an old friend

The last two months of sobriety has worked out really well for me.

So naturally, last night I decided it would be a good idea to have a few glasses of scotch.

It was like bumping into your ex-girlfriend out one night and then going home with her. At first it seems like a reasonable idea and a fun time. Then the next day you wake up and your very first thought is, " why did I do that" and you remember why you broke up with her in the first place.

Yeah, good times...I just hope it (the booze) realizes last evening was just a one night stand and doesn't assume that we're back into a relationship.

LANCE NEWS NETWORK

Feb 02, 2009 - Austin, Tx

Headline: Lance Scratches His Ass.

Seven time Tour De France winner and semi-Deity Lance Armstrong scratched his ass today. The ass scratching occurred about one hour and forty-three minutes into a four hour training ride just outside of the Livestrong compound in Austin Texas. The ass scratching sent shockwaves through the cycling world as riders, journalists, and UCI president Pat McQuaid scrambled to respond the this afternoon's event.

Interviewed in Qatar after his stage win today Roger Hammond was asked about the ass scratching and how it would impact his chances in the tour. His response, " I'm not even racing the bloody Tour", showed just how intimidating Armstrong's return is the to peloton.

Alberto Contador issued a statement through his agent saying, " I continue to respect Lance's accomplishments, but ass scratching or no ass scratching, I still plan on being leader of the Astana team in July." Levi Leipheimer, also contacted this afternoon was surprised by the news, " Lance scratched his ass ? Really ? I would have happily scratched his ass, but I'm not due to be down there till Thursday. So your saying that new Spanish kid wasn't down there scratching his ass ? Well at least that's good."

The UCI's response came in the form of a press release from Pat McQuaid, " The UCI has recently learned of the increased incidents of ass scratching in the peloton. We'd directed WADA to immediately begin work on a finding a test. We hope to eradicated this egregious scratching of the buttocks and all other hind quarter areas."

The only one seeming unconcerned with the hoopla was Armstrong confidant and wingman John College Korioth, " Yeah dude, I just put the official Livestrong ass scratchers up on the website..in both black with yellow trim and vice-versa. We're hoping these sell better than the Mary-Kate and Ashley commemorative diaphragms, cause the big pool off the guesthouse needs a new filter...oh yeah, and to save the cancer kids and shit."

Tony Clifton

I just poached this from Guys From Area 51 Click over to their site. Very funny stuff. I have no idea who they area, but I'm a fan.



AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA !!!!

If you were born after 1972, HERE is the reference.

Good stuff.

Campell Brown gets her ass kicked

You have to really suck at your job if Blago beats you this easily.

http://www.cnn.com/2009/POLITICS/01/27/brown.blagojevich.transcript/index.html

A Matter of Perspective

I walked into the kitchen to find Mrs. Flick saying. " We're going to be late !........We have to go !.....We're going to be laaaaate !",

I looked around and "The Boy" was playing with the radio, "The Therapist" was drawing something, and I had no idea where "Hot Gril" was.

" We're going to be late.", she said to me, " and the kids wont listen to me !"

" What did you tell them to do "?, I asked sincerely.

" You just HEARD me!", she said getting increasinly frustrated.

" I heard you say that you were going to be late and that you had to go.", I said, " I didn't hear you tell THEM to DO anything."

Sarcastic and pissed, with a theatrical fliar she said, " Ohhhhhh pardon me. CHILDREN ! Puh-leeeeze go outside and get into the van right nooooowww." and sort of rolled her eyes.

With that, "The Boy" walked over put on his coat, "The Therapist" put down her pencil and "Hot Gril" came walking out of the bathroom. They all walked outside and got into the van.

Mrs. Flick looked at me half shocked ...ok 1/3rd shocked. The rest of what was left looked like she was going to kill me. Then she just laughed, shook her head, and walked out the door.

your man on the inside

Most governmental problems arise from two sources, ego and apathy.

While this might seem overly simplistic to some and obvious to others, as someone who has worked in the business for over a dozen years, I've found it shocking.

You see, I've always assumed the best in people and I've always has a fair amount of faith that the cream always rises to the top. Sadly, experience is teaching me thats not necessarily the case, especially in government. Lets break it down like this.

For the elected.

- In order to get into office, you have to run for office. To run for office you have to go out and get petitions signed. This entails walking around asking people for their approval and signature. For that you either need no ego or a super-duper ego.
-Then you need to put yourself on a ballot and have people examine, prod, interrogate, and eventually choose or reject you. Again, you either have to have a huge thirst for that sort of attention ( which would make you a narcissist) or you'd have to be immune to that sort of abuse ( which would make you a sociopath).
- Finally, once you get elected, every decision that you make is going to be subject to criticism, ridicule, and protest. The exception to this would be if you're handing people money without asking them for anything in return...which is the only time you actually see your elected officials if they can help it.

So you can see that the very process itself eliminates most capable, reasonable folks who have neither the time nor inclination to subject themselves to that sort of abuse and scrutiny.

Largely, what you're left with are people adamantly seeking the approval of some, adamantly rejecting the protests of others, and using the powers of their office as tools to do both.

For the non-elected government employees.

- If they're state or federal unionized employees...forget about it. Its going to take even the most enthusiastic well intentioned new employee about two weeks to stop giving a shit. Its a lousy culture where seniority trumps ability and hard work is not only not rewarded, its discouraged.
- For non-union employees you do have some hope. Your hope there is that their enthusiasm lasts a total of four weeks. You see, most governmental jobs entail telling people who should be able to do stuff that they can't....and telling people who shouldn't be able to do stuff, that they can. If you're wondering why that is, please re-read the last part of the elected officials section about using the tools of their office.

So where does that leave you, the public ? Well the bad news is that it doesn't leave you in very good shape. The good news is that once you realize this, then you actually have a chance to beat the system. Like a Judo champion, you have to learn to use the weight and momentum of your opponent against him. You have to make all that ego and apathy work for you instead of against you.

How can you do that ? Well that's a post for another time. For now, my advice is that anytime you have to do anything with the government....build an addition, seek remedy for a neighborhood problem, deal with a new tax, etc etc that you drop me an email first. My personal experience is that 20%-30% of the time, you're being ripped off or being given bad information. So drop me an email. I'm happy to be your man on the inside.

diorama suckers

And the next two pictures would have had an entirely different connotation 20 years ago.

Thompson

In the staff meeting this morning

me: I have a question about past policy. I notice that you and I both called Thompson for an engineering consultation and that we're passing that charge along to the applicant. In instances where we're the ones asking for the consult, should be bear that cost ?

kook: I haven't called Thompson in ...well.....since like Novermber

me: Ok. I'm asking if we should eat that cost or if we should pass that along ?

kook: Maybe it was early December, but I think it was November.

me (staring blankly)

kook: It was November I'm sure of it, it was around Thanksgiving.

me: I don't need to know WHEN, I need to know who pays for it.

kook: If you have a problem with me calling Thompson, then I wont call him without asking you first.

me: WHAT ?!

kook: I never call Thompson unless its absolutly necessary, and now you're saying I use Thompson too much.

me: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ?

kook: I call Thompson when we need Thompson, i just don't call Thompson to call Thompson

me: (staring astonished)

kook: Thompson...Thomp....son, Thompson

me: Is there any way that you coul...

kook: Thompson

me: could please stop talking. Seriously, please just stop talking

kook: urmph-son...urmph

me: ( head on the table)

399

My last look backwards, I promise.

Funny Stuff

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

You Don't Know Dick - Exit Interview

Barack Obama Interview
John McCain Interview

Sarah Palin Video
Funny Election Video

one more

I'm on a movie kick and a reading kick. I need something to fill my nights now that I'm not spending that time sitting in a bar...or sleeping. The voices have been particularly annoying lately and last nights dreams involved rabid leaping iguanas, very unsettling.

Anyway FWIW:

Movie

Half Nelson. Junior High teacher smokes crack. Worth getting but about 30% longer than necessary. Shareeka Epps is going to be a star someday.

Books

A Dog In A Hat, by Joe Parkin. Joe Parkin's account of his experiences as an American bicycle racer in Belgium in the late 80's. Easy read, fun, interesting. A lot is being made about the sections on drugs. The book does take an honest look at drugs in cycling, but offers a good bit more than that. Recommended.

Goodbye Amelia by Simone Felice. I got this because I'm a fan of the Felice Brothers and this book had decent reviews. Its essentially a short story followed by a series of poems. I couldn't get through the poems and I found the short story to be depressing. The text is written with the feel of song lyrics which might be good for a CD jewel case, but starts to lose its appeal after 40 pages. There are parts that tease with being really well done, but just miss the mark. This is Felice's first book, and I suspect that he'll get better in time. Not recommended.

Movie Recommendations

A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints Highly recommended. Incredible directorial debut, amazing cast, compelling story. Best film I've seen in the last 12 months. Currently on Comcast On Demand under the Sundance Channel.




Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. Watched it because it showed up On Demand 1 day after I looked up Lorraine Bracco on imdb and figured it was fate. I may have been wrong. Great cast, but poorly done. Save yourself the trouble.

Dig!. Documentary that follows two bands on opposite paths. The upward rise of the less talented but more sane Dandy Warhols set a fitting backdrop against the death spiral of amazingly talented and self-destructive Anton Newcomb and his Brian Jonestown Massacre. Highly recommended. Great music.

The Bridge. Compelling documentary. Eric Steel filmed the Golden Gate Bridge from two locations for all of 2004, and then followed up with stories about the people who attempted and committed suicide from the bridge during that period. Not particularly uplifting but very compelling. I'll recommend it, but caution that its likely to be watched at an emotional expense.

Fire Truck McGee

I have a guy who works for me who has Bullshittopian-Onset Deafness. He gets louder and louder everytime he's feeding me a line of crap. He just spent the last 10 minutes screaming at the top of his lungs. He finally stopped when I put my head on my desk and just started shaking it back and forth. I still have no idea what he was talking about.


I have a woman who works here who I affectionately call PAT. That's short for Passive-Aggressive Alec Trebek. She only phrases sentences in the form of a question, and the question is always some attempts to make a point to rat-out someone. So I make every attempt to directly answer her question, and only her question, with no additional comment. The conversations go something like this:

PAT: How long are people supposed to take break ?

ME: 15 minutes

PAT: Umm, did you let anyone take a 20 minute break this morning ?

ME: No.

PAT: (pause...baffled...waiting for me to ask her why)

ME: ( staring at her blankly)

PAT: So you didn't let anyone do that ?

ME: ( more staring )

PAT: ( nervously shuffles away and goes to her office to cry)


Finally I have a woman who is confused. That's the most polite was to put it. So when she has to make a decission, which is essentially the main part of her job, he just arbitrarily picks some standard phrase out of a hat. I don't mean that metaphoricly, I mean there's a fairly good chance that she has a hat which some standard phrases in it, and when faced with a dilemma, she goes to the hat. The result is that regardless of what other information you provide, or arguement you make, you're going to get "the hat".

HAT: It can't be more than 14 feet.

ME: I'm not asking for its width, I'm asking what material is it made of.

HAT: Right, ok.

ME: So ??????

HAT: 14 feet.

ME: 14 feet ? WTF ?! What does that have to do with my question ?

HAT: Yeah, 14 feet. That's the widest it can be. Right. 14 feet.


It's Monday. There's no way that we all make it past Wednesay. By we I mean me, them and sobriety. Somebody is going to have to go.

another sledding picture

I shouldn't post this...but

great line

Click the quote to link to the story

Where have all the most appealing men gone? Married young, most of them—and sometimes to women whose most salient characteristic was not their beauty, or passion, or intellect, but their decisiveness.

fianlly

I finally figured out how to switch my blogger acct from my yahoo email address to my gmail address. This probably doesn't sound like a big deal to you, but its a real pain in the ass to switch back and forth especially since blogger automatically logs you out of gmail when you log into blogger under another email address.

This should just about end my relationship with yahoo. Coincidentally it comes are just about the time when I'm starting to harbor some real resentment for google.

Here's the deal with google. At this point they have my email, they're quickly accumulating most of my documents with their free office package, I realized today they have one of my credit cards, the have all of my family pictures...

Yeah I know that google is a front for the CIA and yes I know they're the first real incarnation of Big Brother and google will eventually enslave all of mankind.... but come on, their shit is really really good.

Screw it, I'm gonna be someone's slave I might as well have the most convenient master.

playing hookie

Instead of work and school, I got the kids up early yesterday and we went skiing.

Yesterday was "Pennsylvania Learn to Ski Day" and you could ski at any participating location for $10. Yeah $10. That included the pass, lessons, skis, boots, etc. Too good to pass up.

The only catch was that I had an important work meeting at 3 pm. This wasn't going to be a problem as we would ski from 9:00 am until around 1:00 pm putting me back in town at around 2:00...2:20. Well it wasn't going to be a problem until I hit dead stop traffic on I-83.

I called Mrs. Flick and asked that she meet me at work with some clothes as it would have been awkward to attend the meeting in snowpants. Then, driving in a manner that allowed for my creative side to shine through, I busted a move and headed directly to work.

I arrived in the parking lot at, literally, 2:58 pm. Anxious to get inside and desperately having to pee, I grabbed a pile of clothes and a bag from Mrs. Flick and ran into my office. Instead of running upstairs to where the meeting was I ran into the public bathroom downstairs figuring I could take care of the peeing problem right away, and at the same time change downstairs and save all appearances.

I entered the bathroom and locked the door behind me. As I stood at the uninal relieving my most immediate problem I made best use of time by stripping down. Off went the jacket and shirt, down went my snowpants and longjohns, and I tossed the hat and glasses to the ground behind me.

That's when I found out that the lock in the public bathroom doesn't work.

As I was standing there the door flew open and some old-timer walked in.

" HEY !!!!", I yelled startled.

The old timer looked up surprised and got an eyefull of me standing there stark naked at the urinal with my pants around my ankles, and with clothes and bags strewn around the bathroom and sink.

" WHAT IN _THE_ HELL IS GOING ON !" he yelled with a big emphasis on the THE.

" I'm IN here, just gimme a second !", I countered trying to sound as assertive as a man can while trying not to trip over his own underwear.

He backed up and slammed the door.

I could hear him out there mumbling, so instead of getting fully dressed I threw on my dress pants and hastily buttoned my dress shirt. Then as best I could I picked up all my stuff in a big dangling pile.

By the puzzled and somewhat disgusted look on his face, I suspect ( esp. with me carrying the bags, no shoes, and hair standing on end) that he took me for some sort of homeless guy.

I opened the door and hustled past him quickly, " Have at it pal, Its all yours."

boastful - so what its my blog

I just completed 12 weeks of a return to exercise.

90 hours
over 20 miles of swimming
800+ miles of cycling
115 miles of running

and I went from 209 down to 201 lbs.

I know that's pretty pedestrian to some of the people who read this, but I'm pretty happy with it. I at least feel like I'm turning the boat around and heading in the right direction.

on the contrary - conversation with a 6 year old

Did you have fun at school today ?

- no

Well then did you learn anything ?

- no

Come on, don't be like that you like school.

- no I don't

You're just being a contrarian.

- no I'm not

Do you even know what a contrarian is ?

- no

It means that you're disagreeing just for the sake of disagreeing.

- (pause) no I'm not.

grand idea

The Butt Sling (tm)(c)(patent pending)(etc etc)



This device, which easily fits in a purse or jacket pocket would allow the user go in a public bathroom without having to touch anything.

The hooks go onto the stall walls, and the user sits in the sling. You'd still have to keep your feet on the ground...this isn't a swing or carnival ride....but you lean back into in and are perched above the seat itself.

I was going to get a picture of a stall and then photoshop to demostrate the sling in action, but my setting is currenly on " don't filter my searches" instead of "moderate safe search" and the first batch of images that came back for "bathroom stall" were too repullsive to continue.

Billie Joe McCallister

The annual family Christmas party is always enjoyable and insightful.

The year the dessert table discussion revolved around the song Ode to Billie Joe, the lyrics and the motivations of Billie Joe for jumping of the Tallahatchie Bridge.

After much debate and discussion we were all informed by Uncle Walt that Billie Joe jumped off the bridge was a result of his having had a homosexual experience. This incited a riot that culminated with Uncle Walt screaming over and over, " having a gay experience does not make you gay !" and then suggesting that perhaps the other members of the family might do well to get off their fat asses and go to a library once in a while.

Of course Uncle Larry asked, " Should we browse around or go straight to the gay section ?"

In any case, I got a kick out of this today...go down to the heading titled Novel and Screenplay Adaptations.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ode_to_Billie_Joe

The voices...the voices

So I took a vacation from drinking. I'm trying to work out more and I need to lose some weight, and the drinking was proving to be counter productive to both of those endeavors. So until I get down to fighting weight, I've decided to lay off the sauce.

Its been about a month.

First two weeks were no problem. I was motivated, I was focused, frankly I was probably still fairly pickled.

Third week, mostly out of habit, I could have used a beer. But all in all it wasn't that tough to abstain, especially as I was feeling better and I was starting to see some weight come off.

The fourth week has brought about some unexpected consequences. I've come to remember one of the reasons that I drink in the first place....the voices.

Well they're less voice and more random thoughts. Hmmm, maybe I can explain it this way. Have you ever (over)loaded the back of a van for a long trip ? You get everything in there and then quick-shut the door. Well that's what drinking has done for me. To stay with the analogy, have you ever gotten to the end of your trip and lifted the read hatch only to have all the shit that you crammed back come pouring out onto the driveway in a giant avalanche of diaper bags, luggage, and holiday deserts ? That's what stopping drinking has done for me.

So,years and and years of random disassociated thoughts that have been well crammed behind a sturdy wall of scotch have suddenly decided to pour out all over my mental driveway. That in and of itself would be tolerable, but the resultant increase in my daily mental faculties due to a lack of a steady running hangover has also provided me substantially extra RAM to create an entirely new batch of disassociated thoughts that are sometimes funny, often scary, and ultimately exhausting.

Stuff like:

- wondering if child molesters covertly use midget porn as a legal, if somewhat unsatisfying alternative, and if so how that revelation might be used for the benefit of mankind.
- thinking about using farting as an effective anti-tobacco political statement. As in, would farting in the face of a smoker provide them some perspective on the situation ? Then wondering about the unintended, but potentially entertaining, consequences of uniting flatulence and flame.
- revisiting the idea of putting the shortstop between the pitcher and the catcher to obscure the vision of the batter and wondering how many games you could do it before the commissioner would convene a special meeting of the rules committee.
- Trying to come up with 5 common, yet funny, scenarios where I could use the phrases " It's no..." and " It's not..." in ways that it sounds like " Its snow..." and "Its snot.." and getting stuck at 1....OK, at 0.

And that's just a sample of stuff from like this morning...between alarm clock snoozes.

Anyway, I'm starting to wonder if perhaps, at least in my case, that the drinking might be the safer alternative.

Fucking Clueless

Laura Bush: Shoe thrower lucky Saddam gone

Last update: 6:29 p.m. EST Dec. 28, 2008
WASHINGTON, Dec 28, 2008 (UPI via COMTEX) -- U.S. first lady Laura Bush says she isn't laughing off the incident in Iraq in which a reporter disrupted a news conference by hurling his shoes at her man.
....
She added that the fact the offender would be released sooner rather than later was an indication of the new freedoms Iraqis are enjoying since the overthrow of Saddam Hussein.
"I know that if Saddam Hussein had been there, the man wouldn't have been released," she said. "He probably would have been executed."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

On Friday morning, November 16, 2007, al-Zaidi was kidnapped on his way to work in central Baghdad. Unknown armed men forced him into a car, where he was beaten until he lost consciousness. The assailants used al-Zaidi's necktie to blindfold him and bound his hands with shoelaces.

Injuries
According to witnesses, al-Zaidi was "severely beaten" by security officers after he had been dragged out of the room following the shoe-throwing incident.[32] As the man's screaming could be heard outside, Bush said "That’s what people do in a free society, draw attention to themselves."[21] A "large blood trail" could be seen on the carpet where al-Zaidi had been dragged by security agents.[33][34] Dawa-owned Afaq TV reported that security forces kicked al-Zaidi and beat him.[21] His family reports that it has received many threatening phone calls.[35] The United States Secret Service and the Iraqi Police took custody of al-Zaidi.[36] Al-Zaidi was tested for alcohol and drugs, and his shoes were confiscated as evidence.[37] Al-Zaidi was interrogated by Iraqi and U.S. agents to ascertain whether anyone paid him to throw his shoes at Bush.[38] In an interview with BBC News, al-Zaidi's brother, Durgham al-Zaidi, reported that Muntadhar al-Zaidi suffered a broken hand, broken ribs, internal bleeding, and an eye injury.[9] Durgham al-Zaidi told Al Jazeera that his brother was tortured.[39] Al-Baghdadia TV said that al-Zaidi was "seriously injured" during his detention.[39] Al Sharqiya also points to signs of injury on his thighs and an immobile right arm. However, a different brother, Maitham al-Zaidi, spoke with Muntadhar on the phone and was told: "Thank God I am in good health."[38] On Friday 19 December Dhia al-Kinani, the Judge investigating the case, said there were signs al-Zaidi had been beaten; al-Zaidi had bruises on his face and around his eyes.[40] The Judge also said al-Zaidi had not yet raised a formal charge relating to his injuries.[40] His lawyer, Dhiya'a al-Sa'adi, has also confirmed that al-Zaidi had been beaten, stating that "there are visible signs of torture on his body".[41]

Yeah Laura...this guys doing just great under your husband's " NEW FREEDOMS" you thick cunt.

This was a chance for Bush to step up and set an example for law, order, and freedom. A chance to show the differences between Saddam and democracy. Instead he allows this man to be tortured and sends his wife out to blather on about how "lucky" the guys is. Yet another opportunity lost and more reason for the world to hate America.

All you need to know is on this video from 2:10 - 2:25 where, in response to the reporter pointing out that terrorism didn't come to Iraq until AFTER the invasion, " So What". Hundreds of thousands dead, more maimed, and an entire region in disarray and this shitbag's response....." so what". Thank God its only another 22 days.

Infinite Jest

I try not to write about whatever book I'm reading because it always seems that its virtually impossible to do so without sounding pretentious, like the teller is really saying, " He I read books, not like you TV watching retards".

But seeing as any reader here knows that I watch the requisite amount of TV and I'm as retarded as any red blooded American male, I'll assume that you'll be cool with me mentioning that I read.

Anyway, I just finished Infinite Jest by this dude named David Foster Wallace. The book is looooong. Year ago, younger and more robust I made it through The Stand. A half dozen years back I made it through Atlas Shrugged, but that was only because I skimmed most of the rant at the end AND I was on jury duty. This book is as long and it took me 6 weeks to finish, but had me entertained from cover to cover.

The book is a half dozen short stories intertwined and it heavy on descriptive observation and light on substantive plot. It covers some area...namely athletics, substance abuse/addiction, family relationships, and mental illness, with realistic and hilarious detail that reveals much about the authors background. The book was named in Time's listing of the top 100 novels of all time, but sadly the potential for any future offering about the Endfeld tennis academy or any other offering's by the talented writer ended when David Foster Wallace killed himself last September.

Anyway, you can find the book for $10 on Amazon. You might find the first chapter a little tough to get through until you sync with the timing and tone, but after that you should find the book enjoyable.

yum

grocery shopping

I took the youngest girl grocery shopping with me on Sunday.

We were just about done and I remembered three things that I still needed, " OK, we need three more things..a green pepper, garlic bread and bacon. If I forget remind me, OK ?"

" Yes Daddy, pepper, bread, bacon."

We made our way across the grocery store and got the pepper, bread, and a few other items and then I couldn't remember that last thing I needed. ( which of course is why I asked her to remember)

" Dang, I can't remember the last thing I need. What was it I asked you to remember."

" Ha Ha, you can't remember ?"

" No I can't,", I was getting a little annoyed at myself for forgetting and her for laughing, " can you please tell me ?"

" Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, crackers ?"

" No not crackers."

" marshmellow ?"

" No of course not marshmellow. It was something cold I remember that."

" French toast ?"

Then I realized she was just randomly saying stuff as we passed it, " Hey, you're just saying..."

" Pizza ?"

" CUT IT OUT !"

" Whipped cream ? Orange Juice ? Frozen Oniooooooons ?", then incessant giggling.

So then we left. Half way home I remembered, " Bacon ! Stupid friggin bacon !"

" You better go back.", she said, " you're very forgetful" with a big smile.

Later she was sure to let Mommy know and suggested that I was getting old and that maybe they should keep an eye on me.

this was inevitable

on the off chance that you hadn't seen this

Lil Hitler doesn't get a birthday cake.

E-A-G-L-E-S

I attended my first NFL football game last night.

WOW !



The closest thing I can compare it to is Lollapalooza. It was just complete indulgent chaos. In just our parking lot alone I saw more overt signs of drunken debauchery than I've seen in the last 3 years...and readers of this blog will know that's really saying something. I'm both horrified and impressed at the commitment of Eagles fans to gorge themselves on pork and consume as much Miller Lite as (sub)humanly possible. Hats off.

The one thing that I really found humours was the Eagles year long commitment to going "green". Nothing says " save the environment" like 55,000 people driving 40,000 cars to an event that's lit by 1 trillion mega-lumens of high wattage lamps, and then serve them food and drink in disposable containers that they indiscriminately toss on the ground. As the guy in the seat said to me last night, " is this really your target audience ?"

But what a good time. I got the feeling that in close game or in a loss against Dallas, that it wouldn't take much for the entire scene to go sideways quickly...but at least last night the fans were fun, the game was great, and a fun time was had by all.

Go Birds !

aquaman

There's a guy who goes to the gym that I frequent.

He's usually at the pool at around the same time as me and does laps wearing a divers mask, a snorkle, and flippers. Big ocean faring flippers too. And with all that gear on he 'swims' laps for a half hour. I think it takes him two strokes to get the the other side of the pool.

After swimming he retires to the locker room for roughly 3 hours where he showers, steams, hot tubs, showers again, the entire time engaging people in these horrible conversations. Its always something awkwardly personal and when the other person invariably starts talking in a hushed tones in an attempt to salvage some dignity and mellow him out, he always responds by raising his voice about 100 decibles.

( Thus far anyway) he is self aware enough to know to NOT talk to me. I spend the entire time there with a look ( well honed in the locker room of an all boys Catholic high school) that says, " fuck with me and I'll towel snap you right in the dick".

Anyway, I have to swim on Wednesday and I'm seriously thinking about sticking a tampon in his snorkle while he's in the steam room.

out of the fog

You'll have to forgive me as I just cleared the fog of a 3 day hangover, but I'm going to give writing sentences a shot. If this goes well I might shoot for coherent sentences tomorrow.

Someone used the phrase "bum rush" the other day. As in, " he was standing there and the other guy bum-rushed him". This got me wondering about the origins of this and other common phrases. For whatever inane reason I had a vague idea that bum-rush was referring to your behind/buttocks/your bum. So that bum-rushing someone was running up behind them. How this related to Public Enemy's Bum Rush Da Show I'm not really clear on, but I hadn't really thought about it that much. Then someone pointed out the obvious that it probably had origins that deal with bums...ie hobos, vagabond, transients, etc. I'm not exactly sure how THAT makes sense either, because I'm not sure I've even seen a bum "rushing" exactly, they usually seem rather unhurried. And I really couldn't envision a group of bums closing in on someone...not without kinda laughing anyway. But here's what I found. Its all sorta clear as mud.

This line of thinking also provided me another revelation. My father has always used the phrase "cotton picker" or " cotton pickin" instead of swearing. Now the fact that he going out of the way to not swear should give some insight to the fact that he's a rather conservative guy ( Ward Cleaver conservative, not Rush Limbaugh conservative). The guy doesn't drink and I've never heard him say anything racist in his life. So up until a week ago,I never actually thought about the phrase he so commonly uses. I mean it should have been obvious to both he and I, but I guess it was just one of those things that you just never notice. I can only imagine my shock will pale in comparison to his reaction when I point it out this weekend. I'm SURE he's used the exact phrase, " Ahhhh I just sliced that cotton picker into the sandtrap " while playing with his African-America golfing partner.

And then there's " She built like a brick shithouse " which I just assumed to mean solid...but hardly flattering. I'll let straight dope handle that one.

Jonestown

That's why my house looked like Sunday morning. Plastic cups and bodies strewn about as a result of some self-induced mass slaughter...in other words, the annual Flick Family Christmas Party.

This year the party also doubled as a reveal for a year long prank that I pulled on my good friend and neighbor Tom. I haven't been able to write about it here for feat that he might see it, but the whole prank is laid out on another blog I write www.ohdeer2008.blogspot.com

In a nutshell, I stole Tom's wooden lawn deer and spent the last your mailing him around the coutry. THe two videos at the top of that page sum the whole thing up nicely.

Right now I feel like that Russian dude who got poisoned. I kinda look like him too.

good interview

http://www.bikeraceinfo.com/oralhistory/lemond.html

My wattage, relative to VO2 Max…a VO2 Max of 92 or 93 in a fully recovered way…I think I was capable of producing 450 to 460 watts. The truth is, even at the Tour de France, my Tour de France climb times up l’Alpe d’Huez yielded a wattage of around 380 and 390. That was the historic norm for Hinault and myself. You’ve got times going back many, many years. But what was learned recently, in the last 5 years, was that when you start the Tour de France, you start with a normal hematocrit of, say, 45 percent. By the time you finish, it’s probably down 10 or 15 percent. Which means my VO2 Max dropped 10 or 15 percent. So that’s why I was never producing the same wattage. And then there a lot of other factors that help performance if you’ve recovered. My last time trial in ’89, I averaged about 420, 430 watts, which would match or be slightly down from what my real VO2 Max was.

204.5

exhausted

going deep

I did a 5 mile run tonight. About 4 miles into to i got a little rumbly in my tumbly, at 4.5 miles it turned into a full blown intestinal "situation", with each pounding step home I put myself into further and further distress.

Its now 10 pm and I'm writing this on the laptop from the downstairs bathroom where I've spent a good portion....let me rephrase that, where I've spent the majority of the night.

I think I now understand why I haven't lost any of that weight. I think I was carrying it all in my large intesttine and just needed a long run to jar it loose. I'm crapping out stuff from the late 80's....stuff like pop rocks and classic coke.

Oh lordy, I hope I make it till daybreak.

Black Monday

That's what I'm calling the Monday after Thanksgiving break. Everyone is walking around here in a fog. 4 days ( or more) of sleeping in and gorging yourself on turkey is no preparation for an overcast Monday morning sitting in a cubical. Add to that the fact that here in Pennsyltucky its the first day of buck fever and the door never beeps and the phone never rings and you have a recipe ripe for violations of the companies internet use policy.

I hope your Thanksgiving holiday went well...mine did.

As Mrs. Flick is still laid up I made my first turkey ever for the big day. I started around noon right after a hard bike ride and a 4 mile run, which left me as hungry as a Rastafarian in a Whole Foods store. The result was a 15 lb bird, 3 lbs of marshmellow yams, 16 biscuts, etc etc capped off both a pumpkin and a coconut cream pie....for 5 of us, three of whom are under 10 and one of whom is a skinny woman. Needless to say that I've eaten nothing but leftovers for the last 3 days. FYI, 3 day old yams are disgusting no matter how much marshmellow to bathe them in.

Friday I took the kids downtown for the tree lighting ceremony and annual Mayoral season greeting, this year titledm, please-buy-some-stuff-downtown-instead-of-the-mall-so-we-can-hang-onto-the-last-of-the-white-people-who-haven't-pulled-the-the-chute-yet, or something like that. I'm not really sure because I didn't get one of the programs.

The whole city scene fascinates me. You have some modestly affluent baby boomers who are really committed to saving the city. They're the ones supporting ( or opening) the shops. They're the ones keeping the nightlife afloat. They're the ones drawing in the likes of me and my family to participate in things like the tree lighting and first Friday artwalk. But the city is also composed of a fair number of half-way house type crazy and infirmed people as well as a stunning number of feral 12 year old boys with improbably large puffy jackets and nicer cell phones and sneakers than I have. This all creates a surreal mix in the town square with the boomers in their camel hair jackets and wingtips trying to act dignified while crazy toothless people try to protect their shopping bags from wandering packs of PhatFarm puffballs screaming at each other with a 3 to 1 obscenity to english ratio. At least the event was capped with ( literally) 200 tuba players, tubas fully decorated in Chirstmas regalia, playing silent night an a Bowser-like octive, to keep everything anchored in normalcy.

Me ? I bought my kids some hot chocolate then we hightailed it outta there and back tot he suburbs where we like our dysfunction the old fashion American way...surpressed in a haze of prescprition drugs and deviant sexuality. In that I can trust.

The rest of my weekend was spent running, and riding, and swimming, the same as the last 6 weeks. The result of this concerted effort toward fitness and good health has yielded me a net loss of exactly 1 whole pound depending on whether or not I weigh myself pre or post dump. People keep trying to say encouraging things like " maybe you gained muscle" or " hang in there" but I suspect that in their heads they're finishing the sentence with the phrase " ...you fatass". No matter what the outcome, at least if my car breaks down I should be able to run, ride, or swim to the closest donut shop, so it all works out.

A very short conversation Saturday night.

The boy: ( something insulting to the youngest girl)

the girl: I'm not impressed

The boy: Well then maybe I'll call you a therapist

The girl: Then maybe I'll bleed you again.

Last night the youngest girl had a friend over for a sleepover. Around 1:00 am I heard some comotion and I got up to find her friend crying. " I want my mommy, I want to call her". I told the girl that I didn't think that it was a good idea to freak her mom out by calling her at 1:00 am, but that I'd sit with her until she fell back asleep so she wouldn't be scared. Then the youngest girl woke up and asked what has happening. " Your Daddy wont let me call my mommy, he wants to sit in bed with me instead", which, while accurrate, would look a lot less magnanmous if written out in a police report. I woke Mrs. Flick and let her manage the sitation.

OK, I realize this is post is starting to get a little out of control. Happy Monday.

you'll be laughing at this until Monday

Get the latest news satire and funny videos at 236.com.

Ninja Assasin

Mrs. Flick has shoulder surgery a couple of weeks ago. She's doing well and healing up fine, but pain management has been a bit of an issue.

Mrs. Flick is rather conservative when it comes to drugs, prescription I mean.... she wouldn't even consider recreational. Heck I have to buy her pony bottles of beer and she can barely get through one of those before it starts to get warm. So despite being in some post-op pain, she was only taking her Oxycontin at about half the dosage and in half the time frame prescribe by the doctor. The real trouble started when, after three days, she just quit cold turkey and tried to "gut it out". That's when she learned that "time-released pain meds" means that once you let it get out of your system, you're not getting any real relief for about 2 hours.

After suffering through some serious pain for a few hours, it took far less convincing to get her to take a full dose of the meds, which she did and finally at about 4 am conked out. That's when she learned the meaning of another new phrase..."opium dreams".

I was driving into work the next morning and my phone rang. " WHY ?! WHAT DID I DO ?!", Mrs. Flick was shouting at me.

" Huh ? What's wrong ?"

" I'm a good wife, I'm a good person, why would you want me dead you bastard !"

She went on to explain her very vivid dream involving me hiring a ninja to kill her and her somehow escaping..but the ninja slicing her in the neck and shoulder.

The whole thing was a bad trip which reminded me of this.

I did my best Jimmy Carter, talked her off the ledge and had her go back to bed. A half dozen hours later, no longer high and with a cup of coffee in her, we got it all straightened out....although I notice she still kinda watches me all suspicious out the corner of her eye all.

Which brings us to last night.

Last night I had a shitty day, she had a shitty day and we were chasing the kids around getting them ready for bed. " Man I could use a beer" I lamented since we haven't been keeping any alcohol in the house since I started trying to get back into shape. " You know, me too", she responded.

So while she tucked the kids in I ran down to the corner bar and grabbed me some beer ( that experience will be tomorrows post).

When I got back we sat down, relaxed, and I cracked open a couple of beers. After a few minutes of peaceful silence Mrs. Flick asked, " Hey, I took one of those pills about an hour ago, you think its ok for me to have this beer ?"

I thought for a second, " yeah sure, one beer isn't going to do anything."

Then she gave me that out of the corner of the eye look and I can tell thoughts of ninjas were going through her head, " are you sure ?"

" Yeah I'm sure...relax", but then I started thinking about it and I wasn't sure at all. I mean I wouldn't worry for me, but she doesn't drink, doesn't use drugs, and she's about 100lbs lighter than me. I doubted anything could happen, but now that she asked me ( twice) if anything did happen I didn't need that shit on my shoulders. Plus I know she told that ninja story to at least one of her friends and if she turned up dead I had a bad feeling that I'd have a tough time trying to find character witnesses that would say anything other than, " I dunno...he seems like the kinda guy who might actually do it."

So I googled Oxycontin and alcohol and the first 5 hits that came up has some variation of the same thing, " UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES DRINK ALCOHOL WITH THIS DRUG, IT WILL SUPPRESS YOUR CNS AND YOU'LL GO TO SLEEP AND NEVER WAKE UP".

" Ummmm, maybe you should stop drinking that be...", I looked up to see her finishing off the last of the bottle.

" WHAT !?!?!"

" Oh nothing dear, just kidding" and I sent her off to bed.

On Wednesdays I get up to swim and between that and the way she's got herself rigged up in a nest of pillows and pulleys and such for the shoulder, I've arranged other sleeping quarters. So I got up swam, came home showered, and went into our room to get my clothes.

The light from the open door spilled across the bed and there among the pulleys and pillows and various contraptions used to prop her up was Mrs. Flick. Her head was back, mouth agape, out completely cold and not moving. I looked a little closer for the tell tale rise and fall of the covers and the thoughts of prescription bottle disclaimers and Amish ninjas flashed through my head. " OK Flick, get ahold of yourself, you're being silly", I tried to steady myself.

I moved a little closer and leaned over her listening for her breathing and still nothing...NOTHING ! " Honey ?", I whispered. Nothing. " Hey.", and I gave her a little poke. NOTHING !

Then I just freaked out, " OH MY GOD ARE YOU ALIVE, HELLO HELLO !" and started shaking her (good) arm.

" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH", Mrs. Flick bolted straight up, eye the size of saucers. Dazed and confused, " WHA ? WHO ? WHA ?"

" ohmygodohmygodohmygod....okokokokokokok...aaaaaa. sorry....sorry....go back to bed, everything is ok"

She was looking around blankly, " but wha ? what the ?"

" No honey its ok, everything is fine, back to bed now", and I coaxed her back onto the pulley and such and somehow got her lulled back to some sort of sleep. Then I got the hell out of dodge.

this aint right

har de har har

Greg Lemond

I usually don't talk about cycling or doping because they both bore me anymore, but I just got done watching stages 17-21 of the 1990 Tour De France and find myself really pissed off.

What I'm pissed off at are the morons who criticize and vilify Greg Lemond as some sort of washed up guy who's criticism of modern cycling and douchebag Armstrong is all sour grapes.

Lets establish something right off the bat.

Greg Lemond is the greatest American cyclist ever. Period.

He was World Champion as a junior and twice as a professional on the road.

He got the silver at the worlds an additional two times as a professional

He won the Tour three times, twice after being SHOT and still having pellets in the tissue around his heart. He also placed third in the tour and second in a tour that many feel he could have won.

He won the season long super prestige trophy in 1983 which was that era's equivalent of the Pro Tour title. He was second in the same series in 1986

He raced all season long in Europe AND the US, winning the Coors Classic a couple of times,the Tour DuPont and featuring in the spring and fall classic as well as the world championships.

And HE DID IT DOPE FREE

I'll even contend that if it weren't for EPO jacking up riders like Berzin, Chiapucci, Riis, Indurain, etc etc etc in the early 90's that Lemond may have an another couple of successful seasons and perhaps another tour win.


Now to address his criticisms of Armstrong and Landis, let's get right to the heart of the matter.

Landis doped.

If you want to make the argument that Armstrong didn't dope, I think you're retarded, but I'll agree that he never tested positive. Somehow he dominated Ulrich, Zuelle, Pantani and all the other admitted cheaters, but he never tested positive. All his former teammates, Hamilton, Heras, Landis, Vaughters, Andreau, Swart, etc etc etc all have either been busted and or admited cheating, but you're right he never tested positive. He dumped Landis' blood bag down the drain like some petulant child, but he indeed has passed every piss test. He went out of his way to badger, humiliate and cut short the careers of riders and support staff of spoke out against doping, but you're 100% correct he never tested positive.

Oh except for that one time with the cortisone, but that got all straightened out.

So at great personal loss....he lost his bicycle company...he had his personal laundry of child molestation outted....he's persona-non-grata in the professional cycling community.....at the great personal loss and without anything to gain, Lemond has spoken out AGAINST DOPING. He's called into question Armstrong antics, associations, and motivations. He's asked for more strict guidelines and testing procedures.

And along every step of the way his assertions, accusations, and ideas have all been proven to 100% absolutely CORRECT.

And he's the asshole ?!?!

If you don't support Lemond, if you don't see that he's trying to clean up the sport...the dying piece of shit that its become...then you're blind.

http://www.cyclinghalloffame.com/riders/rider_bio.asp?rider_id=23

http://bestoflemond.blogspot.com/

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

Two Ships

After watching to kids almost konk heads in the swimming pool the phrase " two ship passing in the night" went through my head.

Its usually used in the context of two people missing some wonderful opportunity due to an unfortunate circumstance of timing. Often this is used in the context of relationship.

But seeing the two kids nearly bang heads made me wonder about the alternatives. What if two people were like two ships that collided in the night. You know with horror and panic, people screaming and pleading for their lives ?

Now that sounds like a much more apt description of my relationships.

down and out

I caught a cold.

It started Thursday as a runny nose and by Saturday had evolved into a fully functional ass kicker.

I had hoped to spend the weekend riding my bike and getting some stuff done around the house but instead spent the weekend horizontal, moaning.

In my reclined state I did get to catch a little TV and noticed that the news reporters all do something really funny anymore. When they pronounce a foreign word, they do some sort of cartoon impression of someone from that country.

This first started right around 2000 when the country went into a Latino frenzy - you remember - when Nacho's superseded the potato chip, the Miami Sound Machine did that conga, and Edward James Olmos or whatever the fuck his name is was being talked about like Al Pachino ( who ironically enough had been on the cutting edge of the movement, trading in his guini-tee for big tab collars of Tony Montana)

but I digress...

Back then you'd hear Daisy Fuentes introducing a song in perfect Queens English and then get to a word such as " enchilada" and suddenly she'd be like Speedy Gonzalez offering some food to Yosemite Sam, " On-chillll-(rolling tongue)-taaaaaa" then right back into English like nothing happened. It would be like drive by Spanish....whap-pa-pa-pa and then right back into English.

But whatever. Daisy was in fact Hispanic, and hot, so whatever she wanted to do was fine with me. And the whole thing, while odd, did not give off a sense of affect as much as it did cultural pride.

Well some time between then and now, the whole thing has gone to hell in a handbasket. Apparently any word, or worse yet any name, that doesn't appear on the side of a Happy Meal box now has to be said as spoken in its country of origin.

The first blatant example of this was with Qatar. KA-TAR....sounds like guitar was fine for most of us. Then it began. QUA-TER, KA-TEAR, Mis-ta KOT-TAH...until finally some dope settled on CUTTER. CUTTER ? Come on, that's purposely being obtuse.

My recent favorite is seeing how many syllables the anchor can add to the Russian Presidents name. Medvedev Having the D and the V next to each other has sent them into a tizzy. Now, rightly or wrongly, MED-VED-EV is simple enough. We know who you're talking about, he knows who your talking about, and its easy on the English ear. But no, they're rather MED-VI-ED-VI-EV, ME-ED-VI-ED-DI-EV or the CNN preferred pronunciation all slurry like Rocky after fighting at 15 rounder with Apollo Creed, MED-VIED-EV.

I did notice that they tried this shit with Al-Qaeda for a while but then just gave up and went back to AL-KI-DA. Maybe the whole thing comes down to a matter of respect.

been riding ?

" Been riding ?"

Every language and culture has their own unique greeting, " buenos dias", "bonjor", " howya doin", " whatup-G", etc etc.

In the obsessive compulsive world of cycling, the choice of greeting invariably includes the phrase, "been riding ?".

Oh sure, it takes various forms, and occasionally, if the situation warrants it will be preceded by a "nice to see you" or " Hey your shirt is on fire", but those are just some sort of societal obligation...a necessary pleasantry before getting to the meat of the issue...

" Been riding ?"

The response to the "been riding?" question/greeting is perhaps more interesting the the question itself in that the response is always an untruth. Then always followed by the necessary, " how about you?"...and back and forth it goes.

To the uninitiated, it looks something like this...

Frick: Hey nice to see you.....been riding ?

Frack: Riding ? No, not much at all..barely been able to get out. How about you ?

Frick: Nah, not much. I did get out with the guys on Saturday, but that's about it.

Now I have to interrupt the conversation to point out the not so subtle turns that things often take here.

* If in fact one of the parties actually has not been riding ( unlikely) then the conversation will awkwardly fizzle out as one of the guys is only capable about talking about riding, bike, bike riding, the last ride he did and the next ride he's going to do....while the non-riding guy will want to talk about riding about as much as Bruce Willis wants to talk about what a wicked great career that Ashton Kutcher is having.

* If both parties actually have been riding, then game switches from one of mutual denial into a Cold War-esque arms race...

Frack: Oh you went out with those guys on Sat ? Yeah I couldn't make that, but I did get out for a couple hours by myself in the morning.

Frick: Oh cool. Yeah the group did about 3 hours

Frack: Sorry I missed that. But its probably for the better since I ended up sneaking away for 4 hours on Sunday and so 3 hours on Sat would have been too much.

Frick: Wow 4 hours on Sunday, you must be getting in great shape. I only did 3 on Sunday, but I did it later when I was windy.

ad nauseum until ever ride for the last 6 months has been described and accounted for and, of course, there's the necessary trading of scouting reports on all the other riders they both know...who also "have not been riding" and how many miles and how well their " not been riding" is going.

Too often this transpires while Frick and Fracks wives, or girlfriends, or kids stand to the side ignored and glazed over with 1000 mile stare usually reserved for methadone addicts or prisoners of war.

The customary closing is as automatic as " buenos dias" or " peace out".

Frack: So are you going to ride this upcoming weekend ?

Frick: Hmmm, probably not. I mean I've been so busy...I may not get to ride for weeks.

Frack: Yeah I know what you mean. I doubt I'll be able to get out either.



Good night Frick, Good night John Boy.

Can you put a price on art ?

Actually, yes you can.

I took my daughter downtown on Friday for dinner and a walking tour of some of the downtown galleries. As we wandered around looking at pieces, it got me thinking a few things:

1) How is art priced ? Is the $1000 painting on the wall a function of materials used, time invested, the perceived quality of the work or emotional attachment the artist has to the work ? If any of you out there are artists please let me know because I really am curious.

2) Many of the pieces just aren't going to sell. Its not because of their quality, its because most people don't have $1200 to spend on a oil painting of a farm scene. I suppose the idea is that selling one painting for $1200 is still more profitable than selling 10 paintings at $100 each. But as an artist wouldn't you want people to have and enjoy your art. As a gallery owner, don't you want to start to create a market where people get in the habit of consuming your products ?

3) Functional art is really cool. I suppose there is something aesthetically pleasing about an entire IKEA layout, but I'm a much bigger fan of odd and older pieces cobbled together. Many of the shops downtown have tables, shelving, candle holders, table ware, etc regular houshold type goods that are either old items refurbished or stuff made by hand. Little of it, probably none of it, has clean lines. The pieces have nicks and scratches. But almost all of it it etched or painted or has some touch to it that makes you consider the fact that another human being spent time putting skill and labor into it.

I saw a couple of bands this weekend. Both had fiddle players. I thought that was odd. One had an electric piano and a scrub board. I'm pretty sure both should be pre-requisites for any music made. The group I saw Friday night was playing on the street and consisted of a fiddle, a guitar and an upright base. The folks were playing for tips and had drawn quite the crowd. I watched the fiddle player, standing in the cold jamming away and it made me realize that he was better at playing the fiddle than I am at anything in my life. Then I realized that as good as he was, that he was standing on a street corner playing for dollars while Brittney Spears was somewhere getting a foot massage. I gave him a dollar and felt depressed for the both of us.

A rule of thumb to live by. The louder someone yells, the more they're lying.

I saw a big guy in a T-shirt and trucker hat get tossed from a bar. About 20 minutes later he came back wearing a pink argyle sweater vest over top of the t-shirt and still with the trucker hat. He made it about 30 seconds before he got thrown out again. Somehow he had convinced himself that putting a pink sweater on a 6'2" 250 lb man was a good disguise. I love drunk logic. It was yet another time that I wished I had fake schnoz and glasses , because I'm fairly certain I could have convinced him to make another run at it.

Starbucks or Swingerbucks

I just went for a cup of coffee.

As I walked up to the counter, the guy in line in front of me said to the woman working behind the counter, " So, are you single ?"...no small talk, no preamble, nothing like that...just BOOM, " are you single?" .

She replied, " How old are you ?"

" 27", is what I think he said.

" Well I'm at least 10 years old than you"

" Great !", he raeched into his pockets, " I'm going to give you my number. Call me if you want to go out."

He handed her a card, picked up his coffee and out the door he went.

It was the antithesis of every experience I ever had asking a woman out...he was confident, he was direct, he was sober. I was as baffled as the woman behind the counter, who I might add, got quite the smile on her face and put the number in her pocket.

Then as I was standing there, mouth agape, the woman behind me in line moved up alone beside me and smiled. She was a realtively attractive woman, but well into her 50s. Obviously somewhat affluent with a plunging neckline and and obvious boob job.

" So what are you doing tonight", she asked..apparently inspired by our boys performance.

It was then that I became very aware of the fact that my wedding ring was still sitting on the ESC key of my keyboard back at the office.

" Tonight ?", I repeated, " well for starters I'm getting the hell out of this place"......laughed.......then ran like hell.

the great escape

A friend recently asked, " Do you find it hard to go to sleep at night ?"

He wasn't asking about any insomnia, he was referring to the fact that, in general, men tend to stay up late watch bad TV and surfing the internet. This, and the fact that the airtime is cheaper, is why you'll see ads for penis enlargement cream, rogaine, and girls gone wild videos all shown well after 10 pm.

The reason is relativly obvious, but I think worth noting. Men need to be alone. Alternatively, men need to be with other men alone ( meaning without women and children)...but that mostly works because men don't ask shit of other men so you can't actually hang out with them and not feel put upon. And its the "put upon" that seems to be the driving force that's keeping Colbert and Mega-Man suppliments in buisness.

Back in "the day" men would get this type of reprieve on a somewhat regular basis. There was the Elks Club, Knight of Columbus, Country Club memberships ( at Country Clubs with no women and children), or post work meet-ups at the local pub which would have occassionally have women, but for our purposes of discussion, 19 year old cocktail waitresses are not applicable.

In today's modern age, men are "involved". They're coaches, they're baby sitters, they help with homework, they spend "quality time", somehow or another we've become actual participants in the daily lives of our wives and children. NOT, as they say, NOT that there's anything wrong with it. My only point is that those downtimes are less formal and less regular than during our father's generation.

So where does that leave us ?

First all lets get one thing out of the way. The term "man cave" is gay. If you use it stop using it. If you hear it, please make the offender know of the transgression. Getting some sort of designated area, and worse yet some sort approval from your spouse...with the title " MAN CAVE" is contrary to the entire concept. A " MAN CAVE" is a place where men might as well have " PLAY DATES"....another designation that sucks all of the fun and spontinaity out of life.

I remember sneaking out to the garage for a beer and smoke with the father of one of my friends after our wives had gone to bed a few years ago. I felt sheepish about the entire operation until he pointed out to me that all over America...he'll over most of the world, men were sneaking out into their garages, or woodsheds, or basements and sneaking a smoke or a drink. He tuned me into the fact that hanging out alone, or even with a friend, outside of your wifes knowledge or without scheduling it, or without having to check on the kids, was an act of independance. That it was in those moments that we break free of the burdens and bonds of daily drudgery. Furthermore, he pointed out that those moments rejuvinated us enabled us to be better fathers, husbands, and providers. We weren't taking swigs from the flask hidden in the toolbox for ourselves...we were getting covertly hammered for THEM. That watching reruns of The OC episode where the chicks are trying on swimsuits isn't our pleasure as much as its our duty and obligation.

The man made a lot of sense. Either that or I was just really really high.

Still Funny

finally

It turns out that the youngest girl, previously thought of fearless, is in fact scared of something.

Unfortunately the thing she seems to be scared of is Halloween.

To remedy this I've convinced her that she and I will instead celebrate Smellfarticus. Smellfarticus is of course the lesser known autumnal holiday where you wrap your rectal gasses in decorative paper and gift them to your friends. My intent was to gross her out and make skeletons and black cats look reasonable by comparison. Instead, she liked it. Now I have to figure out how to wrap a fart.

Maybe its ME she should be scared of.


I can't believe I've been at this blog since 2005. I'll have to dig up the other costume pics, but here's a visit from ghosts past.

2005 <--CLICK HERE


2006


2007 <--CLICK HERE

there's luck...and then there's Obama

Talk about being on a good run.

Obama rented airtime from the television stations.

The 6th game of the World Series didn't get cancelled, it didn't get called off, the Rays TIED the game allowing the Series to be "postponed" for the first time in the history of the game.

To give you some perspective on that....nothing in baseball ever happens for the first time.
* Imagine someone striking out three batters. Then the catcher dropping the ball and the running running to first and making it there safely. Then the pitcher strikes out the next batter...giving the pitcher 4 strikeouts in one inning. Yeah, that's happened FOUR TIMES.
* Or imagine someone hitting a single, double, tripple, and home run in the same game...that happens like once every other year.
* DUDES...the ball bounced off of Conseco's head and out of the park for a home run once.

In any case, so this happens for the first time ever.

Then the weather is so bad that they have to postpone the game a second time !

Which pushes GAME 6, perhaps the last game of the series, into prime time...midweek....starting at the end of Obama's rented time.

I took my boy to a restaurant to watch the game. We had to go to two places before we got a table. I heard it was the same all over Central and Southeastern Pa.

Not only does Obama get this captive audience, but the two teams playing in the games don't end up being Los Angeles and Boston...but rather two key presidental swing states of Pennsylvania and Florida.

The dude is running hot.

P.S. John Daly...passed out....Hooters ! HAHAHAHAHHA !

Mal-apropriate, chickens beware.

The youngest girl finds herself regularly confused and opinionated. Apparently another genetic gift from her dear old dad. Just this weekend.

- Hey Dad why don't you ever take me to Ohio ?
. Why would you want to go to Ohio, there's nothing to do there ?
- Yeah, that's the point. We can sit around on the beach and drink stuff out of coconuts.
. Wha ? Do you mean Hawaii ?
- Yeah, whatever. I just want a coconut.


- Hey Dad, you're being rather pandarthic.
. Pandarthic ? That's not even a word.
- See ?! That's exactly what I'm talking about.


- Hey Dad, what's with all these Irish people ?
. Huh ? You mean Mr. Daniels ?
- Mr. Dadi- ? I'm talking about THOSE people over there.
. You mean Amish ?
- Yeah, whatever. Anyway what's their deal. They all have farms.
. Well a lot of Amish are farmers. Many of them are farmers or carpenters.
- Am I going to have to be Amish ?
. Why ?
- Cause I'm going to be a farmer when I grow up.
. Oh. You can be a farmer without being Amish. And I didn't know you wanted to be a farmer.
- Yeah. I'm going to be a farmer and live no a farm and all my friends will be animals.
. Even the one's you eat ?
- ( no pause) Actually, I WILL have to lie to the chickens.

phrases that put me on tilt

In golf....

* A scramble is where you and your partner(s) hit a shot. You choose the best of those shot, everyone drops a ball from there and plays your next shot from that same location.
* Best ball is where you and your partner(s) play you own ball all the way through the hole and then the team gets the score of whomever has the lowest individual score for the hole.

There's no such thing called BETTER BALL.

Is that so hard to understand?

In poker....

* Its a raise if someone else has bet and you are increasing the amount of the bet. Its a reraise, if someone has bet, a second person has already raised, and now your increasing the bet a second time.

In life....

"At the end of the day...." Gawd, enough already with this one.

" When you take the (xxxx) of the worlds" when people are talking about someone specific...as in " How will this affect the Tiger Woods of the world" or " We have to see the reaction of the Obama and McCains of the world" ...when they're really talking about Tiger Woods, McCain and Obama. Just talk about who the hell you're talking about...."of the worlds" should be used rarely and when your reference is someone who represents a larger segment of the population. Quite fucking ironicly, "Joe the Plumber" is the perfect example of someone who should have been " The Joe Plumbers of the world" but instead everyone got all focused on the actual and exact Joe the Friggin Plumber. BAH !

"It is what it is"...this put me immediately on super monkey tilt. This phrase might be the single greatest waste of breath in human history. It makes no contribution to the discussion in any way whatsoever. When is "it" ever anything else besides " what it is ?" Godamnit it makes me mad just typing it.

< oh I'm taking a break, but don't even think that I'm done with this >

Murtha is crazy

There aren't any racists in Western Pa.



BTW I did some student teaching just outside of Johnstown. The guy I taught with told me on day 1, " boy, you gonna find things work a little different around here than in Philadelphia...we had one black family in this town and we straightened that situation right out." When it rained he used to show the elementary school kids old Little Rascal videos, but only the ones that had " Aunt Jamima" and Spanky in blackface. I reported him to the University and out of spite the asshole gave me a B.

Of course that's not an indictment of the entire region, but to pretend that shit isn't rampant is just burying your head in the sand.

HA !

ty, Mike H.

dammit

You know, I start to feel good about things. I start to get a little bit of hope for the country and a little bit of enthusiasm that we all might be turning the corner to a more reasonable discussion, and then I see crap like this.

YO DEMOCRATS ! You're winning...show a little class. Show a little dignity. Show a little leadership. I mean goddamn, it tough enough for me to vote democrat as it is, please don't make me stay home on election day or force me to write in Ron Paul.

I suspect this would be less annoying if it wasn't for the fact that these pictures are coming from the Lancaster County Democratic site. They're encouraging and celebrating this ignorance.

I wonder if this frustration is what its like to be a cubs fan ?

sunday bloody sunday

Saturday night, without intending to, I got myself shitfaced drunk....again...on accident.

So this meant another horrid Sunday, sick as a dog with a days full of activities on the docket. I figured the only hope I might have would be to exercise it out.

I woke, ate a fistfull of ibuprofin and vitamins, chugged a cup of coffee, and went for a brisk ride with my wife and her friend. This did wonders for working the ibuprofin and coffee out of my system, but didn't do much for the hangover.

I took the boy to his football practice, then afterwards gave it another try and swam a mile. Terrible. No dice. Still had the headache and nausea, except now I smelled like chlorine.

Home, dinner, work around the house and played with the kids. Then I said screw it, and went for a 30 minute run...that turned into a jog, then that turned into a shuffling along the roadside like a vagrant. This of course was punctuated by brief forrays into the corn field to get rid the 3 full pots of coffee.

Finally got home sick as a dog, but still had to roast the pumpkin seeds with the kids. Did that then ate the roasted seeds with a little apple cider and VOILA !like a miracle the hangover left. Now some might say that it had worked itself out, so might say it was all the exercising, but 'some' don't know what the hell they're talking about. Pumpkin seeds and apple cider might actually be the cure for cancer.

In any case, I've given up the idea that I might be able to reign in my binge drinking, but I've committed myself to being the most fit guy on the liver transplant unit.

You know the cynical side of me almost wrote last night to bet on how long it would take to start attacking Joe the Plumber. Even I would have lost to the under.

Of course they're saying he's not a certified plumber.
He's no where near amking 250K or near buying his bosses buisness, that the whole thing is bunk.
AND
he's a close relation to Keating of the Keating 5.

Just so you know, I could give a shit. I frankly didn't put have much interest in Joe the Plumer when he was a hero and I wont give (pardon the inevitable pun) two turds when he's made into the foil.

Its all a fascade to keep everyone distracted from talking about the real subjects.

A friend wrote this to me today and I think it's brilliant:

"I don't know which one I detest more – the politics of fear or the politics of "I am going to see that the government ends poverty and helps you live the American dream" when in reality on the one side the conservatives are playing on the fears and ignorance of many, while the liberals are playing to the greed and gullibility of many. "

I also think this is a riot

Is McCain blinking in morse code ?

please let this be real

how the grand canyon was made

me: Did you give permission for the church to have a bonfire ?

her: Yes, that's always so much fun.

me: Well you can't do that. The ordinance is very clear, you cannot have bonfires.

her: But they're on more than 10 acres of land, so its ok.

me: No. The 10 acre provision in the ordinance is for agricultural purposes.

her: Yeah, well the farm there too. The have a nice barn....

me: No that's not the point. Agricultural purposes means that they can clear brush an-

her: ...and a little office, and when you drive in they have an old wagon. You should see it, your kids would love it.

me: Yeah, great. What I mean is that a bonfire is not an agricultural purpose. A bonfire is where you get a bunch of people together to dance around a giant pile of wood and get drunk.

her: Oh there people don't drink. Maybe I didn't tell you this if for the church.

me: Yeah I know. I didn't mean literally drink. I mean its for fun.

her: Maybe some of the people drink. They wont be drinking there of course, with kids and all. So if you're worried about them being drunk and letting the fire go out of control I can tell you that will not happen. The Pastor there is very strict. Some people think too strict and that he's a little, you know, firing brimstones too much, but in this day and age I think we need a little more of that you know ?

me: I...what ?!

her: OK ? So you want me to them know " no drinking !" and then they're okey dokey. Anything else.

me: No...I mean...they can't.............no, that will be fine thanks.

all a matter of perspective

I was itching to do something active last night. In lieu of that I took the boy bowling.

Now seeing as most of my peers are so fit that they say stuff like " I'm going to give a triathlon a try" and then go out and almost win the thing...its easy for me to start to get the impression that I'm a giant sack of crap.

My advice is, if you feel like you're not fit, not healthy, and carrying a few too many pounds...go to the bowling alley.

I went from being the Dom Deluise of the group to being the Burt Reynolds.

Bowling ! It's easier than all that movin' around.

Now Animated !

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forget all that...its friday

gimme that toot-toot...gimme that beep-beep...

Have a great weekend



bounce....bounce....bounce

who are they ?

Who is William Ayers ?

What exactly did Rev. Wright say..in total ?

Who were the Keating Five and what did they do ?

All this crap being throw around reminds me of the Chris Matthews interview with the douche who was calling Obama the new Chamberlain.



I'm all for informed criticism, provided that its actually informed.