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.

It's less of a resolution as it is a wish list.

I hope I'm not arrested for vehicular manslaughter.
Please don't let me punch a professor.
I would like to not answer the woodstove when my phone rings.
Throw in some nookie, and it's a deal.

that's about it.

Quiet please for the movie

Getting pretty hectic at work with the onset of the new semester and all. I think I'm going to write down a lot of the shit that goes down at the end of the day at home and then transfer it to the blog as I have more time at eleven PM than I do right now.

It's getting fun.

in other news:
I went bowling after work yesterday, then came back and boxed a coworker on the Wii. I now know how Brittany Murphy died of cardiac arrest.

Nobel, schnobel

I listened to O'Bama's speech to the Nobel committee, and holy cow. I liked it. Not only was it delivered well, but it pretty well laid everything out. If you get an opportunity and 36 minutes, it's a good listen.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RSaoLPXjmyM&feature=related

It's your life dude, you decide

I almost sent a bicyclist to one of Ted's local contemporaries today.

You see, we have bicycle lanes on our one-way streets here in the Ville, and it's great. Them bastards can have their lane, and I can have mine. Well, one rider apparently got "left foot on red" while playing traffic twister today and came out of the bike lane and started riding in the car lane. This I could not abide and started riding his ass. It was at this time that Mr. "I have a force field around my bike" flipped me off. WRONG MOVE!

I got around him and rode (mostly) in the lane next to him, easing him over ever so gently at 20mph. I kept getting the bird, and he kept getting pushed back into the bike lane.

I stopped at the next intersection for the red light. He flipped me off again and busted the light.

They wonder why there's no love for them.

Hoosiers, can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em

I almost had a cement truck jammed up my tailpipe due to a stupid hoosier in traffic. Now that they're actually trying to have me killed, I must quote Doc Holliday from Tombstone. "That's it darlin' I really hate him."

what an awsome weekend to go to the lake, drink, and fish

Wait a minute...HEY, THOMAS-

I wish I were three again so I could get away with this shit

My uncle died last week, and the viewing was this last Sunday.
Little Johnny was running around, so I picked him up and walked toward the open casket. I asked him if he knew who was in the casket, and Johnny smiled, pointed at the crucifix and loudly stated, "I see Jesus!" He then pointed down at my uncle, and in the same loud voice said, "and he's dead!"
I buried my face in his jacket so people couldn't see me laughing, and then walked outside and proceeded to laugh so hard I heeped.

Uncle funeral part deux:
I was one of the pall bearers on Monday along with my brothers Darrell and three of my cousins. After the service at the Funeral home at the part where everyone walks past the open casket to either say goodbye or fuck you, each one of my uncle's grand kids put a golf ball in the box so he could play a round when he gets to Valhalla. Well, they migrated to the space under the bunting when the funeral guys moved the casket onto the box gurney, so that when we picked it up to take ole unc on his last car ride they decided to move.
Now, when I say three of my cousins along with the Darrells, you have to understand that my cousins are 6'5", 6'1" and 6'6", and my brothers are 5'7" and 5'5", so there was really no parity that would allow for evenly lifting or moving the casket, so as we made the way down the steps everyone could hear the brbrbrbbrbbrbrbrbrb of the golf balls rolling around in the metal box.

At the cemetery I decided to have some fun. I made sure that I was on the lower back corner, and as we walked, I gently lifted and lowered the casket so that there was a constant brbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbr of the balls rolling front to back and side to side.

You should have seen everyone that knew about the balls trying to cover their smiles.

I love me.

Fuck you Arlene, and fuck Santa Claus too!

AS IF WE WEREN'T COOL ENOUGH ALREADY

Cousin Luke and I have decided that because we know we're going to lose our bees in the spring do to a lack of stores and no queen, we're going to make a still for personal use.

We have the skills.
We have the fuel.
We have a cooperage nearby.

Now, obviously we can't sell the stuff, but I'm sure there'll be enough to go around.

IT DOESN'T GET SPIT INTO THE STOVE, ASSHOLES.

hell yeah

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=20Of_mna-Rs

God I love this shit

I have a confession to make: I read the advice column in the Curious Urinal. They make my life seem normal, and I thank them.

This morning's had a bit of a twist. The headline reads "Beau Abhors Fiancee's Career" which could be about anyone, anywhere. Perhaps her job keeps at work too late. Perhaps there are guys at her workplace hitting on her and making rude suggestions. Perhaps both.

Let's get to the good stuff.

"I am currently engaged to an exotic dancer, and we recently found out she is pregnant. Times are tough right now, and this is the problem: I was laid off but receive unemployment while I search for a new job. My fiancee recently told me that she wants to dance more and in different venues to gain the much needed money."

You have to admit that this guy has shat and fallen back in it.

Since when was stripping a career?

FUEGO!!!

I reattached the flue last night, and test fired the heart of the Pot Belly Republic.
A note to the gentle readers to sweep off the top of any stove after a construction project before making the inside of it hot. I found out what 50 years of roof crud smell like when it burns.

Duraroc needs to go up over the stove, as I did start to smell the OSB off-gassing (or was it me?) as the fire heated up.

Seven beers and one Shawshank Redemption later, I let the fire die down.
I only burned myself once, and the hair that grew back on my hand while I was on vacation is now burned off.
Everything is normal. Well, as normal as I'll let it get.

For all those playing "how's andy hurt- the home game"

As I was putting the last layer of tar over some nail heads, it started to drizzle, but I don't care. The fucking job is done.

I used all three rolls of shingle, and one of roofing felt. 500 nails, 8 pieces of plywood, and 6 2x4s later, it's done.

Injury report:

two knuckles hit with the hammer, a gigantic bruise on me leg from when the plywood fell on my thigh, one inadvertent head-butt of a 2x4, and three cut fingers, the last of which occurred when I was finished with the job and was taking tools off the roof (machined metal is sharp). This is beside the fact that I put my leg up to the knee through the roof while stripping the rotted parts.

Note to those out there unaccustomed to work- don't use fingernail brush on finger with busted skin from a hammer blow. Ouch.

You all should have been here. The level of profanity alone would have been worth the trip.

Hey Dipshit- Where do you work again

I was reading about the test flight of the Ares X1 rocket today. The interviews were about some of the hassles of stacking a rocket that's 327 feet tall, and how they had to find ways to transport large sections from all over the country. Then I got to the last line of the interview, where a NASA OFFICIAL said, and this pains me, "It's really unprecedented for NASA, building a rocket this big."

Except for the ten year long Saturn project that launched 12 Saturn Vs, each of which stood 363 feet tall, and weighed over 6 million pounds.
DOH!

You work at NASA, right? Did they hire you last week right out of Lived Under a Rock University?
I'm pretty sure that if I worked for an agency or company that was responsible for mankind's crowning achievement, I'd kinda tuck that into my "don't forget me" folder.

But that's just me.

bickety-bam, the motherfucker's rubble

The slumlord came into the store today, and by happenstance we got onto the topic of t-shirts. He told me of a place here locally to get shirts for the PBR. This shall be done next week while I'm on vacation.
Speaking of that, I may not be electronically available for a while unless I head over to the Wolf's.

I'm sure there will be some interesting stories about next week, as I'm replacing the roof over the back porch and downstairs bathroom. No-0ne can hurt andy the way andy can hurt andy.

In other news:
If the bitch seems a little off her rocker on the first date, run away. I had a nice loud "conversation" over the phone today. I don't think I've used the phrase "clingy, controlling bitch" in a while. It was good to dust that one off.

You don't know her, and I haven't spoken of her before, as I wanted to see where this one was going before mentioning anything. Turns out it went right into the toilet.
Who doesn't like strip clubs?
She don't.

Gouge out my eyes!

I went to k and wal marts last night searching for t-shirts that I can get screen printed for the PBR. All I could find was pocketed tees.
Look around this corner- BAM! There was a pack of underwear with a model on the front with his fucking junk sticking so far out that it almost poked me in the face.
On the other side of the display- BAM! A pack of banana hammoks that had a picture of a white and a black guy on it. I didn't even know that fruit of the loom was into mixed race underwear fetishes.
Everywhere I looked were packages of guys packages. Why were they all at my eye level?
Calgon take me away!

I don't like how this is going

Since Cousin Luke's hand was bruised, he didn't bowl. Being the trooper he is he did come and drink beer while watching Camper Dan take me two games to one. Who knew you have to hit the head pin?
Oh well, the beer was cold and the conversation was standard D&F jokes.

Finished the day with a fuego shooting the breeze with Fireplug.
Not a bad day.

I'm sure your breath smells nice

I almost hit a jackass drunk fucking hobo that stopped and then started to cross the exit of the parking lot. I came to a stop, and his red eyes were trying to stare at me.

When he turned his head forward again, I honked the horn and made him jump out of his skin.

Dude, don't try to play asshole with me, as I will quickly turn it into a game of Fuck you. I will win, and you'll still be sucking mouthwash in order to get drunk.

Sigh. We knew this day would come.

Cousin Luke handed me my ass today bowling. He took the first two games, each by twenty to thirty pins, this despite the fact that his ball and the head pin are at odds and don't like to meet. I did get the third game, but that was just a bonus as he had the day wrapped up.
In the series stands at me being two to one over the last three Sundays.
I'm really liking this Sunday league we have. I wish the rest of you jackasses could join us some time.
The reason he took me today is that we are both getting back to our usual averages, in which he pretty well always beat me when we played league, but now we don't have all the other league BS to deal with. Just grip it and rip it. The bar is still stocked, and you don't have to deal with others getting in your damn way.

There were a couple of cuties in other lanes, and some fat mother fuckers to boot. After all, it is a bowling alley.

There's always next week.

Operation Weight Gain

OWG is no doing very well. I've been eating the shit out of some food and have only gained a pound and a half. This on top of the beer I drink, and one would think that I would be huge.
I have decided to take drastic measures. I went to McDonald's, and am current shoving a sausage bisquit and a chicken busquit into my mawl and washing it down with a couple containers of milk.

I will keep you posted as to my success.

Maybe it's a good sign

We haven't had an official meeting of the Pot Belly Republic since July. It's finally cool enough here to warrant one, but the weather hasn't been cooperating, so I'm looking at not burning in September this year. The winds were too high yesterday and don't seem to be abating yet, so I'm not risking flying embers.

Friday, Oct 2 looks like a good candidate, and we should have enough citizens for a quorum.
New laws like, "Must bring something fried," and "Don't ask, just bring beer."

there will, however, be no rule six.

Bottom rail on top now massuh.

T-bone and I bowled two games on our lunch hour today. I bowled a 129, and then couldn't close a frame until the tenth on the second game. 93...ouch.
Someones hexed my ball.

However, I did gutter two balls on different attempts to pick up the spare 7 pin where the ball went into the gutter and bounced out knocking the pin down. Not legal in real league play, but fine for lunch league.

We just said fuck it.

I came over to Cousin Luke's house and told him we were going bowling. He said that he had to do some electrical work at his place of employment. So, we did a bit of that and then we went bowling.
I tell you, I'm starting to really enjoy bowling with him on Sundays. I took him two for three again with my first game coming out as a 209. Of course, my next game was a 114, but there may have been alcohol involved. The third game was a 137, which wasn't too shabby considering my league average was 113.
Maybe I should only bowl on Sunday afternoons.
Maybe I should make sure Luke is good and liverously lubed up before we start. Perhaps a medium.
I'm looking forward to our Sunday one-team league we're getting started up with my cousins.

I don't need Rob Zombie to have fun. Just to drive fast.

Lord, don't do this to me

I stepped into the barbershop today while on lunch break, and the barber, who was finishing his cigarette stuck his head in the door and said, "there's some commotion at your store. you might want to get over there."
Sweet baby cakes! A tussle with someone trying to steal. I'm in!
I ran out the door and when I get to the door of the store, one of the employees was trying to pull this 50 plus year old woman back into the store. I grabbed her arm, but then realized that I could get the ever-loving shit sued out of me, so I let go and just started walking next to her as she made her slow escape. As we strolled, she kept talking about how the man in the store broke her finger and that she was going to press charges. I retorted loudly with, "What did you do? Why have the police been called?"
Naturally she kept saying that she "didn't do nuffin."
People out and about were starting to stare, so I figured I could coax it gently out of her by yelling, "What did you do? Why have the police been called?"
This kind exchange took place repeatedly as we ambled about a block down the street.
The employee at the door caught up with us and motioned the campus 5-0s to come out way. When they got there and started asking her questions, I gently strolled back to the barber shop.
I got my blood up for a fight, but just wound up escorting some old lady to a cop car. Damn the luck.
At least it's never boring.

I need out.

'tis a new day

I was listening to the radio this morning on the way in to work and I realized something. I need to get out of town and do something different.
I want to road trip.
Now, people have been telling me where to go for years, but I'm not sure where I want to go. Somewhere I've never been, something I've never done.
I'm sure the police will let you know what that was.

Shut the fuck up, Donnie

Cousin Luke and I returned from bowling, and I figured I'd say something about it as soon as I climbed out of his refrigerator.

I was cutting grass earlier today and decided to stop after cutting the front yard. I don't care what the back yard looks like. If the neighbors do, then they can drag their retired asses and lawn mowers to my yard during the work week while I'm, uh, working.

Any who, I was stacking firewood with a bunch of shit on my mind when I decided, "fuck it. I'm calling Luke, and we're bowling."

We agreed on a time, and bam! Bring on the corruption. Did you know they sell beer at bowling alleys? Well, three games, several more beers than that and one hour later, we were done humiliating ourselves on the hardwood.

I started out with a gutter ball, and got worse from there. I did manage to stay on my feet and not drop the ball, so apparently therapy works.

The hard part is that I took Luke two out of three games. Hard for him at least.



It was heaven. No one yelling, no one bitching, and the pins were still telling me to fuck off. It's like I never left.

Turns out they still sell beer. When that ends, we gots trouble.

I hit you once, I'll do it again

I was in a fender-bender a couple of days ago down by the other location of work. A car was stopped asking directions, and then got moving. The person in front of me made a good first effort at going, and then second guessed herself into me tagging the corner of her car with the corner of mine. Apparently she wasn't given the notification that I own the road.
I got out to ask her if she was alright. She immediately told me that she was in an accident last year and had back problems.
Fuck. Shit. Dammit. Here come the lawyers.
She then asked me to call the cops while she called her doctor and her lawyer.
Shit. Fuck-fuck-fuck.
It turns out that the lawyer was from the old accident, and she just wanted to find out if a new claim was filed if it would mess the lawsuit. Of course she told me this after I said, "Let me know what your lawyer says so that I can get one. I won't be cowed."

It turns out that both of us have the same insurance company, and that I'll probably pay out of pocket less than my deductable.
I'll take that.

Every fucking time something goes on, they close my end of town

Fuck the Iron Man competition, and fuck Mayor Squirmy Assholebramson. Every time there's a foot race in this town, they close down the main corridor to the south end and my neighborhood.

For the iron man competition yesterday they had three of the main corridors in the city shut down until about 1AM this morning. No-one could get anywhere on cross streets as cars packed every other available route.

"It's only once a year, dude, and it keeps the Ville on the map," I hear you saying.

Well, I still had to go into work, or try and fail in my case.

Next week, we have the bi-annual mayor's walk, bike and run. The mayor does this twice a year, on Memorial and Labor days to promote health. Now, I'm all for healthy living, but I'm sure he doesn't take into account the instances of road rage and acts of wanton-endangerment that go with closing down the parkway a second weekend in a row. Not to mention the high blood pressure.

Southern parkway near my neighborhood gets closed about 8 times a year, and with there being 347 more days in the year doesn't seem like much, but it's all between April and September.

I would kill you all for a sandwich

I had to drop stuff off to Jed Clampet College's redneck stepchild's bookstore today out off dickme highway today, and I must have seen about twenty pair of truck nuts as I drove out there.
Some dumb mutherfucker stopped at the blinking yellow light at the entrance to a firehouse. STOPPED. Sweet bucket of shit. I called him everything but a gentleman and a scholar. It turned out that his window was open, and he looked in his rear view mirror and then purposely slowly started. I got around to his passenger side at the next actual red light, and he started yelling at me.
You know me. That I cannot abide, so let the profanity games begin!
I tried to remind him of his uncertain heritage due to his mom's affinity for farm animals.
He called me a little son of a bitch. I told him he was right, but that he still preferred the accompaniment of males and the oral pleasure he brings them.
We parted ways after I rode in his blind spot for two miles before I reached the highway.

Don't fuck with me on the road. I know how to handle a vehicle dip shit. My car's paid for. If you're in my lane, you might just buy me a new one.
BTW-It wasn't metaphorical; I truly meant for you to go home and fornicate with your mother.

first day of class

8:09 in the morning, got a bunch of stuff done and charging the phone. The gate opens at 8:30 and the race begins.

Remember: Murder is illegal. Thus the phrase, "to beat within an inch of his life."

Let Ted have 'em after that.

Lots O' Hours

It's been a bit hectic in the land of Kais here lately. I did the overnight this last saturday, and when I came home I found I couldn't sleep, so I showered and came back to work.
I'm only on 14 hours a day right now, but it will go up, and that's just the breaks.

I did get a paper cut underneat my thumbnail today, and I apologize to Thomas who had to hear what I said as it happened.

Two more weeks of this stuff, then I'm getting a load of bricks delivered, and I'm building a clock tower on top of our shop so I can shoot some motherfuckers when I'm pissed off.

Masterbation ain't cutting it anymore as a stress reliever, and they don't like it when I do it in the front of the store, so I may have to result to hookers, which sucks because it'll blow my budget.

I need new friends

I was helping cousin Luke yank a refrigerator out of his basement yesterday, and we came to the conclusion that I need to branch out and make new friends.
Everytime Yankee has come to town, something terrible has happened.
1) Brother darrel got married (I know he came to town for the wedding, but the thread still holds).
2) He was in town, but left to escape the hurricane and the ensuing tree damage.
3) He was in town and brought and ice storm with him and the ensuing almost total power outages and tree damage
4) He was in town and we got almost seven inches of rain in 75 minutes, which brought the nice flash floods and power outages, which is why I was helping Luke in his basement.

Do you know what usually calms me down when shit like this happens? A nice trip to the cabin to go fishing, which I can't do anymore because of that mother-fucking-cockass-goathumping-elephant sperm gargling-dickhead Thomas bringing his lightening striking bad luck to Boston, Ky.

I'm glad these two don't travel in the same circle, as I would put it 5to1 that we would be hit by locusts.

Closed until further notice

Seeing as they are still pumping water out of many of the buildings on campus, most places where you find professors are closed.
It's kinda hard to do my job, but it's also relatively quiet on campus which is eerily odd for this time of year. It's like a Life After People episode on the History channel.

At Kaiser Kastle the box fans in the basement have pretty well dried up the floor, so I should be fine.
I didn't lose any appliances, unlike cousin Luke.

Busy, gotta go.

Eight days a week...

I'm on SDAW from now to the end of august, so if you need something, it should've been scheduled by now.
I have three woodworking projects to complete, so I'll need my bench.

In other news, White Castle's plastic benches are very cold if you don't get the back of the kilt under the twig and berries.

Got the pictures

We went and picked up the stove and all else we wanted from the U-boat on saturday. I'm bummed, but it wasn't my house that burned, and no one was hurt, so what the heck.

I had to say goodbye to john's lures:

I decided that out of spite I would whizz all over the toilet seat in Das Aus Haus since I was the one that made it. Of course, 25 minutes later I had to go drop a dook. My damn luck.

It's been about ten years

I was cutting the front grass, and I had only one more swath to go when BAM! A wasp stung the back of my left calf. Holy shit that hurt. It felt like someone shot a nail into my leg.
After jumping around in the yard doing what I'm sure looked like a mixture of a rain and square dance, I went inside and put some baking soda on the sting and then some benadryl cream and then finished the front yard.

Then I walked around the house carrying bug spray rapping my knuckles on the siding to find what bugs had what nests where.
I won't be bothered by wasps again.

Well, that's a fine how do you do

I was on campus earlier, and my heels started to hurt as I walked, almost like they were being twisted as I put my foot to pavement. When I lifted one of my feet I noticed that I had worn the heel of the shoe down to the point that there were holes in the rubber, and my steps had started wearing away at the vertical reinforcement.
Now, I don't buy the best footwear available as my foot is only a size five, so the styles are limited, and I many times don't pay attention to how I am clad when I delve into something. I once ruined a pair of khakis by working on a car in them, never thinking that something can get smudged up. Don't worry, I'm sure that with therapy I'll get through this.
The part about this whole thing is that when I grabbed my other black shoes, they had the same damn holes in them. Pieces of shit anyway.
Then I started to look at the mileage.
Each day I walk about 2-3miles while at work on campus. If the shoes are rotated and only worn 2 or 3 times a week, that means they only get about 6-9 miles of wear. I bought both pair of shoes the same day in January. That means that you multiply 2-3 by 4by6, carry the seven, divide by 5, the sum is greater than pi, and then you come to only about 145 miles per pair of shoes. That's deplorable. Can't the Chinese, Vietnamese, or Puerto Ricans construct better shoes than this?
I'm on four pair a year, and it's starting to irk me.

I then saw a man who had no legs, and I thought, "Damn- he has to save some serious money on shoes."

No one can hurt Andy the way Andy can hurt Andy

I spent most of Saturday with my brothers Darrell moving appliances. I am covered in bruises. Well, at least the parts that weren't open wounds are bruised.
I don't know how some of these people shoe-horn their fucking washers and dryers into the spots they do, but holy mother of fuck that shit was tedious.
We got it done, and I got back home and finished by about 8PM.

Yesterday I replaced the pads and rotors on the Manry. The pads that I got the first time were crap, with the shims falling off, and the pads themselves cracked and falling apart. Add that to the crazy amount of dust that they produced, and you wind up with a very dirty job.
When I was cleaning my arms I noticed that they were really getting sore the more I scrubbed. It was then that I realized I was trying to scrub off bruises. Ouchitty ouch ouch.

Texas part III

Let's see...where was I?
Oh, that's another thing about my experience in Texas- if there's room for a band to play Texas-style country, they're going to have one there. If the available space is limited, then it's just a guy with a guitar.

Another thing I noticed was that everybody has a gift shop. I think even the hot-dog vendors sold Texas paraphernalia.

It was a pretty packed three days in and around San Antone, but two places will always stick out in my memory:
Enchanted rock and Luckenbach. One place you sit on top of the world and listen to it sing to you, and the other you sit in the shade, drink beer, and listen to guys play guitars and sing songs about their moms, kids, dads, granddads, trucks and beer.
I loved every minute of it.

Ms. Faney drove me everywhere, which was excellent, due to the amount of power driving has to ruin my chi.
Saturday night we ate steaks cooked over wood coals at the house of a friend of hers.
The hour or so before hand found her friend's husband and I drinking beer in the 105 deg heat in front of a fire, proving that it doesn't matter what the temp is. Men likey the beer and fire.

Faney's friend made some hellacious sides, including a nice salad that contained what was probably the third pound of Avocado I ate while I was there.

I commented that I liked the neighborhood, and that I could like it there. One thing changed my mind, however. Their neighbor had just returned from a trip, and someone asked her, "Did you have any Scorpions in your house when you got back?"
*Record-scratching sound here*

Scorpions in your house? I can understand someone asking if you had water in your basement after a heavy rain, if your power was out after a storm, if you slipped and broke your ass in the snow, but scorpions in your house? How do you find out, other that walking around barefooted or blindly putting your hand in weird crevices (s&m joke here)?

All things said, I could live there, especially during the winter. I heard it gets to 40 degrees there. Everyone I met was nice, everywhere I went was clean, and the weather wasn't that bad.

I am definitely going back.
Depending on what goes on here, I might look to relocate, and I'm sure as hell not moving back to Charlotte.


In other news, I finished the book Deke! and am looking to read another. Not that there's a dirth of books in the Kaiser's realm, but they're all history stuff. I'm looking to read something funny. Any suggestions?

Now that I have a few more minutes

I don't think I gave my San Antonio trip due justice by the small explanation I gave earlier.

Feeling like August in the ville, everyday was over 100 degrees. As the plane approached S.A., I noticed that there was scant areas of green. The grass hadn't crunched under my feet since last fall, so that was a wakeup call to let me know that I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

Ms. Faney and I went to one of the coolest bars ever. Called the Buckhorn Saloon (since something like 1883), they have more and different stuffed animals and mounts than one could expect to see in a lifetime, including a stuffed elephant head and a girraf from head to shoulder.
Add the singing cowboy to the Alamo light microbrew, and it makes for a fine experience as far as watering holes go. They had their own museum to the Texas Rangers (the ones like chuck norris, not the ones that have sucked since trading A-rod), but we felt that the $16 buck a piece for admittance could be spent in a better fashion, so we passed on that and spent one quarter of the cost of a ticket on another beer.

We did a quick run through of the Alamo, which turned out to be more of "look at the tourists looking at the Alamo," but it was fine, and enough for me to remember it.

We visited a couple of really cool towns, both given German names from the German immigrants that founded them. One was called Frediricksburg, and the other's name is Gruene. The natives pronounce the the latter's name in the English version, Green.
I never knew that Texas had that many German immigrants, but two things were apparent:
1) they were prods, as I didn't see Catholic church one in the towns
b) they sure built some sturdy-ass buildings. Fburg had a mostly hand hewn limestone, and Gruene still had it's wooden Mennonite gathering building.
Fredricksburg is more of an antique shop and yuppie store main street, but that's where I got the BLTA, and it was good.
Gruene had one really awesome thing that Fburg didn't- free wine tasting. The glass of Pinot Grigio I had was excellent. Not to rough. Then I had a beer while listening to some live music outside.

More later. I have a beer in my near future.

That shit's like Africa Hot

I returned yesterday from my swarre into the heart of Texas, and I can tell you that I do like the place.

We ate breakfast tacos, lunch tacos and dinner tacos! You can serve anything in a tortia wrap as long as you have the right spices.

We went tubing on the Comal river, and climbed enchanted rock. It's been a long time since I've had that much fun, but then again, a lot of it has to do with the company you keep.

It started out interestingly enough with the check-in at the airport, blah, blah, blah. Then on the leg from Memphis to S.A. the attendant announced Pilot so-and-so, and the first officer, and I'm not making this shit up, Renko Snorin. I'm not to sure about the spelling. Perhaps it's Norwegian for "laugh at me."

Thanks to one of my goodestest friends, Miss Fo-Faney for allowing me to foul her couch for several days and for being the best tour guide ever.

L.A.- via Omaha

Thursday through Sunday.

This has never happened to me before

Tody I startde dringking at noon. Hjon came in at 3, and t5hen the taps opened. Did you know that cops aren't looking for drunks at fuor>?
I just at e dinner at my cousing lukes. He made staekes and corn on the cob.

mmmmm.
Who'
s driving?

Gotta love Winston Churchill

"Where you stand depends on where you sit."

I have a story that I can't write out here that is, well, pure Kaiser.

In other news:

I was walking on campus yesterday wearing my kilt, and I cut across the grass to get onto a different sidewalk. Well, there was a bunch of clover, and therefore were a bunch of bees in this certain patch of grass.

Circle one of the two options of what bees do when startled: fly up / fly down.

If you chose fly up, then you have already ascertained the origin of the frantic dance with which I proceeded to entertain all comers.

Now, one would think that a bee-keeper would not move about frantically after having startled some bees, but the word I would use to describe that notion would be WRONG!!

Not only was I dancing, but when I felt one on the inside of my leg close to the round brothers, I flapped the front of my kilt a couple of times to get them out.

I bet if I had any pride at all, that would have been a difficult ordeal.

It's Sunny! and hot as shit!

Well, summer fucking arrived yesterday with 92 degrees and 60% humidity. Heat index of 102!

Today, not much better, but I HAD to get into the garden.

Now, I don't like cold and winter, but seriously- do we need to go from 70 deg and rainy to sunny and a hundred?

I realize that I don't live in the hottest place in summer or the coldest in winter, but is it too much to ask for a little fall and spring thrown into the mix?

In better news-

I picked a whole bag of green beans, and one cucumber. One dumb fucking cucumber is growing in the chicken wire fence with two halves bulging aroung the wire. I think I'm going to cut it off tomorrow and eat it while I'm working in the garden tieing up tomato plants.

I don't want to wish my life away, but I'm itching to go to Texas and maybe get a big-ole steak.

Biblical Proportions

This weather has been about seven kinds of fucked up here over these last couple months. Cold at night, and hot during the day? C'mon- I don't live in the desert (even though I'm going through kind of a dry spell)!

How about you hold off the rain long enough several times a week so that I can weed my garden?

I had everything laid out so that we could get into the beehive last night and put on the second brood chamber, but the wind picked up, so we had to cancel that.

All of this bullshit weather means that things I did before as a hobby have now become chores due to the fact that I have to pack all the shit that I used to do for fun into the few hours a week that I can get them done.

Yeah, at least we're not having a drought, but give me a fucking chance!

Saturday it rained hard enough that I saw water running down my yard toward the house (the burm works!). One half hour later, the sun came out and it was humid as shit, and the garden was too wet to work in.

O well, at least it's not ice.

I'm a little worried about where this is headed for the winter.

I'm going to be the whitest white man in Texas

I'm going to visit Fo-Faney in San Antonio in early July, so I might want to start wearing shorts. Of course, that would require the weather to cooperate, and that just ain't happenin' right now.
It was 54deg last night. FUEGO IN JUNE!!!
This change of climate is playing hell on the garden. Speaking of the garden- I'm going to stay up and shoot the furry fucking head off of whatever is eating my pepper plants. I bet it's the chipmunks that I've seen running around.

I'll need to weed the garden this weekend. I have tomatoes, and the cukes are starting to come in.

first good weekend in a while

We actually had continually decent weather this weekend, so I worked on my car's brakes, cut the grass, weeded the garden, helped our lupine friend with Tardo's car, and even managed to get a nap in.
I thought about going to the lake on Saturday night, but I chose what I thought was the wiser path and stayed home, only to get stuck in traffic around the overpass on Central Ave.
There was traffic around Churchill, baseball playoffs at the corner of third and central, Kenny Chesney playing Papa john's stadium, and a regional Track and field meet down Floyd street.
Three of the four events were within a quarter mile of each other, and all vying for the same parking areas. I almost ran into a guy holding a cardboard "parking $5" sign who was standing in the middle of the street.
There was an entire row of guys penises (giganto ford and chevy trucks that have never seen the farm) in a lot. I thought about coming back with some spray paint.

I don't know who thinks this shit up, but it sounds like someone ain't talkin' to someone.

You say third reich as if you believe there will be another

Bluegill round dos

For those who have read our lupine friend's latest entry about the accidental fishermen, but we're going to do it again this weekend.
'Mon up to daville and you can join. I have extra cots.

Best watch your shit, asshole!

I have my brother Darrell's truck today, so you spodestrians best watch your shit and get out of the way. Running over assholes may not be very Christian, but they didn't have large vehicles back in Jebus's day, so there's really no set precedent.

All I need is chickens

We got the bees in yesterday, which will definitely help my expanded garden.
6 big beef tomatoes
8 roma tomatoes
3 cherry tomatoes
40 green beens
3 cukes
2 red bell peppers
and the kicker:
over 200 hot peppers.

If I catch that grey cat getting into my garden again, it's going to be an ex-cat. If you have a pet, keep it in your own fucking yard. If an animal gets into my yard, it's mine to deal with, by any means I choose.