Why no one's life should ever be left in my hands

This is the time of year when I'm running in circles at work trying to do three or more things at once. I am reminded constantly that I'm not THAT detail oriented, and sometimes can be just plain scatter brained.
Last semester several times when the phone rang I tried to answer the following:
Stapler, calculator, hard-shell glasses case, and a burrito (the yummiest phone call ever).
This semester while looking at my computer screen I picked up the computer mouse and put my index finger on it, only to find that it wasn't indeed a calculator.
Conversely I also put my hand on my cell phone that was laying on the desk and started to move it around and wondered why the pointer was not moving on the computer screen.

Speaking of my cell phone, I was talking to someone down in Charlotte when I was reminded that a professor was going to call me. I immediately reached for the pocket where I normally keep my phone (when it's not doing double-duty as a computer mouse), but couldn't find it. I started to get frantic, wondering where the damn thing could be when I realized that it was in my left hand, and that was how I was talking to someone in Charlotte.

The entire AMA couldn't afford the malpractice suits that I would incurr.

The introduction of the monthly FUCK YOU list

I listen to the news during the day, and there are some groups that need a big middle finger shoved in their faces, so the inaugural FUCK YOU goes to the following groups:

Retarded militant muslims (not capitalized on purpose)
Stupid mid-easterners trying to eradicate Israel
Stupid Israelis making settlements in land that ain't theirs
Mitch McConnell and the party of no
Somali pirates. We should be able to hang them publicly again.
Tea Party idiots that still follow Gov. Mooseburger
Liberal idiots that live in la-la land and don't understand how things work
Anyone who votes based upon religion. Abortion ain't going away, and most of elected officials cheat and lie. Quit kidding yourselves.

This list ain't done.

LOOK! I DREW A PICTURE OF MUHAMMAD!

I'm sure they had to push themselves up to laugh

It snowed here in the Ville, and someone (not I) had foot-marked a giant pecker in the parking lot. Of course, there was a Jesus freak here, and so I mentioned that when she walks through that she's sure to be offended. My coworker then said, "Who doesn't like a good dick and fart joke? Tell her to complain to Jesus."
I then said that wouldn't work as Jesus was a guy, and therefore he would find it funny. I then said,"I'm sure that Dismas or Gestes squeezed out a tooter while on the cross, and they all had a good laugh."

"For he who believes in me will today accompany me in my kingdom, unless you keep shitting yourself. Damn, Gestes, it smells like something crawled up in you and died."

He was a meteorologist, for goodness sake.

A weatherman— a German weatherman. These were not remediable deficiencies.

Holy sweet mother fuck

The boss with his name on the building had the warehouse guys move the thermostat down from 63 to 55. I guess he feels he's not getting his money's worth unless he sees peoples' breath. This is just fucking ridiculous. I hope he enjoys the increased number of sick days coming up in the busy time.
At least I have a large printer heating my area. That, and he knows he can't turn down the heat in here lest the printer and the paper start to fight.

I'm glad you asked. No, as a matter of fact, he doesn't work in this building.

In other news: I'm getting tired of these fucking muslim countries trying to kill everyone that blasphemes the name of their prophet. Not their god, but their prophet. How tea-total refuckingtarded are you people? I can't wait for there to be no more oil so that those dipshits can go back to riding camels and eating sand. Take a hint from every other culture that moved out of that area. If the land isn't arable, then fucking move. You're not supposed to be there.
You bastards are only using islam as a means to keep your society down and discourage learning because it may bring your sorry asses into the age of reason.
fuck you bitches.

Let us Continue!

A big hell-yeah goes out to the Head of EEOC of the Republic for bringing two truckloads of rounds over for me to split. There's cherry, ash, walnut, and holly. Anyone want to lend me a hand? It'll heat you twice: when you cut it up, and when you burn it. Mmmmm...heat.
I believe that when I get home from the house of the Chief of the Galley I will start a nice fuego. Mmmmm...fuego.
Last night it was thirty deg outside, and sixty-five on the porch (I didn't get the stove honkin' cause I was busy drinking beer).

Any joiners?

Bring on the cold and rainy. I got FUEGO!

I visited a turkey this last week, and another one came over to help me drink beer and fish. It was a very good week: I must've drank about 30 Guinness while in Charlotte, and let me tell you, it's been a while since I've shit that black.

A good time was had by all.

yeah, about that...

Fuckin' Toyotas anyway

The driver's side door handle broke on my Camry. What the fuck is up with their goddamn handles anyway? I guess I should be happy that my car goes and stops totally under my control, but fucking shit that's annoying.

In other news after listening to the news:
I'm starting a new church. It's going to be called, "Church of Me Not Giving a Shit about Your ancient Bullshit Religion so You Have No Reason to Try to Kill Me."
It may be in response to sand eating camel fuckers calling for my death.

some new things I have to try

Oh, sweet irony

I had to get my driver's license renewed today. I thought the renewal card read 718 West Jefferson, so I figured I'd park my car at the old office and walk the four blocks to the courthouse. When I got to the courthouse and walked around a bit looking for the license office and couldn't find it, I took out the card to double check. Turns out the office wasn't at 718 W. Jefferson, but 718 West Main street, which was another seven blocks.
So, I walked 22 blocks round trip to renew my driver's license. Oh well, I got to walk off lunch.

I celebrated the eighth anniversary of getting my ass whipped by Jenny Raymond

Well, another October 27th has passed, and with it many well wishes. Camper Dan threatened to bring a bottle of kickin' chicken, but I told him it would only be me and him, so he knows who I would punch when drunk. Turns out he brought a twelver over.
The Minister of Silly Units and Sergeant at Arms came over as well. Blazing Saddles played in the background as shit was passed.

'T'weren't cold enough to have a fire, but I'll take that. The longer it's warm, the less I have to fork over to LG&E.

Oh, Teddy Boy, the food, the food is waiting.

So the Corpsman is coming to town. Don't know why; don't care. This means I'll be cleaning the house a bit.

In other news:

It was a shame to have a fire and not cook something on the stove, so last night we had Italian sausage last night on the porch.

This shit's funny

This was forwarded to me, and it's cool as shit.

http://i.imgur.com/nb3e3.png

You'll have to copy and drop in explorer. Blogger's not letting me make the link for some reason.

work with me here people

So, we have the new stove at the Republic, and the old one was brought to my co-worker's house. Jees-a-pete that thing was heavy. I had it on the furniture dolly heading down the ramp. When I got to the end of the ramp, the stove dropped off and damn near catapulted me into the yard.
I wasn't looking forward to me landing in the yard and the stove rolling over onto me. That would've hurt. A lot. Luckily I was able to remain earth-bound and not test gravity, because no matter how many times I try to defy, gravity always reminds me who's boss.
Anyway, I should be piping the new stove tonight, and after that pray for rain so I can properly start the new season of fuego.

I didn't get a harrumph out of that guy

Apparently the hemorrhaging hasn't stopped. This game of duck-duck-goose is getting demoralizing.

Well, I probably won't be going back there anytime soon

Several of us at work went to The Tilted Kilt for lunch, and, well, not so much.

Yes, the waitresses had huge knockers and tight asses wrapped in short tartan skirts, but there was also a twenty minute wait to get a table after looking for a parking spot for ten because the restaurant next to it had most of the parking lot marked off for it.

The TVs were so loud that everyone in the place had to yell in order to be heard, and the close proximity of the tables did not exactly portend a good eating experience. It was like being at a bar show without the ability to have enough alcohol to not give a shit. I wanted to stand and face the table next to us and explain to one lady that her laugh was stupid, she laughed at stupid shit, and that I didn't want to hear another word about how she went out last weekend and got so drunk that she and one of her friends were making up songs in the car on the way home (one assumes a third party drove). You know what that is? STUPID! I wanted to also explain to her that she was so ugly I'd have to shit on her face in order to make her pretty enough to fuck; but I digress.

The food didn't totally suck, but I've had better frozen dinners; especially for the number of clams I had to dole out and the time I had to wait for it. Not to mention the kitchen messed up our appetizer order, but that's understandable seeing as it was one of the more difficult things to prepare. I mean, fresh fried potato chips does involve the three-step process of cutting the potato, frying it, and then putting it in a dish to be taken to the table by the server.

At one point the waitress actually came out to the table and apologized that our food wasn't ready because the kitchen got slammed. Really? At lunchtime in a busy area the kitchen got slammed? Now, I've never worked in a restaurant, but I have planned a few events in my life. I'm pretty sure the bosses hadn't thought this one through.
I have an Idea: Fewer tables you jackasses! Or, even better, more help at the BUSIEST TIME OF THE DAY!

No sir, I don't think I'm going to return to there any time soon.

Wow, three Saturdays in a row!

I woke up this morning and got out of be at 8:30. "What to do today?" I asked myself.
The answer was, "Make a bier holder for the back porch followed by taking measurments for the downstairs bathroom."
After doing that I decided to start cleaning the living room. While doing that I found the "Man with No Name" series of Clint Eastwood spaghetti westerns. I'm currently on "For a Few Dollars More." So much for cleaning the living room.
Next up: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Ennio Marconni's masterful soundtrack to that movie is unrivaled with its ability to evoke the exact feeling of each scene.

Truthfully, the best part about these movies is the fact that you can take a nap in the middle and really not miss that much. Now, if I woke up, looked at the T.V. and saw someone driving a 57 VW bug in the desert, then I'd rewind and take a second look (as well as wonder how the Man With No Name got ahold of Herby).

Well, writing is taking me away from both the movie and my nap.
Chow.

I have a new themesong!

If I didn't do the crime, I won't do the time

Dear Hot chicks that come into work with an attitude:

If I ain't hittin' that, I ain't puttin' up with your attitude. Check your eye rolls and your sighs at the door.
Yes, I was looking at your tits. It might be because you have them hanging out looking like you're ready to be milked. I'll be glad to help you with that, but please take this sock and shove it in your mouth. If you stop letting air activate your vocal cords you would be so much more attractive.

I had to get out of there. I was getting ready to punch this one who used 'like' as seemingly every other word.

I thought the ones at the high school across the street were bad enough, but at the university they're just as horrid. Uggh.

That sounds mighty tasty

Alright, everyone knows that I'm a huge fan of Funyuns. I mean, they're fun, and they're yun- it's right there on the package. I can eat the hell out of those things, and not give a porcupine's prickly ass what they do to my blood pressure.
Well, I just saw a recipe that our lupine friend is going to have to make. It's a simple green-bean casserole recipe that has funyuns instead of fried onions on the top. Mmmmm...a dish that has both green beans and funyuns. Life is good.
I wonder if I made the casserole, then wrapped it in bacon and put it in a smoker for a few hours...

Hey, Bill O'Lielly

Noise proves nothing - often a hen who has merely laid an egg cackles as if she had laid an asteroid.

Mark Twain

Hold it, hold it, hold it. What the hell is that shit?

I had an exchange with one of my new neighbors last night as I was taking out my recycle bins that had, shall we say, quite a liberal quantity of beer cans residing in them. It went like this:
"That's a lot of beercans."
"Oh, there're some bottles in there too."
"Wow."
"Taint all mine. I had some help with these."

This morning as I was leaving, I noticed that someone had come through the neighborhood and removed all the aluminum from people's bins, but left everything else. All I had left in two bins were five beer boxes and twelve bottles.
I thought, "Man, if you're going to take the cans, take all the other evidence too!"

I don't think she meant anything by her comment, but I hope this isn't leading to an argument, unless that leads to make-up sex.

Back to the Grind

Not that some of you don't have hectic-ass jobs and work long hours, but this weekend marks the I.P. for seven days a week through the end of August. Now's the time on Sprockets when we work.
Waiting for the first week of Oktober. I don't want to wish my life away, but I do want to go fishing.

Well, ain't that a somethin'.

My neighbors of almost 15 years moved out last week in order to find a single story home more suitable to their 70 year old hips and knees.
This left me with one question: Who will be moving in, and what are they like? O.K., that was two questions, but my main winter activity is at stake here, and I take that seriously. If some total jackass moves in, then it would have to be full-on warfare, and we all know that's not a great situation in which to find yourself.

So, I asked Betty, and she said, and I quote, "First it's going to be a couple of twin girls that go to UofL, followed by their sister who is student teaching, and then their recently divorced dad."

Yesterday was about 100deg outside, and I had some visitors/new residents next door in the pool.
All I have to say is Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn!
I'm currently accepting donations for lawyers' fees.

Sol love, Sol hate part 2

So, I got my peppers in the ground and watered. The next day most of them were dead. I watered them, and some perked right back up. After that we had one day of cooler weather and one of hot. Out of over 150 plants I think I have twenty left. Shit.

Tomorrow I bring out the rest of my seedlings just for a few hours to try to harden them up. If not, I'm going to buy some plants that may just make it. I will have peppers.

Sun, I love/hate you.

It never fails that everytime I plan on finally getting my peppers in the ground it will pour down rain the day before. Well, I decided that I wasn't going to be kept from my appointed rounds today. I weeded and weeded and weeded, sweating my ass off the whole day. After a while I just said "Fuck it" and decided to shower and get a beer.

I still didn't get my peppers in the ground, but I did pull my first ripe tomato from the garden.

Hammer, hammer everywhere, but not a nail to hit.

My co-worker Guido moved into his house a couple of Saturdays ago. Well, mostly moved. And, as we all know from living in houses, they need shit done to them. Guido needed to run his washing machine into his sump, but had never before used most of the tools required for the job (by the way, whoever has my channel locks, I would like them back). He also didn't really have a clue other than what the guy at Lowe's told him, which is crap, because we all know that those guys aren't interested in instruction or actually helping you. They only want to get a great feeling of satisfaction that comes from letting you know that they're better than you, and that if you don't know what a canuder valve is, then you really shouldn't be attempting this job, but I digress.
Anyway, we were there in the basement, and Guido had never used a hacksaw, concrete bit, concrete screws, thread tape, a drill(extensively)or a hole saw. This is not to say that he is in any way stupid. It's just odd that someone outside of wall street or academia could reach the age of thirty years without some knowledge of basic tools.

We cut 2 inch PVC pipe. I showed him how to stand, work the saw, etc.
What I said: "Well, it's alright if it's a bit off."
What I thought: "Holy shit, dude- If this thing were any more crooked, it'd be in congress."

We used the hole saw in the plastic lid of the sump. It was a little more entailed than just using a drill.
WIS: "Pull the bit up, raise the rpms, and slowly add pressure to the back of the drill. That's why the drill's kicking back."

WIT: "Sweet Jesus- Don't jam the drill in there and then press the trigger. You smell that? It's the electric motor burning up."

Then we got to fitting and gluing the PVC. I showed him how to on one joint. After that, it seemed like an eternity. I understand not wanting to do something incorrectly, but it's plastic pipe. It's like Czechoslovakia- you zip in and you zip out.

WIS: "You probably don't need any more glue than that. It'll just take longer to inure."
WIT: "If you don't stop fucking with that glue I'm going to pee on your head. Seriously, just goop it, fit it, twist it and let it stand."

Anyway, Guido now has an idea what small jobs entail around the house. I know these things aren't a priori, but it took a lot to just sit back and just teach. I told him that if he ever needed copper work done, I'd do it for him, cause I'm not going to wait for the learning curve while he works with flame.

Kick Ass, the movie version

That movie turned out not to be what I expected but was still very funny. Nick Cage actually does pretty well in it.
And the chick is hot. Not the 13 year old, Ted, the other chick. Put it back in your pants.

Ah, the post-Derby DT's

Sing it with me now- Shake, shake, shake senora...

you gotta love someone else's network

I'm typing from my lap in my living room. Wireless rocks.
You know who else rocks? Calvin Borel. The same route he took last year.
3 times in four years- Eddie Arcaro couldn't even do that.

Alright, Teddy Boy's got me wondering

What are your favorite Non-restaurant junk foods? I say non-restaurant because all I'd have to say is "anything from the Granville" and it would qualify. However, if you make it at home, it's fair game.
We all know I dig on the funions. Jalapeno Cheetos rank up there too. I also like to heat salsa, refried beans, mix in a ton of cheese and eat a whole bag of corn chips with this dip.
While I don't count dicks and kraut as strictly junk food, it's also not totally healthy, so you'll have to vote on that.

An afternoon junkfood treat

They're both fun and they're yun.

Maybe they'll fight with the whitecastles I ate earlier. I'm supposed to help my brother's scout group with woodworking tonight. This ought to be interesting. "This is the sound a rip saw makes..."

here's what happened, Ted

After a sheissiger two leg flight back from working in Tampa, the Seawolf was there at the Woodford Reserve bar at the airport. We were going to have a glass of "i'm home" and then be on our way. Even though cousin Luke told the bartendress that I was on my way, after I sat down it took 8 minutes for someone to wait on me. Here's how it went:

Some kid in his twenties Slowly makes his way over to me. He kind of quickly twitched his eyebrows up and down instead of saying hello. He then asked wanna beer?
Yes, please.
I got ID? (are those required to fly these days?)
Yes I do. Here you go. (handed him my license)

He then says, "Bud light?" as he drops my id on the bar in front of my outstreched hand. As he slowly walks to the tap, I said aloud, "or, you can just drop it on the bar. I didn't have my hand open or anything."

He brings Luke and I a beer and sets them on the bar. He then said, "oh, I gotta get you some napkins." He reached under the counter and tossed several napkins on the bar between us.

I looked at him and said, "dude, you suck at this."

After those beers Luke recommended going to my house where the beer was cheeper.
Good decision.

What the hell happened to customer service

Dear mr. asshole working at the Woodford Reserve bar at SDF:
Fuck you.

woo hoo

Three days and twenty-six minutes to taco bell.

Is it too early to drink?

I got to work a little after seven this morning since I couldn't sleep. On my walk to the Quickie Mart I yelled at the driver of a car in McFatass's drive through, a police officer who left his car running at a gas pump and a begging-ass retard on the corner who was yelling at (trying to scare people into giving him money)anyone on the corner. "You're lips move faster than your feet. You'll get no money from me."

Halefuckinlujia

19 Days until I can get me some Taco Bell or Q-doba. I love you, Jesus, but damn I want a chili-cheese burrito.

Oh, sweet irony!

I don't know if someone was filming this, but as I drove up second street on my way back to the office, I looked over and saw this little girl about three years old playing in the front yard...of the Planned Parenthood clinic. She seemed so happy, running around and laughing to herself. I wonder if mommy told her that she wasn't getting a little brother after all.

All I could think after I saw her was:
"WE GOT A SURVIVOR!"

I don't think we're going to be printing your book

One of our staffers here took a phone call from someone who wanted "to get his stuff printed in a book."
As she told the story:
her- Andy's not in right now, but he should be back in about 15-20 minutes. Let me get your number for him to call you back.
him- I'm on a pay phone, so just put me on hold.
her- I can't do that. We only have one line and that would tie it up.
him- Why not? I can only be on for ten minutes on the pay phone. I'll wait for him. Hey, if he can talk in 15 minutes, why can't I talk to him now?
her- he's at our other location. He's not physically in the office.
him- well, I'm on a pay phone, so he can't call me back. I'll call him. *slam*

After I got in and waited another 25 minutes, he never called back. Kinda glad, actually.
It's almost as glad as that lady who sang her idea for a book "for the community."
Takes all types I guess.

They gave it to them.

I honestly, honestly am tired of New Orleans. That fucking sewer has done nothing but take from this country for the last five years, and now I'm told that I should want them to win the super bowl because of Katrina?
Fuck you, New Orleans and the tear truck you rode in on. Fuck you too Indianapolis- never ask a Hoosier to do a man's job.
I realize my Steelers couldn't beat the school for the blind this year, but I think I'm finally over the super bowl being a big deal. From now on unless Pittsburgh or Notre Dame is playing in the Superbowl, I'm in it for the commercials (which pretty well sucked this year).
I have an idea. Go live somewhere that's above sea level

The Smack Heard Round the Bowling Alley

Cousin Luke and I were staying true to our Labowski mentality this past Sunday when we said, "Fuck it- let's go bowling."

This past FILBG Sunday Lukes son, the Groundskeeper joined us in order that we could have one more person to make fun of as we knocked back some cold ones and missed the headpin. The first game was going well for Luke and I, but the groundskeeper couldn't buy a closed frame. When he finally got a strike, Luke high-fived him. Since I was standing next to Luke, I put my hand up and told the GK to "put 'er there." He gave my outstretched hand a hearty hit, but with his continued motion, after the five he proceeded to smack the living shit out of his pop.

I'm talking a good, old-fashioned leave a red whelp on the cheek smack. It was a beautiful hit that couldn't have been done better by a trailer trash mom in a Walmart.

I must've laughed for five minutes straight. I laughed so hard that people at the other end of the bowling alley looked to see who the fuck was making all the noise. Every time I looked at Luke holding his cheek I lost my shit. He got brat-slapped by his only child, and he couldn't do a fucking thing about it.

I laughed all the way up to and through throwing my next ball. I got a strike and put my hand up in front of Luke's face for the GK to high five, and Luke dead panned, "I'll kick you in the dick."

So much for brotherly love, but I'm still laughing.

Let's hear it for the PBRHAYCBC!

Everyone that doesn't live in the Ville needs to come to the Ville for the first annual Pot Belly Republic Have A Y Chromosome Bowling Championships. All you need to bring is yourself, a bowling ball if you have one, and beer money. Food will be provided.

Time and date to be announced.

Well, you're going to see that

I saw the new movie Sherlock Holmes last night, and the one really good thing I can say is that we had a fire on the porch while watching it. It wasn't the fact that the characters were barely recognizable from the stories, or the over-reliance on action to carry a poor story line. The giant iceberg that sinks this movie is the poor dialogue. Whoever wrote this movie was in no way familiar with 19th century British English.
Now, I don't know about you, but one of the greatest features of the cannon is the manner in which everyone speaks. The movie really needed someone to go through the script and change most of the dialogue. Watson's humor is not pawky, and Holmes's remarks are not as pointed or snide as they needed to be.
Don't get me started on the love fest between Sherlock and Irene. And they gave the Bobbies guns.

If I didn't know anything about the characters or background, it would have been a good movie, but as it stands, thhhhhppp!

Some of the lines I heard this week

You gotta love community colleges- they're just so different from traditional research universities. The students are even more so.

Some things I overheard this week (so far):

What's a personal check?

Dat pack be for English class?

I was in da street and day tried to hit me with they car.

I had a fake ID, but it expired.

Them: How much will that cost?

Me: I don't know, and won't know until I finally hear back from the publisher.

Them: When will that be?

Me: I don't know. I've been waiting for three weeks on one article.

Them: But the professor said I could get this at [store name].

Me: And you will, after I hear from the publisher. Your professor has been notified about this.

Them: So you don't know how much it's going to be? Not even an estimate?

Me: I don't give estimates. I give exact prices after I hear back from publishers.

Them: What should I tell my professor?

Me: Tell him to check his voicemail.

Sharp as a:

I think you're missing the mark here, fellah

I was watching a show on the History Channel last night (don't worry John- I still put in a twelve hour day) called 2010. This show started with the condition of our planet now, and extrapolated from there the condition of the planet in five year increments based upon calculations of population growth, deforestation, political climate, etc.

It was neat and all, and I liked how they made it more personal (intended) by focusing on one imaginary individual and how she would be forced to live as the planet changed. About my third beer into the show it struck me that the History Channel is now apparently the future channel. Either that, or someone flipped the wrong switch and sent the National Geographic channel feed to the history channel, a flop I'm sure flummoxed the NGC viewers who, I'm very sure, were wondering why Hitler or Nostradamus had appeared on their screens when they were expecting an exciting tale of how Gnus are milked in the Andes.

Stick to your purpose, History Channel! 15 years from now you can tell us how we fucked the planet. Thus the word "history." It's right there in your title. Besides, I'm watching you on a TV that is powered by electricity coming from a coal-burning generator plant. So if it weren't for me adding to my carbon footprint, I wouldn't know that I had a carbon foot print. Quite the conundrum, isn't it?

Let's see, 10% of nothing is, well, let me carry the 10

Our fucking printers are down. The mighty Casey has struck out. I get to make a phone call tomorry. It should be a doosiey.

I'm getting ready to take a crowbar to one of them, and spray athother one out with a garden hose. "Oh, does water fuck up your electronics? You should've thought about that before you decided to start putting streaks on the fucking paper, mother fucker."

You fucking printers don't get it, do you? Take a lesson from my laptop. It may be able to beat me at chess, but it's no match for me in kick-boxing, you bitches!

Please God, don't let there be any pedestrians on the road when I leave.