started.

Match 1 - Me=King Kong Bundy; Him=George the Animal Steele
Everytime he tried to body slam me he couldn't get me off the ground and I'd respond with the only move I could figure out, which was to drop a big elbow on him. But in the end speed won out over brawn and the boy went up 1 to 0.

Match 2 - I started to figure out the controls at bit and figured I'd spot the kid a little advantage. He was Hulk Hogan, I was Ko Ko B-Ware. Due to the size difference it took a while, but it was really a one sided contest and I had the bird wings flappin and came off the top rope to take the Hulkster out with a single fall. Boy-1; Me-1

The tie breaker was held in a steel cage and featured me as rowdy Roddy Piper and the boy as King Abdullah the Butcher. I was the first to figure out how to climb up the cage fence and used that to my advantage to stay away from The Butcher and then hit him repeatedly with a flying body press. I suppose I could have told the boy which buttons did what, but he's the one who was talking smack....and if you're going to talk the talk you better back that shit up. I also figure out how to open the gate and stand at the gate taunting the boy. When he came over to get me I stepped out of the squared circle for the victory. I immeditely jumped off his bed and started prancing around the room doing my victory dance singing
"When you're alone and life is making you lonelyYou can always go-downtownWhen you've got worries all the noise and the hurrySeems to help I know-downtown "

Now I should point out that the boy is a very very sweet boy. He'll whine from time to time, but he never gets angry or throws a temper tantrum and is very good natured.

But apparently, he doesn't take to taunting very well.

He threw down the controlled and started wailing and crying as loud as humanly possible. Then he stood up on top of his chair, let out a battle cry and lept onto me knocking both of us on the bed. Then the little bastard started doing some of his green belt karate shit on me. It was funny at first, but then he started connecting with kicks and punches and wasn't showing any signs of letting up. It was getting quite possible that he might really fuck me up.

So as best I could I put him in a submission hold and tried to calm him down. Then my wife came running in to see what all the clatter was and started yelling at me.

It took me 15-20 minutes to calm the boy down and then explain to him how all the controls work.

I end up being late to my poker game.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I was late to my drinking and gambling because I was tormenting my son with a violent video game....like you're father of the year. Mind your own business.

I don't roll like that

Uncle Walt at the Trop on Tuesday night.

He was in position #3 but the hand folded around and it ended up being a heads-up pot between positions #6 and #9.

Big Pot.

At showdown, #9 who Walt said was being a dick the whole night shows one of his cards for a pair of 6's. Position #6 flips over two pairs, gives a little cheer and starts collecting all the chips.

#9 slow rolls the second card, another six, for trips, and laughs.

There was a pregnant pause while #6 realized what had just happened.

Then he slammed his fist to the table and sent chips scattering everywhere...all over the table, onto other people piles, all over the floor.

And as everyone scrambled, #6 went over the table like an old spaghetti western and pandemonium ensued.

There's a lot of shit that you can get away with at a poker table. Slow rolling isn't one of them.

bad form

posting IM conversations is bad form, but I don't feel like typing this all over again.


L says:
so last night I went to the gym and worked out and got all sweaty...like balls are all wet sweaty
and T** wanted me to go to the grocery store right from the gym

L:
I drove over the the grocery and decided that I couldn't shop wtih sweaty balls

L says:
so I parked about as far away in the parking lot as you could

L says:
and it was cold and windy

L says:
so I was parked a good 25 spots from any other car

L says:
and I took off my shorts and underpants so I could put on some dry sweats

L says:
and as soon as I got naked

John says:
oh my god what happened

L says:
some old lady pulled into the lots and I could just tell what was coming

L says:
that old bitch drove all the way across the lot and parked her SUV RIGHT NEXT TO ME

John says:
no way

L says:
on my passenger side too

John says:
oh my god

John says:
did she get an eyeful

L says:
I was so pissed I was like " fuck it"

L says:
I just scowed at her and shrugged my shoulders

L says:
mind your own business and you woudn't have to see my balls

John says:
lol

John says:
did she say anything

L says:
she hustled into the grocery

L says:
that worst part was that I had to go in there

L says:
the next store is like 5 miles away

L says:
fuck it, if she ran in and called the cops or something I had a sweaty pair of underpants as an alibi

John says:
lol

John says:
thats too funny

L says:
you know sometimes I type sentence like the one above and I have to believe that with all the billions of people who have lived through time....no one has ever utter the phrase " I had a sweaty pair of underpants as an alibi"

L says:
it makes me kinda proud.

John says:
lol dude that is as funny as shit

1 swing, 2 diapers

Yo Butthead

Bevis is Bush's nephew...what a pisser.

ok, I might have issues

I was out riding tonight and some kids drove past in a car and threw trash out window that hit me in the chest. I was pissed and rode around some neighborhoods looking for them.

I finally found the car and dragged this kid out of his house and chased him around his yard trying to beat him to death with some cheap ass snow shovel had next to his front door.

The whole time he's screaming that he has no idea what I'm talking about and that I have the wrong guy.

So I stopped for a second and took a good look at the car.

And I definately had the WRONG guy.

I can't believe I'm not in jail. I definately have issues.

That will learn 'em

So I was playing 50c/$1NL last night and busted some kid out of his last $20. Dejected, he asked if anyone would "lend him some money".

For kicks, and knowing that I was never going to see it again, I told the kid I'd send him $2 and he could work his was up from the 1c/2c tables, the only condition is that he'd have to pay me back $4

As he was leaving I finished with "people might think that I'll never hear from you again, but I know that you'll do what you think is right. I know I wouldn't want my karma ruined over a lousy $4"

About 10 minutes later he came back to the room and said, " dude, I transferred the money back to you...I know I'll probably lose the money, I have no way to pay you back...and I can't take that kind of pressure. I quit"

and believe it or not...the dude sent me back the $2 !

The only honest poker player ever....and I drove him out of the game.

Yanni

This morning's news announced that police were called to Yanni's home in response to a complain from his girlfriend that he hit her.

I'm SHOCKED !

Not about the domestic abuse, but that fact that Yanni is straight.

BTW, this image popped up on the first page when I was googling Yanni.

I'm speechless

This used to be Eddie Van Halen

Don't do the crime if you can't do the time

GOLD HILL, Ore. -- High school student David Thumler is a convicted nipple pincher.
He's going to have to spend four days in juvenile detention for refusing to write a letter explaining himself after twisting the nipple of another boy while they were standing on line at a deli.
Thumler was convicted of offensive physical touching in July 2005. The victim's parents had complained to Gold Hill police.
The Gold Hill, Ore., boy has already served three days of community service emptying trash cans, mowing lawns and shoveling gravel, along with paying a $67 fine for the offense. But he refused to write the letter holding himself accountable, which would have spared him the time in juvee.
Thumler presented a rough draft but balked when told he must also describe his "criminal thought processes." Thumler said he had no criminal intent because he considered the victim to be a friend at the time.
He said writing it would imply malicious or criminal intent. Thumler, who's 16, said he was just fooling around.
The victim offender program that requires the letter said it prepares teens to be accountable.

Damn

The second worse thing to happen when you walk into the work bathroom is to close the door and realize the someone had just been in there and stunk up the joint.

The WORST thing is to decide, forget it you'll hold it, open the door to walk out, and have some cute chick standing there waiting to go in next.

Like a wise man once said, " If you're explaining, you're losing."

FELT rules

So I busted their alum frame and they mailed me out a new frame asap.

I picked it up today and they replaced it with a full carbon model.

http://www.feltracing.com/06/06_framesets/f2c/index.html

THANKS FELT.

Good bikes, good people.

Dude shoulda just ate the Big Mac

Former NFL quarterback Todd Marinovich has been arrested after being found in a public bathroom with apparent drug paraphernalia.

Marinovich, who has acknowledged that drug addiction derailed his once-promising football career, was being held in an Orange County jail for investigation of violating his probation pending on a drug court hearing scheduled for next week.

A police officer found Marinovich in the bathroom May 20 with a bent spoon and syringe. The former quarterback fled on a bicycle but was arrested 15 blocks away, police said. On the police report, he listed his occupation as "unemployed artist."

Marinovich, who lives in Balboa, was first arrested on drug charges when he was a student at the University of Southern California. He earned nearly $2.3 million as a first-round draft pick of the then-Los Angeles Raiders in 1991, but was removed from the roster after two seasons due to his drug problem.

He later played football in Canada and the Arena Football League. He was arrested on drug charges in 1997, 2001 and last August. In last year's arrest, he was caught skateboarding in a prohibited area carrying methamphetamine and three syringes, police said.
He pleaded guilty to those charges and was sentenced to 90 days in jail and three years' probation.

For those of you who don't get the reference see:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Todd_Marinovich

NEVERMIND THAT

nevermind that previous post.

listen to THIS......

http://traprockpeace.org/podcasts_transcripts/

( fast forward the first 3 minutes past the kookie liberal chick)

It will blow your mind

A puzzle and Ivey

I always thought this was a neat puzzle.

You have a 3 gallon and a 5 gallon bucket and a source of water. How can you get yourself exactly 4 gallons. And this isn't one of those bullshit play on word things that makes you want to kick the person asking you in the balls. This is a real problem with a pragmatic solution.

Some billionaire named Andy Beal is a guy who started a bank and aerospace company. In his spare time he tried of figure out Fermet's theorum and in the process came up with Beal's conjecture. In other words, a smart fucker. He got into the poker scene and wanted to test him self against the best so he went to Vegas and played the best guys. After a while he got pretty good and challenged them all to a game. "The Corporation" is a cooperative of poker pros who accepted his challenge. For the last 4 - 5 years they've played off and on in a one-on-one game.

Two years ago, Beal got the better of them for a couple of million. They had individually taken much more than that from him while he was learning the game, so they seemed undeterred.

A month ago he showed up again and over the last few weeks the pros have rotated in and out and with the bets starting at $50,000 - $100,000, the money floated back and forth with no one getting a significant advantage. Then Beal went on a run. He BUSTED the corporation for $10 million, their entire buy-in in a series of games against Todd Brunson ( son of Doyle), Jennifer Hartman, and Ted Forrest. The corporation was cracked.

Monday Beal showed up again and was all like, " you want some more..... bitches ?"

That's when Phil Ivey walked in.

Four days and $16.5 million dollars later, Andy Beal is retired from poker.

http://www.cardplayer.com/poker_news/detail.php?p_id=841&PHPSESSID=d58f6396b5cf4111a7d1d2c0d3e854ee

Do NOT fuck with Phil Ivey.

It's sweeping the nation

A buddy informed me that Otis Reading did a cover of the Stones' " I Can't Get No Satisfaction" so I punched it up and sure enough, there it was. I gotta say that it is pretty darn good. It might be close to the original. It's definitely better than the Devo cover, but that's not really saying much.

I'm back into the music thing since my wife got an mp3 player last week. I've been loading a ton of outright awful music onto it for her and been trying to find a little something decent as balance. Im no music snob . In fact I'll be the first to tell you that I don't know jack. But there's only so much Hillary Duff and Christian Contemporary Pop you can take before you develop a craving for some good old fashion rock and roll or Motown Soul.

One of the benefits of the mp3 is that I can load the player interviews from Cardplayer.com onto it and take them running with me. I usually can run for about 15-20 minutes before I start feeling miserable and bored. I listened to Mike Matasow interview TJ Cloutier for 40 minutes the other afternoon and time flew.

Despite my earlier commitment, I went back to playing online poker after about 10 days off. The first couple of sessions were fantastic. I was paying attention, I was applying the things I've recently read, and I was winning at a steady rate. Then by the third session I started surfing the web and reading email. By the fourth session I was playing two tables at one, watching TV, and checking emails. It wasn't long before I lost my shirt.

Albert Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I can confidently say that I'm not insane. I actually KNOW that I'm going to lose my shirt. I think my problem is more compulsive in nature. For now I'm going to try and stick with the home games. At least there I'm only distracted by my own sobriety and that's easily fixed.

Until next time go over and try this reaction test . I just tried it and cranked out a .196. Good luck touching that.

the wagon

I'm either off it or on it or however the saying goes.

I have issues.

Here is what you get if you google the phrase "latin gamble" under images



I remember when I used to party like that.

clearly wrong...but somewhat understandable

MARION COUNTY, Fla. -- A man has been arrested for fatally beating his roommate with a sledgehammer and a claw hammer because there was no toilet tissue in the home, authorities said.

My bike

I found out why my bike has been knocking



and on the other side

I....ahhh..don't....ahhhh

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Lavoisier can kiss my Lavoisi-ass

I'm calling bullshit on the conservation of mass .

Anyone who had to shovel a 4 car driveway after the tempature rose to 34 degrees knows what I'm talking about.

Jime Rome vs Chuck Norris

I see Jim Rome continues to surface from time to time. What an annoying prick. He makes Howard Eskin look like a prince.

But whenever he really starts to annoy me I just watch this and everything is alright.

Rome getting his ass kicked


And then theres Chuck

(literally) Holy Shit

I don't know if i ever posted this here before, but I just told someone this story.

One year i did the Seaford Road Race as my first race of the year. It's 100 miles long.

Between the morning coffee and the first hard effort of the year, my stomach was rumblin' and bumblin' pretty good by mile 30. I figured that after a while, if I ignored it, it would just go away. If I had to stop, there was no chance of me catching back up to the 100 man field.

I was wrong.

As the miles ticked by, things got worse and worse. 40 miles in I had since given up on the idea of finishing the race and had resigned myself to just relieving the pain. To compound matters, Seaford is in southern Delaware near the shore and is as flat as a pancake. There are few houses around, and the ones that are there are the type of places that shoot first and ask questions later. If they catch you taking a dump on their lawn that probably changes to shoot first, set you on fire second, then ask questions. The course is 10 miles around, but the start finish is at a church and the cars and bathroom facilities are another 5 miles back into town. In short, after ten more miles of suffering, I could not find anyplace to go. I figured I'd have to hold it and trek back to town.

As the finish line approached it became obvious to me that I was not going to make it back town. As the riders rolled through I quickly yelled to the officials that I was dropping out. As discreetly and hastily as possible I made a beeline for the back of the church...it was my only hope.

In a panic I tore off my jersey, ripped down my shorts, and relaxed as best I could. What happened next can only be described as Vesuvian. I'd use Mt. St. Helian but that doesn't flow off the tongue smoothly.

It then occurred to me that I had no toilet paper. It also quickly became apparent that the main foliage in southern Delaware consists of pine trees. I had briefly considered some unique uses for a pine cone, then thought better.

I was about to sacrifice one of my socks when I realized that i had a race number on. Perfect ! I took care of business and pulled my shorts up.

When i turned around I was stunned by the evil i saw. The back of the church was besmirched with a horrible brown stain that stood 6 feet tall and 4 foot in diameter. I was repulsed ( and oddly proud) and what I had created...and ON A CHURCH no less. Ashamed and surely damned to hell I started to clear out as quickly as possible....then I remember the number.

If they had my number, they could trace the crime back to me. Sure it was a longs shot, but better men then me had been taken out by far less.

With unequalled disgust I retrieved the number. And with great care I folded it and placed it into my jersey pocket. Then I snuck out the other end of the church lot, and so no one could see me, rode the long way back, shamed and broken.

There are times I miss bicycle racing. This, however, is not one of them.

Excellent article

This is from the Feb 6 Newsweek. It's neither pro- nor anti- Bush so feel free to read having your convictions challenged.

It outlines the internal struggles between lawyers within the DOJ as well as between the White House and outside agencies.

I think it does show that when push comes to shove the White House ( and this this truism is independent of who holds office) will eventually get the administration and agency concurrence that it desires. This goes a long way to supporting an aggressive separation of powers as well as making a strong argument in support of the Twenty-second amendment.

http://msnbc.msn.com/id/11079547/site/Newsweek/
They were loyal conservatives, and Bush appointees. They fought a quiet battle to rein in the president's power in the war on terror. And they paid a price for it. A NEWSWEEK investigation.

See what happens when I can't play poker online. You better hope that the next 37 days go quickly.

Red Pepper-Walnut Paste

I wouldn't steer you wrong, I'll steer you strong...If you make this stuff you'll be happy you did.

Red Pepper-Walnut Paste
reprinted without permission from http://www.recipelink.com

Based on the Middle Eastern sauce called muhammara (an Arabic word meaning "the color of red bricks"), this delicious paste is simultaneously pungent, slightly hot, and sweet. I make it often and keep it around for many uses: as a topping for pilafs and other cooked grains, for spreading on pizzettas, crostini, crackers, and sandwiches, and as a dip for cooked or raw tables. Try spreading Red Pepper Walnut Paste on grilled tofu, fish, or chicken breasts for a fantastic barbecue experience.

Yield:3 to 4 cups
Preparation time: 10 minutes, after the peppers are roasted

2 heaping cups lightly toasted walnuts
2 to 3 medium cloves garlic
4 medium-sized red bell peppers (about 2 pounds), roasted and peeled
1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons cider vinegar
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon honey
1 1/4 teaspoons salt (or to taste)
Black pepper and cayenne to taste

* This keeps well for at least a week if stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator. In fact, the flavors deepen over time
* For a California twist, you can use almonds in place of the walnuts


Place the walnuts and garlic cloves in a food processor and pulse until they are finely ground, but not yet a paste.
Seed the peppers, cut them into chunks, and add them to the walnuts, along with the vinegar, lemon juice, cumin, and honey. Process to a fairly smooth paste, then transfer to a bowl, and season to taste with salt, pepper, and cayenne.

Cover tightly and store in the refrigerator. Use as desired.

chain letter

My brother just sent me a chain letter containing a poem.

If I forward it I'll receive good fortune. If I do not, I'll contract syphillus or something of the sort.

I am going to choose to risk it. But I firgured no good deed should go unpunished so I replied with the following message to my brother and to all the people he included in the original email.

Dear Mike,

Thanks for the message. Interestingly enough I too have been working on a poem:

Day and Night
White and Black
Send me another message like that
And I'll kick you in the nutsack

-Bill

40

I have never been able to determind why 40 was such a big number for the bible.

40 days and 40 nights doesn't seem to correlate to any particular event. It's not a number that easily divides into the year, has nothing to do with the moon's cycle ( or consequently a woman's cycle which is a weird correlation to be discussed another time), and you really can't grow anything in that time.

The best i can figure is that 40 days and 40 nights is not a short amount of time and not really a long amount of time. It's just about the right amount of time. And that works enough for me.

So I'm off online poker for 40 days and 40 nights starting yesterday.

And I'm contemplating going off the sauce for that same period of time, but I'm realistic enough to know that I might need the medicinal effect of the booze to help me shake the poker habit.

Hopefully the resultant angst will cause enough dissatisfaction to generate a little content for my writing. I find I work best slightly angry.

Borgota

I took the train down to A.C. on Monday night.

Once again I have to give a big thumbs up to Amtrak. Comfy chairs, outlets for the laptop at every seat, clean bathrooms, smooth rails... really a great way to travel. For $13 I got to center city Philadelphia in the same time as driving, with no tolls, no parking headaches, NO GAS, and I was able to watch a movie.

N.J. transit was a little behind the times and their trains are pretty old school, but I caught a nap and for another $7 from Phila-A.C. I found myself on the boardwalk.

I played $2/$4 limit for a while and picked up about $80. Then took a nap for a few hours to wake up for the 5:15 AM !!!! tourney at the Trop. That's typically a game for the dealers getting off their shift to play against the dealers starting their shift and the results for me was about a well as expect...meaning awful.

After a nice brunch we rolled over to the Borgota to watch the pros play from 36 down to 6 for the World Poker Tour. It was pretty neat to watch and stand with the guys you see on T.V. The top players definately have a alpha-male confidence that permeates the room. I found them intimidating and I wasn't even sitting at the table. Some short observations:

* Two wheelchair bound players at the final 2 tables. No comment other than I found that notable
* I saw an amateur player call an all-in with QQ. His ladies held up to the suited AK. When the hand was over he was shaking so badly that he could not stack his chips and had to leave the room to compose himself. Seeing as the difference between getting busted at that point and winning was $16,000 to $1.1 million, his nervousness was understandable. I saw a couple of the pros make play for twice as much money multiple times with the demeanor of a man reading the newspaper with his morning coffee.
* At my $2/$4 game I was seated with a family of Greek senior citizens. In the middle of the game an arguement broke out. While it was heated and loud, it was entirely in greek. The only word in English that i could understand was BANANA BOAT which was being screamed over and over again. I have no idea what they could have possibly been arguing about, but I wouldn't suggest saying "banana boat" if you ever find yourself in Crete.

part 2 - see below for part 1

So Roy walked us down to his unfinished basement where there stood a variety of chairs and a 3 ft by 3 ft card table.

" Where are we going to play ?", I asked.

" Right here ! " Roy replied in a tone as if he'd just won the lottery, " I'm going to go get some chips" and he set off bounding up the stairs.

Now there was NO WAY we were going to fit seven people around this table. I look look at Josh, he shrugged and we started rummaging around the piles in the basement hopeful to find some other table or flat surface to work with. In the very back next to the furnace I found an old door the I drug out to the middle of the floor. Josh found 4 bar stools in another pile and after some effort we had ourselves one hell of a poker table ( except for the knob) and were ready to roll.

All of us sat down and waited for Roy's return. to my right was Bill who declined my offer of beer and indicated that he already " had about a 12 pack in him" though I really couldn't tell. To my left was Roys wife and I was enjoying the fact that my chair was a good foot taller than her chair and appreciating the structural advances that have been made recently in brazier manufacturing.

Then Roy came bounding down the stairs with a bag of nachos and a deck of cards, " I FINALLY FOUND A FULL DECK !!!! WHEW. I knew I had one somewhere up there. I have another half of a deck exactly like this up up there too. If you want I can mix them together and we can play with a deck and a half. Then we wont have to shuffle so much." Thankfully that offer was declined. He threw a tattered pack of bent and torn cards onto the table. I didn't even bother to count to see if they were all there. I did however note that the card completely folded in half was the nine of diamonds.

Now, please don't consider me a prude. I understand not everyone has a poker table or chips. In fact I usually have a couple of chairs, $20 in ones and fives, and an extra set of poker chips in my car as I recognize that if you don't regularly host a game you might underestimate what you need. But, and call me crazy if you will, I do have the minimum expectation that if you are going to invite people over to your house to play cards that ...you know... you at least HAVE SOME FUCKING CARDS !

As I was breaking the chips up into stacks to distribute, Roy whistled for his dog and I heard it come in the house above us and it's claws tip-tapping across the kitchen linoleum. When I next looked up a big ass boxer or rotwiller or some fucking attack dog came bounding across the floor. Ron about jumped out of his pants.

" AHAHAHAHHAHA, Don't be scared...he's friendly", Roy yelled as he hopped up and playfully ( !?) smacked the dogs across the chops and then started hugging him. " AHAHAHAHA, Watch this ! " Roy yelled as he ran across the room and dug through a pile of stuff. He pulled out a two gallon, empty, plastic bottle of Tide and held it over his head. The dog went absolutely apeshit. It started barking and jumping up and down foaming at the mouth. Roy ran over to a string hanging from the rafter about 6 feet away from our makeshift table and tied the string to the bottle leaving it hovering 4 feet from the ground. As he came back to his chair (Purposefully jammed in between his wife and I) the dog started jumping up and down growling and snapping at the bottle.

I tried my best to not jump up screaming and continued to focus all my attention on the counting...17...18....19...and 20. Doing my best to ignore the attack dog 6 feet to my right I announced, " I have the chips in stacks of $20. If you want to buy in for $10 just toss the two green chips back to me and we'll be set"

There was a long pause and the wife leaned over and started whispering to Roy. " Ummmm", Roy said, " That's a little much to start isn't it ?"

" How much do you WANT to play for ?", I asked , my staring burning a hole through Ron for taking us away from our sure fire $40 pot limit buy-in for what was becoming a penny ante kitchen table game.

" hmmmmm", no one wanted to offer up an opinion. So I thought about what might be the MOST amount I might be able to squeeze out of the game... I offered, " how about a $5 buy-in with a 10 cent minimum bet and a 50 cent max ?" .... and decided anything less than that and I was just going to fake a kidney stone and get out of there.

" ok" Roy allowed, " let's get started".


As I looked over a Roy trying to shuffle the bent up cards, I noticed Mrs. Roy staring right at me....when I looked up, her eyes never looked away and she smiled the kind of smile that says.... " I know that if my husband catches you looking at me he's going to feed you to the dog....and I know that if I keep flirting with you that you won't have any choice but to blush.....and I'm not sure what's going to happen but it's really turning me on knowing that there's a fairly good chance that someone might die tonight all due to my hotness"

or something like that.


So as I anted I reassessed the situation. Here I was in some basement that could easily double as the setting for a bad S&M porn video, playing on a old dusty door, with a killer dog attacking this shit out of laundry detergent bottle. All at the same time I have to try and play card while never, ever looking left. Yeah, it was a bit stressful, but how much worse could it really get.

Thats when the string broke.

The rest of the night was trying to play retard poker while the dog batted that bottle from one end of the basement to the other...Occasionally knocking the jug under the table where we'd have to left our legs and at the same time hold the table on the barstools to avoid both losing the table and/or a foot.

Some of the highlights of the card game:

HAND #1 - Roy says, " here's a little game I like to call 7 card stud" like he fucking invented it. He then dealt me 7 cards face down and I realized that, in fact, he did invent it.

" Excuse me" I interrupted hold my 7 cards, " can you please explain the game ?"

" OH WE GOT OURSELVES A NEWBIE !" he taunted me.." The way you play this game is you pick up your seven cards, discard the two you don't want....then we start betting"

" Ohhhhh", i said in surprise, " THAT seven card stud"
xxxxxxx

About every third hand roy would ante by spinning his chip on end. Then we'd have to all sit there awkwardly while the thing spun down and roy giggled madly. After about the 5th time Ron would wait to ante until after Roy and then throw his ante and the spinning chips as an alternative to having someone have to hit the guy with a shovel. Unfortunately all that did was encourage Roy.

xxxxxxx

You know it's a unique situation when the main staples of the game you are playing are Blackjack, Acey-Duecey, and some game i can't remember where if you play...you can never fold. Oh BTW, in this game, if you are in and you run out of money on the table, you have to stay in until you no longer have money money on your person or in your vehicle. Thankfully, in order to keep the game friendly, they did not invoke the "go to the ATM " rule. Remember, this is the same dude wanted to cap things at a $5 buy-in. Obviously I chose this games to make one of my many pee breaks.

xxxxxxx
Two times Roy's wife was against me heads up. The first time he talked her into playing two pair into my trips. The second time he talked her into laying down a flush draw to my top pair. In other words, while he fancied himself a card player he had no idea how to play, meanwhile even though she needed a sheet to tell her " what beats what" she actually had a feel for the game. After the second loss, which meant I scooped a $5 pot, she stopped asking him questions and started asking me. That raised the tension in the room about 1,000,000 degrees.

So finally after getting $15 up...10 cents at a time....and suffering through what amounted to psychological torture, it wasn't the spinning coin that got me. It wasn't the dog, the rickety table, it wasn't the litany of bad jokes, nor was it having a lunatic asking me every time I folded " does your wife play, bawhawhawhawhaw ?".

Nope, what finally got me was the wife dropping a nacho chip onto her skin tight linen pants. She stood up, walk over next to me, grabbed a napkin, licked it and started rubbing the spot on her inner thigh. " Damn ! " she said barely containing a smile as she worked at the stain with vigor, " I hope this doesn't leave a stain on my new pants.". Then she turned around, sticking he ass too close to my face for anyone's comfort and asked, " I didn't sit in anything as well, did I ?"

Ron started petting the dog, I cashed us in and we got the hell out of there.

True my friends, every word.

Psychological torture

I got the call, " The hippies are playing this Friday".

Typically Ron and I are able to pick up a week's lunch money at a game in Lititz, but the last time we got the call that the hippies were playing we had a great time drinking beer, playing poker and meeting some cool people...oh yeah and making a little money, so when I got the call I was definitely IN.

There was one caveat as we got closer to the game, " we're not playing at the commune...We're playing at some dude's house." This was a little bit of a bummer as the commune was part of the draw. Every Friday the 13th these guys get together to play at the commune barn..it's a very cool barn filled with art, and furniture, and sculpture, and other cool stuff that gives you something interesting to look when you're not in a hand. But in any case, it was still poker with some fun guys so Friday came and off we went.

We arrived at the house on time and we're introduced to the owner..Roy. Roy introduced us to the other players:
* Josh....this is the guy who owns the commune. Nice guy, smart, hip. He's a real deal hippie, but he also is practical enough to have a day job and be the guy who owns the commune.
* Vickie.... the most recent of Josh's parade of 19 year old girlfriends. Nice enough girl. Solid card player.
* Roy's wife.... the first thing i noticed when I walked into the modest brick rancher. Hot, young, and dressed to the nines as if she were hosting a dinner party instead of a card game.
* Roy....if a Labrador puppy could turn into a human being, it would be this dude. Tall and gangly with feet and hands even bigger. Perma-grin. Loud and so fucking happy about everything that you want to run away. You get the sense that the dude gets unhappy about once a year, but that every time that happens the police need to get involved. I'll get to the rest of that in a moment.
* The last guy to show up was Bill. We had played with Bill before and I may have written about him previously. Bill is recovering from a head injury he suffered from jumping out of a second story window...TWICE. He and a few friends dropped acid and Bill started wigging out and wanting to take a shower. While in the shower, his friends left. Bill looked out the window and saw them leaving so , wet and naked, he jumped out the window to catch up with them. The resulting impact left him unconscious and the other acid tripping friends ran to the nearest apartment and called the ambulance and police. When the emergency responders showed up, Bill had come to and was sitting on the curb. The sight of of the lights and sound of the sirens freaked him out and he ran into the house. The police followed him into the house, up the stairs, and ran Bill back into the bathroom. Understandably, his only route of escape was back out the window again. The second dive necessitated 6 months in a coma and learning have to speak again. He's a nice enough guy, good ( if slow) card player, but not a big talker. I should also point out that ...rather ironically...that the commune once held a boxing match to raise money for the Green Party's anti-war efforts... Bill fought in the main event against some lightweight golden gloves puerto rican kid from the city. Despite the obvious nature of his injuries and the fact that he had no idea how to box, Bill last 3 rounds and gave the kid a run for his money. So, in short, you don't fuck with Bill.

Then, of course, Ron and I.

But back to the night at hand...

So the make-up wasn't exactly what I expected, but after some introductions and nervous conversations i suggested that we get started.

( coming next.....the basement)

Do the Beatles suck ?

Someone suggested to me that the Beatles suck.

I was shocked and started to argue the position but then couldn't come up with three songs that are really that good. In fact, I can't think of three songs that i wouldn't immediately turn off of the radio.

Can that be true ? Think about it for a sec. Are the assumed all time king somehow a ruse ?

Penny Lane - sucks

Yellow Submarine - sucks

All You Need is Love - all you need is a barf bag

I Want To Hold Your Hand - perhaps...but how long would you sit through a Lone Ranger rerun before you got bored...same thing really.

Seriously, someone help me out here...tell me it can't be true.

vongo

I've touted the benefits of musicmatch jukebox as well as the benefits of MovieLink. Starz entertainment has brought together the best of both worlds with the launch of Vongo.

For $9.99 a month you have unlimited access to Stazs full catalog of movies on up to three computers.

It is in beta mode and there are things that they need to work on but the concept is great and the interface is functional. I joined last night and already downloaded 3 movies....all legal. The service also includes live access to the starz network.

The movie selection is fair. The have a decent number of movies, but most are second rate films. I did find some nuggest in Kill Bill Vol. 1 and 2 as well as some decent live concerts. This thing is great for kids programming.

I give Vongo a solid B and suggest you give it a try.

Separated at birth ?

Iran's president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad




Kramer

I wont go as far as to say that I have an allergy to alcohol, but I can't remember the last time a Manhatten was good to me. Bourbon..... whiskey....doesn't matter, the result is all the same.

Maybe I have a problem with cherries.

Last night I stopped for a couple of cocktails with some buddies and got "the call". "The kids are sick, I'm sick, can you come home ?" I NEVER get that call, so I suspect it had to be quite a situation and I was right. ( do NOT click on that link)

So I'm sitting here like Hawkeye Pierce working the triage unit. I have bodies everywhere and it looks like we're running out of buckets. Thank goodness for coffee and sportscenter.

In the meantime, here's a little something to brighten up your day.

so sue me

This floats around the internet once in a while. I don't know if it's real or phony. What I do know is that it's good freakin advice. Call me sexist, call me old fashion...whatever. The truth of the matter is that if women did this stuff, their husbands would be happier. And I'm telling you right now a happier husband is a more cooperative, calmer, mopre patient being. If you want the man of your dreams, do this stuff and you'll be surprised....this advice is FOR you, NOT against you.

OK, I could do without #9, but the rest of it is spot on. I might replace #9 with " Give him sex or a BJ without him having to beg or write it in a dayplanner", but that's a topic for another day.

Doing all this would require about 30 minutes of attention. But that's a hell of a lot less time then all the shit that Cosmo advises you to do...and this shit works.

And for the record, there's no way in hell I'd ever show this to my wife. She'd cut off my balls.

Anyway:

The following is from a 1950's home economics textbook intended for high school girls, teaching them how to prepare for married life:

1. Have dinner ready: Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal - on time. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him, and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospects of a good meal are part of the warm welcome needed.

2. Prepare yourself: Take 15 minutes to rest so you will be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your makeup, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people. Be a little gay and a little more interesting. His boring day may need a lift.

3. Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives, gathering up school books, toys, paper, etc. Then run a dust cloth over the tables. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift, too.

4. Prepare the children: Take a few minutes to wash the children's hands and faces if they are small, comb their hair, and if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part.

5. Minimize the noise: At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of washer, dryer, dishwasher or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet. Be happy to see him. Greet him with a warm smile and be glad to see him.

6. Some Don'ts: Don't greet him with problems or complaints. Don't complain if he's late for dinner. Count this as minor compared with what he might have gone through that day.

7. Make him comfortable: Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or suggest he lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soft, soothing and pleasant voice. Allow him to relax and unwind.

8. Listen to him: You may have a dozen things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first.

9. Make the evening his: Never complain if he does not take you out to dinner or to other places of entertainment; instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure, his need to be home and relax.

10. The goal: Try to make your home a place of peace and order where your husband can relax.

It's supposed to look like a fit or a convulsion

http://www.looptid.com/

word

Here come the judge

Goddamn I wish we could get a new Supreme Court Justice every month.

There's nothing more entertaining than a bunch of retarded Senators asked questions that they don't even understand to a guy who's entire life has been about being smarter than everyone else on the planet.

It's the intellectual version of the Harlem Globetrotters playing the Washington Generals.

I don't know if it will make the news, but there was an exchange that I found very interesting.

( we interrupt this rant to inform you that Son of a Preacher Man is now on. Please add it to your list of top 100 songs of all time. Thank you. )

So Orin Hatch or some other douche is asking Alito about his affiliation with some fraternity back in Princeton. While Alito was as Princeton, they must have gone from an all male institution to a co-ed facility. This organization, among other things, was opposed to the intengration so they're trying to imply that Alito is a sexist by association. Much to do about nothing.

So in refuting this Alito says that when the intergration occurred he appreciated " the benefits of Princeton becoming a co-ed institution" and he meant that in the most altruistic was and said is sincere and without a smirk.

Well the same senators who are accusing him of being a sexist start fucking LAUGHING at the statement. Their first thought is that the "benefit of a co-ed institution" is having sex with co-eds.

WHO'S THE MISOGYNIST ?

Fucking hypocrites.

Ray Nagen

Ray BEFORE Katrina.






Ray AFTER Katrina



I just want to know....when all that looting was going down, who was supposed to be keeping an eye on the Armani shop in the French Quarter ?

in a photo finish

Those of you who had Lou Rawls just edged out those with Sharon.

Meanwhile, Abe Vigoda just keeps on ticking.

http://www.abevigoda.com/

Go Fish !

reality tv

I'm going to make audition tapes for the Apprentice and for Survivor. Should anyone have any suggestions on what might catch the producer's eye, please forward them to me.

The best thing I've come up with so far is to fake being a gay deaf mute.

Also, poker at my house the second and fourth Saturdays of the month. If you're interested in playing, email me.

Dear Salespeople

Dear Salespeople,

Please do not ask me how I'm doing. It comes across exactly how it's intended...hollow and disingenuous.

BTW, yes I _DO_ understand that you're not asking me to buy anything and you just are calling to give me shit for free...I understand very well.

Thanks.


So I heard "Fire" by Hendrix the other day and it occurred to me that Jimmy was a con man. Some how he convinced the drummer and the base player that Fire was written specifically for the drums and specifically for the base. Then he got both of those guys to play the song with a complete disregard for the rest of the band. What we end up with is three guys absolutely committed to the effort and an incredible song.

I bought a cheap webcam over the weekend and I've been running it through the MSN messenger. It's amazingly clear and simple to use. The days of the video phone are here.

I'm sorry

I don't want to become a site of just links, but this is particularly funny.

http://www.ejbdotcom.net/content/9676.html

I wonder why Iran is starting to shitting their pants ?

The US now has
* Iraq to the West
* Afghanistan to the East
* Pakistan as an ally
* We control the Persian Gulf
* Bombers in Uzbekistan
* Bombers in Turkey

I think I'd be enriching uranium for energy production too.

Still Funny

the flu

I was informed by my son that when I vomit it sounds just like the toilet flushing.

At least it got him to stop asking me to build his batcave.

Kwanzaa vs Festivus

I tried to find a picture of people actually celebrating Kwanzaa.

Excluding the pictures staged to sell greeting cards and candles the only stuff I could come up with all looked a lot like this:



Exactly.

I was, however, plesantly surprised to find that Festivus continues to develop a following. Festivus pole sales were up as were the number of emergency room visits due to the 'feats of strength'.

For all there is to know about Festivus see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Festivus

And to get your post holiday bargain on festivus poles see: http://www.festivuspoles.com/pages/festivuspoles.htm

Building the Worlds Best Paper Air Plane

http://www.zurqui.com/crinfocus/paper/air-bld3.html
I've tried it and have to admit that it makes a darn good plane.

Next year for Christmas I am going to sell a father's survival kit. Contained in each kit will be
* A tiny phillipshead screw driver small enough to actually fit in that battery slot
* Wire snips to cut all that crap that's holding the toy to the box like some weird japaneese bondage movie....ahhhhh...or so I'm told
* A fifth of scotch (self explanitory)
* An extra screw, for the one that will be inevitably missing

One my slate this week
* Batman's cave. 1 jillion pieces
* Doll House. .5 jillion piece
* Pinball machine. only 26 pieces, but anything that plugs into the wall gets a factor of 10 for the potential for electricution

The guy who is working on our basement is almost done. Would sub-contracting out toy assembly make me a bad father ?

Name that exit

Driving along route #1 and then along the PA Turnpike today I began wondering how each of the exits gets named. At face value it would seem to simple...when you get on route #1N in Langhorne to cross route 95 and can exit North to "PRINCETON" or South to "CENTRAL PHILADELPHIA"....but why not "LAWRENCEVILLE" and " BRISTOL" ? Is the system arbitrary, is it based on population, is it determined after some lobbying by legislators, or maybe the dude who makes the sign has a cousin who lives in that town.

This is even more curious along the Turnpike where exchanges are located between significant cities and landmarks. In some instances exits are listed as one town, ie NORRISTOWN while others might say READING/LANCASTER.

Preliminary research only yielded an explanation of how the interstate highway system is numbered. That in and of itself is an interesting story. You should go to somewhere like

http://www.us-highways.com/bus98.htm

for the full story, but in a nutshell:

US routes are all in the contiguous 48 states and have 1, 2, or 3 digit numbers

Even numbers run east to west; increasing to the south
Principal routes are one or two digits (abbreviated as 2dus) and end in 0: US 10 to US 90
Existing range is US 2 to US 98

Odd numbers run north to south; increasing to the west
Principal routes are one or two digits and end in 1: US 1 to US 101
Existing range is US 1 to US 101

Increments of low-order digits fill in the grid
e.g. US 20, US 22, US 24, ... US 30 - Even Numbered
e.g. US 21, US 23, US 25, ... US 31 - Odd Numbered

Three digit highways, excepting 100 and 101 are for loops or spur routes around cities off the main branches. For instance 295, 195 and 495 all loops around major cities along route 95


While interesting, none of that answers my question of naming rights. To that end I am sending the following letter to the US Department of Highways and PA Turnpike Commission.

To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing to garner a better understand of how you determine which towns get listed on road signs that indicate an exit.

I have no concern or criticism of any existing sign. In fact I find that whatever system or lack of system is in place seems to work rather well for me. I attend a lot of dog shows with my two Bernice Mountain Dogs and more often than not Ben, Jerry and I have found the name of the town where the show is held to be the very name of the town on the sign where we exit. The streak of that occurring had gotten to 9 shows in a row and I had started to think that perhaps someone at the Department of Transportation was a fan of purebread canines like myself. Then while heading to the Mount Holly Springs Dogapalooza we had to exit at the Carlisle exchange and I realize that the whole thing was just a matter of coincidence ( it is right ?).

In any event, my motivation is pure curiosity. Is there a way that all of this is determined ? Does the State Legislature get invovled, do local authorities get a say, or is the whole thing determined in house ? For instance, "READING" is an exit from the Turnpike, and so is "LACASTER - LEBANON". The curiosity there is that Lancaster is equidistant from both exits. Why did it get the nod at 266.4 but not at 285.5.

And exit 358 is listed as DELAWARE VALLEY when there is in fact no town by that name. The exits there is in Bristol ( home of the Bristol Stomp)....the other oddity there is that your rest stop there is named South Neshaminy and it's no where near Neshaminy. Im not sure why Bristol is getting overlooked. I stopped there one time for lunch while heading to an American Kennel Club convention in Atlantic City and found the town to be very nice ( although the river front park there could do well to establish a dog park).

Anyway, any insight you might be able to provide would be greatly appreciated


In Christ,
B. J. Hoovis
"If you are a host to your guest, be a host to his dog also." -- Russian Proverb

I'll keep you posted as to any response.

forget familiarity

Forget familiarity, it's anonymity that breeds discontent.

You probably will not find a nicer guy than me at a live poker game. Online, however, I have the bad habit of venting my frustrations in a very direct and...some might say...an abusive way. The way I look at it is that each player has the ability to turn any player's chat off. So if people find my banter to be unsettling then they just don't have to listen to me.

Apparently not everyone shares my point of view.

After a particularly obnoxious rant I received notice today that I am having my chat privileges revoked for one month. It's probably for the best.

I'd post the transcript, but even I'm a tad embarrassed about what I wrote. If I was to critique it I'd have to say that it... " Was caustically acerbic and lacking enough creative humor to pass for good natured" in other words I was being an obnoxious dick.

wow

http://www.doubleagent.com/photo.php?i=14766

Sooner or later I'll learn to shaddup

I find myself pretty tired lately.

I'm in a kick where I stay up too late, drink too much coffee, then I'm too tired to exercise. So slowly but surely I'm getting fat, out of shape and exhausted.

All this inspired my wife to make a suggestion the other day.... " You stay up later than anyone else. Why don't you go to bed earlier"

Well I can explain why. From the moment I wake up, my time is taken up by other people. I wake and am immediately pressed into action...either a dog needs taken out, or a kid needs dressed or someone's waffles need to cut into perfect squares. I used to purposely wake up early on Sunday mornings so I could have a cup of coffee and read the newspaper in peace. But the children have superpowers. Under normal circumstances you can't wake them with an atomic bomb, but try and do something...anything...for yourself and they suddenly spring to life and find that they need you for something immediate and pressing. I never got past section B in the Sunday news and eneded that experiment.

Anyway, morning leads into work, which needs so explaination. Then when I come home its activity, dinner, homework, baths, bed...bed again...bed again...yelling to go to bed, crying...then everyone is asleep. Then....and only then...do I have, for the first time all day, a moment to myself.

And she wants me to give that up.

That's like suggesting to a prisoner on death row.... " You look like you might be getting too much sun, how about cutting your hour in the yard to say....40 minutes"...I mean she already took away my congical visits !!!!

HELP WANTED

Editor for online blog needed. Dictate your own hours, work at your own pace.

Pay is one six pack per month.

I'm serious.

When I write this maddness, I do as if I am getting a prostate exam. I'm usually drunk, I do it quickly, then I pretend it never happened. I can never bring myself to go back and read it let alone edit it.

But I've been notified that the errors detract from overall enjoyment of the experience and, at times, confuses the point I'm trying to make.

So if anyone is interest in a free sixpack of beer a month and can read over a sixth grade level ( this includes sixth graders) , please feel free to contact me about the position.

Retail of Two Cities

I took the plunge and went Christmas ( or for those called to action by Jerry Falwell...CHRISTmas) shopping today. It was the first time I've ventured to the mall in about a year and one of the few times I've purchased something NOT on the internet that didn't involve french fries.

OH SNAP ! Otis reading was the first to do "Hard to Handle"...the Black Crows should hang their heads in shame.

What I had failed to realize is that retail in the new millennium isn't just about trading goods and services...it's also about sharing in the personal lives of the fine employees at your local establishment. In three stops I had the fortune to learn:

* That the girl at Starbucks was wearing a $65 pair of pants because they were the only black pants that she had and she was afraid of schmutzing them up. She was, however, wearing a pair of under-armor socks which she was happy enough to show me. My response, "Ummmm...can I have my coffee ?"

* The girl at the wine shop was very tired. She explained to her co-worker, me, and my buddy that ( whisper) " I just found out that I'm pregnant....but shhhh, no one knows." That, naturally lead into the two of them discussing the finer points of morning sickness. Honored and not wanting to sound unappreciative of being part of this Hallmark moment I offered, " Ummmmm...can I have my wine ?"

My most unusual occurrence was reserved for the video store.

* I stepped up to the counter of the video store and two conversations started simultaneously. The first was the guy checking me out. He explained how if I joined some video cult that I not only save on my future purchases ( which will never happen) but that I could save right now on my current purchase. That for $16.95 I could save $20. He followed in a voice that can only be described as " fine print"...the savings comes in the form of a voucher that could be used for the aforementioned future purchase. What amazing is that I was able to retain any of that as there was another conversation going on that the same time between the two other clercks at the counter.

Clerk #1 seems to have some sort of authoritative role...I'm going to guess Assistant Senior Associate or something similarly distinguished. He was late teens or early twenties but grew a full beard to either look older or to make him the coolest guy at the Magic: The Gathering competitions. I'm not sure he accomplished either. For here out we'll refer to him as Brad. Clerk #2 was about 115 lbs and looked about 10 years old. He compensated for his youthful looks with a lip ring, an eyebrow ring, and a giant tattoo. The tattoo was on his bicep, was in technicolor and was either Munch's "The Scream" or possibly Van Gogh's " Starry Night". The difficulty in identifying the art is that with his arm being the size of a drinking straw the picture needed to be "modified from it's original format" as they say on TV and went the full circumference of his arm. We'll call this young lad, Michael...because there's no way he'd go by "Mike".

When I approached the counter Michael mentioned to no one in particular that he was tired and Brad immediately responded with, " Did you eat meat for lunch again ?" and shook his head disapprovingly ( if that's an actual adjective).

Apparently Michael was down with the whole Straight-Edge scene with the black attire, the facial rings, hip video store job and esoteric tattoo. He apparently had not taken the full plunge to swear off meat. To a purist like Brad this was unacceptable. " Dude, your problem is that all the blood is rushing from the rest of your body and into your stomach. It's a regular problem for you carnivores", he continued, his head shaking in full disdain, " You can't be at full energy when you're forcing your body to deal with all that meat and all of those toxin."

Had I not been shell-shocked from moments earlier learning that Kelly was going to be having her boyfriends baby (before her boyfriend even knew !), I would have probably have thought of the appropriate response, which would have been ....

" Hey, do you guys have either 'Bowhunters Gone Wild' or "The Best of Turkey Hunt 2005' ?......no ? Damn ! Cause there's nothing I like more then settling in with some jerky, a six pack of beer and a box of Kleenex, and have a full on drunken masturbation session watching some hunters harvest the beasts that God left for us....ahhh, is there a problem there Mr. PETA.....ahhh, do his eyes always roll like that when he has a seizure ?"

Instead is said, " ummmm..can I have my video ? Thanks..... Merry Chirstmas"

Pilot Program

My father is a pilot who flies to different airports on an irregular schedule. In order to cope with constantly being out of his enviroment, he and his co-pilot have developed a pattern of behavior that creates and atmosphere of stability in an otherwise unstable situation. I think that's pretty cool.

I think this comes naturally to both of them as my father has always been a creature of habit and from what I've come to understand his co-pilot was cut from the same mold.

So they order the same breakfasts and the same dinners. His co always orders a steak, nothing else....no fries, no potatoes, no garnish. Barring a steak, it's a burger on a bun...again no extra. In fact he specifically asks NOTHING ELSE ON THE PLATE. Typically, that shit shows up with everything on the plate.

So for the two of them, this have become a sort of sociological experiment. What words and phrases, what manerisms, gestures, etc will exact the response that they want. Depending on the age, gender, and disposition of the waitperson....what EXACTLY can they say to increase the odds that the steak will come to the table as ordered.

Their latest experiment involves the following.....After leaving the airport, their first stop it to a convenience store to purchase one quart of gatorade ( Dad) and one quart of whole milk ( Co). It's what each of them drinks, and typically the hotel will not have these items available. They've both noticed that no matter what city they are in, no matter what the convenience store chain, that the check out person takes their and and places it over the top of the mouth of the bottle. Now for both of the pilots this is a real issue. They are going to the hotel and intend on drinking directly from the bottle....the drinks aren't going into a fridge or poured into a glass. The last thing they want is some pipply-faced kid rubbing his TB and syphillus stained hands all over the lip of their beverage.

So they've begun to hand the drinks to the clerck in particular ways to ensure that the cleck will handle the object in some alternative way. So far they've had limited luck with the two handed handover and little success with handing the bottle bottom first ( typically, the drink gets placed down and regripped in appropriately).

Obviously, the solution to the problem would be to say to the clerck " when you ring this up, could you please not put your fingers on the lip"...but if they were to go to that level then, in the end, they'd be two guys driving around bored out of their minds.

So I pass this challenge onto you. The next time you're in a store buying a drink, take note as to whether or not the cleck touches the top of your drink and perhaps what you said, how you handed it, time of day, or whatever other variables that you think relevant. Should you see any success, please pass along your suggestions.

Twist and Burn

I'm listening to the Isley Bothers do Twist and Shout. Anyone who's ever covered it should hang their head in shame.

Other recommended hits...Canyon River Mango and Peach Salsa. Think it sounds terrible ? Well you're thinkin all wrong. I just downed the whole jar knowing full well that T is going to be pissed when she goes to get some for lunch tomorrow.

It's so right, I'd do wrong.

I should that into them as a jingle. Maybe they'd use it and send me some free stuff ? I once got drunk and ate a spoonfull of horseradish sauce that was so hot it caused me to have a religous experience. Still drunk and severely weeping I wrote up the whole incident and mailed it to the president of the company. I had forgotten about the whole thing until I got a response from the guy. He mailed me a sampler pack and asked that I never write him again.

I was recounting to someone that I was once so poor that I litterally saved two nickles so that I could never be able to literally say that " I was so poor that I didn't have two nickles to rub together". When I got hungry I would rub the nickles together. I once considered eating them.

So I'm thinking of starting a new trend of when I mean something in the literal sense, to use the adjective "figuratively".

re: " I figuratively slammed my foot in the door".

At the very least it will balance out the misuse of 'literally' and maybe it will fuck up people and prevent them from talking to me anymore.

I got the nutz

We had a friendly family card game at the Christmas party on Saturday night.

My uber-competitive and confident cousin got into a raising war with, of all people, his father...my uncle. With the grace that age brings, my uncle just called on the turn. When the river card fell, my uncle bet only to be raised again. Well enough is enough and my uncle re-raised. This final bet put my cousin all-in. Curiously he raised again and claimed that he'd go into his jacket pocket and was good for the additional dollar.

I looked at the board. There was an ace high flush showing. I looked at Uncle #2 and shrugged.

Uncle #1 called.

My cousin jumped up and tossed down a queen high flush... " HA ! I HAVE THE NUTS !!!!!"

Uncle #2 and I burst you laughing.

" WHAT !??!?!?!....WHAT'S SO FUNNY?!?!?"

Uncle #2 explained, " you don't have the NUTS...you have a flush with a queen kicker"

" Well it's the nuts if he doesn't have the king"

My cousin was out of the room before the king hit the table.

Chuck Norris

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running on ice

I found myself an online discussion about the fastest way to walk across ice. This is my favorite entry:

"If from Alaska and have spent a lot of time doing this.The absolute fastest way (optimal for very slippery but not quite ice-rink) is to run, lifting you feet up high, and making sure to balance as each foot hits. You want to quickly push off at around 5% off verticle (depending on slipperyness), almost jumping. As you go faster, make sure to lift your foot off the ground as fast as possible so it doesnt slide. As with all running, make sure to stay on the balls of your feet. When you are going fast it will look like a series of miny leaps with your knee comming up in front of you each time.This is however pretty dangerous and I wouldnt reccomend it to anyone who doesnt want to look like an ass, has poor balance, or cant risk falling. "

un- holy shit

I took a spin class last night...and it was hard. I promise to no longer make fun of spin class.

2 months of beer, wings, and general inactivity has been stewing in my gizzard...well, right up until last night anyway. I barely made it home and ran up the stairs with my pants around my ankles. I spent the rest of the night laying on the couch ( not that that's unusual).

my favorite recent lines from online poker

" I'm sorry I was so rude earlier."
" My doctor says that when I feel bad about myself I lash out at others."
" But **** him, he's an ***hole"

M: Why didn't you raise
H: Im a bird in the hand kinda guy
M: I bet you are
H: ***hole

M: I think God put my dog here to test me
M: wont it be ironic if I don't get into heaven because I was mean to this retarded dog
H: that wont keep you from heaven, only one thing will keep you from heaven
M: really ? What's that ?
H: not accepting Jesus as your personal savior
M: Jesus ****ing Christ, this is a goddamn poker site
(later)
M: What about the Jews ? Don't they get to heaven
H: I'm blocking your chat jerk
M: whatever
M: anti-semite
(chat blocked)

You're just too good to be true

So I have the oldies station on for a little change of pace and that old song came on " You're guy too good to be true...can't take my eyes off of you" and it occurred to me that (with the exception of the occassional Barry Manilow or Phil Collins who could write a love song about what they had for breakfast) that the dudes who wrote those songs were all jacked up on some chick when they wrote them.

I gotta wonder what life must be like for that dude when the chick eventually dumps him and starts sleeping with his friends...and the song is on the radio being played over and over again....I bet that's got to be a bite in the ass.

Here is a cure for poker addiction http://www.cartoonnetwork.com/games/arcade/miguzi/splashback/index.html

Had 14 guys over for poker over the weekend and broke in my new poker table. Fun night...I lost my shirt. I've lost all sense on how to play limit poker. I can't play with good cards I can't play with bad cards and I definately can't win with marginal cards. So I settled for drinking some beers and having some fun. I suppose you can't go wrong there.

I think I've eaten a dozen eggs in the last 3 days. I can't imagine that's good for you in any way shape or form. Hopefully all the beer will neutralize the effects. Either that or the two will mix and I'll cause a huge hole in the ozone layer.

George will today talks about a Greek form a government whereby a legislator who proposed a new law was put to death if the law was rejected by the people. It got me thinking about a governing system that I had been working on by which you could accuse anyone of being an asshole and after a trial either the asshole or the accused ( or both I suppose) could be put to death. It really had promise until I realize that I might last about 30 seconds under that system and decided to scrap the whole idea.

A guy I work with just walked in and told me the following story " My friend was driving home from hunting and a limb fell of a tree, went through the window of his car, and injured the passenger".......except when recounting the story to me it took 3 minutes and 42 second and he repeated the phrase " through the window" 8 times.

For some reason, people repeating themselves has been bothering me lately. And since I noticed it, I've keep track. I had a guy use the the phrase " quite frankly" 11 times in one day. It might have been more because I went temporarily insane at the 10th time. Quite frankly, I can't stand it when people repeat themselves.