People never cease to piss me off amaze me.

I was over at Jeff Goldstein's place today just cruising around, and this nutjob starts going on about how the war on Terrorism is 'your' (the right's) war; and how the right and Republican's should put their money (or body, as it were) where their mouth is and volunteer for service. Basically arguing that you shouldn't say we should go to war if you're not involved in the war yourself.

As I was reading this mindless drivel, it occured to me (firstly that it was in fact, mindless drivel) but that the principle it was based on was fucking retarded. No. It was re fucking tarded. By this logic, you wouldn't be able to vote on property rights unless you owned property. You wouldn't be able to make gun control decisions unless you owned guns, and so on. Whether or not you choose to go to war, it is your duty as an American to make your opinion heard. Fucking guy gave me a headache.

And people go on about we should just leave. Fucking QUIT. Well, I dunno about you, but quitting is not part of the American ethos to me. Yeah, maybe we fucked up, we really stepped in it big time. Fine. People make mistakes. But part of recovering from that mistake is paying the consequences, sticking it out, and learning. You don't just make a fucking mess and walk away. That's short-sighted and self-centered. If America made a habit of quitting all the goddamn time, we'd be just like the fucking French or someone. Except we'd smell better. And have beer. Fucking quit. Who's idea was that?

And lastly, I got my water bill this month and they charged me for 23 HCF (hundred cubic feet). We usually use about 5 HCF. So I was like, hm. Weird. And the bill only totalled about $45 bucks, so the increase wasn't exactly going to break me. Then I got all numbers-oriented (because that's what I do). One cubic foot of water is about 7.48 gallons of water; meaning I usually use about 3,740 gallons of water per month (500x7.48). So for the past two billing cycles, the meter's been saying I'm using about 17,200 gallons. Of water. Okay, so I started listening for leaks. I mean, if I'm using seventeen thousand fucking gallons of water, I should be able to hear a leak, or at least find that firehose I left on. Didn't hear any leaks. Called the water company, they said they already did a re-read. Called the management, and of course, they'll get someone out to check for leaks.
"Really, I listened for leaks, and I'm no plumber but I'm thinking any idiot can hear the difference between no leaks and 17 thousand fucking gallons of water." I'm thinking it sounds something like waves breaking on the Great Barrier Reef, but what do I know. 2300 cubic feet of water is enough water to fill a room larger than 13x13x13. With the average swimming pool holding between 15 and 20 thousand gallons; that puts me right up there with the goddamn Jonses. Hey! C'mon over! We're having a fucking pool party ya'll! Yep, just filled up the fuckin' family room from the tap, and let 'er rip!

WHAT THE FUCK?

So the other day we were out enjoying the beautiful Atlanta weather. Bear spontaneously started dancing a little jig and singing to himself.

[spin, twist, dip]

Hey now there you

[cabbage patch with head bob]

Can I punch you

[shoulder shake, butt shake]

In the

[stop moving, protracted pause after looking up and realizing everybody is watching, revert to normal voice]

I have no idea what I'm talking about.

So politics are not in the future. He's going to have way too many skeletons in the closet.

Things are looking good for being the next prophet of Scientology though.

The Production Manager at my old job in Buffalo had a green plastic button on his desk labeled "Make Everything Go Smoothly". It was just a plastic novelty piece and obviously didn't do anything but when things got stressful he's press it and it would make him feel better. Sort of a psychological soothing feeling came from pressing that worthless button. I just discovered that this concept is widely implemented.

Elevator doors irritate me. When you are moving toward them they are closing. When everybody is on or off the elevator they stand open. There's a solution for the latter one though - the "Close Doors" button. But does this button do anything? It makes you feel better when you press it. You are actually doing something concrete to address your current situation. It is empowering. But is it useful? It never actually seems to make the doors close any faster than they normally would.

Just now, on an impulse (I get these quite often when I'm alone on in an elevator), I popped the "Close Doors" button out of the console. While it was definitely a button it was no more functional than my old PM's magic green button. There was nothing behind the button at all. Just empty space and the unfinished interior wall of the elevator.

I can't decide what to do now - spread the information around to the people here or keep it my secret and giggle inside whenever I see somebody pressing the magic button.

Or maybe a mixture of the two? Wait until the satisfied expression lights up the face of the button presser and then give the news that their action is ultimately worthless.

Yeah, I think that last option is the one I'll go with.

We have a multi-tiered phone system at work. For inter-office calls we use our own lines or VOIP. For external calls we use Sprint. This normally works pretty well. Yesterday it did not work well.

My cube neighbor popped over and asked me if I knew what the light on the phone meant. One of the unlabeled buttons on the phone was lit up with a red light. The lights are always red when lit so the color itself wasn't a concern. What was a concern was the fact that an unknown light was lit.

I pressed the button for that light. The phone did nothing. I picked up the receiver and pressed the button. The phone display changed to "Sprint unplugged". Interesting.

My first thought was that Sprint had followed in the hallowed steps of Nirvana and other lesser rockers and released an album sans electrics and were simply taking advantage of their wide distribution of phone services to market it. Then I recalled that Sprint is a telecommunications company and not a rock band. And apparently they are a telecommunications company that only has one plug.

I hung the phone up, picked it back up and pressed a button for an outside line. The display changed to "Cannot find ARS". Now that made perfect sense. Sprint simply can't find its own ass.

This is an insider position at the moment as it won't be posted until I actually leave the slot. If you have experience with software QA and are interested in the position let me know.

Incidentally, I know this site sucks lately. Two reasons. First, I'm hella busy at work and work thoughts have been intruding upon my normal stream of consciousness. That's the background brain noise that writes the stuff that I regurgitate for your reading pleasure. Things will settle down once we've got our new processes defined (yeah, I'm part of the three person team defining our PQA process - sweet, eh?) and fill out the holes in the team. That should be settled in the next couple of weeks. Second, I made the mistake of reinstalling Medieval: Total War. Yeah, I know. I must have accidentally doubled up on my stupid pills that day. I think I'll be done with it as soon as my Spaniards finish annihilating all of Africa and the Middle East.

Almost forgot! I do get a finder's fee if I refer a person who gets a job here so that dinner offer is a definite thing if you can fill out one of the open positions.

So, I was driving home Friday night and I stopped at the gorcery store to pick up some beers. I came out of the grocery store parking lot and hopped onto the main road. Maybe a second later I see those old familiar blue lights flashing in my rearview. Fuck

Fuck 1) because I hate getting pulled over. I have a great driving record and it seems like cops know that and they try to fuck it up all the time. Fuck 2) because I had four drinks in the past 80 minutes or so.

I pull over immediately, flick on the dome light, and start fishing for my registration. Cop walks up and syas something obligatory. I ask what's up, I know I wasn't speeding. "Well, you blew the stop sign pulling out of the Food Lion back there," he says it like I did it to tease him.

"Oh damn. Honestly, I didn't even know there was one there."
"Have you had anything to drink tonight?"
Shit. I sigh. "Yeah, had four drinks."
"When was the last one?"
"Ah, 'bout fifteen minutes or so ago."
"Mind if I ask you to take a breathalyzer test?"
Shit. I sigh. "I guess not, no." I breathe into the tube, he says, "Well, looks like you blew a .09; right above the legal limit."
I die inside.
"But since you just had your last drink, I'm going back to the car and I'll be back in a few minutes." He returns to the cruiser.

So I'm sitting in my car, reviewing the scenarios sprinting through my mind; wondering why the hell he didn't show me the breathalyzer. I scrape my tongue, swear under my breath, check the rearview. Shit.

Cop comes back, I breathe. "Still showing a .09 pal." Fails again to show me the breathalyzer. "But by the time I get you downtown, you'll be below the legal limit, and you're less than a mile from home. I'll cut you a deal here sir. You get out of the car, walk home, and I'll just give you the ticket for running the stop sign. I've got to run, but I don't want to see you driving this car."

"Thank you officer." I'm releived, confused, but glad that my life hasn't been screwed up. I grab the beers, a few items from the car, lock it up and begin the short walk home.

Now, after getting home and reviewing the events and checking my ticket out; I come to some weird conclusions:
1. The back of the ticket is not filled out. It doesn't say if I have to appear in court, fines, court costs; nothing. I remember him saying I had to go to court, but the entire back side of the ticket was left blank.
2. I never saw the breathalyser results. I've never had to take one without the cop showing me my results.
3. There's no stop sign pulling out of the grocery store and onto the main avenue. I went back the next day just out of curiosity and there's nothing.

I talked to a few lawyer friends and they think I should take a few pics and fight the ticket. I wonder if I could just mail the ticket in with a picture in the envelope. Case closed right?

We've got two PM positions open. One is mine! Back off! Don't make me cut you.

The other one is open to applications. If you're interested in a PM job and willing to work with me (I'm sure there's some form of salary compensation for that) let me know and I'll send you the particulars.

If I get a finder's fee I'll even take you out to dinner.

Jim thinks he's hot stuff because he got this.

That is mere tripe. I just got these and believe you me: Monkeys in costumes, driving cars and playing golf, are a lot funnier than catchy songs and educational cartoons.

Glen Reynolds gets his first Shankalanche. He'll thank me later I'm sure.

...that Kitty rocks!

I just received this fantastic little number in the mail.

Many hours of educational enjoyment lie ahead. If the kids are good I might even let them watch it.

Thanks Kitty!

I went to WalMart today. Nothing froths the milk on the aromatic, subtly flavorful cup of fine cappucino that is real misanthropy like a trip to Wally World.

It's like an obstacle course: get in, get what you need, and get out before your anger meter reaches the red zone and you flip out in the Health and Beauty aisle, pummeling some idiotass redneck with a box of Q-Tips.

Honest to God, we get to the cash register, and some old bag just gets in line right in front of us. Even the woman behind the register thought it was weird. What a rude bitch! But the thing that really got me was that the cashier noticed. I wasn't aware that Wal Mart hired non-catatonic people to work the register. I'm wondering if she knows she's over qualified; but maybe she was the manager filling in for somone who couldn't make it to work today.

Oddly enough, I saw a guy I recognized. It took me a few seconds to place him, but then it hit me. I knew him from a blog! Unfortunately he's not really up to blogging much lately; I thought about leaving a comment at his site, but his latest entry was sometime in April. Oh well, he must've gotten a job or something. Fuckin quitter.

All the talk about this boy who got lost in Utah had me thinking the other day. Mostly about what kind of idiot child gets lost on a gravel road; but also about the time I got lost in the woods.

I had two little projects. They had a lot in common and seemed like they would get along with each other really well. So, I played matchmaker and put them in a meeting room together for a couple of hours.

It's a week later now and I just assisted in the birth of a mega project.

Damn things breed faster than bunnies.

Half of y'all sensed that Fishkill was a bit too fishy. It was indeed a sham.

There was a fish fight one summer at the farm and "You can throw perch all day, but nothing flies like a crappy" did generate from it but everything else about the story was the product of my fevered imagination. We used to fish a lot up there but the catch tended to be very small - mostly young perch, smallmouth and crappy. We'd bring our haul back to the farm and bury them in the fields. This was supposed to be some natural fertilizer. As far as I know it just made the fields stink like rotting fish.

Anywho...one day while we were sticking our dead fish in the dirt somebody threw one at somebody else (the identity of the instigating cousin has been lost to the ages). It was as if somebody had stood up on the lunchroom table and screamed "FOOD FIGHT!" Fish flew fast and furious as we pelted each other with deceaced piscines. It didn't last very long since we each had only a few fish, but it was great fun.

A few days later we got bitched out severely by Uncle when he found unburied dead fish scattered all over his lettuce field.

One point to each of these folk. For the rest of the guessers this is one that got away.

Contagion
Rob
Jeff
Victor
Clancy (A year and a half, nothing. Now two in a row!)
Helen
Margi
Boudicca
Diamond Dave

I helped to move Dopple-G this weekend. He (fortunately) wasn't in the immediate area to hear most some of these:

Oh! That was unfortunate.

Did you just hit the wall with that truck?
No.
[crunch]
How about now?

A little masking tape and that hutch will be as good as new.

[At a stop light a black Denali (that's a big-ass SUV, in case you're not familiar) with oversized racing tires drove past.]
You've really got to feel sorry for a guy with a penis that small.

That dresser will go in the bedroom.
Really? Thanks, Galileo.

So that's what 'fragile' means.

What the hell is on that mattress?
I don't know, but it sure is salty.

It'll fit, just deflate it a bit more.

What are you doing in there?
Christening the new bathroom.
Christening?
You're right - it's more of a baptism.

You're drinking beer?
Hell, it's twelve o'clock somewhere.
I think the phrase is "it's five o'clock somewhere".
Shit. It's five o'clock somewhere too.

Good times.

But really, what's the difference between believeing in Scientology and believeing in any number of the equally preposterous religions in this world? Granted, Scientology may be a more obvious scam for your money, but there are any number of less obvious scams that don't makes targets of your personal wealth so much as your intellectual and spiritual possessions. I guess that's a bit of a cynical thought, but really, that's how humans socialize eachother, we form orders and organization structure. Granted, we like to differentiate ourselves from pack animals with alpha males; but really, what's the difference between choosing a leader based on strength and dominance; and choosing a leader based on who wears the pointiest goddamn hat? REally, if you're going to take a focused lens at dismantling any religion, we shouldn't just pick the easy targets. We should also take those critical lenses and turn them inward, and question things about ourselves that we never thought about before. Are my beliefs just as equally outlandish as those people who belive in all that weird Scientology/Mormonism/Buddhism/Islam/Christianity shit? How are mine more grounded in reality? It's then that we discover one of two things: One - being that ours are just as flawed, we are but another human on this planet doing the best we can to make sense of all the things we don't understand and maybe we'd just do better to accept than busy ourselves trying to prove everyone a fool; and/or Two - that ours can't be wrong because they're ours, because we believe in them. The second logical process only helping to prove the basis of the first.

This meme is too damn good. Thanks to Jim at Snoozebutton for bringing it to my attnetion.

1) Has your father the cheerfulness which is known you?
I was born a poor black child...

3) It is many the dog and the cat it spreads out how, it has?
I'm pretty sure that's illegal though.

4) How many licks it adopts obtains to the tootsie popular music center?
Actually, I prefer a slurpee when someone's going downtown.

5)If I enter mine pinky finger you in the mother, hoped I arrive exhaust together with the thunderclap sound?
My mechanic friend actually thinks it's the cylinder walls, but I gotta say you need to get the plugs checked friend.

How it works:
1) When you post this on your blog get rid of the first question, bump up all the numbers and make a new question for #5. In other words, you are going to be answering your own question #5 and not answering my question #1.

2) You make a new question by writing it in English, translating it to a foreign tongue, and then translating it back to English. Don't tell anybody what the actual original question was.

3) Trackback to this post or return here to make a comment and let me know where you are because I'm keen on seeing what y'all come up with.

4) Make sure to trackback/comment to the person you snagged this from too because they're going to want to see how you answer their question #5. Responses to the Engrish questions are hillarious when you know what the original English was.

When your neighbor has so many sexual encounters that he keeps them catalouged in the thousands by sexual encounter, personality type, and hair color; you know he's gotta be a pimp. Or a felony child abuser.

What I though was interesting was the way the article described repeat child abusers. People who use their power and position to lure needy or easily corruptable children into easily controllable situations. And this guy's been doing it for like 30 years or something without every registering as a sex offender. I mean, what's it going to take to put a child molester away? Do we have to wait until my kid comes back from the playground walking crooked or what?

In an effort to clean our country of all this unsightly native culture, why don't we burn it to the ground and leave the rubble as a reminder to all indigenous peoples to assimilate or else? I mean, who wants to come to a country to see the culture that's been present there for thousands of years, when they can come gaze upon the newly razed homes and social flotsam created by the ignorance of a few leaders? Hey, you know what they say; nothing draws tourists like homeless beggars and smoldering foundations. Before you know it, we'll be on the cover of Conde-fucking-Nast.

As much as I'd prefer to pay hard earned money to wade through throngs of miscreants, be robbed blind for soda and popcorn (quite possibly the two cheapest food items to produce), only to sit in a chair fit for a pygmy, trying my best to pay attention to the flick while seven people use the theater as their own private phone booth and the Bloods settle gangland disputes in the center aisle; I think I'll just wait til it comes out in the rental store. I mean, I dislike the middle third of the population as it is, no point in trying to test my limits.

Talk about you're pooping on high. Damn. Those people must've really wanted som solitude.

The grunion memes are running. Some are good, some are bad, all of them are serious introspectives. Time to inject a bit of levity! I give you the Engrishmeme:

The questions:

1) You think of that any one will make really this meme?
I think somebody already did. It's like, here now, you know?

2) Has your father the cheerfulness which is known you?
My cheerfulness knows no bounds but Dad has a bound or two in his cheerfulness limit so I've got to say no to this one.

3) It is many the dog and the cat it spreads out how, it has?
They generally spread through population expansion, just like bunnies.

4) How many licks it adopts obtains to the tootsie popular music center?
I think the answer is "one" and the subject in question is "Christina Aguilera".

5) Which thing fairies for one life?
Leprechauns. Definitely leprechauns.

The gimmicky part:

1) When you post this on your blog get rid of the first question, bump up all the numbers and make a new question for #5. In other words, you are going to be answering your own question #5 and not answering my question #1.

2) You make a new question by writing it in English, translating it to a foreign tongue, and then translating it back to English. Don't tell anybody what the actual original question was.

3) Trackback to this post or return here to make a comment and let me know where you are because I'm keen on seeing what y'all come up with.

4) Make sure to trackback/comment to the person you snagged this from too because they're going to want to see how you answer their question #5. Responses to the Engrish questions are hillarious when you know what the original English was.

Fini:

1) That means it's the end and there is nothing else.

2) You're done.

3) Pretty pointless, this section.

Well. Jim has told us why he's not here ("Just been flat out busy, y'all.") and promises he, like MacArthur, shall return ("I shall return."). I have no idea what to make of the mild curse ("Dang.") because I can't tell if he's upset because he hasn't posted, because he's flat out busy, because someone else is posting on his site, or if it's just a general exclamation of frustration. Who really knows?

Besides Jim, I mean.

Then there're the threats by some BlogSnot poseur going by my old nickname of Wolf (that was the nickname I had before Bunny, for what it's worth), who promises he will, "have (Jim's) goddamned Charter pulled," which is amazing to me because the only person who can pull Jim's "charter" is his LW, though Jim just might let Wolf pull his charter since he has one of the gayest blogs around.

That is, of course, between Jim and Wolf. Anyhoo.

Due to the underwhelming reaction to my last movie offering, I've decided a different, shorter one is in order. I hope you all enjoy the late '60's PSA VD is for Everybody as much as I did.

Before anyone starts asking the Snooze Crew^TM why Jim isn't posting, I'll answer: We don't know. Jim may be a benevolent God, but he doesn't tell us everything. I suspect he's just being Fashionably Late with his next post.

In the meantime, for all those waiting patiently for some Bloggy Goodness from Jim, I invite you to watch this short film, Squeak the Squirrel, about a cute little squirrel who perseveres (and suceeds!) despite all of the obstacles put in his way by The Man^TM.

I can't drop a deuce in any of the bathrooms at work except the one on the topmost floor.

The other bathrooms see lots of traffic; I can't concentrate or relax enough in that kind of environment to get comfortable enough to drop trow. I don't know if anyone of you out there has ever had to take a hurried shit, but they suck. There's nothing worse than being in a pressurized situation, having to coax a stubborn log out of your bum. It's the worst ever. So I can't use these bathrooms that have constant people going in and out.

The other bathrooms are much dirtier than the top floor units too. I think that's probably mostly due to the traffic thing; but they're also a little newer. And the ones on the top floor are the most spacious; with these big windows that look down over the city. A man can really relax and get some shitting done in there. It's peaceful. And that's what I need out of a good bathroom. Tranquility.

I told you , you fuckers. She was brain dead. Couldn't see shit, didn't know shit, didn't care. And you wanted to keep her alive, against her wishes. You bleeding heart pussies.

So last night there was this thing on TV called "48 Hours: Mysteries'. The episdoe they did was on a guy named Michael Blagg who was convicted of murdering his wife and daughter. Without any hard evidence or even eyewitness testimony.

Apparently, he wife was shot in their home, taken to a dump, and left there wrapped in a tent. his daughter was never found. Blagg's alibi is that he was at work that day; he even left voicemail messages for his wife and child on their home answering machine.

They never matched the bullet in the wife to a gun owned by Blagg. They never said his alibi wasn't true. I mean, if he was at work, people would remember it, the timeclocks and surveillance video would prove it. The neighbors don't remember hearing a gunshot in the iddle of the night, or seeing the family van leave at odd hours. There is nothing connecting this man to his wife's murder except circumstantial bullshit.

The best part is, a witness for the prosecution (the wife's mother no less); admits to making shit up on the stand. She got up there and made up her testimony as it popped into her head, saying that Blagg choked his wife once. She continues to go on saying she never reported the incident, and has never spoken about it until that very moment in the courtroom. She got up on the stand and was allowed to make an unbased, unverifiable testimmony of something that may or may not have happened years ago. Shitty.

The media made him out to be a cheating (a claim later revealed to be completely unfounded and untrue) porn addict. The media reported all this shit for a year or something until the trial date, inundating this small community with all sorts of fucked up opinions. Needless to say, by the time jury selection came around everyone had already made up their minds. The public defender didn't stand a chance against such fools, and he went to jail.

I can't imagine coming home from work to find your wife and child dead. I can't imagine not being able to join the searches for them because the media made people think it would be a conflict of interest. I can't imagine being sentanced to life in prison with no hope of parole, when the two people you love most in the world aren't even alive to come visit you. It's like a fucking horror story.

Honestly, I'd kill myself before I'd ever go to jail for some shit I didn't do.

A very genteel Southern lady was driving across a Savannah River Bridge in Georgia one day.

As she neared the middle of the bridge, she noticed a young man ready fixin' to jump.

She stopped her car, rolled down the window and said,

"Please don't jump, think of yoah deah momma and daddy."

He replied, "Mom and Dad are both dead; I'm going to jump."

She said, "Well, think of yoah wife and children."

He replied, "I'm not married and I don't have any kids."

She said, "Well, think of Robert E. Lee."

He replied, "Who's Robert E. Lee?''

She replied, "Well, just go ahead and jump, you dumb ass Yankee."

(Hat tip to Lovely Wife)

This worked so incredibly well* that I'm going to dip into the well again.

I need another round of happy thoughts, mojo, considered discourse, best wishes...hell, whatever your bag is it's wanted. Half of you can guess what it's for. Four of you know for sure what it's for. For the rest of you, rest assured it's going to a very good purpose.

* Although it did so apparently by causing a tropical storm. Hey, you can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs.

I need an unabridged thesaurus to properly express my contempt, disgust and outrage at this situation.

Mukhtaran Mai was invited to speak at a conference on women's abuse in America. A few days ago she was put on house arrest and listed officially on government enforcement lists as a person not permitted to leave Pakistan. Today she was arrested and brought to Punjab.

If the name Mukhtaran Mai seems to ring a bell for you it's because it was well publicized in 2002, shortly after she was gang raped on the order of a tribal council. Her 12 year-old brother had offended a powerful tribe by befriending and then being sodomized by a clan member. To punish the boy for his affrontery the local law (tribal council) subjected Mukhtaran to being gang raped by four men of that tribe.

After her story was publicized internationally the Pakistani government gave her a pile of "shut up about it" money. She used that money to start a school. Her students include the children of the men who raped her.

The shut up money didn't work so now the Pakistani government has kidnapped her. They have coerced her into making a statement that she does not want to come to America to speak about her experiences. Mukhtaran managed to contact a foreign reporter and explained that she and her family had been threatened with serious repercussions if she did not issue the statement.

Pakistan is our ally? Personally I want nothing to do with "friends" like this.

Muhktaran needs to be freed immediately and her right to travel returned to her. Any other action by the Pakistani government will say far more than she ever could about just what sort of place Pakistan is.

(Items from after she was placed on the No Exit list were from an NPR story I heard on the way home today. I can't find a link to it and am too pissed off to try very hard right now.)

I'm only linking you to this top secret site because we should all know the truth. Link

So, tonight I need to make an appointment for us to meet with a DJ and a baker. The DJ thing I think I can handle. Stereo shit, a masculine feild if there ever was one. Even though picking one out should be pretty straight forward, once the woman throws her monkey wrench of femalogic into the cogs, who knows what'll happen right?

As for the cake thing, I don't even wnat to know. I'm not a big cake person, but apparently that's something that gets you drawn and quartered in the nuptial world; so the fiance has layed down a gag order. I totally want to needle these bakers, but I'm not sure if it will be worth suffering the consequences. I mean, what the hell do I need edible flowers on a cake for? Why can't we just have a regular old cake? Why the hell do you need cake at a wedding? Since we're spending all this dough on food, why spend a lot on cake, when we can spend an equal amount on something like sorbet that's awesomer? Or cheesecake?
"No, those are all options for the grooms cake."
"The groomscake? What the hell is that?"
"It's a smaller cake that's usually chocolate if the wedding cake is vanilla, you know, so there is a choice of flavor."
"Well, it doesn't make sense to have two cakes. Why don't we just get something cool for the same amount we'd spend on this hyped up wedding cake?"
"Because wedding cake is what you're supposed to get, it's what we're getting, no more strange ideas from you okay?"
"Doesn'tmakeanysense."
"Are you done?"

Michael Jackson. What can I say - luckiest child molester I know.

1. Has America made such idols of it's celebrities that we cannot convict them of any misdeeds? See also, O.J., Robert Blake.

2. There is a difference between doubt and reasonable doubt. I guess defense attorneys have done such a great job blurring the line between the two, that they are now interchangeable terms. If a man allows young boys to drink alcohol in his presence, shows this his porno stash, and then asks them to join him in bed; how can you possibly reasonably doubt what his intentions are? If I did the same to a woman my age my intentions would be pretty damn clear, and I would assume if I did the same to a child my inetions would get my happy ass sent to jail.

3. Even if Michael is suffering from some sort of advanced Peter Pan Syndrome, why would he be interested in sex, porn, and alcohol? These are all things that adults become interested in. If his aim was purely to find a playmate, why would he sleep with them? How many of the fellas out there had sleepovers where you got into daddy's liquor cabinet, looked through his porno, and then all climbed in bed together?

He's a sick fucker, and he should have at least gone down for attempt to molest and the alcohol charges. It's a complete boondoggle; and I hope we see him in court again.

And did anyone get a load of those damn jurors? What a bunch of fucktards

Trey wants to move to our neighborhood. Being inclined to rationality he's realized that Wordpress is icky and that Munuvians kick it old school. Heading to mucountry is a no-brainer once you nail down those two facts.

Anywho...head on over to his nomination thread and chime in.

Do you know what the difference is between Northern fairy tales and Southern fairy tales?

Northern fairy tales start with "Once upon a time, in a land far, far away..."

Southern ones start with "Y'all ain't gonna believe this shit..."

(Hat tip to the Popsicle Lady)

Fusistance is retile. Your ass will be laminated.

(Hat tip to Lovely Wife)

I split town today. I was fucking sick and fucking tired of it. The job, the wife, the bills, the nagging bullshit. I woke up thismorning and I was like...Who's life is this goddamnit? I got a car that's paid for, a couple grand in the bank, and a credit limit of five g's. Fuck this shit.

I jumped int he car and fought my way through traffic to the only highway that takes a man out of this dirty burg. West. And I put the hammer down to. I was doing 120 between here and Raleigh, hit I-85 and just kept on steamin'. The Appalachians wooshed by in a flurry of banked s-curves and before I knew it. I headed south down the highway and ran into 59, where the sign said 'New Orleans'. Sounded as good as any other, so I dropped into first and left a small pile of smoldering rubber in Tennessee. It was the only thing I had left on me.

I guess we hit Nawlins toward seven am. WE meaning me and the hitchiker I picked up in Mississippi. I mean really, I couldn't have left her there right? It was fucking Mississippi. Plus she was hot. And by hot I mean young, eager, stupid, rich , and impressionable. We checked into this downtown place right up the block form the Best Western on Bourbon. It was this old french house or something. Soon as I saw it I knew I'd get laid for sure.

We hit town adn filled ourselves with Hurricanes, Hand Grenades, and Zydeco. I don't think I've ever been so hammered and disoriented in my entire life. Swear to god I got a ride back to my hotel from some dude on a Harley. Showed up at the hotel room and the bitch had split. Mostly she'd split my money between me and her, as well as grabbed a favorite t-shirt of mine. Fine, whatever girl. I'd gotten her credit card number earlier that day when she had left the car to use the bathroom. Figured I might aas well stay the night, so I called roomservice and packed up the leftovers in my bag.

Being through with women and all, on account of their mostly lecherous behavior, I made tracks for Vegas. I figured if there was any place a man could make it, it would have to be there. I spent an ungodly eternity driving across cornfeilds, plains, open mesa, mountain passes and desert before I finally entered the city. It was bittersweet because I was glad to be somewhere, but sad to be so happy to see a place like Las Vegas Nevada.

I went to the bank and acquired a small business loan. I told them I wanted to start a bar and entertainment complex. They thought sports bar, I was planning something else. I now run the only live sex show in the United States. I knew Nevada'd be the only state that would allow it, and after greasing the right wheels with that small business loan and investing a small amount of my own capital; I was on my way. We sell t-shirts, high priced drinks, exorbitant tickets; hell we got private skyboxes for the real freaks (but those come at a good price too). I guess I've made it pretty good for myself, what with all the money and sex that surrounds me. But I find myself looking for something simpler. Looking for something that I had a while back, but got sick of.

That's when I begin to wonder if humans torture themselves their whole lives with the grass on the other side of the fence. Maybe we just want what we can't have - even though we know it's what we can't have and we know we just want it because we can't have it. Then I think, we are some fucked up monkeys.

Many thanks to Dave (Oorgo.mu.nu) for cleaning up this goddamn dustbin. I'll keep you on as an author Oorg, so just come and go as you please.

Spent the weekend trying to surf the six foot swells rolling in. There's nothing like getting up early to go to the beach and getting slammed for a few hours. It was quite possibly the hardest paddle I've had to do in a while. I mean, the current around here gets bad in late summer, but the breakers were nuts this weekend. It was more of a workout than anything else. It's one of those lessons that we all need to be reminded of though. Sometimes, no matter how strong you think you are or how great your experience base may be; ther'es nothing you can do but just go with the flow. I ended up paddling out in the rip current and then across to find my place in the lineup.

Father's Day is coming up. My immediate family is a big deal to me. I don't say it to them that often because we're not that kind of family, but they're awesome. Some of my extended relatives are more of a standing joke to us, but my parents and brothers and sisters are awesome. If you fuck with them bitch, you're gonna get it; and I'mma be the one givin' it to ya.

Came home from work. Drank beers. Fucked with website. G/f came home. Drove to beach. Water, surfing, beer, came home. Shower, beer, grilling steaks and twice baked potatoes.

Life is good.

and now when you click on the permalink it gives a 404 not found message. I fucking hate computers.

You know, I do have some redeemable qualities though, I swear. Just ask Paul. I'm good with anything that runs on gasoline and has four wheels. I've helped him out on some car-related issues. I like doing that kind of shit. There's something about a machine so precise that makes it easy to understand and manipulate. There are a series of inputs, some physical and environmental constriants, and these produce a series of outputs. You can change the inputs and constraites to produce all kinds of outputs from one engine platform. It's fugging awesome right?

I'm also a great outside the box thinker. And by great I mean, if someone at work presents a problem to me, I can come up with at least two viable solutions within the first minute or so. Give me a day to think about it, and I'll have some more, give me a week, and I'll have a flow chart for a completely integratable process that will not only solve the problem at hand, but grow and expand as needed. It's just the way I am. My old man says I should've been an engineer; somedays I think he's right (uh-gan); and sometimes I notice there's a lot of engineering that goes on in business that people ignore.

Another thing I'm good at is making people laugh. Seriously, it goes over much better in person, I promise. If I didn't know how to make people laugh, I probably never would have gotten laid or gotten a real job. So yeah, thank god for that.

But web editing? Nope. Definitely suck there.

Okay whew, blogging sucks man. If you people knew the trouble I went to just to please you. I talked to Oorgo about getting this place all situated and pretty looking. he was great help, so I just tried cutting and pasting some templates right? I forgot the key fundamental - I shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a web editor because I'm a complete FUCKTARD.

So after like an hour of displaying gabrled sdfS(sdf"SD{s}dgS{g shit like that, I just went and got a default template. Hey, I'm an idiot, and having a pre-written template is a small price to pay you know?

Still haven't figured out how to get a blogroll going. This is really labor intesive dammit. I already have a million other things to do. I wish I could just blog away without having to worry about all this crap.

Update, how do I catgeorize shit on the sidebar? I've already set up a few categories, and clicked it to archive by category, but they won't show up. Moveable type? More like Doodooable HYPE. Well, that and I'm a retard.

If the formatting around here is going nuts for the next few days, it's not that I'm still moving in, it's just that you've finally lost your mind.

Or if prayers aren't your style you could work up a bit of mojo. Transfer some good karma? At least think some happy thoughts.

Sorry I can't tell you who it's for, what it's about or why it's needed. It's just not my story to tell. Direct it to me and I'll make sure it gets where it's going. I can assure you it's for a good cause.

Went to return some coffee and found all three urinals full of piss! Woo hoo!

I am surrounded by scum.

In other news, it's moving day. We're heading to our new offices all of 1.2 miles down the road. In typical fashion it's a bit of a cluster fuck. There were supposed to be functional servers over there this morning so the people who planned ahead and obeyed the order to disconnect all computers before COB yesterday would be able to work from the new office.

Not.

So I'm back at the old place listening to 100 people packing up their shit instead of working in quiet solitude. Bah.

Our last grilling session:

(Click for big size)

By "last" I mean "most recent" of course. We're full on into grilling season now so this is a fairly common occurence.

The burgers you see there aren't just any old hamburgers - they're Jimmy Burgers™, my world famous recipe. I'd be happy to share the ingredients with you but then I'd have to kill you.

No, wait. It's the recipe for my chili con carne I'd have to kill you for. I'm free to share this recipe. Except that I can't. Because there isn't one.

The actual ingredients of the Jimmy Burger™ vary widely depending on my mood, relative sobriety and what's in the kitchen.

Burgers aren't a science, y'all. They're an art form.

Getting hungry Bou?

RP is working the Hollywood cliché angle. Hop on over and let him know your favorites.

Rachel Ann is looking for a few good men.*

She's also looking for some guest bloggers to fill in while she galavants about Israel on a ten day family vacation. Interested? Of course you are!

* Dirty, dirty girl.

Da rules: I post an anecdote that may or may not be true. You guess which it is, based on your knowledge of me and my curious ways. Whoever gets it right gets a point when the contest closes. Here we go:

Fishkill

Y'all know what a fishkill is, right? It's when an aquatic ecosystem crashes and the fish die. The cause can be just about anything - pollution, algae bloom, silt, mud from rains, etc.

The Available Time Fairy has yet to make an appearance, precluding my writing up fantastically amusing anecdotes for your amusement. Instead, I'll give you a relatively dry bullet point presentation of the trip. Hey, I'm in project management now. This is how it's done.

• Da plane! - Had an excellent trip. All three boys behaved like angels for the entire 12 hours of travel. Lovely Wife and I kept waiting for the bomb to drop but it never arrived. It must have been using a French targeting system.
• Airport - They've got the cutest little airport in Spokane! I wanted to just put it in my pocket and take it home with me. It's an International airport because they fly to California.
• "Spokane" - They pronounce it all funny. It should be "spo-cane", right? Nope, they pronounce it "spo-can". I kept pronouncing it the right way and anytime a local looked at me like I was a tourist I told them if they want to pronounce it "spo-can" then they had to get rid of the "e" at the end.

So the runaway bride was on the Today show this morning. My girlfriend puts it on while we get ready for work in the morning. Anyways, the runaway girl is talking about why she made up all this stuff about being kidnapped by Mexicans. Her pathetic, ill thought out, sham of an excuse was something about how she only had Friday off, and that wasn't nearly enough time to get a manicure, a pedicure, pack for her honeymoon and be one time to her perfect wedding. I swear to you, that was the literal translation.

What the fuck is with that? If I have problems like that one day, I'll be glad. But seeing how that'll probably never happen, I'll just cut to the chase and go fuck myself.

Remember me?

(click thumnail to enlarge)

Time to reveal the winners!

Okay, lame title. Anyway, here are Tiffani's responses to The Movie Memememe:

Total number of films I own on DVD/video:
Not very many…I probably own maybe 10. I just don’t see the point in it. I don’t like watching movies over and over again unless it’s a classic like “Pretty in Pink”.

The last film I bought:
American Pie or Fight Club It’s been so long I can’t remember.

The last film I watched:
Of the movies I bought? On HBO? Or at the Theater? I saw Monster in Law a couple of weeks ago. I took my daughter, her friend and my son. The girls didn’t want to be seen with me so they went and saw a different movie. I dragged my son to see that movie. Poor kid. Oh wait I take that back – I saw Dodge Ball the other day. Best one liners ever. Like…”you guys look like retards fucking a door knob” Classic…just classic.

Five films that I watch a lot or that mean a lot to me (in no particular order):
Oh…this is hard. I always draw a blank.

First and foremost. Grease. I absolutely love that movie. John was so hot. I even had the album. You know…with all the pictures. My girlfriends and I used to reenact the movie and sing on the top of our lungs. Good Times. Good Times.

Remember I am a product of the 80’s…St. Elmo’s Fire is one of my favorite movies. When it’s on – I just can’t turn it off. That's mortal sin in my book.

I can not count how many times I’ve seen Dumb and Dumber. I mean… it’s on TBS every freakin weekend. I’ll be flipping through the channels and stop to watch just a little bit of it and before you know it it’s over. Favorite part: MOCKING YEAH BIRD YEAH. Everybody have you heard. He's gonna buy me a mockingbird.

You're singing it now, aren’t you?

I’m a simple girl…I loved Finding Nemo. Ellen Degenerous was the best in that movie. I could watch it everyday.

Pulp Fiction – Great movie

The Unexpected Visitor was a complete sham. The anecdote came about from that line that I attributed to Mom: "Okay, I will take care of it but when you get home we are going to talk. And by 'we' I mean 'me'. And by 'talk' I mean 'scream at you'." I came up with this line a while ago and wanted to work it into one of my short stories but I just haven't had any time for story writing lately. Anywho...it worked pretty well in fooling a whole bunch of you in this Sham/Share.

Some clues that might have tipped you off were my low opinion of Ravi because he read too much (I've been an avidly gluttonous reader since before I could tie my shoes) and my worry over Mario dying if I abandoned the Donkey Kong game (DK on Atari sucked - there would have been no way a bright lad like me would have been that into it. Additionally, there were "safe" zones where you could park Mario and no barrel would ever hit him.)

7 out of 16 of you got this one correct. One point each to:

Paul
Phin
Tiffani
Tony
Machelle
tommy
Clancy. THE STREAK IS BROKEN!!

Went and opened a joint account at the bank today. The finacee and I are going to start saving for the wedding expenses, so we figured this would be the best way to do it. Plus, after we get married we can use this account as our shared account to pay bills and all that shit.

Anyways, we've been saving since march, and finally scrapped together enough dough to open a decent account. I went over to the bank with more money in my hands than I think I've ever held, this side of a really big drug deal that is.

What just blows my mind is that we're saving our asses off, funding this wedding to throw for our friends. Really, that's what it is. We want to throw a great party celebrating us. So I said bye bye to a big pile of cash on Friday, but I guess we're assuming it's all worth it in the end. But part of me watched it depart and thought it would easily suffice for a downpayment and/or closing costs on a new home.

You think about weddings and look at the cash you saved and it seems like a small amount. Then you think about homes, cars, investments, and all of a sudden it throws you into a panic. Because here you are sitting on the seed of a nice financial investment that could be easily cultivated, and you're blowing it all on one day of...flowers and shit.

Logic tells me that it really must be a woman's world; or this shit wouldn't be going down. I don't ever want to hear one more word about women's rights. Speak up on the subject and I'll choke you to death with the reciepts.

You know, I've been watching blogs for a shit ton longer than I've been writing them. They've changed, and not in a good way, from my perspective. Blogs a few years ago, would kick the shit out of today's blogs.

Back then, there was no such term as a blogosphere. Ask the IT guys where you work, ten years ago the Web was a joke, no one wanted to admit they were working on web-based marketing or inventory sytems. Fuck, these days the web is the shit. Anyone can have a website, Arianna proved that shit WORD.

Before there was a blogoshpere, there were just people. People putting shit out there for whoever was there. Before there was a blogosphere blogs were like space probes sending out radio waves into a chasm of unknown depth. Then one day tink a comment was born. A few (days) later we discovered, holy shit, there are other people talking out there. Plink a blogroll was born, a series of links to other people in the great beyond. Then before you know it, clang comments were born, and of course ping trackbacks evolved.

The blogs stood up on their hindlegs, understood their surroundings, and before you know it, they had turned into a bunch of self-righteous, soapboxing, sonsofwhores. It's shitty. I go from one site to another, and see the same issue turned inside out in two different directions. It's creeping into newsmedia too. I was at CBSmarketwatch a few days ago, and there was an article about how college grads are facing the best job market since 2000, the next day new hire stats come in at half the expected value.

Hi everyone, we live in an age where information has become immediate. You don't have to wait for postal mail, telegrams, couriers, telephones, faxes, delayed quotes or Matt Fucking Drudge. The information is out there, waiting for you. Matt Drudge just goes and gets it for you becuase he knows your dumb enough to think what he offers is some kind of service.

Before the word blog, we were just people fishing for contact in a supposedly barren ocean. Lo and behold, the barren ocean bears fruit, and years later we've got a waterway choked with unimaginable detritus.

Go home tourists. Go Home Blogspot, Blogger, 20six, and Huffington. Take us back to the days when the only people out here were the people who actually wanted to be here. Before blog was a tagline, before ad placement became a source of extra household income, before political machines enrolled blog sites to run their interference. Go the fuck home, nothing to see here.

If there is one person whose memory dominates the summer and fall of '02, it's Jim Bob. I don't really know where to start, so excuse me if I ramble or begin to take rabbit trails, but there's just so much to tell.

If I have no reason to have faith in humanity, what with all the vile things we do to eachother (killing, lieing, scamming, raping, cheating, etc), and I have no reason to believe in the historical religious instutions (because they've been all eaten up with political aspirations), what faith do I have left? I can't trust my own species, and I can't trust religion because it's domintaed by the same vices of my own species, so what the fuck? What the fuck.

When that volcano in Yellowstone finally blows half the world to hell or whatever, I'm going to see it as a long awaited escape. I mean hell, I won't have to pay back any mortages, car loans, college debt, any of that shit. I could drive down to Key West in my newly owned car (because the bank has been blown to smithereens by nuclear aftershocks or whatever and infrastructure is crumbling like a milk-soaked graham crakcer) and live out the rest of my days a free man. Shit, the day the bomb explodes/disaster strikes/meteor hits I might just go out and buy a two story open-ocean yacht, put the entire mother on credit (knowing the bank won't exist in a few months) and sail off into oblivion.

That would be the shit.

With my wife.

And some beer.

And maybe a few friends.

Aw fuckall.

You might want to grab a chair for this one.

Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, the Papa Moose, the Whole Enchilada will go before a California jury and answer to charges of child molestation. Yes, you know that. But let's take a refreshing dip in a little pool I like to call Perspective. Walk with me, back to 1982.

Here's a meme for that ass:

1. Total Number of Books I’ve Owned:
Hahaha, aside from text books, auto shop manuals, or other reference material? Hmmmm..Let's see, four...12...carry the 3...would bring us to a grand total of five:
The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, Adrift by Steven Callahan (great story written by the man who spent the most time alone at sea and survived. He designs life rafts now. How intuitive.), two Thoreau's and an Emerson. It's not that I don't own many books, it's just that most of them are rather utilitarian; that is to say - the only reason I ever read them is because it is neccesary.

2. Last Book I Bought:
Jesus, it was probably one of the myriad 'neccesity' reads; but I did register for an Hemingway anthology for my wedding. I've not read too many of his stories or novels, but I've read about his life. I can't wait to see what his books are like.

3. Last Book I Read:
I did read a shit ton of Dan Brown recently (Angels & Demons, DaVinci Code, Deception Point) because I find the plot lines and pseudo history very intriguing. But that was like last summer. I don't know if I've read any books since then. Mostly I read newsmedia, blogs, short fiction, and reference books.

4. Five Books That Mean a Lot to Me:
I grew up really enjoying The Outsiders. I must have thumbed through that little bastard ten times before I was 15. It's the first book I ever truly appreciated.
I've always enjoyed religious texts. I have a couple copies of the Bible, A Book of Mormon, and a few others. I love sitting there and reading them together. I think religious texts are some of the most misunderstood novels in the history of great writing.
And I love my Thoreau and Emerson. That's about it really. These handful are the only ones I've read more than once.

5. Tag five people and have them do this on their blog.
Sheeeeeiiit, I tag yo mama lasz ni-eet!

Jim's such a benevolent dictator if he wins the lottery he's going to buy us all a big ass present. I am super grateful and don't want to come across as an ingrate, so if he wins I'm hoping he'll use part of the money he would have otherwise spent on me to have Xzibit and MTV Pimp His Ride.

That's right, it'd no longer be a Milk White Mini-Van for my Boy.
He'd be pimptastic cruisin' in this ride:

Caution: Despite many similarities in letter use the phrases "gild the lily" and "gird the lion" have little to nothing in common.

Trey meme smacked me. As breaking this particular chain letter will result in my pants becoming infested with dust bunnies I am forced to comply.

Hey, wait a sec. I'm a rationalist. I know that the dust bunnies in my pants have absolutely nothing to do with ignoring a meme tag. They are there because of the dust carrots.

Anyway...

1. Total Number of Books I’ve Owned:

Over my lifetime? Countless. Not literally, of course. I mean if you lined them all up you could definitely count them. But seeing as I have acquired and dequired books for the past thirty years plus the fact that I have no realistic idea of how many have passed through my hands and couldn't get much more specific than that even under the threat of having dust kittens in my pants the total number of books I've owned is effectively countless. Let's just say "A lot".

2. Last Book I Bought:

Animalia by Graeme Base. A used hard cover in good condition that I found at a fantastic book store in Spokane. Graeme Base is my most favoritest children's book artist and he's a great writer to boot. His pictures are huge and gorgeous with things hidden all over them. The kids are in love with it too. We spent over an hour finding things in this book yesterday.

3. Last Book I Read:

Well, Animalia obviously. I just read it last night. The book before that was Gust Front by John Ringo.

4. Five Books That Mean A Lot to Me:

Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss - This was my favorite book as a kid and I made Mom read it to me constantly, even well after I could read it myself. I'm pretty sure she could go the rest of her life without reading it again.

Dragonflight by Anne McCaffrey - This is where I first fell in love with dragons.

A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin - Possibly the best written fantasy story I've ever read. Plus, George hasn't had a massive drop-off in skill like Robert Jordan. The next book in this series is the only book I'm currently looking forward to.

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitsyn - Frightening, moving, enlightening. This explained communism better to me than 1984.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury - The book that made me understand what liberty is all about. Michael Moore's rape of this book title is just another reason why I think he should be stuck on a spit and roasted to solve the food shortage in a sub-Saharan country.

5. Tag five people and have them do this on their blog.

Not gonna do it. The sphere is just too heavy with these tag mememes at the moment and it's getting annoying. If you wanna do it, consider yourself tagged. If not, consider this the burnt stump of one of the hydra's heads.

As soon as the elevator stops at a floor yell out "Oh my God! The doors are stuck!"

Leap to the doors and wedge your fingers into the crack. Strain like mighty Hercules forcing open the vaulted doors of Gehenna as the elevator doors open. When the doors have opened, step back with a sigh of relief and say "It's safe now."

This works even better when you do it at multiple floors so people see you do it more than once.

Additional: As each person leaves the elevator say "Your welcome" or "Looks like you owe me one".

I just went and checked for any posts that might have been forgotten on "Draft" and found this jem from December of last year.

The Zoomquilt.

(Hat tip to Dopple-G)

Fasturbation: (n) A solo quickie.

Everybody dogs on France because ... well, mostly because they're French. I think that by now everybody has seen the list of French military defeats. They've pretty much lost every major and minor military conflict since bronze was first beaten into a spearpoint.

But do we have to keep saying that they are incompetent military losers who haven't won a war during their past twenty governments? This is a kinder, gentler world. A world of PC feel-goodness, verbal cuddling and slash-Americans. Can't we think of a nicer way to express the deficiencies of the French armed forces? I think we can. Try this on for size:

"The French army has consistently finished in the top 3 against every opponent they have faced. In fact, in the vast majority of conflicts, they have achieved the second best performance. The French armed forces are truly Silver Medal quality."

Now isn't that better?

Throughout the summer of '02, I spent most of my days with a group of close friends that have become known as The Boys. I'm not sure if that's supposed to be capitalized or not, but that's what the girlfriend and I called them when we argued about how much of our time I spent hanging out with them.

Unfortunately we didn't budget for that this year. But hope is not lost! The Georgia Lottery (well, one of the Georgia lotteries - we have more state sponsored gambling here than Nevada) is over $100 million and if I can scrounge together a dollar I plan on winning it.

I figure that after taxes, setting up college funds, leveling and rebuilding our house, buying yachts and cars and "personal appliances", binging, parties and all that other standard stuff is complete I'll have a cool hundred grand left to blow on my fans. I figure I'll spend $2,000 each on my fifty most motivated readers.

So sound off on what you want for your present. Lurkers, this is a great time to speak up. With palimony suits what they are these days, this is likely legally binding.

And what the heck - in the off chance that I don't win the lottery I'll give out some points to the best gift ideas in each category. Categories to be announced later - I don't want to unduly influence your selections.

[Note from Jim: Dave set this up during my out of town experience and it is still open for anybody who wishes to participate. I'm topping it to get it in view again. Hurry and submit a caption as time is running out.]

My name is Dave, a local viewer and frequent commenter on SBD. I'm one of those gracious few having been knighted by Jim for the purpose of totally polluting his blog in his absence. I don't know why, other than my occasionally inspirational writings served me well on my application, which I filled out only just because it was there to fill out!

For lack of anything more creative at the moment, I submit a picture in need of a caption:

(click thumnail to enlarge)

Usual rules and points awards for captions apply. This contest will be open at least until Jim gets back, in which case I may let him judge and award as he sees fit.

Now I hope that the blasted thing comes out OK and I don't end up nuking the blog...

Da rules: I post an anecdote that may or may not be true. You guess which it is, based on your knowledge of me and my curious ways. Whoever gets it right gets a point when the contest closes. Here we go:

The Unexpected Visitor

A little background is needed for this one. My step-dad was a lawyer and trouble-shooter for a gargantuan insurance and banking company that will remain nameless except to say that you used to be encouraged to "get a piece" of it. We moved around a lot as he was sent to different locations to straighten them out. He did a goodly amount of purging and hiring to correct deficiencies in personnel. Okay, background is over.

A few months after we moved to Freehold, NJ (home of The Boss!) I arrived home from school (7th or 8th grade or thereabouts), tossed my book-bag in a corner and turned on my new and beautiful Atari 2600 to immerse myself in its digital wonders. Mom was upstairs cleaning and Little Bro was taking a nap or something. In any case I was completely undisturbed, which was a great rarity.

The various branches of the armed forces rag on each other incessantly. It's generally done in good humor and taken well by the target. At the root of things anybody serving has a decent respect for other folks who are serving.

We pretty much ignore the Coast Guard. I guess that's because picking on the Coast Guard would be too much like kicking a puppy. As a Navy man I've spent years casting aspersions on the grunts and the jarheads but my favorite target has been the Air Farce, mostly because my Dad was a Sergeant in the USAF and picking on Dad is always good fun.

With all that in mind, here's a little treasure sent to me by Lovely Wife:

(Click for readable size)

I've been meme-tagged again. Since it's Margi who's calling ollie-ollie-ox-in-free I am powerless to resist.

Total number of films I own on DVD/video:

My SWAG* is around 100 or so tapes and DVDs. We have a number of duplicates too - items we had on VHS that we later got on DVD after we bought a DVD player.

The last film I bought:

Lemony Snickett's: A Series of Unfortunate Events, purchased as a birthday present for Lovely Wife.

The last film I watched:

Spanglish with Penelope Cruz and Adam Sandler. My one sentence review of this film: It takes an inordinate amount of time to get exactly nowhere. If that isn't enough to ward you off I'll also mention that at no time during this movie does Penelope unleash the ta-tas.

Five films that I watch a lot or that mean a lot to me (in no particular order):

The Neverending Story - The first movie ever where the hero was a little kid who read books. It validated me.

Star Wars - The real Star Wars. The first movie. What modernists have rechristened "Episode IV". Feh. Star Wars is and will forever be Star Wars.

Corvette Summer - Completely forgettable except for two things. First, it starred Mark Hamill without a light saber. I had never considered that possibility. Second, it was my first "titties at the drive-in" movie. On screen, not in the car. Hey, give me a break - I was 10!

Red Dawn - Another one where kids my age were the heroes and they gave a serious shit kicking to the Commie bastards. Wolverines!!

The Usual Suspects - This movie is a work of art. At the end of it I knew exactly how Chazz Palminteri's character felt because I was right there with him as every single thing I'd learned for the past two hours suddenly shifted.

Tag 5 people and have them put this in their journal/blog:

We must bring Lovely Wife into this one. We have similar taste in a lot of movies but some strong differences too.

Rob must pay for tagging me with the music meme.

Tiffani doesn't post nearly often enough.

Same with Clancy. Besides, he needs a break from working on the house.

Trey, because he has no cable provider or TV reception at his house so the sole use of his TV is movie watching.

* SWAG = Scientific Wild-Ass Guess

Who the hell admits to the world that his name used to be 'Deep Throat'? I mean, that guy was so close to kicking the bucket without everyone knowing. And now, he's going to be the object of every dick joke this side of Butkus.

Alright, I'm still moving in; but I wanted to post up some old stories that not too many people got a look at. I really enjoyed writing them, for what they're worth. Here's the first one, more to come as things progress.

There's an excellent bit from the BBMRE* chronicled at Ramblings of an Ordinary.

* Big Book of Men's Room Etiquette

(Hat tip to Denise)

Oh, Rob. You poor, misguided man. I gave up on music a decade ago. I listen to talk radio in the car. I'm possibly the worst person in the blogosphere to be tagged with this meme. Regardless, I shall endeavor to rise to the occasion and hope that my answers don't inordinately degrade my cool status.

Total volume of music files on my computer:

Zero. Nada. Nil. I have no music files on my computer. I should win some sort of prize for this.

The last CD I bought was:

Ray, the soundtrack from the movie of the same name. I bought it during my Spokane trip. The rental truck had a kick-ass stereo system but I couldn't find any station with acceptable background music. Talk radio was out as I was always with passengers. Thusly, Ray was acquired.

Song playing right now:

None. Nothing. The extended version of 4'33". It's not because I'm at work, either. The only time I hear music is if Lovely Wife puts some on.

Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:

Someone to Watch Over Me by George Gershwin. Played for Lovely Wife and I by the strolling violinist at The Friar's Table whilst we celebrated our first wedding anniversary.

Georgia On My Mind by Ray Charles. The reason for the above noted CD purchase. This song is gorgeous. The Ray soundtrack has two versions, one studio and one live. You can hear Ray Charles alternately smiling and crying during the live version. Breathtaking.

Speaking of Ray Charles, did you get a look at that new grand piano he's using now? No? Neither did he.

Back in Black by AC/DC. This was the first song I heard after boot camp. It was like emerging from a dark room into blinding light. Any time I hear it now I get an emotional lift. Plus, AC/DC just plain out kicks ass.

Sweet Home Alabama by Lynyrd Skynyrd. This song puts me in a happy place. I guess it's just part of being a voluntary southerner.

No Woman, No Cry by Bob Marley. Everything gonna be all right.

Five people to whom I’m passing the musical baton: I need to make up for a couple of lousy answers so I'm going to pass this to six people: the inestimable Snooze Crew™!

We have three urinals in the men's room here at work. With one men's room and 60 or so guys it's fairly common to see somebody else in there when you go to drain the main vein. One fellow worker has been a cause of concern. You see, any time I walk in and he's there he is occupying the center urinal. As you all know, this is classified as a major violation according to the BBMRE*.

If you are the first fella at a bank of three urinals you should be occupying an outer urinal. Preferably the one closest to the door so your presence is more easily noted by others entering the bathroom and you are thereby more easily avoided. Taking the center urinal is a major violation because it almost guarantees AUWC**.

I don't think that most women understand AUWC so I'll attempt to clarify. It is not a "gay thing", it's a "guy thing". Homosexual men avoid AUWC just as stringently as straight men. The basic rule is that you do not stand next to another man and piss unless forced to do so by situations outside of your control (the "last urinal" exemption) or during temporary suspension of the AUWC rule caused by sporting events and alcohol or the presence of snow banks or open fire pits.

This fellow's habitual use of the center urinal clearly marked him as either etiquettely challenged or a pervert.

I'm happy to say that he is neither. Just moments ago I went to pay off the interest on a coffee loan and happened to walk into the bathroom right behind him. He went first to the preferred urinal (the one closest to the door), sighed in disappointment, and flushed it. He then went to the secondary urinal (the other outside urinal), sighed deeper, muttered a curse, and flushed it. Only then did he go to the center urinal to do his business.

Mystery solved. He's not a pervert, he's just another victim of the filthy bastards here who don't know how to flush a urinal.

I'm very relieved.

* Big Book of Men's Room Etiquette
** Adjacent Urination Without Cause

I last checked any of my blog stats, referrals, etc. I check the unique visitors for Zero Intelligence every 3 months or so in order to keep my BlogAds profile current but I have no reason to do anything similar for SBD. Every once in whenever I get an email from SiteMeter that says how many visitors I'm getting here but I can't remember the last time I bothered to open it. I haven't joined a carnival in forever.

I used to be a massive traffic whore and lived or died by my site stats. What's up here?

I'm not disaffected, I just don't care. I could be down to 50 visitors a day and it wouldn't bother me as long as they were the regular readers and friends I've made over the past year or two.

I'm in a happy place, blogwise, and that's pretty cool.

Stupid Jedi mind tricks!

(Found at Ryan's place)

I never would have guessed.