dad - thedude

vegan, it's not meh

2008-11-16T04:00:00.001-06:00

Just so there are no mistakes regarding the title of this post. I'm a carnivore. I don't simply like meat - I love it. If there was a cow in here right now I'd bite a hunk out of it's ass and make a sandwich.

Ok, now that we got that straight.

Last week I was invited out to lunch with some coworkers, considering the day I was having some time away from the cubicle walls sounded like a good deal. This changed once I got in the car... turns out we were heading for the only vegan place within 30 miles. Actually, it may be further than 30 miles. I have no idea since I didn't even know this place existed.

Great, so now I'm thinking about all the shapes you can form soy into. I was imagining the menu would be:

Cold Soy topped with spinach and fig leaves
Warm Soy with bean curd dressing
Soy with lawn clippings

I'm all into trying something new, but honestly I was just hoping they had bread and maybe I could stop for a burger on the way back.

I have no idea where this preconception came from. I still don't even know what the word means and I have a feeling if I googled it I still wouldn't.

But you know what? It was actually pretty good. Turns out they had a great grilled tortilla wrap. They even had a barbecue sandwich (this one was a little confusing for me).

To my local steakhouse - don't worry, I'll be back to eat my weight in beef soon enough.

Maybe next time I'll try the soy. Ha, just kidding.

and the 7th edition winner is.....

2008-11-15T13:05:00.006-06:00

Congratulations DMLD! Your cool award is below, feel free to add it to your mantle.

Man, I had to move the sign away from the haunted house and found a great little park near my house to place it. I swear I found ghost crap all over the sign from last week, I didn't even know there was such a thing.

Ya'll crack me up, I found myself laughing like an idiot reading those. Coming in second and third were Dad to Two & Diesel.

DMLD, sorry... I couldn't find you on Entrecard so I can't award you with the credits. If you do have one at some point let me know and I'd love to start you off with 500 credits.

DMLD's Caption:

"Hey honey, your girlfriend called . . . and by the way, I parked your car in the pool."

Your Award:

The ultra cool and Greenlands #1 most coveted award!

I realize this size might be a bit much, so I've included a couple of smaller versions:

150x178 version

108x121 version

Enjoy!

dude, caption this - 7th edition

2008-11-13T00:18:00.002-06:00

Alright, time to rock with another caption contest. Leave your caption in the comments, judging to occur Friday night - winners get all kinds of cool stuff including 500 Entrecard credits, your name in lights and bragging rights!

~ your caption here ~

more stupid crap... dude

2008-11-12T01:45:00.000-06:00

The other day I was tagged and revealed 7 things people might not know about me. I admit however that I only scraped the surface of my neurosis.

At the risk of uncomfortable silence and the "dude, your freaking nuts" look... by special request here is another glimpse.

1. I can't use the restroom until I lift the lid and check for spiders. When I was maybe 10 I overheard one of my mom's friends talk about getting bitten by a black widow spider while sitting on the john. That simple comment has tormented me for at least 30 years.

2. I can't drink a beer or drink without raising my glass to cheers someone first. If I'm alone I still have to raise my glass before I can take so much as a sip.

3. Since I was a kid I didn't think I would live to 40, so everyday now is a gimme. That feeling was so strong that for 2 years before I turned 40 I wondered everyday if it was that day.

4. For some reason, money in my pocket is easier to spend than money in my wallet. Speaking of money in my pocket... bills go in my left pocket, coins in the right. Never mixed. Ever. I also have to make sure the bills are facing the same way and from highest to lowest.

5. When I pass a cop, even if I'm not doing anything wrong, I pretend to yawn, scratch my head or mess with the radio so I look like their presence doesn't concern me. I have no idea why I do that.

6. If I'm eating alone in a restaurant I look around and check my watch like I'm waiting on someone, sometimes I even mutter to myself when I'm doing that. No clue why.

7. When my credit card is being authorized I curl my toes up and my teeth clinch thinking it might be denied.

8. I never use my real name if I have to give it when ordering food.

happy birthday devil dogs

2008-11-10T00:05:00.013-06:00

The Marines I have seen around the world have the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals of any group of animals I have ever seen. Thank God for the United States Marine Corps!
Eleanor Roosevelt, First Lady of the United States, 1945

Today I take a break from my normal posts to honor the few, the proud. To my brothers and sisters, past and present. Happy Birthday Marines!

233 years ago today on November 10, 1775, the Continental Congress passed a resolution stating that "two Battalions of Marines be raised". Since then Marines have participated in every major battle, in every clime and place with honor, courage and commitment.

To me this day, this birthday, holds more importance to me than my own. I don't say that with bravado or ego, I say it because I could never pay back what the Corps provided to me.

Each year I recall a day in mid July 1984. I had been in bootcamp for about a month by that point and still had 2 more to go before earning the Eagle, Globe and Anchor. I was standing alone outside the chow hall waiting for the rest of my platoon. I was nothing more than a sorry ass, beaten down lump of shit. It was by far my lowest point ever. I didn't trust that I knew my name, I didn't trust that I knew where I came from. I felt as though I had been ripped down to my core, I literally had nothing left.

Except for one thing. I wanted to be a Marine more than ever.

On that day, literally at that moment, I knew I had been broken. I realized from that point forward I would never be the same.

I know the Corps isn't for everyone and I know some fellow Marines may not have hit the depths I discovered that day, but for me it's what has helped define me as a person ever since. For that I will be forever in debt to my beloved Corps and fellow Marines.

Tonight I will find a bar, toast a few to my leatherneck brothers and sisters, think about that day and the sacrifices of the hero's who paid the highest price so we could live free.

I haven't missed a birthday toast in the past 24 years and I know I will continue till the day I wear my dress blues for the last time.... even if they do have to split it up the back to make it fit.

Semper Fi Marines, carry on!

Good night Chesty, wherever you are.

i've been tagged and stuffed

2008-11-06T23:49:00.004-06:00

I'm a little remiss in my blogging duties. On October 20th I was tagged by the incomparable AngieSS over at CupofSnarky.com.

Just like when I was a kid and hid under the bed till I pissed my pants but I still ended up being it. This time it took me a couple of weeks to get out from under the bed since I had to wait for my pants to dry.

Ok, so here goes. I have to tell you seven things about myself that you don't already know and avoid federal prosecution in the process... and then I get to find seven others hiding behind trees and doors to tag their ass.

1. I was in Life magazine on my hands and knees in the mud and it wasn't in a bar with a stripper named Jasmine. Don't believe me? If you happen to have a September 1985 edition laying around... (don't we all?) check out page 25.

2. I'm a hypocrite when it comes to formal education and I pray my kids never find out. I sucked in school, I never took anything more than the fundamentals of math and almost didn't graduate high school. I never attended college other than a couple of years of night school art/design classes. My english teacher would have a stroke to learn I'm doing this blog, I have no memory whatsoever of doing homework and I've never seen the SAT. However, it's not something that has kept me down, I work in a profession filled with MBA's and I hate the question "What school did you go to?". Saying that most of what I've learned has come from the History Channel/Discovery/National Geographic/Science Channel isn't a joke.

3. I may have some degree of OCD. I eat sandwiches into perfect little squares and then fold them in half and repeat. I lock the doors of my house at least 3 times every night and then get out of bed to check them again. I won't eat food off anyone's plate for any reason. I eat the broken chips first and then each chip in sequence from smallest to largest or by color. I subconsciously sort things by size/color/shape.

4. I'm terrified of heights. Actually saying that isn't enough, I become incapacitated at any height over 10 feet or even the thought of it. I recently went out on the 7th floor balcony where I work and become so incapacitated I thought of calling someone inside the building to come get me back to the door.

5. I grew up with Owen and Luke Wilson. Back then they were just the kids a few doors down, little did I know... Hey Owen, give me a call bro (ha).

6. I sweat when I have to spend over $100 for any reason. I'm not a penny-pincher by any means, I just can't get spend that much without my heart rate increasing even if I have the money.

7. In the 5th grade I thought I was an eagle. I used to turn my head from side-to-side in quick bird-like fashion, stare for bit and then turn quickly to the other side. I thought it impressed my teachers but it may have been the subject of parent/teacher conferences without my knowledge.

Ok, so now the fun part. I get to pick some people who will be bitching my name in a few days.

I would really like to know 7 things from.....

tuesday rant - 9th edition

2008-11-04T22:37:00.001-06:00

So, here we are again on a Tuesday night. For me it's a Tuesday following the big race weekend at Texas Motor Speedway - that's right, the bi-annual Redneck Mardi Gras I posted about last Friday.

Real quick on the "races", Crown Royal should be enjoyed in moderation and some people should keep their clothes on (you know who you are).

I know last Tuesday I was a calm Dad-theDude and asked, no begged for rant ideas. I want to thank the following people for those ideas:

PlancksPost - Heinous - ReformingGeek - deb - colleen - texas mama

I was all set to pick one and roll out the rant barrel for today.

Then last Friday happened.

I woke up Friday morning with the belief that at some point during the night I must have found a bucket of fire and stuck my foot into it and then hit it with a hammer. You know how light a 200 thread count sheet is? Well my friends that weight alone put me through the ceiling.

I dragged my sorry ass up to the quack-in-a-box where the doctors have name tags on that are written with a Sharpie and attached using a safety pin and guess what... I have gout.

Yea, that's right. I said gout. The same disease that until a few days ago I thought was limited only to people who drink Geritol and wear their pants up to their armpits. Apparently, I was wrong in that assumption.

This is where it really pisses me off. The conversation with the doctor goes like this:

Doc - do you eat protein?
Me - uh... yea. I actually eat huge amounts of protein. I'm into consuming meat, I'm a carnivore.
Doc - protein contains what your kidneys can't process and that can trigger gout.
Me - uh...
Doc - do you drink beer?
Me - .... can you repeat the question? Do I drink beer?
Doc - yes, do you drink?
Me - (apparently she doesn't know me) . Yes... some (come on, who ever told the doctor the truth with that question?)
Doc - yea, you will need to quit that as well. It can trigger gout.

uh - what?

Now this was Friday morning. Within 3 hours of this conversation I was due to arrive at perhaps the only place within 1,000 miles where the only purpose is:

Beer.
Protein.
Walking for miles to get more beer and protein.

I'll be damned if my toe blowing up is going to stop me from seeing drunk-ass rednecks and cars making left hand turns - so I asked for a pill. Besides, I already had an 18 pack on ice.

This is such bullshit. Who in the hell came up with something where meat, beer and just about everything else worth a crap can cause your joints to become nuclear fuel? Shit!

redneck mardi gras

2008-10-31T17:00:00.010-05:00

If "Mardi gras" is french for "Fat Tuesday", then "Redneck Mardi Gras" is southern for "Drunk-Ass Redneck at NASCAR".

There are two times a year when I pull down the collar and let my redneck show, both happen to coincide with NASCAR coming to Texas Motor Speedway. Odd how that is...

Every April and November Texas Motor Speedway is visited by some 250,000 people, that means a combined total of 1,500,000 teeth and 1,025,000 cases of beer. I can make fun of that since that's exactly where my happy ass will be... I average on the higher side for total number of teeth in case your wondering.

However, this doesn't mean I actually know anything about NASCAR. I don't have "my driver", I don't know the tire pressure, the temperature of the track, how important adjustments to the sway bar is or why they only make left hand turns.

What I do know is that it's a great 3 days spent with the guys where extremely loud cars go really fast, the beer flows freely and you know all 250,000 people.

At the time this posts, I'm in the process of pouring ice into a cooler and pretending I know where everyone stands in the race for the cup. For the next 3 days I'll be living in a camper with 16 other guys placing bets on the first car to pit, the first to wreck, the first to make a right hand turn and generally trying to find the bottom of my cooler.

I can't wait!

If you happen to be out at Texas Motor Speedway this weekend, drop by. I'll share a beer with you. I'll be the guy wearing a black hat around the area below or the one pulling a cooler in the infield at night - I'm sure you can find me without any problem ;)

If not, then leave me a comment. I'll get it on my redneck blackberry.

and the 6th edition winner is.....

2008-10-30T22:30:00.021-05:00

Congratulations Colleen! Your cool award is below, feel free to add it to your mantle.

It was hell moving the shark and crap in the water sign from the beach to the front-yard of a haunted house, I might never be the same.

This was the toughest yet! There were some really funny submissions, coming in second and third were Ettarose and DaOldMan.

Colleen, I couldn't find you on Entrecard. If you are there let me know and I'll give you 500 credits. Since I couldn't award those credits... I'm splitting it into the top 5:

Ettarose - 250 credits

DaOldMan - 250 credits

Planckspost - 200 credits

UselessMan - 200 credits

Colleen's Caption:

An occurance rarely seen in the world of Rock and Roll - a double white-man overbite..

Your Award:

The way cool and now internationally famous Cool Blog Award!

I realize this size might be a bit much, so I've included a couple smaller versions:

150x178 version

108x121 version

Enjoy!

Tomorrow's post (late afternoon) - redneck mardi gras

dude, caption this - 6th edition

2008-10-29T00:30:00.000-05:00

In this special halloween caption this I've added a new prize.

Not only will your name be in lights, this time at a haunted house... and the cool blog award for your mantle... but as an added feature for those Entrecard users - the winner gets 500 Dad-theDude EC credits!

Judging on Thursday.

~your caption here~

tuesday rant - 8th edition... sorta

2008-10-28T12:10:00.004-05:00

I admit it, this Tuesday finds me a calm Dad-theDude. It doesn't happen often, it might have something to do with being a little hung over from the weekend.

Other than banging my head on the wall trying to prepare for this years holiday season (I work in retail) and a few normal things.. like thinking about playing dominoes with the cones and barrels they use to shut off a lane in rush hour traffic on I-35 going towards my work and dying a little inside each time someone says "....hey, you got a minute....", my mind is a cold dark place today.

So, I need you. I need my own version of a stimulus package, I need rant topics.

Provide them in the comments below and next Tuesday not only will I rant and shake the walls... I'll give a huge shout out to the topic I pick.

ps - I hope you noticed that I said "...I need a stimulus package" with a straight face. That was tough. In truth I was chuckling as I wrote that... damn 14 year old mind.

can we just punt?

2008-10-25T06:40:00.001-05:00

I've never posted specifically about politics. Just not me, I don't ~really~ hang my hat on a particular party or someone nuts enough to run for commander-in-chief. I just try and pick the one that isn't as jacked up as the other.

I take that back. Back in the '92 race I had to vote really early since I was overseas and Perot hadn't started speaking in tongues yet... within a week after voting he imploded and his head started spinning around 360 degrees. Lessons are learned through mistakes. Right?

I've had it up to here with this election
(place your hand under your chin for the full effect - it's an interactive post).

It's not that I don't take voting seriously, I do. I won't even vote early now since I want the full experience of standing in line at the elementary school and playing the 'I wonder who that dude will vote for' game. For me, placing a vote is like horse racing - I'd rather be at the track with the smell of the horses in the air instead of some room in Vegas watching it on TV. Either way, I'm still placing my money on a horse's ass.

Seriously, if I see one more blog or "news" segment about the election (after this post), I'll puke on the screen. Let's just get this over with now. I propose we all meet at a bar and the candidate who can do the most shots in 30 minutes while still talking out of the side of their mouth wins. Hell, I'll buy.

I for one hope Joe "the jackass" Biden has something else to do that day 'cause I'll be forced to kick his ass after I get a few beers in me (hell, I'll do it sober). But as I think about it, Palin doing shots would be kinda cool. I got a side bet that says 5 shots in she dances topless on the table and gives Joe the plumber a lap dance - any takers?

If you are interested in playing the 'I wonder who that dude will vote for game' while standing in line to vote this year, you should know it's based on 3 things:

Haircut - 60% of the weight
Shoes - 25% of the weight
Visible tattoos - 15% of the weight

I'll leave it up to you to determine which is which.

and the 5th edition winner is.....

2008-10-23T22:37:00.010-05:00

Congratulations LifeTimeMom! Your cool award is below, feel free to add it to your mantle.

Very tough! DanBrantley and Ettarose came in second and third and caused me to have a case of carpal tunnel by shaking the 8-ball to make that call (I ended up getting professional help - on the selection... not my wrists). Maybe it wasn't the 8-ball come to think of it...

It was getting a bit chilly out while painting that sign on the beach, but I'm here for you guys. Besides, I was on a beach and had a six-pack of Shiner Bock. You can't go wrong there.

Thanks everyone, you all crack me up.

LifeTimeMom's caption:

Okay Dad!! I promise to wear my seatbelt ALL THE TIME!!!

Your Award:

The ultra cool - Cool Blog Award!

I realize this size, while perfect for framing, it may be too large for those with size challenges, so I included some wallet-sized versions below.

150x178 version

108x121 version

Enjoy!

Tomorrow's post - "can we just punt?"

tuesday rant - 7th edition

2008-10-21T08:28:00.006-05:00

You know, up until yesterday morning I didn't have a rant living inside me.

I was coming off a great weekend, the weather is a little cooler, my pants fit and I found an ironed shirt in the closet before my mad dash to work. It was a damn trifecta. I was a calm Dad - the Dude.

Stupid-ass rock hauler crushed my dream of the perfect Monday and awoke the rant section of my brain in less than 2 seconds flat.

How is it that these trucks are allowed on the highway? Seriously, how did they get pass the department of transportation with this request:

We will be operating an 18-wheeled vehicle on the nations highways which from time-to-time will throw hard irregular shaped objects onto the road surface at speeds in excess of 80 mph with the desired effect of causing drivers following said vehicle to swerve out of their lanes to avoid said objects from landing in their laps. Further, we will place signs on said vehicles informing drivers to stay back 200 feet, however the driver must be within 50 feet to read it.

I don't blame the drivers, unless I ever see one laughing in the rear-view mirror at the carnage following him... I'm cool. I blame the damn trailer manufactures and whoever it is that invented son-of-a-bitchin rocks.

Dude, let me drive in peace so I can use my wireless device and drive with my knee like everyone else, that's all I ask. I don't need the high speed obstacle course or to see Andy my friendly windshield replacement guy again. Crap!

Smileys are an effective deterrent to swift moving objects.... try it out below.

top 5 things I'll burn in hell for - #1

2008-10-20T00:01:00.003-05:00

It's now time for #1.

I watched 2 Cubans shit their uniforms.

As a young Marine I was selected for "Embassy Duty". I had visions of standing in dress blues in some exotic country and drinking beer with the locals on my off-time. Instead... I found myself in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba - aka "Gitmo".

Gitmo in '84 was not a place where you wore dress blues and drank beer with the locals. Instead this meant a year of standing on the fence line, staying out on patrol and trying to find ways of breaking the boredom by jacking with the Cubans to see if they would engage (we tried to see if they would take a shot).

The fence line in Gitmo was a no-mans land, in some areas the distance between us was over 1/2 a mile and filled with the largest minefield in the world. In other areas they were close enough to shout at across the mines.

This particular day, I was standing post very close to the Cubans. Across the mines, in a tower much like mine, stood 2 Cuban regulars (my "mirrors"). As I watched both of them watching me, we started jacking with each other. This usually meant shooting the finger, keying down the mic on their frequency... anything to pass the time.

While watching them very closely through the "Big Eyes" (large binoculars)... with both hands behind my back... a shot went off.

WHAM

Both of them dropped and went out of sight in an instant. I'm still standing, watching their tower. After a few seconds I see one AK-47, then another, then a couple of heads... pretty soon I see them pointing at me. I returned this with a simple wave above the Big Eyes.

Within 5 minutes the scene in front of me contained what might have been half the Cuban army stationed in Gitmo.

After awhile they started to disperse and once again I found myself looking across the mines at the same 2 Cubans, now standing a little lower in their post, looking at me with everything they had. Hope they had a change of clothes on their post because I think they might have needed it by that point.

Guess it's a good thing they didn't have bottles on their head.

Temperature increase in hell for 2 Cubans crapping their utilities and coming close to starting an international incident - an additional 75K degrees and a suit made of phosphorus. Well, maybe just for the international incident part.

I'd love to hear something you might be held in the deep fryer for, share it in the comments!

They carry extra rounds over at HumorBloggers.com, take a trip and tell 'em I sent ya' but drop me some smiley love below first.

top 5 things I'll burn in hell for - #2

2008-10-19T01:00:00.007-05:00

Next in the top 5 things I'll burn in hell for... I now come clean on #2:

I burnt down a neighborhood.

As I mentioned in #4 of the things I'll burn in hell for, I lived in South Africa when I was a kid. Apparently living south of the equator doesn't agree with me since #2 also occurred where the water goes backwards when you flush. Maybe it was Apartheid, maybe it was the Zulu's, or the gold mines or the people who clicked when they talked.

Nope, I think it simply rests on the shoulders of a tow-headed kid who had to change his name because his real name meant "girl" in Afrikaans (true).

When I was about 8 I had a fascination with fire, once while trying to burn a pencil I used the couch to hold the pencil so I wouldn't burn my fingers. This resulted in burning up the couch as well - but that's a different story.

I had recently learned how to light a match by pressing it against the matchbox and flicking it, creating a burning flare that shot out like 10 feet. Dude, I was cool.

We had a huge field across from our house, on the day in question I was practicing my new found skill while walking down a path in this huge, dry field.

I walked maybe 200 feet in, flicking matches into the air when I heard an odd whooshing noise behind me. Turning around to make sure it wasn't the Zulu's attacking I saw something that looked much like the picture above roaring up the path towards me. Son-of-a-bitch! If I knew that word when I was 8 I would have used it at that moment as I sprinted towards the far end of the field.

I exited the other end of the field into a neighborhood now filling with people coming out of their houses. Thankfully their attention was fixed on the growing wildfire coming towards them and they didn't notice the scared-to-hell little tow-headed kid sprinting away like his ass was on fire.

I ran until I couldn't see the fire any longer, only the huge billowing smoke rising above the neighborhood and the fire engines racing past me in the other direction.

Thoughts of spending the rest of my life in a South African prison filled my head. Maybe they would put me in a cell next to Nelson Mandela and we could pass notes back and forth and tap on the walls to keep each other going. Well, maybe not.

Amazingly, after spending hours walking in a daze until the smoke died down I returned home to face my public flogging and NOBODY realized I was the arsonist. Turns out I didn't actually burn down any houses, but the field was burnt the hell up and I think astronauts could see it from space.

Temperature for burning down a neighborhood (well almost) - an additional 50K degrees and a backpack full of fertilizer and diesel fuel.

Tomorrow's top 5: the all important #1 - the time I almost caused a war with Cuba.

They don't play with matches over at HumorBloggers.com but their still pretty hot, check 'em out.

top 5 things I'll burn in hell for - #3

2008-10-18T01:31:00.005-05:00

Next in the top 5 series of crap I'll burn in hell for... I now come clean on #3:

I almost killed a friend of mine.

Mike, wherever you are now bro... your tank didn't malfunction. That was actually me.

About 10,000 years ago I got really heavy into SCUBA diving while living in Okinawa, Japan. As anyone who has strapped on a BCD and a regulator before knows, the most important thing is your dive buddy. Mine was Mike, Mike was in the Navy but I still hung out with him because he worked in communications and I enjoyed trying to get him to tell me secret shit (he never did but he gave me plenty of hints).

Mike and I were preparing to dive a place called the Toilet Bowl. Yea, I know. Crappy name but it was a great place to dive because the entry and exit was so difficult it was rare to see many other divers there.

One of the steps in preparing for a dive is to do a safety check on each other, check the regulators, the tanks, the consoles... just another pair of eyes looking everything over. While I was checking his tank... I turned it off.

Let me say that again. I turned his damn tank the f$ck off.

I see you looking at me like that, in my defense it was a long walk to the entry point and we always did another safety check before making the leap. I thought I'd catch it on the next stop and give him shit about how he left his tank off. Man, that would be so cool...

Sometimes the smartass in me escapes the little box I keep it locked in and does crap I can't be held accountable for.

Well, remember when I said it was such a great dive spot because the entry was hard? Not only was it hard to get to, you had to judge the swell and jump in just at the right moment to ride the wave down about 15-20 feet. As we are walking to the entry point we got separated and to be honest I kinda forgot about the tank deal since I was concentrating on staying upright while walking across the coral. Mike gets there first and without hesitation he judges the swell and leaps into the water - straight to the bottom... with zero air.

It was then I found out it's possible to crap in a wetsuit.

I ran and jumped in right after him and got his tank turned back on. You should have seen the look on his face by that point, utter confusion and totally pissed off. We both came to the surface and the first thing he does after ripping off his mask is to start screaming about the quality of the tanks we had rented. I guess he didn't notice I had crapped my suit.

I never told him what actually happened that day. I'm sure to this day he thinks those crappy tanks went out on him right as he jumped. I shook uncontrollably for a week.

Temperature increase for jacking with my buddy's tank - an additional 25K degrees and a kerosene bath.

Tomorrow's top 5: #2 - the time I burned down a neighborhood.

They won't let you jump in with a dead tank over at HumorBloggers.com, check 'em out. They would love to go down with ya.

top 5 things I'll burn in hell for - #4

2008-10-17T01:29:00.005-05:00

Next in the top 5 series of crap I'll burn in hell for... I now come clean on #4:

I shot bottles off the head of strangers as they walked by.

As a kid I lived in Johannesburg, South Africa (this was during the un-plugged apartheid version of South Africa during the mid 70's). My dad says he was an electrical engineer who was there to setup TV, but we know it was actually because he was in the CIA and he still won't come clean on that. My little brother was born there, I call him my African American brother.

Since my dad was there to setup a TV station (yea, right), that meant they didn't have TV there in the mid 70's. No Brady Bunch, no Gilligan's Island... nada.

So what does a kid do if they can't soak their brain with TV for 8 hours a day? Hone their shooting skills of course. Skills that would come in handy for me later in life, but that's a different story.

I had a friend who lived across the street, we'll call him Trevor (cause that was his name). Trevor had access to a pellet gun, which by itself was a bad thing because in today's world Trevor would be in a special school riding the short bus. Let's just say Trevor was a few cards short of full deck. No, let's just say Trevor was full-on batshit crazy. We got along great.

Women in South Africa at the time (and I guess even today) carried crap on their head. I don't know how this got started but I'm sure it had something to do with that clicking sound they made when they talked. When I say they carried crap, I mean they carried all kinds of things on their head - including empty bottles which I assume they were taking back to the store for a refund. The perfect target in my 9 year old mind.

Trevor and I had setup a little snipers nest in the backyard of a house a few doors down that had a perfect view on the main street and we would wait for our targets to appear.

After waiting in silence with a fully loaded, cocked and ready pellet gun, our target would appear - a women walking with several bottles on her head not more than 30 feet from us. Shhh, be veddy, veddy quiet...

POP... WHAM.... CRASH.... SCREAM...

Before you judge, consider the skill required to hit a moving target on the top of someone's head with a pellet gun. Also consider the skill to run like hell afterwards to escape the wrath of a lady who was screaming like a banshee, that is if a banshee made clicking noises when they talked.

One lesson learned from this activity, wait a little bit to ensure the target wasn't being escorted by a guy. The odds of escape after the shot is much less if this is the case.

Temperature for shooting crap off people's head - an additional 10K degrees and a container of propane.

Tomorrow is #3 - the time I almost killed a friend of mine.

They shoot crap off your head over at HumorBloggers.com - give 'em a try.

top 5 things I'll burn in hell for

2008-10-16T00:28:00.005-05:00

Sorry guys, been underwater for a bit but I did a few safety stops to make sure I didn't get the bends and now I'm back on the surface (for all you non divers out there... sorry). I'm back

I've been thinking about some of the things I've done in the past (and now...) that will cause them to turn up the heat a little bit in hell upon my arrival. Yea, I know there are supposed to be 2 options on where you go and the other one can even include like 70 virgins if you change your name to Mohammad, but I have a t-shirt that says Marines don't die, we just go to hell to regroup - so I'm going with that and if it gets better so be it.

Top 5 things I'll burn in hell for - #5: Jacking with my grandmother.

My grandmother sends me pepper about once a month. It's not some kinda special pepper, I'm talking about plain ole ground black pepper. The kind you can find at a gas station or get in a little package from Sonic.

Why would she do that? Because she knows I like pepper and maybe at one point I told her we can't get that type of pepper here in Texas. Ok, fine. The truth is I tell her each time she sends it that we still can't get it here even though she gets it from WalMart and there is a WalMart about .2 miles from my front door.

So, every month or so I get a specially wrapped package from Oklahoma with a very large container of black pepper. Our spice cabinet now contains enough black pepper to last us a few years but I can't stop. I'm expecting another soon and I've already cleared out a little spot for it.

Temperature increase for jacking with a nice old lady - an additional 5K degrees and a cup of gasoline.

Tomorrow's top 5: # 4 - I used to shot bottles off of the head of strangers as they walked by.

Great to be back in the real world - I missed ya'll.

and the 4th edition winner is.....

2008-10-10T21:08:00.009-05:00

Congratulations Da Old Man! Your cool award is below, feel free to add it to your mantle.

Tough one once again! Tiffany1377 and PlancksPost come in second and third and both cost me a magic 8-ball that I wore out making that call.

I'm learning how to paint the sign on the beach better now. One good coat of Killz first and the rest goes pretty quick which is a good thing cause the beach patrol is getting wise to my game.

Da Old Man's caption:

Ramon, it's running with the bulls, you moron!

Your Award:

The ultra cool - Cool Blog Award!

I realize this size, while perfect for framing, it may be too large for those with size challenges, so I included some wallet-sized versions below.

150x178 version

108x121 version

Enjoy!

my tv education

2008-10-08T10:55:00.005-05:00

I can’t decide if I grew up in the 70’s or the 80’s. Hell, I don’t think I’ve actually “grown up” even today since I still can’t tell you what I want to be when I grow up. I keep putting it off thinking someday I’ll figure it out.

I guess if I was forced, I would say I was a child of the 70’s, or rather a child of 70’s TV shows.

I recall in the 8th grade watching one of my favorite shows, Welcome Back Kotter. Since I was just a year away from high school I thought it would be just like that. I thought you would be in a class where everyone was your friend, even that snotty little bitch Judy. Your teacher would be cool and have a big afro and I could wear a denim jacket and my buddy Epstein would teach me how to write a note from my mom to get me out of anything.

That proved to be incorrect. But to the frustration of many of my teachers I tried like hell. Up your nose with a rubber hose.

The Love Boat also proved to be my undoing, but it took almost 25 years for it to hit. It wasn’t until I went on a cruise with my wife and a few of our friends several years ago. Apparently my wife didn’t watch as much of it as I did cause my 14 year old mind thought a cruise literally meant… the Love Boat. I admit I also thought we would get all dressed up and attend a dinner were we would sit with the captain and his daughter and when we watched the sunset from the side of ship the breeze would slightly blow our hair.

Damn you Captain Stubing. Damn you to hell.

Everything I know about police I learned from Barney Miller and Starsky and Hutch. But the ultimate police show was Adam-12. To this day when I see an LAPD cop on some car chase or a video beating someone I think they are either Pete or Jim out on patrol. Only they would have the case wrapped up in 30 minutes and the guilty would go down and justice would reign.

I thought I would grow up and live in an apartment building like Three’s Company. I didn’t see myself lucking out and actually living with 2 foxy chicks (I still love saying “foxy”), but I would live near them and we would hang out at the Regal Beagle with our bell bottoms, feathered hair and shirts with huge collars. I would be Jack's wingman.

The Brady Bunch taught me that the cute girl with the long golden hair will break your heart in the end and her sisters would just laugh at you if you showed up at the door on your Evil Knievel bike with the fake gas tank. Damn you Marsha, I really thought we had something.

WKRP in Cincinnati tought me that the boss is usually clueless and thats ok. I also learned that even though the really hot (sorry... foxy) chick named Jennifer sitting at the front desk is the one everyone checks out walking down the hall, the one true fox is actually Bailey and will always be.

The Dukes of Hazzard taught me that it's possible to jump a car across a 30 foot cavern from a construction site on one end and yell "yeeee haaawwww" while in midair. I never questioned if this was real. I figured if they could shoot a bow and arrow with TNT attached to it and blow crap up they could do anything. Damn you Bo Duke for making me wear my hair like that and thinking I could pull off the blue shirt unbuttoned down to there look. Good thing I never learned how to weld or my parents would have had a new door feature on the family car to go along with the scratches on the hood from me sliding across it.

There are so many other shows that shaped my view of the world in the late 70’s, but the final summary is this; the world wasn’t always clean, the people in general were cool or they could be written off, everyone would get a chance at a punch line and everything would work out in the end before the credits started rolling.

Now you can’t tell me that’s not a good education.

tuesday rant - 6th edition

2008-10-07T16:29:00.009-05:00

... you’re reducing your Carbon Footprint. And that means you’re helping the environment so you can feel a nice warm glow....

That's an actual quote I found related to this whole "Go Green" movement we've found ourselves in for the past few years.

A movement I might add that coincided with the explosion of plastic bottled water... anyone remember water in plastic bottles you could buy in a store in say the 80's? No, how about the 90's? The only one I could think of was Evian but only guys named Antwon who wore their sweaters tied around their necks and wore shoes with no socks drank that crap.

Ok, I digressed with the bottled water deal. Here's the point, I'm not doing so well offsetting my carbon footprint basically because... well, I don't have a damn clue what the hell a carbon footprint is and I don't really care to find out.

What I do know is I toggle between the "Go Green" movement pissing me off and not being much more than background noise. It pisses me off when people or companies use it (or the term) for their own purposes. It's almost become an all purpose term meaning to do good.

For example, the trash truck that rattles through my neighborhood once a week to pickup all the half empty paint cans, used oil and old batteries everyone tosses in the trash can when they can't make it down to the storm drain is painted green and has several leaves painted on it along with the "Green" slogan of the day. I feel better about that now, thanks.

The company I work for has a green corporate building. I'm not sure what that means exactly but I know they have urinals that don't flush.

Thanks, but I'd rather go outside to piss in the smoking area than use these. I have no idea where it goes but I've spent many hours wondering that and if the cost savings justifies the means.

That's right - I said cost savings, not water savings.

I had a conversation with someone once who did organic gardening. When I mentioned that if they sold something powerful enough that it made my yard glow at night so bright the FAA could use it to guide planes but actually killed weeds - I'd use it, she gave me a look like I just whacked a bunny over the head with a lead pipe.

Does this mean I'm an earth hater? No, actually the opposite.

I actually do a lot of things people would call "Green", but I'm not going over the damn environmental cliff or bragging about it to make myself feel that nice warm glow.

I'm going outside now to put a "Green" sticker on my hummer. Damnit, first I gotta buy a Hummer...

because it makes us feel special

2008-10-04T16:00:00.000-05:00

A few months ago I ran out of beer and felt the need to belong to something, something where I could find more people like myself, people who use this whole interweb deal to satisfy that uncontrollable need to be a smart-ass.

Since I'm originally from Oklahoma I can say "Interweb". It's a cultural thing. I can also open up a casino in a cow pasture if I was so inclined.

I never found that group, but I did find a group of funny people and they weren't in white jackets that tied in the back or nothin'. Apparently these people are allowed out in public without an escort but there are a few around there I wonder about...

I'm speaking of course of the Humor Bloggers over at HumorBloggers.com. After stalking Chelle (the leader of the Cabal) for a month she felt pity on me and let me sit in the back during meetings as long as I brought drinks for everyone, cleaned the restrooms and told her she looked pretty.

This week is World Domination Week over at Humor Bloggers. A bit over the top you say? Normally I would agree, but that's just the way we do things over there. You should see their version of tag teaming members...

Here's another thing. They have some voting going on over there for the uber-award of all time - the Humor Blogger of the year award. Considering the last time I looked I had a total of 0 (zero, like nada) votes, I could use your support.

Cruise over there, find my name and vote - or shoelessboy gets butt paste on his head, again.

mom likes me best

2008-10-04T14:00:00.000-05:00

So... I'm sitting around last Thursday staring at the ceiling and wondering why moderators at a presidential debate bother to actually ask a question since the candidates have no intention of answering them and the moderators have no intention of calling bullshit on them... when what should I happen to see... ?

Kirsten over at The Soccer Mom Files gave me an award, that's what!

Not only that, but it's the first-ever, still minty fresh, still shrink wrapped - "The Best of The Web - Mom Likes Me Best" award!

I wish I had a web cam with me at this very moment, ya'll could see my "uh huh, uh huh, I won, that's right" dance. Granted, if I actually had a web cam right now I'd have to get dressed and I like the warmth and gentle hum of the laptop in my lap way too much to let that happen (don't look at me that way, I know damn well I'm not the only one. Fly, I'm talking to you!).

If you haven't had your Soccer Mom fix today, I recommend it! She's not your regular soccer mom. No sir. She's hilarious and since she's such a bad ass she can flip you with her littlest baby finger and make you land in your own baby poop. I should confess however that her site header makes me a little uneasy 'cause it's not right to stare at a cartoon that way. I had that same reaction with The Little Mermaid. Dude, she was hot. Chicks with fins and crabs for friends apparently do it for me.

Here is my award for you to gawk at and become green with envy. Please mind the protective barrier.

p.s - am I the only one that gets excited and does an internal high-5 to myself after I click "spellcheck" and it finds nothing to fix? Am I also the only one that clicks it again because it must have not worked the first time?

and the 3rd edition winner is...

2008-10-03T21:24:00.008-05:00

Congratulations ReformingGeek! Your cool award is below, feel free to add it to your mantle.

I gotta say, this by far was the toughest one to judge. I literally had 2 magic balls and 2 independant sources to help on this one.

PlancksPost & Rubba - so close! Everyone else - wow. Those were all really good!

This time I didn't have much trouble repainting the beware of sharks and crap in the water sign. I actually got a couple of beach bums to help out! Paid 'em in some rum I brought back from the islands.

ReformingGeek's caption:

After consuming chicken-fried steak, fries, corn, and beer all week, Bubba misunderstands the meaning of biofuel.

Your Award:

The ultra cool - Cool Blog Award!

I realize this size, while perfect for framing, it may be too large for those with size challenges, so I included some wallet-sized versions below.

150x178 version

108x121 version

Enjoy!

tuesday rant - 5th edition

2008-09-30T00:01:00.001-05:00

I wasn't going to do this. I told myself this crap didn't deserve the effort required to type it in. When my blood started boiling an hour ago I realized I didn't have a choice.

Josh Howard - you idiot.

In case you haven't heard, yet another overpaid, bloated ego, doesn't realize the chance he has been given athlete has shown his true colors and opened his stupid mouth. This alone should not be a shock, usually when this happens I simply shake my head and ignore it. Since I don't keep up with sports in general and more specifically I know nothing about professional basketball it usually has little impact on me other than pissing me off because I know that's all the news will talk about for a few days.

But this time, this time my friends, was different. This time the jackass of the day based his comments on the country by saying the following:

As the national anthem plays in the background, Howard approaches a camera and says: ``'The Star Spangled Banner' is going on right now. I don't even celebrate that shit. I'm black.

Apparently his excuse now is that he didn't know the camera was on and he doesn't know why he said that. I know why, because maybe it's actually how the bastard feels.

Does he have the right to say it? Yes. I think what pisses me off the most is when people use their freedom of speech against the same thing that provides them with that right. Don't like something the government does - say what you will about it. Don't like the war - hold up a sign and scream at the top of your lungs. Think you are entitled to something because of your race - wear a button and live your life being pissed off. As long as you stand up and show respect for the country that provides you with that right, I don't care.

For those who choose to exercise their freedom of speech against the Nation as a whole, I should remind you that I have the right to bear arms.

For you Josh Howard, I offer a ticket to the city I lived in. You will love Johannesburg, I promise after that you will tattoo the National Anthem on your bicep.

that fresh post vacation feeling

2008-09-28T19:08:00.012-05:00

Does anyone else find the title of this post to be a little empty?

I know you may be saying - "Dude, you just got back from a week spent on the beach! You must feel so rested and ready to jump back into it".

Uh... no.

I know, I know. Bitching about post vacation crap may get me pelted by rotten fruit, but I can't help but think this is normal.

We had a great week in the Virgin Islands. By the way, St. Thomas is about as virgin as Madonna at an MTV awards after party. Someone needs to check the hymen on a few parts of the island cause I think maybe it's been screwing around in a backseat of a Chevy for the last 50 years or so. It's a pretty island, but some parts aren't what you would bring home to mom.

If you are planning a trip to the USVI, I recommend staying on St. John and taking the short ferry ride over to St. Thomas for the shopping when a cruise ship is in port. St. John is about 75% national park, it's what you picture in your head when you think of a Caribbean island and that picture my friends is gorgeous.

So, after:

drinking my weight in just about every rum based drink known to man
snorkeling everyday
dressing up meant wearing the good flip-flops
relaxing on near empty beaches looking out on sapphire colored water.

I find myself back to reality.

Apparently post vacation blues is rather common, I looked it up. Wikipedia offers a treatment of sharing photos with friends, so I'll offer the attached picture as "treatment" and maybe fix myself a drink with some of the duty-free/tax-free liquor we brought back.

A break means you can't wiggle it

A few months ago I wrote about how I worry more about what we learned as kids and what kids today are missing as a result of all this overprotection crap nowadays. In that post I talked about the kids playing on a swing set. Well, that post came true Friday while we were gone. Our 5yr old broke his arm in 2 places falling from... well, falling from a swing set down the street. Irony is a bitch ain't it.

Much like I wrote then, I hate to see the kid with a cast going up his arm but I hope with it came a new lesson about the effects of gravity.

and the 2nd edition winner is.....

2008-09-28T10:12:00.007-05:00

Congratulations Angie! Your cool award is below, feel free to add it to your mantle.

I spent all night painting that sign on the beach again. I think the authorities are starting to get wise to me, they kept driving around in their yellow beach trucks. I had to distract them by saying I saw a Sports Illustrated photo shoot going on down at the end of the beach.

Angie's caption:

Billy Joe escaped from his stroller at the Redneck carnival yesterday. He mistakenly thought he found his mommy. The similiarities are striking.

Your Award:

The ultra cool - Cool Blog Award!

I realize this size, while perfect for framing, it may be too large for those with size challenges, so I included some wallet-sized versions below.

Enjoy!

missed it again - guest post

2008-09-20T02:00:00.000-05:00

While I'm out on a much needed vacation to St. Thomas, I've asked my most talented sister to guest post for me. I'll be thinking of ya'll as I'm sitting naked on the beach with my feet in the sand and a beer in my hand.

Ya'll treat her right or when I get back we will need to have a talk ;)

Here's Tootsie:

Missed It Again

I’ll be the first to admit that I am truly demented.

When I see a border-line category 3 hurricane two-thirds the size of the Gulf of Mexico making a bee line for the Texas coast, just like everyone else, I react in utter horror thinking of the potential loss in life and property. . . .sigh. . . Did I say I’m a liar, too? (Standing up) My name is Tootsie, and I’m a natural disaster junkie.

When my family and I moved to Houston from Austin in 2005, I was ecstatic. 95% of my joy was from getting away from Austin traffic and environmental elitists, and the rest of my twisted self just wanted to be in a hurricane. FINALLY my chance had come! My husband moved before the rest of us did, right before Rita—the category-3 Katrina wanna-be. Guess what I made him do? I’m ashamed. (Standing up) My name is Tootsie, and I made my husband take a 21-hour trek from Houston to Austin to miss the event of his life . . . which ended up not hitting Houston anyway.

He hasn’t let me forget it.

Two years went by in Houston, and we finally got lucky. I was so excited I couldn’t stand it. I was working at an elementary school, and an announcement came over the intercom. The principal told everyone that we were getting out early due to the hurricane that was expected to hit later that evening. What?! WHAT???!!!

Hurricane Humberto had developed off the coast of Texas over the course of just a few hours and was headed straight for Houston. YES!!!! Just a cat 1. But hey, I’m easy to please. Bring it on!!!

I run home, turn on the TV, and wait. And wait. And wait. Nothing. Humberto turned just slightly right and GRAZED Houston. GRAZED us. Not even a drop of water. Not even a leaf blew across my doorstep. I moped for a week.

About two months ago we moved to San Antonio. Mother Nature made real sure we were good and gone before she brought on Ike. Missed it again.

I was on the phone with my best friend, who lives in Houston, for a good part of the night while Ike tore through the city. As the winds started to pick up pretty heavy, I asked her if she was freaking out yet. She replied, “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting all day for this!” Me too—she and I are two of a kind. I lived vicariously through her on the phone all night. Sadly, that’s probably as close as I’ll ever get to a hurricane.

For the record, as disappointed as I am that Ike turned out to be so boring (i.e. that Galveston is not the new Atlantis), I am glad that those 2000+ idiots who stayed on the island facing “imminent death” are still alive to talk about it. Although, if Ike had fulfilled its potential, the gene pool would have about 2000 fewer idiots in its mix, media included. Did anyone see Geraldo reporting that night? Gracious, that idiot would have been the first to go.

But honestly, if I were a reporter for the Weather Channel, I probably would have been right there front and center. “Back to you, Jim Cantori.”

dude, caption this

2008-09-17T00:02:00.004-05:00

I've been wanting to do this for some time now. I checked my magic 8-ball today and it said now was the time. Actually it said "concentrate and try again" but that damn thing has been saying that to every question I ask it, so screw it.

Want to win a cool award ~and~ have your name posted in lights? Then I have the deal for you!

I'm looking for the best caption to the image below. Leave your caption in the comments and Thursday night I'll choose the winner and post that on Friday (along with the award).

Make it good, I'll be using my magic 8-ball to help me decide ;)

Good luck!

tuesday rant - 4th edition

2008-09-16T00:10:00.001-05:00

Ok, I've sat for the last 10 minutes in a dark room doing deep breathing exercises.

Evacuate now or risk certain death.

What part of that sounds like maybe you should leave if you get time? Perhaps if you weren't doing anything special you could maybe join us as we drive north.

No, they said if you stay be sure to write your social security on your body with a Sharpie so identifying the body will be easier. Any questions?

Don't have the money to leave? They took care of that. Don't think the storm will hit you? Walk the hell outside, see the beach? It'll hit you. I realize many of you haven't been to Galveston Island. Picture a big sand bar that maybe rises 15 feet above the water - that's it.

It's not the staying that gets me. It's the staying and then asking people to risk their life to rescue your ass. I can actually understand how someone would want to stay. To me the thought of leaving my home and not knowing what was going to be there when I got back is almost as bad as the storm itself. However, I would be taking that risk upon myself. I would hold one person accountable - me.

It's estimated that some 40 percent of Galveston’s 58,000 residents chose to ride out the storm. Guess what most did Friday before the storm even hit? Yep, they desperately called 911 trying to get rescued. The response was what they said it would be; how long can you tread water?

I read this today:
------------------------------------------------------
Five-year-old Jack King escaped serious injury when storm surge sent a rush of water that washed out the first floor of his family's Galveston home just two blocks from the bay. As rescuers arrived, Jack gazed at a TV aglow with "The Simpsons." The only evidence of his fall was a Band-Aid plastered to his closely-cropped hair, covering a gash.

"We just didn't think it was going to come up like this," said the boy's father, Lee King. "I'm from New Orleans, I know better. I just didn't think it was going to happen."
-----------------------------------------------------

Didn't think it was going to happen? Here's a thought, turn off the son-of-a-bitch'n Simpsons and tune into the news, asshole.

1) They should be evacuated
2) Mr. King should be arrested for child endangerment and being an idiot.

Turns out the generator he was using was provided to him by FEMA in the last hurricane. This makes him a professional idiot.

Ok, feeling a little better now.

If I start hearing someone complaining and blaming the government for not sending out a BlackHawk to pick up their ass for 3 days I'm going to make a trip south.

To the residents of South Texas (and I know several of you- damn good people), my thoughts are with you.

Next week I'm out on vacation but I've asked my little sis, Tootsie, to fill in for me on a post. I hear tell she has a unique perspective to this she would like to share. Catch her this Saturday.

awards day here at dad-thedude headquarters

2008-09-14T22:59:00.005-05:00

Time for a little housekeeping, with Ike knocking on our door, needing to get a haircut and take out the trash I've slipped in my duties the past couple of days.

I would like to thank the Academy and to all those who didn't believe in me... well, you were in good company.

To my high school english teacher who considered it sport to flunk me over and over again, I say - thank god for spell-check, huh?

To my typing teacher who never figured out why every typewriter I sat at suddenly didn't work, I say - check the springs on the keyboard next time. Thanks for having me just read the typing book, that helped...

Everyone grab a glass of champagne. I would like to the toast the following:

Lisa's Twisted Blog

Lisa is apparently more twisted than anyone actually knew, because in her twistedness she presented me with the Arte y pico. I've never won an award before, but now I've not only won one I've won an international one with a cool name. Thanks Lisa!

This award recognizes a blog's creativity & overall contribution to the blogger community.
The original Arte y pico site is here (my spanish sucks btw).

Here are the rules once you receive this award:

1.) Choose 5 blogs that you consider deserving of this award based on creativity, design, interesting material & overall contribution to the blogger community.

2.) Post the name of the author & a link to his or her blog so everyone can view it.

3.) Each award winner has to show the award & put the name & link to the blog that has given him or her the award

4.) The award winner & presenter should post the link of the "Arte y pico" blog so everyone will know the origin of the award.

5.) Post these rules

I hereby nominate the following sites in return:

The Soccer Mom Files - one of the first blogs I started reading when this whole thing started.

It's a Funny Thing - Don cracks me up when I need it most and he just posted a cover of Playboy which is sure to get me to return to his blog often.

A Guys Guide to Oprah - yea, you read that right. Oprah reviewed the way it should be.

The Humor Smith Chronicle - I steal this guys ideas all the time.

Beyond Left Field - smart people shouldn't blog unless they link to me.

Speaking of Beyond Left Field...

He screwed up and nominated me for the Brillante Weblog - Premio-2009

1) The award may be displayed on a winners' blog.
2) Add a link to the person who you received the award from.
3) Nominate up to 7 other blogs.
4) Add their links to your blog.
5) Send a message to each of those you nominated notifying them of the award.

I hereby present this award to the following well deserving bloggers:

Debbie Does Drivel

Life Just Keeps Getting Weirder

Angie over at Keep Believing is drunk posting.

Only reason I can think of that she would nominate me for the Sunny, Happy, Funny award. For the record I'm one out of the three. Thanks Angie!

Crotchety Old Man Yells at Cars

Has presented me with the coveted Zucchini Award.

Thanks dude!

we remember

2008-09-11T00:06:00.003-05:00

Baker Company, with the 7th Marines, 1st Battalion in Iraq, to honor the victims
of the September 11 terrorist attacks on the U.S.

GOD BLESS THE USA

SEMPER FI

tuesday rant - 3rd edition

2008-09-09T01:00:00.000-05:00

Pretentious people.

Want to see me come unglued and start having uncontrollable eye twitches? Make me spend ANY amount of time with someone who either thinks or acts like they are better than anyone else because they went to a better school (or any school) or have a bigger house or a better job or they got to see Journey on tour and sat in the front row.

I don't believe I would ever get to the point of physical assault. I may consider it; there have been times in the past when I thought how nice it would be to feel their bones crush. But no, for me I've found the best way to deal with these people is to ensure their complete undoing.

How you ask? Simple. These people have one chink in their crappy armor. Themselves.

Instead of ignoring them or popping them in the temple like I want to, I pull them closer. Keep them talking. For these people every word out of their mouth is yet another dent in the hard exterior shell that covers their soft yellow underbelly. I've been known to keep doing this for months on end until I find a weak spot. Once this is located, I exploit the crap out of it to my complete and utter enjoyment.

Case in point:

Recently, I traveled on business where I was required to attend a dinner meeting with a guy who is ranked on page one of my pretentious log. Being from the south and specifically from Texas I was apparently well below his status level and he made no attempt to mask it. For me this caused a large set of crosshairs to appear on his forehead.

There were maybe 200 restaurants within a 10 mile radius of where we were located. Now, where would you take a backwoods guy from Texas if you really wanted to show him how big you were... hmmm... Sushi! Take him to eat Sushi and talk about how you just love to eat with chopsticks. That would be GREAT!

Wrong asshole. What this pretentious prick didn't realize is that I spent close to 3 years living in Japan. I've been there. I speak-a-da language.

I said nothing, even when he made the comment that he hoped I would enjoy it and not think it was bait. "I'll try anything" I said with a smile, thinking of how much fun this was going to be.

I sat in the restaurant listening to this prick talk endlessly about how much he enjoyed this particular place (a stereotypically bad example of a Japanese-like upscale restaurant). I fumbled with my chopsticks and stared at the menu like I was going to need a burger later.

Finally when the waiter appeared and this prick sat up to order... I asked in Japanese if the waiter spoke Japanese (he did- at least as well as I did) and I proceeded to order. I even ordered a drink for the idiot next to me (still in Japanese) which the waiter considered quite funny.

I occasionally think of the look on his pretentious little face at that moment. Hey, what’s that... looks like you have a chink in your armor right there...

the time Jimmy cut off my arms

2008-09-07T03:09:00.000-05:00

Jim Beam and I used to be bro's. We used to hang out together and see how far we could push each other. He usually won, but after a couple of weeks I'd forgive and forget (mainly forget) and invite him back over for another round.

That is until the day he cut off my arms.

Like how most "I cut off my arms" stories begin, it happened when I went to a bachelor party.

By all accounts this was a very tame bachelor’s party at the house of a friend near Lubbock, Texas, as I recall there were no strippers, donkeys, cheerleaders or blow-up dolls. There may have been all of the above, but that would have been after Jimmy and I left (aka: passed out).

We were drinking Jim Beam mixed with coke, until we realized that was slowing us down so we started drinking it straight, over ice. After a bit we realized pouring it into a glass was stupid because we could just drink it right from the bottle and have an extra hand free to give everyone high fives and put in the best damn drinking music available, that being David Allen Coe; you don't have to call me darlin'... darlin'. This is after all the national anthem of almost any party in Texas.

As the night progressed I slowly started to realize that the guy sitting in front of me had grown a twin who was now sitting right beside him wearing the same clothes. Whenever these guys (or guy) talked I had trouble trying to figure out which one to look at. I noticed by closing one eye, the twin would disappear and if I held my head to the side it was much better. I was certain nobody noticed the head tilt or drool.

Apparently, I may have exceeded the known limits of consumption because that is the last fuzzy memory I have of that night.

I woke up in a fog the next morning on a couch and start looking around the room when I realized I didn't have any arms. Let me repeat that, MY DAMN ARMS WERE GONE! SOMEONE HAD CUT OFF MY SON-OF-A-BITCH-N ARMS! I couldn't feel them. I couldn't move them. I couldn't see them. Crap! I laid there for a bit trying to recall the previous night and at what point my arms got cut off. Maybe one of the twins would know.

Now as anyone who wakes up on a couch with no arms knows, the logical thing is to attempt a full gainer off the couch onto the floor - tada. After I did a face plant on the floor I found my lifeless, completely useless and numb appendages hanging there where they were supposed to be all along. I had passed out with my arms up over and behind my head.

Jimmy Bean, you sir are the devils water.

I'm sticking with Tequila from now on. I'd like to introduce you to my new friend Jose. Jose, say a few words to the kind readers. "Helo, my name iz Jose. I hear to maka 'da dad-da-dude thinks he maybe ok when in truth he will be dancing nakid on 'da tables and how you say... 'dinking he superman. ok. I go now".

Next round on me.

ass logo placement

2008-09-05T17:57:00.000-05:00

There are some things I never thought I'd do. Never thought I would SCUBA dive. Check, did that. Never thought I would allow someone within 2 feet of the jewels with a scalpel. Check, did that. Never thought I would start a blog. Check, did that. Never thought I would stop drinking beer... ha, yea right.

I now add to that list - I never thought I would try to find a picture of a football players ass and put words on it. Today is indeed a red letter day.

Saw this story today:

-----------------------------------

Team dumps logo near buttocks after 70-0 loss

BOISE, Idaho - The Idaho Vandals football team is dumping the letter "I" from the buttocks region of players' new pants following a season-opening 70-0 loss to the Arizona Wildcats.

Rob Spears, the school's athletic director, says nobody realized just how the logo placed in the center of the players' behinds would look before they tried their pants on.
Spears told the Idaho Statesman the sewn-in University of Idaho logo has since been hastily removed by equipment managers after complaints

-----------------------------------------------------

I've posted before that I don't know much about football. This is painfully apparent now. Since when did football players start putting logo's on their ass? It's not even the logo of the other team (which I could understand), it's their OWN logo - on their ASS.

Seriously? Can you buy ass logo placement for the Super Bowl? If so, I'd love to see Hertz pitch for that deal.

Sunday 9/07/08:

By request I found an image of the actual ass logo. I submit it here and swear this is the last time I go on a hunt for images of football ass logos.

tuesday rant - 2nd edition

2008-09-02T22:32:00.000-05:00

Ok. It's actually Wednesday... but since this was a holiday weekend I get a gimme. I was having too much fun this weekend trying to see if a jet ski could actually fly to think about writing a post.

Since I missed a day, I had an extra day for crap to build up. So this week’s rant is in two parts.

Before I get my rant on, I should make myself clear. I really don't care who you vote for. Much like religion and state sponsored torture; politics is a subject I avoid when at all possible.

Either way it goes in November, I'll still share a beer with you after it's all over. We can sit and bitch about whomever gets elected, it'll be great!

Today's Rant #1:
We had a saying in the Marines; Respect the rank, even if you don't respect the person. You don't have to agree with them, you don't have to like them, you don't have to hang out with them until the wee hours of the morning and make sure they don't piss on themselves in the front yard - but you do have to respect the rank.

The lack of respect for our president is amazing. I'm not going to argue that he didn't help matters much, but again - he is the president. I have and I will fight for anyone's right to free speech. Disagree with his politics - no problem. Think he couldn't give a speech at a 1st grade award ceremony - no problem. Think the buck stops with him for the bullshit in Iraq because there wasn't a post invasion plan - agreed.

But that doesn't mean you can disrespect the office.

Tuesday night he spoke live to the RNC. NBC tape delayed his speech by about a minute. Now since it was live he was reacting to the audience but in the tape delay they didn't include the sound of the audience. In his speech he paused when the audience was clapping but with the NBC feed it simply made him look like a blithering idiot pausing and smiling for no reason.

I think we can agree that he doesn't need help in this area.

I checked the other networks and they were including the sound of the audience. I'd like to think this was simply a technical error on the part of NBC, but my gut says it's just another example of disrespect for the office and that makes me want to blow the dust off my scope.

Today's Rant #2:
Finally someone has said it. Every time a series of things happen; be it weather, earthquakes, heat, cold, mudslides, forest fires, or an increase in the number of road kills I hear people saying it's global warming and "it's never been this bad". Guess what, if you look at something long enough you start seeing things that aren't there. It has been this bad, it's just that people weren't stacked up like cordwood creating a target-rich environment and CNN wasn't around to report on it for hours on end.

Do you find it odd that once something happens all you hear about for the next few weeks are reports related to the original event? Coincidence? Bad things come in 3's? No, the reason you hear about it and think it's suddenly a trend and then the reports fade into the next big thing is due to the media in their mad attempt to report something... anything and our innate desire to crave it.

Remember a month or so ago when all we talked about was the price of gas? You couldn't escape it. People were going nuts trading in their SUV's for anything that got more than 200 mpg. Where is that now? Has the energy crisis suddenly vanished? Nope, it's still there and has been there for at least 30 years and will remain until we find a way to get my ass to work by fueling up with my damn water hose. The only thing that happened was the gas prices came down (which still screws with my head) and we needed something else to fuel our craving for "It's never been this bad before".

lonely? call a meeting

2008-08-27T12:55:00.001-05:00

Today, in an act of desperation, I break new ground. I'm writing this post while sitting idle on a con call.

You ever get the feeling that the person who called the meeting was simply lonely and just wanted someone to talk to? They should just call these social events instead of meetings. In my career I've attended just about every type of meeting known to the free world and it's this type of meeting I find myself in now.

Meetings usually break down to the following types:

1) A status meeting. The creme da la creme of meeting types.
These are usually masked as a status meeting while in fact being a cover-your-ass meeting. At times it's like the TV show "The Mole" since it's not always apparent who in the meeting is attempting the cover-your-ass flanking movement until they strike. These movements usually occur within the last 5 minutes of the meeting or after the person who's receiving the blame has to go to another meeting - whichever comes first.

2) A team meeting.
These are similar in ways to a status meeting however instead of the broad based cover-your-ass formula followed in a status meeting these are dictated by the leader of the meeting. Sorta like a cover-your-ass in reverse. The length of these meetings are usually dictated by how many members of the meeting are nodding their heads in agreement.

3) A company-wide meeting.
These are unique amongst all meeting types. Like kids on Christmas morning everyone walks to these meetings expecting something definitive, unique, awe-inspiring or otherwise ground breaking. This feeling continues through the first 15 minutes until reality comes into focus around the 8th PowerPoint slide that indeed this one is much like the last one and the rumors of "wait till the meeting" were indeed as false as they were the last time.

4) A kickoff meeting.
Attendance is taken in these, it's important to attend or you risk finding yourself the main point of focus during the after action review when the project fails.

5) The hallway meeting.
Beware the hallway meeting, indications these meeting are about to take place begin with the words "Hey, you got a minute?". Hallways meeting usually contain the best information obtainable and can be critical to the success of any project, however it's very easy to forget the decisions made during the hallway meeting by the time you reach the elevator. This usually results in you being the subject of the CYA movement in a status meeting.

6) The we are going to meet on this daily until it's resolved meeting.
Usually called in desperation after all the empty threats and contacting of bosses proves to be ineffective. The first and last meeting of this type are the ones people usually attend. Oddly enough, this is usually the same meeting.

Gotta run, they are taking con call roll call and I don't want my name mentioned in the after action review.

If you get a minute today, hop over to HumorBloggers.com. Great group of bloggers over there if you are looking for a late afternoon giggle.

tuesday rant - 1st edition

2008-08-26T21:16:00.000-05:00

Maybe it's age. Maybe it's genetics. Maybe it's like the pressure cooker my mom used when I was a kid, I used to love pulling the little top off and watch the steam shoot outta that thing.

Starting this week I'm bringing it to the blog in a weekly rant. It's either this or I have to start knitting and I can't be trusted with those big needles.

Ok, deep breath, let's rock.

1) Put me in coach:
A Connecticut youth baseball team with a phenomenal 9-year-old pitcher has been disqualified because its team is too good. Story here.

One word. Bullshit.

This is wrapped in the feel-good, everyone wins, we won't keep score crap I see happening way too damn often. Guess what, life is hard. Life is unfair. Life can be a bitch. You have to lose a hundred times before you win and still there will be people better at it than you. In my opinion the best thing you can do is teach your kids to survive and to survive they have to learn from falling the hell down. Hug 'em, support 'em, wipe off the blood and put 'em back in the game. This action hurt the kids remaining in the league as much as it hurt the team disqualified.

We had a team in my son's league a couple of seasons ago, the Yankees, these kids were GOOD! They decimated the league and I couldn't wait till we got a chance to play them. For the kids playing and all of us watching it was the highlight of the season, we got smashed but what a game that was!

I feel better now.

Did I mention our dogs are certified potty training instructors? Yep, true story with the exception of the certification part...

Shoelessboy kept coming into the house wearing nothing but a shirt. Usually this is no cause for alarm but it was accompanied by that funny "I got something on my butt" walk. Turns out he was pooping in the backyard cause he had seen the dogs do it. If he starts dragging his ass on the floor he and I are going to have a talk.

seriously, a joke virus?

2008-08-24T21:50:00.000-05:00

Just yesterday I'm minding my own business, sitting inside to avoid the heat and with the Olympics being over watching some mindless TV show on the tube. Question; can you still say "tube" considering tubes went out of TVs like 300 years ago?

Ok, I'll come clean. I was actually just inside avoiding yard work which on a day like yesterday is best left to the neighbors. I find it very relaxing to hear the din of 20 lawnmowers, leaf blowers and weed eaters working away outside while I sit inside and drink ice tea. Granted, I know I'll soon join them but it's my own little act of rebellion.

Anyway, I'm sipping ice tea and browsing the net looking for the first episode of "Generation Kill". Being a former grunt in the Marines I've had like a dozen people tell me I need to see it. I get a little uneasy when people say this because at times shows depicting Marines aren’t always what I’d call Marine friendly and I have a special place for those who make these shows.

I'm clicking, watching TV, click, click, click; when all of a sudden...

WHAT THE HELL?

My laptop had been taken over by a very annoying little screen that would NOT go away. I finally clear it only to find that my windows background had been replaced and the ability to manage anything on the desktop had been removed.

Turns out, I had been infected by the Joke-bluescreen virus.

Joke virus?

How it made it past the multiple lines of defense in my laptop I don't have a clue. It must have known someone at the door or used a date-rape drug on my firewall because it just walked right in and set itself up like it owned the place (which at that moment... it did). Several hours and about 6 chorus's of "damnit to hell" and "What the... shit!" later I finally cleared it and am back to normal again with the exception of the odd feeling that I've been sodomized.

To anyone who programs for a living - you must use your powers for good, not evil. I don't care how talented you are or how funny you may think it is, if you invest your time and effort in a virus and call it a "Joke", you sir may feel free to back up and kiss my now virus-free ass.

dudley do-me-right

2008-08-19T22:03:00.000-05:00

Canadians who may have become tired of being passed over as porn stars will have a new, home-grown outlet to showcase their erotic talents.

That's right. Apparently this is a large problem that has finally come to a head. Canadians are tired of being screwed over by the big American porn houses and are standing up for their own production outlets complete with authentic Canadian looped "dinga-dinga-ding-dong" music.

According to Reuters - New porn channel lets Canadians strut their stuff.

"I think as Canadians there is a bit of a tiredness in seeing all American stuff," Shaun Donnelly, president of Real Productions, said during an interview on Friday. "There is always that thrill for something that is local and you get the sense that these are people you can meet at the supermarket."

I'm starting to think maybe our northern neighbors have been out in the cold too long. Seriously, this is a problem that needs to be solved? What are they going to do different? Maybe introduce Canadian styled plots - "Ice Fishing - short pole, deep water starring Candy de La Broquerie".

I had a friend in the Corps who was addicted to porn (no pun intended). This was pre-internet so I have no idea what he's doing now... actually, I don't want to think about what he's doing now but I'm sure he has broadband. The guy had a serious problem and a high risk for carpal tunnel. It was sad. I could never understand how anyone could be addicted to it, I hope he entered a 12-step program, but I'm sure in the program they have to repeat steps 3-9 a dozen times while listening to "dinga-dinga-ding-dong" music.

Here's my point - there are only two types of porn: laugh your ass off "are they serious?" porn and boring porn.

Good luck Canada.

Step 1, teach them to drive

2008-08-15T12:13:00.000-05:00

I saw this today. This is why I live in Texas.

-------------------------------------
LONGVIEW, Texas - A 35-year-old Texas woman has been jailed after police say she made her 12-year-old daughter drive her to a bar.

Police in Longview say they watched a minivan turn into a driveway without signaling on Wednesday and bump into a home at a low speed. They say the car was driven by Jennifer Lynn Rosenberg's daughter.

Police say the girl told an officer she had just dropped her mother off at a bar. They say they found Rosenburg at the bar and that she admitted having her daughter drive her there.
-------------------------------------

People, you can't be cutting corners here. You have to teach your 12 year old how to drive BEFORE you have them drop you off at the bar. That's step 1. Step 2 is teaching them to signal and not hit the house when a cop is following them. I had to learn this when I was 12, it's just good parenting.

I find myself asking this question way too many times, but here it goes again. What the hell is wrong with these people?

My 15 year old has his learning permit now... hmmm. I'd have him drive me to the bar but then I would have to listen to him preaching to me about how beer is bad for you because he learned it in health class. I can't have that conversation again. I need him around to water the pot plants in the basement.

hang on a second, let me push this button

2008-08-13T18:48:00.000-05:00

Apparently, physical assault is a crime.

Of course I can appreciate that, but I think there should be a loophole somewhere in there that allows you to knock the hell out of someone who is either:

1) Being stupid
2) Just being an ass
3) All of the above

In many cases I believe a good ass kicking could be considered community service. Of course there has to be restrictions around this such as:

1) At least 2 people have to agree the ass kicking should commence

2) Ample warning must be provided to the recipient of said ass kicking ("you're going to get your ass kicked" is sufficient here)

3) The length of time wherein the ass kicking takes place is restricted to 30 seconds

4) No more than 3 people can participate in the ass kicking at any point

5) At no point will alcohol be used by either party prior to the ass kicking commencement (because lets face it, if you had a few beers you don't need this loophole)

6) Only one ass kicking event is allowed by the party providing the ass kicking on a bi-annual basis

Now I know what you’re saying - "But dude, if we were allowed to do that the country would be in shambles. Everyone would be kicking everyone’s ass and nobody would ever get any work done". Back up the bus liberal boy (no idea where that came from I'm just typing) the initial ass kicking romp would only take about 3 hours nationwide. After that point nobody would dare be an ass or do something stupid for fear of the repercussions.

Examples:

I'm going to respond to this email and throw him under the bus, but instead of just sending it to him... I'll cc his boss and my boss and their boss’s boss. Nope, better not. I'll get my ass kicked.

When that guy holds the door open for me I'll just walk in like I own the place and not say thanks. Nope, I'll get my ass kicked.

I'll respond to this email where I'm asking for something requiring 300 hours of work in the span of a weekend and include "Let me know if there is anything I can do to help". No, I better hold off on that. I'll get my ass kicked.

I know this lane ends up ahead but I'll just pull in here and stop traffic. Hmmm, maybe not. I'll get my ass kicked.

I’m not crazy enough to think this will ever happen. But I’m not going to let that stop me. I propose we build a machine that stops time for 30 seconds. When someone does something stupid or is being an ass – boom, you push the button, stop time and kick them in the ass. Boom, push the button again and all is back to normal.

I gotta go, there’s a button I need to push.

I refuse to wear the socks

2008-08-12T21:18:00.000-05:00

Shirtlessboy is a cub scout.

To a 7 year old this means he goes to a place where there are a bunch of other kids who wear the same thing and they run around until someone holds up the dreaded "sign" and they have to settle down for at least 30 seconds.

Like most guys my age I recall my time in the scouts as a positive period (eroded by time, but it's still a positive memory). I didn't make it to the holy grail of scouting - Eagle. I'm not sure I even made it to groundhog or horn toad, but I showed up and rubbed sticks till my hands hurt with the best of them. They didn't ask us to rub sticks, I just liked rubbing sticks. Don't judge.

I lived in South Africa as a kid. My dad says he was an electrical engineer and worked on TV in the apartheid ruled South Africa in the mid 70's. But my brother, sister and I know the truth - he was actually in the CIA and the electrical engineer story was a clever cover. We know this because when we got there (early '73) everything was cool, when we left (late '76) everything there went to crap. TV is bad, but it doesn’t make people burn down their homes.

We've asked him many times to come clean but apparently he took some kind of super secret pinkie ring oath and still hasn't admitted to being a member of The Company. Sorry dad, I hope me saying this doesn't mean you and mom have to move out in the middle of the night guarded by a guy named "Chuck" who wears dark sunglasses.

Anyway, my scout experience is limited to the scouts in South Africa. Those were some real scouting adventures. Lion wrestling badges, ribbons for the Cheetah race, rhino dodge. Good times.

Zip like a hundred years forward and here I am volunteering as a scout leader for my sons pack. I think it's important for him to see me involved. The thing is... much as it was for me as a kid; I don't think I really fit in.

The other night I went to a district meeting. Let me set the stage, this is a meeting of all the other adult leaders in the district. There are NO kids there, only 30 adults all wearing oversized boy scout uniforms and attempting to keep their shirt tucked in over well developed peach cobbler induced bellies.

I walk into the "meeting" and right into an episode of the outer limits. We start by singing songs, followed by some more songs and a quick discussion on "advanced" training we can attend which I didn't get the memo on because I'm apparently the only one in the room who has NO idea what the hell I need to go to the training for. The smartass in me was DYING! I could feel the smartass part of me starting to sit upright in the seat and wanting to ask where we sign up for tent assembly training and how many pushups can we make the kids do in a single set before we have to submit a form.

Did I mention that I was the ONLY adult there who wasn't wearing the overgrown boy scout uniform? Nope, I was there in civilian clothes, further indication that I didn't belong. Judging by the way some were dressed I thought maybe we were going to go on a hike and build a fire in the parking lot instead of sitting in a church lunchroom on plastic chairs at 7 p.m. on a weeknight without a beer in sight.

I know I'm going to have to break down and get the uniform, but I'll be damned if I'm going to wear the green socks.

everyone knows that

2008-08-10T06:18:00.000-05:00

I love me some Olympics. I don't really care what the event is; swimming, pole vault, badminton, trampoline, squirrel chase. Whatever, let’s roll with it. By the way, why did they take out the tug-of-war?

You see, I’m an expert in each event.

An expert you ask? Yes, it’s true. I’m an expert; they should have me on a con call at each event to obtain my opinion. I should be there in person but the Olympic Committee won’t allow it after the 1984 fiasco where my presence was seen as an unfair advantage in the eyes of the Russian judges (they made sure I was in boot camp when those were going on).

If you really knew me this is the part where the word “…bullshit” would start to enter your mind. You see, I don’t watch sports. I don’t keep up with sports. I don’t know the ESPN channel number by heart. I’m usually clueless as to what season it actually is. I’ve never actually seen a basketball game in person and never on TV unless I can’t avoid it and that goes for most other professional sports.

Odd you say?

I guess so. It’s not that I don’t try, I do. I’m a guy living in America after all; to not know ~anything~ about sports is to suggest I might play for the other team. Don’t make that mistake. I’m quite secure in my manhood thank you very much. It’s just that I have no real interest in most of what sports have to offer.

I do have respect for anyone who puts their heart into anything and plays at 110% regardless of the situation. To me these are the true athletes. They don’t get $40 million a year and then act like jackass rock stars; they don’t even have to be good. Put your heart into it each and every time and I’ll be on the sidelines rooting my ass off for you.

I think this is why the Olympics capture my attention and make me into a blithering idiot.

Here I am yelling at the TV, “come on… stick the landing... ah, he took a step, his weight was too far forward. It looked to me like he rotated just a bit too much on the dismount. Everyone knows the setup for the dismount is the most critical portion of the exercise”.

Yea, everyone knows that. Get me a drink while you’re up.

By the way, am I the only one judging all the other countries by whether they had hot girls on their team and if their uniforms didn’t look totally jacked up?

GO USA!

Ode to Momma Posy

2008-08-08T22:30:00.000-05:00

It's been a tough week here are Dad - thedude headquarters. So, I thought instead of staring at the screen waiting for inspiration to strike through the smog laden cloud of exhaustion, I would invite my little sister in as a guest blogger.

To my readers (both of you, plus that one lurker), here's Toots:

Ode to Momma Posy

I called my grandma today. I don't know why I don't do that more often. She is such a funny lady. She's 87 years old (geez, is she really that old?), and she doesn't get around much on account of she doesn't have any hips anymore . . . although she has been known to walk around and cook a meal or run a vacuum for a spell. With no hip bones, you shreak? If you knew my lineage, you'd understand. This sort of rebellion against incapacitation runs deep in the female line. Just ask my mother. Get in my mom's way, and she'll beat you with her cane.

So I mentioned to my grandma that I needed to come visit her, since I haven't been to see her in (I won't say how long since it's been an embarrassingly long time). I expected her to say something nice and grandma-like, like "Yes, dear, anytime, I'd love to have you." Nope. Her response was short and sharp: "What's the DEAL?"

"Uh . . . "

You gotta love it when Grandma gives it to you straight. Mind you, this was the woman who told me when I was little to go outside and pick out my switch when I had to get a whoopin'. I stammered a bit, and then she let me off easy by changing the subject to something funny . . . something that she witnessed that I thought was hilarious and wanted to share.

This is such a Grandma story. (Well, maybe not YOUR Grandma story, but it's a Grandma Posy story for sure.)

My grandma writes poetry, and she does poetry readings at a nursing home once a month. One recent visit, a grandson was visiting his grandmother at the nursing home. He kept asking his grandmother questions like "How old are you?" and "How much do you weigh?", and the grandmother kept telling him that those questions were impolite to ask women. Later on, in front of everyone, the boy announced to his grandmother that she was 65 years old, 145 pounds, and that she got an "F" in sex . . . he said he found her license while she wasn't looking.

Now I thought that was hilarious. But then I looked at my license and saw they don't put your weight on it, so it was just a joke. But she sure convinced me. Crazy old woman.

Here are a few of my favorite poems that she wrote.

Untitled 1990 (age 69)

I’m an old woman “Okie”

I don’t drinkie, I don’t smokie

If I live to seventie,

I haven’t gone to heaventie---

I’m gonna try it, and that’s no jokie.

Silver Nights 1939 (Written in High School)

Snow falls, skies lighten, and the cold wind sighs among silver trees.

Night falls, skies darken, and the loan wolf shivers in the chilling breeze.

A pale moon, a ghostly heaven, a star to flicker and shine . . .

It’s selfish to dream,

And always seem,

That this night alone will be mine.

‘Till Then

I stand tall among it all.

The trials of life are many.

Storm clouds gather, the waters flow,

And the sky is dark and windy.

But I close my eyes. I have a dream,

Of better things to come.

The road is rough, and life is tough.

But I’ll stay ‘till my work is ended.

The last one is my favorite.

Grandma (we call her Momma Posy) is an inspiration to me. She's a tough old bird with a great sense of humor. She makes me laugh. My mom is the same way.

-- Tootsie (Dad-thedudes favorite sister)

yes, it's my toughest level

2008-08-04T09:37:00.000-05:00

The only time I ever felt truly rewarded for playing video games happened at a video game arcade on Lovers Lane in Dallas around 1982. We were rocking it old school on asteroids since the caterpillar game was being monopolized by seniors and we didn't want to risk a confrontation. My friend kicked the machine because he hyper spaced into an asteroid or his headband slipped over his eyes or something and the door on the front of the machine swung open... exposing two 1-gallon containers full of quarters (cue: heavenly music).

The statute of limitations has passed, so I'll admit that we ended up playing asteroids that day for a very long time with our new found wealth and didn't suffer from remorse because the guy who ran the place was a royal jerkwad (that was 1982 tough talk for someone who was a pain-in-the-ass. We actually didn't know what it meant but the older kids said it).

When I was about 13 yrs old my dad brought home one of those old school stand up video games. It had ONE game and two-colors (black and yellow). I struggle with the name of the game but it was something like "Chicken Egg". The premise of the game was to catch eggs before they hit the bottom of the low resolution screen and the game made this odd computer generated sound that if you tried real hard sounded like a chicken. Sorta. The quarter slot on this behemoth was fixed so you could just hit a button for "credits". My brother, sister and I would stand at that machine for hours. Squawk, squawk, squawk.... squawk. It soon lost its appeal and became a coat rack.

It's fair to say that I don't have an aversion to video games and I don't mind my kids playing age appropriate games. Meaning; no head shots, no running blood and no decapitation.

My tolerance has a breaking point.

I think it's apparent when the amount of game play has exceeded the recommended level. It's when games or game strategy become part of everyday conversation or worse when it becomes everything. This sends me over the edge and I have zero issues with ripping the video cable out of the machine and kicking the kids outside when I reach that point.

Example: A few years ago my oldest son (tallboy) was obviously hitting the video game crack pipe a little too much. I came home from work one day after "one of those days". I was worn out and collapsed on the couch. He had a look of total despair and understanding and asked "was it like your toughest level?” Tallboy spent the next 4 hours outside playing in the dirt.

This morning as I was preparing to leave for work I overheard Shoelessboy and Shirtlessboy playing games and talking upstairs. I heard the oldest (ShirtlessBoy) say to his younger sibling "I hope you fall off that chair and break your arm so you can't use the controller 'cause then it's my turn". WTF.

Anyone interested in a used video cable for a Wii?

UPDATE:

I can admit when I'm a dork. I emailed my sister (who calls anymore?) to ask her what the name of that game was dad brought home. It's painfully obvious who got the brains in our family. Here is her response -- DTD

The Juggler. I'm not going to be able to get that song out of my head now. Thanks! Remember how Dad made us pay to use it at first, and you tried to tie a piece of string to a quarter? I think that contraption was Dad's way of getting back at us . . . making us pay literally and figuratively for whatever we were costing him and all the racket and whining he had been enduring up until then. Think about it. When you hear that song now, how long does it stick with you? Does your eye twitch? Do you lose sleep? I don't lose sleep, but I do feel a twitch now and then when I hear it. We were willing to dig for quarters to play that stupid ass game despite how annoying that incessant noise was. We thought it was so freakin' cool to have an arcade game in the house (didn't matter it was juggling stupid chicken eggs). And now I can't even hear the song without shuttering and the occasional eye twitch. See? Dad got the last laugh. (But I bet he can't hear that song without getting a twitch, too.) -- Toots

Dude, I so remember that now. I had a whole bunch of quarters as I recall... -- DTD

stick your arm in this hole

2008-08-01T17:49:00.000-05:00

I don't make it habit of making too much fun of rednecks for the following reasons:

1) They usually own guns. ( Correction - make that "always" )
2) It hits a little too close to home.
3) See number 1.

Yea, that's right. I'm just a couple of generations from a horse plow in south central Oklahoma. I'm proud to say that the area where my family came from is now the noodling capital of the world and therefore the redneck capital of the world by-proxy.

In Oklahoma, they would say it this way "yup, we be da noodlin' cap-i-tal of da wurld an uh rednek cap-i-tal ta boot 'causing it says so on the interweb".

Right now I guarantee there are people in south Oklahoma reading this at the community center and saying "now dat der be da buggest bullshit it ever told, we dont be a talking like dat an a he is certainly dead - d. e. d. - dead. Is'n that boy who done wroten that interweb one of da boy from who family around dat der Paoli, Oklahoma. Im a gunna shoot his ass next time he done come around, bet yur ass. Get in da truck, bitch".

In case you are unfamiliar with the "sport" of Noodling (aka: hand fishing), allow me to explain. Catfish breed in holes and are highly protective; they bite at anything invading their love nest. Apparently, when you look prehistoric and finally find a little nookie, it pisses you off when someone tries to horn in on your action. (Ain't that right Jason P - love ya man)

Here is how you can enjoy this highly interactive "sport":

1) Drink a 6 pack of beer (Original Coors - 'banquet beer' works good here)
2) Take a huge dip of copenhagen
3) Get in some water where you can't see anything
4) Feel around on the bank for a hole underwater, shove your arm into the hole
5) If a catfish is in the hole, shove your arm into its mouth and allow it to bite into your arm
6) Pull the thing out and hand it to your friends (safety tip: don't drown in the process)
7) Drink some more beer
8) Dry off your mullet. Nobody likes a dripping wet mullet. Keep a mullet towel in your truck for this step.

Thanks, but I'd rather just order it off a menu with some lemon and fried okra.

In case you are interested in noodling, you should know that its illegal in all states except Oklahoma and step 1 is required by law. While not required, but strongly suggested, you should walk with a limp from a fight you had with your brother-in-law last Thanksgiving (that son-of-a-bitch had it coming) and your kids should all have buzzcuts.

I think there's a little redneck in all of us, for some it just comes a little more natural than we care to admit. I'll tell you this much however, nobody will ever invade the lower 48 states. If you want a fight on your hands come on down and start pushing these folks around at the local Wal-Mart. Insurgency my ass.

Wait, I think that's the plot from Red Dawn. Damn that Patrick Swayze and his Wolverines.

This isn't me (or Patrick Swayze).
$10 says I'm related in some way to this guy and $20 to keep that on the down-low.

Update:
I expect a call from my mom at any moment warning me to take down this post. "Sweetie, we shouldn't be messin' with 'dose folks. They is just country and don't know no better. They might get in their truck and come down I-35 to find you. Whew, scares the bigibees outta me".

Don't worry ma. They won't make it past the triple X place on the border - "oh looky, boobies. I like me sum boobies".

is it really better?

2008-07-30T21:45:00.001-05:00

This article caught my eye today "10 things you should know about the internet". I enjoy learning about the origin of things; I tend to think it helps me understand the subject better. If it wasn't for the History channel, Discovery channel, Science channel and Military channel I wouldn't know crap.

This caused me reflect back on my first interaction with the internet. Remember pre-internet? Back then if you said "I'll google it" someone would have thought you were going to prepare a dish containing eggs. Or, more likely, they would have thought you were just an idiot.

I lost my internet cherry sometime in August 1991. I recall that date simply because at the time I was living in Okinawa, Japan and needed to look up some information on vehicles before moving back to the states. I can't recall how I got the subscription, but I used CompuServe to try and locate the information I needed. Good thing I was trying it a few months in advance, because it took FOREVER to download simple text and a couple of very tiny images.

I don't think I ever found what I was looking for. But man, I thought that was so cool! It was like tapping into this other world where I was the driver. If I had enough time (again... it was freaking slow!) I could go basically anywhere. I think at the time it would have taken about 3 days to reach the end of the internet with an average of 1 page per hour.

Fast forward 17 years (damn, it’s been that long...) and the internet has been my career for 13 of those years. So much of my life has been shaped by this thing you can't touch or smell that it's impossible to imagine myself without it.

I say this with a little trepidation. As amazing as it is, as much as I believe it has made the world smaller. It’s opened so many windows for me where before only existed walls. But, I wonder if it's actually made us better.

Case in point. I am writing this 10 feet from my wife, whose career is also intertwined with the net. Like most nights after the kids are in bed we sit here working on our respective laptops, clicking away on the keyboard and occasionally saying something to ourselves while some show is on TV in the background. When it gets really pathetic I'll IM her to see if she wants a drink (but only when I want to be a smartass...). I can say I only know 2 out of our 5 nearest neighbors well enough to call them by name.

I wonder what my granddad would say if he was here. My grandfather worked at the stockyards in Oklahoma City for his entire life. He could literally touch and smell his work. I once tried to explain to him what I did. Here is how he wrapped it up:

Him - what do you do if the electricity goes off?
Me - hmmm. I guess I can't work.
Him - then you don't really have a job.

I wonder if the same thing applies to life in the internet age.

evolution, get off your ass

2008-07-29T10:09:00.000-05:00

Something has been on my mind and I think it’s time I share this.

We’ve all been focused on creating alternate energy sources, wind, water, cow flatulence, hydrogen, peat moss, fake fur. These are fine, go forth young energy scientist and develop a way for me to fill up my tank using my water hose and I’ll vote you into office (you have to be better than the two jokers we have to choose from this year). Hell, I’ll put your name on the moon in purple-ass neon and open a tab at your local bar just for you and your geek friends if you solve that.

This is an important issue. However, there is something that on a day-to-day basis troubles me more. Nose hair. That’s right; I said it and I mean it.

Millions of years of evolution and over a hundred years of mechanical and technical development and we still haven’t come close to overcoming this issue without my eyes watering and a look of impending dread crossing my face.

Dear evolution, I do not require nose hair as thick as pencil lead to sit in an office and occasionally eat out at a Mexican food restaurant. Get off your ass, you were doing great with the whole removal of the tail and making us walk upright deal – but then you got cocky after the opposable thumb thing and started slipping. I’m sitting here with nose hair which apparently is attached to my ass because every time I pull it my ass puckers up and I lift myself off my chair. While you are at it, fix this metabolism crap as well. I’m not starving myself, there isn’t a famine, the mastodon didn’t move onto greener pastures – I’m eating less to lose weight! Stop packing on fat cells every time I do this like I’m trying to survive the next ice age. I’m done playing games with you.

Dear mechanical engineer, we put people on the moon and developed the damn cotton-gin. We can build skyscrapers made of recycled cardboard and water bottles. Why the hell is it that all you can produce for this issue is basically a cross between a circular saw and a weed eater? Let’s put our heads together, dust off the drawing board and get to work. One word – lasers.

Plastic Lincoln Logs

2008-07-28T20:24:00.000-05:00

I worry about my kids as much as the next guy. I want them to be safe and it rips my heart out when they get hurt.

With that said, I think I worry more about what we learned as kids and what they are missing as a result of all this overprotection crap nowadays.

About an hour ago I walked outside to throw dinner on the grill. I usually make a big deal out of this so that my wife sees it as “cooking” and thinks I’m doing my part. But seriously, I toss it on the grill, close the lid and stare at the sky for a bit, flip and repeat. I love to cook.

Anyway, our two youngest offspring (Shoelessboy and Shirtlessboy) were playing on the swing set. They had some rope and made this contraption that looked like the ‘before’ picture in a kids safety brochure. This particular activity required them to stand on a piece of wood, swing down on the rope and traverse through the swings. There were 12 ways to break an arm just in step 1.

My gut reaction of course was to use my dad voice and put a halt to their building project. My mouth was open, I had positioned my body in the “dad” position (hands on hips, head tilted forward and to the side a bit) and instead I let them go for it. There were times while I watched that made me cringe. A foot wrapped around a swing chain here, a leg hanging over the trapeze there. Yet, I fought the urge and just watched.

They did fine, no open fractures, not even a rope burn. And to top it off they were quite proud of what they did.

When I was a kid we didn’t have nets around a trampoline. You fell off, you learned a lesson. You learned that concrete over the speed of 1 mph was not your friend. I learned many, many lessons (some took me more than once to finally understand). I swear the first time I saw a seatbelt was in driver’s education. I thought it was something you could use for leverage to take corners faster.

Here’s my point. You have to screw up a few times to learn. I’d rather raise the next generation with a few bumps and bruises and some level of common sense than to raise them to believe the world is a safe, pillow wrapped place where I’m there to protect them.

The minute they come out with plastic Lincoln logs for safety, I’m freaking outta here.

Now, go hit your brother with this broom stick.

wipe my bobo, wipe it

2008-07-25T14:32:00.000-05:00

Like anyone else who needs an occasional change of scenery, we enjoy taking the kids out to dinner from time-to-time.

'Enjoy' may be a strong word. Let's just say we have to take them with us because we have sharp objects and permanent pens at home.

We usually patron a chicken wing place near our home, mainly because they have the 4 requirements needed for any successful family outing:

1) Mac & Cheese
2) Games for the kids to drop quarters into
3) Large assortment of TV screens with a wide variety of sports
4) Trivia games and adult refreshments

The kids feel quite comfortable there, to the point where I believe they think they own the place. Our son even bussed his own plate one day all the way to the kitchen. The waitress was quite impressed.

But, I’m not sure they were impressed with what happened next.

MomtheGirl and I were in the middle of our normal trivia battle (she is WAY to good at it. I have to cheat to win). Our youngest son, Shoelessboy, in a mad dash from where the games are, runs past our table and we catch “…Potty...” as he runs by. Normal stuff, his body language indicates this mad dash is indeed required (since he’s holding himself and sorta bouncing while he’s running).

No problem. We are right across the little room divider from the restrooms and the place isn’t packed.

Nobody walks into the bathroom, but a few minutes later I notice two older guys standing near the bathroom door looking down, then looking at each other, then looking down again. Hmmm... odd.

As I look up over the divider to see what they are doing, I see our son. He’s completely naked, bent over and holding a piece of toilet paper.

Crap!

As I run towards them I hear our son saying “wipe my bobo, wipe it!”.

We left a larger than normal tip.

and they call it butt paste

2008-07-23T11:00:00.000-05:00

For those of us familiar with the medical miracles related to the prevention and treatment of diaper rash – you will recognize the name “Boudreaux's Butt Paste”. According to Wikipedia this treatment for irritated hind-ends was developed in the 1970’s by “Pappy” Talbot (yes, I actually researched this….). As a side note, “Pappy” sold his pharmacy and traveled to trade shows in an RV he dubbed the “Butt Mobile”. I have a friend who had a van he dubbed the butt mobile – but that’s another story.

I can’t make this crap up. Ok, I made up the friend part… It was actually a green 1978 Thunderbird that smelled like Polo. He thought the chicks dug it when he pulled up next to them with that 8ft long hood with plush velvety seats and those little rear windows. If it was his desire to embarrass the shit out of me... it worked.

Ok, back to the subject at hand. I provide this historical reference to say this – I’m sure at no time in its development did “Pappy” Talbot consider the application of the product in other areas… let’s say… oh, I don’t know… the head.

This was until shoelessboy discovered that in the early morning hours a tub of butt paste can be liberally applied to the head until the ENTIRE tub has been emptied. This can be hours of fun and if you happen to have diaper rash on your head…

Yep. 7am on a Saturday morning all we see over the foot of our bed is a glowing white head walking through the door towards us and the overwhelming smell of butt paste.

Turns out, one of the great benefits of butt paste is it’s ability to shed water – wonderful water-proofing capabilities. Stick him in the shower… nada. Pour dish soap on this head… nada.

Apparently, the only way to remove it is to put the poor kid in a headlock and rub his head raw with a towel. I’m sure he will be discussing this in therapy at some point.

I accept my assimilation

2008-07-20T19:25:00.000-05:00

Like some strung-out crack addict I’ve been in denial for years. Today, I accept my fate.

“Hi, my name is Dad-TheDude and I’ve become my dad.”

Now that that’s done, allow me to explain.

I believe this transformation to be environmentally induced – after years of hearing the following:

1) Damn, whoever designed this dumbass thing was an idiot. All they had to do was flip this over to here, put a strap over that and bolt through that hole. But no, they had to produce the cheapest piece of crap they could. Damn it to hell, I hate (insert brand name here).

2) One day, I’m going to use that.

3) Where the hell are my tools? I bet you damn kids left them somewhere again.

4) That’s it; we are cleaning out the garage – TODAY! Where is your brother?

5) I’m not calling “the guy”, I can do this. (Usually followed by 3 additional attempts and 4 choruses of number 1 above)

6) They were on sale; I saved $30 on those 300 packages of hot dogs. Now eat your damn weenie stew or… honey, look what your kids are doing.

7) Damn political bullshit – that’s why this country is going to hell.

8) I don’t need a recipe; get out of the kitchen…. I’m making eggplant spaghetti and you kids are going to eat it.

9) Credit cards are a damn government conspiracy to control the population.

10) I can make the same thing for half that price (see number 2).

Somehow, maybe through osmosis, this dribble has come into contact with my brain and slowly altered it.

Case in point:

Over the past couple of days I’ve been working on my mower (see “I got snake bait”). Today, after many valiant attempts and a few series of “who designed this stupid thing” and “where the hell are my tools” and “I can do this” and “see, that’s all it needed – DAMN… ok, I think I got it now - DAMN” – I finally got the kitchen pass I was looking for when my wife said to me those magic words:

“Well, how much is a new mower…”

Finer words have never been spoken. However, that is when the altered part of my brain kicked in again. In order to accomplish the act of buying a new mower I had to accept the fact that indeed, the mower I had was built by stupid-ass monkeys and I did not have the aptitude to correct their faulty engineering work. I also had to come to terms with the price of a new mower and the possibility that I was rewarding the mower industry for continuing to build piece-of-shit mowers.

That’s when it hit me. It was time to come to terms with the fact that indeed the transformation was complete. My brain has been saturated and morphed.

I had only one small act of rebellion left. Instead of keeping the old mower “for parts” and “I’ll use this someday” – Which my brain was screaming at me to do - I put it on the curb with a “FREE” sign on it.

Take that dad brain!

UPDATE:

In the time it took to write this post someone has already picked up the mower from the curb. Thank god because I was seriously about to run out there and pull it back into the garage.

Time for a beer - cheers!

2nd UPDATE:

I need another beer, my brain is still screaming at me. I could have made a go cart with the engine or something. AGGHHHH. I need help. Maybe there's a group I could join.

3rd UPDATE:

In case you happen to see the story about the idiot that shot his lawn mower with a shotgun, this wasn't me. I would have used something more practical like an antitank weapon.

I got snake bait

2008-07-19T00:12:00.000-05:00

Kids have an incredible knack for being over-the-top literal.

A kid once told me in grade school that he would hit me so hard I would bounce off the sky. For years I thought you could actually hit someone so hard they would bounce off the sky… scared the hell outta me, I recall him being one of those overgrown bullies who wore husky’s in the first grade (my guess is that he’s now wearing a day-glow orange jumpsuit and his meals are provided by the state).

In 1972 I was at the impressionable age of 6 (the peak of literal thinking) when members of “Black September” attacked the Munich Olympics. I have vivid memories of watching a small black and white TV with my dad as members of the group walked around the terrace of the hotel where they held the athletes hostage. Dad explained to this wide-eyed kid that gorillas were holding them captive. Considering the dark shape, with what I now know was a black hood, walking around the terrace with a machine gun… oh crap! As far as I was concerned there was a possibility that groups of gorillas could be so pissed off they would hold you captive with machine guns and start making demands. The zoo didn’t hold the same fascination with me from that point. To this day when I see those images I still think of them literally as gorillas.

Today, shirtlessboy announced that snakes were in the backyard. This got my immediate attention. I thought it may be the relatives of a small garden snake we found dead in the front-yard last week but this is Texas, so who knows. 5 foot rattlesnakes would be rare considering where we live… but maybe not impossible.

I spent some time walking around on the deck (I’m not about to step into the grass – I would defend this by saying I was simply holding the higher ground). Finally I asked him to show me.

Some time back we went on a Cub Scout campout at a large scout ranch in central Texas. Boys being boys, tromping through the brush is considered high adventure. Apparently, I made the comment that snakes love tall grass. I said this more to avoid the 10,000 stickers we would be removing from his socks and shoelaces and to keep him away from the poison ivy.

That simple comment took root. Since we’ve been out-of-town for the last week and right before we left a wheel fell off my mower, the grass in the backyard has taken on a life of its own. Guess where snakes live?

Shirtlessboy and shoelessboy had been walking around on the deck (because holding the high ground is genetic) looking for snakes and yelling at the dogs to get out of the grass.

UPDATE:
Since I was born in Oklahoma I've inherited the innate ability to fix anything with some bailing wire and a roll of duct tape (up north they call this being a cheap-ass). The mower is no longer a tricycle, the snakes have only hours to live.

2nd UPDATE:
My first update turned out to be bullshit. See my next post.

hmmm... a truck

2008-07-17T19:04:00.000-05:00

So, have you ever been driving and find yourself in the next lane passing a huge truck and the only thing is.... you don't remember pulling into that lane or that a truck was in front of you to begin with?

Odd, huh?

You know you're awake, because after this experience you 'test' yourself for the next 5 miles to ensure you're not in a time warp or something. These tests can vary depending on: (a) is anyone else in the car with you? and (b) if the first answer is yes, are they awake and looking at you kinda odd?

If so, preform the following steps:

1) Turn up the radio and bob your head to the beat (song selection is not critical for this step, anything will do).

2) Adjust your grip on the steering wheel. Maybe switch hands.

3) Look in each mirror in order - left, rearview, right then repeat. Stare intently in the mirrors at the truck you just passed. This will help solidify in your mind that it really exists while appearing as if you are being overly safe.

4) Say something to your passengers. Something like "this is a narrow road, huh" works pretty well for this purpose.

There you go, upon completion of the 4 steps you have successfully erased the fact that you didn't recall a 40 ton, 110 ft long 18-wheeled vehicle being in your general vicinity.

If you are alone in the car, this is a much simpler task. Simply look at the truck next to you and say "shit, where the hell did you come from?".

I liken this to the same phenomenon that occurs when you forget if you locked your car. Like when you finally find a suitable seat in the movie theater and it hits you "did I hear it beep? did I...... crap.....". I admit that I must drive my neighbors nuts by checking for the "beep" every few minutes after I go to bed.

If you happen to be reading this and were just in a vehicle with me for 18 hours, I was just being overly safe by staring at those trucks in the mirror.

Narrow road, huh?

i need a genie

2008-07-16T23:26:00.000-05:00

On our way back from our cross-country trip, only 450 more miles for me to get that cruise control down to a fine art. We have one of those steering wheels with volume control and today I found myself turning the radio up and down thinking I was using the cruise control... oopps.

I happen to know it's 450 more miles because:

a) Thats what both of the GPS units in the car says it is and they both can't be wrong. Our's is one of those units that you can talk to - love to have the 5 year old (shoelessboy) in the backseat yelling "agellan" trying to get it to talk back. Cute.

b) because I counted down every mile starting at around 758 miles left.

c) the boys have filled up a total of 3 cups due to the "I gotta go RIGHT NOW" syndrome and we have a standing 4 cup rule, so we gotta be close.

How the hell did some of these little towns get their name (passed through Hicks Station, Arkansas - can't make that stuff up if I wanted to). Each time I pass one of those I hear "Hee Haw salutes my hometown, Cooter, Missouri....".

If you happen to know the crop duster in the yellow bi-plane that was dusting a field near Cottonwood Corner, Arkansas along I-55 - tell him I have his landing gear on top of the minivan if he wants it back. Those guys are seriously nuts!

By the way, whoever built I-55 didn't know how to make a curve.

Gotta say, by about mile 1,400 of this trip I started wishing I had genie in the car to snap her head and put my happy ass in the driveway!

and the wheels go round and round

2008-07-12T23:20:00.001-05:00

We just completed an unplanned cross-country road trip (it is still cross-country if you went diagonal instead of across?). I travel a fair amount, but it’s usually at 32K feet and I only get to see airport – hotel - conference room – hotel - airport.

Top 10 observations:

1) This is an incredibly beautiful country once you escape the suburbs, fast-food joints and strip malls. It’s easy to get locked into the day-to-day grind and forget just how pretty and varied this country really is. At points I found myself driving through virtual postcards, if you could Photoshop out the 4 lane highway. Seriously – we live in a beautiful country.

2) Gas prices haven’t cut back on the number of vehicles on the road all that much. Simply based on the number of people at the rest stops (the statistical epicenter of all travelers) I would say it’s down maybe 5-7%.

Related: Stumbled into gas somewhere in Arkansas for $3.84 and realized it was pathetic that I thought it was such a great deal. A year ago I would have pushed the minivan to another station. We need to invade a country with a bunch of oil….. damnit.

3) The average speed on any major freeway is no less than 80mph. Go less than that and be prepared to be a speed bump.

Related: Seemed to be many who’s gas saving strategy has been borrowed from NASCAR – drafting 3ft off your bumper, it’s not just for the 1.3 mile track anymore.

4) Whoever is maintaining the freeways in Tennessee gets a gold star. I think it’s because they still have prison chain gangs guarded by guys on horses with shotguns on their hips and a toothpick. If that’s the case, keep doing that.

5) Travel isn’t what it used to be. We had several people in the minivan – no less than 14 electronic devices including 2 GPS units, satellite radio, laptops, blackberry’s, cell phones, portable game systems, iPods, DVD player and a game boy hooked up to a AC/DC converter. Good thing both legs of the trip were during the day or the van would have glowed like a public bus in Chernobyl.

6) The environmental top-of-mind movement over the past couple of years is having some effect. Virtually no trash along any road (notable exceptions were the carcasses of truck tires every few miles, part of a couch; followed by the rest of the couch .5 miles after that and a bag of onions that appeared to have made a high speed landing).

7) Never considered the career choice of being an oversized load pilot (those cars and trucks ahead of and behind oversized loads with the flashing lights). Three questions there – 1) is there a course I have to take for that? 2) If you are the lead car and you have to pull over to pee does the whole caravan follow you? 3) I noticed one caravan (unsure of the ‘official’ term) with 2 pilot cars following it. Was that part of the training program? “You just follow us for 600 miles and do what we do… “

8) Kentucky has an above average number of military convoys on its freeways. Something new here were the American flags flying on the lead vehicle which I appreciated and thought was a nice touch. God bless and thank you all! Women - If you are hot and you happen to pass these convoys please consider it a patriotic duty to flash them as you go by. I for one would have appreciated that when I was in.

9) Why do all the ‘odd’ people stay in roadside hotels? You know the type… I’m sure there’s a story behind each one that would blow your mind.

10) Traveling across the country is good for the soul. There are no red/blue states; regardless of where we live we are basically cut from the same cloth. When you are on a road trip there are no political battle lines, no racism, no bigotry, no Al-Qaeda, no gang violence or idiot bosses. It’s just miles and miles to remind you how lucky you are to be living in the greatest country on earth.

How did I get here?

2008-07-11T02:13:00.000-05:00

And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack
And you may find yourself in another part of the world
And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful Wife
And you may ask yourself-well...how did I get here

-- Talking heads - 1980

Two things I don't get:

1) What the hell the chorus of that song actually means
2) Really, how the hell did I get here?

I know I'm not alone in this, the face I see in the mirror everyday is asking the same question as everyone else’s face I see – “WTF happened?” Wasn’t it like yesterday that I was tricking out my BMX bike with yet another awesome set of wheels and wondering why they would name a band ‘Queen’? How did I get from there to here and how come when that same kid, who’s still in there, looks in the mirror it’s some old dude looking back?

Granted, I’m not ~really~ old. Forty is the new 30 after all… but lets face it when my parents were this age they were already drinking fiber and pretending they enjoyed the taste of liver & onions (don’t know what your missing… try it, you’ll love it…). They were OLD.

Think about it, deep inside didn’t they also have a little toe-headed freckled face kid inside of them wondering what the hell happened? I don’t doubt that they did. Actually I’m quite sure of it.

You know that feeling you have right before a big 3-day weekend when you have all these plans and places to go? The weekend is the great unknown and full of so much potential when it’s Friday. You can’t wait to get where you're going and you can’t wait for the friends who are going to be there with you to arrive. Then comes Saturday, you maybe partied a little too hard on Friday night and some of the plans don’t seem as important now but after a quick nap you can get right back to it.

If life was a 3-day weekend, I feel like I'm at Saturday afternoon and it’s around 3 p.m. The weekends still young, we still have another full day before we have to start cleaning up and getting ready to go home. But still, sometimes I wish it was Friday again.

Ps.- there is water at the bottom of the ocean. Same as it ever was, same as it ever was.

What is "Dad - thedude"?

2008-07-11T01:02:00.003-05:00

Kids these days... you gotta love 'em (it's the law).

Somehow our 7 yr old son (shirtlessboy) has taken to calling any male version of the species "dude", this is especially true with his friends whom in most cases he has known his entire life and apparently they have all forgotten who they are, so they simply go by the collective - "dude".

It's not that this is any big deal, I know it's nothing compared to what they will call each other 8 years from now. It's that at times when his brain has come off the track, he refers to me as "dude".

Examples:

"Dude, when are you going to work?"
"Dude, check this out. It's still bleeding"
"Dude, put on some pants"

WTF

Since when did evolution transform the 7 yr old brain into a rice krispy treat? The thought of calling my dad "dude" never entered my mind. I googled it and this is refered to as 'self preservation'.

Of course, I make the necessary corrections every time. But to be honest there is a part of it that I like; so much so that I find it appropriate that this blogs title is “Dad – thedude”. Cause lets face it, at some point it’ll be “Dad – thedumbass”.