There Ought To Be A Law

Another dog mauling story is in the news out of Califorinia. When will all cities and municipalities across the country join the select few that have passed laws banning particularly vicious breeds of dogs. I urge all concerned citizens to talk to their local officials and join in the protest against these dangerous animals.

In Fremont, California, a police officer was attacked by a pack of beasts as he was escorting a 17 year old boy home after a routine traffic stop. He was later treated and released for minor injuries including bites to his ankle. He was lucky to escape more serious injury for the five angry Chihuahuas were out for blood.

Remember it is your duty to help curb this vicious breed. The next ankle attacked could be yours if you stand idly by and do nothing.

Blaming the British

I am pissed and I think that I will blame the British. I know this is unreasonable and my woes probably have nothing to do with them but I have to blame somebody.

I have had one of those hungers for a certain food. I am sure that most everyone has had this happen to them before. Nothing else fills this hole in my gut. I have been hungry for some barbacoa.

Barbacoa is not a Spanish name for Bar-B-Q but a dish made with the cheek meat from a beef head. It is put in a flour tortilla and made into a taco and it is pure heaven. Now with the mad cow disease worries, the head is destroyed in the packing plants and so barbacoa is a food of the past. But damn am I hungry for it.

The first case of Mad Cow that I heard of was in England so rightly or wrongly, I blame them. Damn them and their damn fish and chips. Maybe I will try to assuage my hunger with a bowl of menudo and see if cow guts can get beef heads off my mind.

Can't Watch TV

Last night I was flipping through the channels on TV when I noticed a program on the SciFi channel that got my attention. It wasn't the title of the program but the host that got my attention. The show was one of those quasi-journalistic UFO fanatic programs titled 'UFO Invasion at Rendlesham'. The host for the show was Bryant Gumble. Oh how the big headed one has fallen. His was a meteoric rise from gridiron commentator to the Today show host but then his fall from grace as his ego pushed him to headlining the CBS Early Show shows that what goes up with hot air must fall when the ratings cool.

What is next for Bryant? I could envision, 'The Man Raised by Sasquatch', or possibly 'Did the Mermaids Survive the Tsunami?' Then again he might even sink to infomercials next hawking wares with Ron Popeil. There is always the chance that he could resurrect his career. Geraldo did it after the Al Capone's Vault fiasco, which proved that it could be done.

If he can resurrect his career maybe he will show a little more humility or maybe he will just become the King of the Weird Science crowd with his big ego intact.

Christmas Quirks

I was recently tagged by Cissa. So this will be another cheesy Mr. Mommieblog post. The idea is to name five things that show that your kids are weird. Believe me when I say that this was not hard but I thought that I would stick in a little Christmas flavor to it.

1) My son is fairly hard to buy toys for due to the fact that pretty much all he plays with is sticks and sticklike items that he can twirl. Two of his older sisters are/were twirlers and he picked up the talent like it was second nature. He does not do so with his fingers like twirlers but with a hand over hand method like precision rifle teams. He can spin a piece of pipe so fast that it is a blur and both of these sisters are amazed at how he does it.
2) My fifteen year old step-daughter's favorite gift is shoes and has been since she was two which is the same age that she learned to tie them.
3) When my son woke up this morning, he went through his usual routine. He first went to the bathroom. When he came out, I asked him if he was coming in to see what Santa had brought, he said, 'No not right now.' He went back to his room and laid around until he was good and awake before checking out his gifts.
4) The kids never ask for the high end got to have gifts of the year but frequently they ask for some cheesy little gift that ends up being a bitch to find. When the fifteen year old was four, the only thing that she asked for was a blue hula hoop. Angry Joyce and I searched for three months searching for a blue hula hoop and found it three days before Christmas. This year my son asked for a copy of the movie, 'Jack Frost' as he had seen the preview for it on his copy of 'The Grinch'. I found it on Friday in a discount holiday bin at fye.
5) The fifteen year olds favorite gift this year was a Dora the Explorer blanket. She was quite a sight this morning running around with leather boots over knee-length, multi-colored toe socks and wrapped up in a Dora blanket.

As usual I will not tag anyone and will face the curse of breaking the chain. But if anyone wants to do it, feel free. If five other bloggers do it maybe I will not have to face the Curse. Now go ahead Crazy Dan call me a mommy blogger. In the words of 'The Christmas Story', I triple dog dare ya!

Merry Whatever

Here at Blugstuff, there is absolutely no discrimination towards any race, creed, color, cult, national origin, religion, gender, sexual orientation, shoe size, eye color, or geograghical region. So here is a pic that I lifted off a fellow blogger, that just about covers it all.

So from me to you whether you be Wiccan or Wiseass, whether you be Saint or Sinner, and no matter where you are from or whatever you call youself, I wish you a happy Christmas, Kwanzai, Hanakkuh, Bodha Day, Ramadan, Winter Solstice, and Festivus.

A Day Late and A Dollar Short

Being the busy time of the year, I have gotten a little behind on my reading. Yesterday while going through the pile of newspapers beside my chair going through the usual news, I came across an article so profound that it seemed as if choirs of angels had filled the room and sang it's praises. It was an article concerning an invention that would revolutionize happiness.

In San Francisco, Scott Pinizzoto has evolutionized the toilet. The invention, The Swash, is an upscale toilet seat that converts the ordinary toilet into a bidet. And not just a run of the mill bidet for the Swash not only cleanses with warm water but the upscale versions of the Swash features a warming seat, a warm-air dryer, and a REMOTE CONTROL. Retailing for only $429 to $549, it seemed like a steal.

I rushed to tell Angry Joyce that I had found the perfect Christmas gift for her to give me. I outlined the article to her but one look into her now icy blue eyes let me know that my hopes and dreams were to be dashed once more. She stated that she had already gotten me a gift and if I bought this miracle invention the only time anyone else would see the inside of the bathroom would be when I was at work. I will not only not receive this blessing as a gift but there will be hell to pay if I purchase it myself. Perhaps I can stick one of those PayPal donation buttons on my sidebar for donations to "The Fuzzbox Fanny Fur Clean and Fluff Fund."

A Caprock Celtic Christmas

Last night, Angry Joyce and I attended 'A Caprock Celtic Christmas' at Texas Tech University. I had some trepidation as although I like listening to bagpipes and Irish jigs, I have always thought that there is something goofy about the whole RiverDance thing. All my apprehensions were dispelled as it was one of the best performances that I have ever attended. It wasn't quite Ozzfest but I had a great time.

The evening started out with a bagpipe player who entered the hall playing a medley of traditional Christmas songs and melded in traditional Celtic music and occasionally mixed in some other tunes to elicit humor, which of course since it was a Caprock Christmas included 'Dixie'.

The next performance by a female choir group was excellent and was backed up by the musical director on Renaissance guitar. The master of ceremonies or 'fear an ti, which translates as man of the house, welcomed the audience and told the story of how on the holidays a candle would be lit welcoming travelers and inviting all to a night of dancing, music, and merrymaking, which also meant a little bit of pulling off the jug.

The musicians for the traditional Irish music were phenominal. I was most impressed with the bodhrain. I was not familiar with this instrument. The way this percussion instrument was played not only framed the music with rhythm but at times to my untrained ear seemed as rolling thunder across the plains, with a sound both eery and beautiful.

When the part of the evening arrived that I had somewhat dreaded came, all my doubts were dispelled. Maybe it was the difference between seeing this dancing on t.v. or seeing it in person, all I know is that I was transfixed by it. The first dancing performance was a woman and her two daughters. The youngest of which could not have been more than four or five. Although this performance lacked the intensity of the dancing performances to come later with the mother by herself, it was thoroughly enjoyable and was just the ticket to start off. On a sidenote, I would be remiss in not saying that I looked forward to each subsequent performances due to the fact that her skirts got shorter and shorter each time she reentered the stage. I guess all that traditional dancing is good for the bod, for she had the best set of legs that I might have ever seen.

After a short intermission, The West Texas Childrens Choir performed a few selections and I must say they were leaps and bounds better than the Chistmas Concert for the Damned that I attended earlier in the week. A group of mummers acted out a play and more traditional Celtic music was played. The finale was awe inspiring with 'Amazing Grace' played on the bagpipe backed up by both choirs.

I was glad that I attended and next year plan to take the kids with us. In fact this summer we might try to attend a Celtic Festival that is held in Amarillo each year. If anyone has a chance to attend one of these types of events, I would strongly encourage them to attend. If an uncouth redneck such as myself can have a good time, there is no telling how good a time can be had by a person with just a smidgin of culture.

Christmas Concert for the Damned

Last night was one of those times where I beg for deafness to strike me for a couple of hours. It was the Annual Christmas Concert at the school that my young 'uns attend. This year they had an extra special 'treat' for the parents in attendance. Usually they group all the elementary students together and sing a handful of tunes; sweet and relatively painless. But this year as a little bonus, each class from K-4th grade, climbed on the stage for two songs each in order to solo. Not the good kind of solo, which would be so low that they could not be heard but one or two urchins behind a mike with the opportunity to screech to a captive audience.

One of the highlights of the evening was the 5th grade beginning bands version of ' Poke a Stick into my Ears ' played to the tune of 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat.' The High School Band wasn't half bad though. It helps when you can keep a band director for more than one year and not have the revolving door policy that has plagued the system for awhile. Although one song, 'Jingle Bells and Jungle Drums', brought to mind the SNL skit with Christopher Walkin. The one where he plays a record producer who tells the band, ' I have a fever and there is only one cure. Cow Bells, I have to have more Cow Bells.'

To be fair and honest, I must say that it is important to teach an appreciation of music at an early age. And from the young screechers of today, that I heard last night, may come the next Mozart, Metallica, Snoop Dog, or Faith Hill (Not likely but possible). And my apologies to all those parents who might be offended by my remarks but your kids looked cute. Does that make it better?

Footballs the Shizzle

The intro to this weeks Monday Night game was one of the best ever. It featured Snoop Dog giving a pep talk as only he can as his YFL team looked on in bewilderment. I remember a while back hearing about his Youth Football League and his efforts in 'Getting kids off the street and into the stadium'. I commend him on his efforts and wonder just how cool is the After-Snooper Bowl Party. He also has a website to promote the league. It is definitely worth a look.

Week in Review

Lesbian motorcycle enthusiasts in San Francisco have won the battle. They have now won a court battle to trademark the name 'Dykes on Bikes'. The U.S. Patent and Trademark Office had refused their request as it was their contention that the word 'dykes' was disparaging to lesbians. The National Center for Lesbian Rights argued that 'dyke' is no longer a derogotory term and has been reclaimed as a positive term that denotes strength, pride, and empowerment. So now I am free to wear my 'I like Dykes' tee shirt.

In Ottawa, Canada, one of Canada's leading cinema chains 'Famous Players' stopped handing out Christmas wrapping paper. Parents and patrons complained that it featured angels fondling each other. A male angel was grasping the breast of his female partner, while she had hold of his genitals although both angels were fully clothed in white angel attire. The wrapping paper was a promotion for Virgin Mobile phone service. A spokeswoman for the chain stated that, 'It would have been great for the right age group but clearly it wasn't suitable for children.' Personally, I would love this gift wrap. I would then be tempted to send a gift to my snake-charmer neighbors.

December 7th marked the remembrance of 'A day which will live in infamy'. It seems that many have forgotton and the day is little marked. I would like to just say think you to the ever-shrinking number of survivors and to the veterens that fought for our country in the war that came from this day of treachery.

December 8th marked the 25th anniversary of the day John Lennon was shot and killed. No matter what your thoughts are concerning John Lennon, whether you thought the voice stood for a world in which to aspire or whether you thought it was a voice of a generation conspiring to destroy the correct world order, everyone must admit that it was a powerful voice that was stilled. In my mind the world is a little worse off for it's absence. Just imagine.

Tis The Season

Yes the Christmas season is truly upon us. Angry Joyce has confirmed her first true sighting of Christmas rage. In a shopping center parking lot, she witnessed an irate shopper keying a car while the owner of that car looked on screaming that she couldn't believe this irate person was doing it. The Irate Shopper was screaming back, ' That will teach you to steal my parking space, Bitch!'

It seems that as the shopper with the key was waiting patiently for a car to back out of a parking space and that car was backing up in the direction of the person waiting, another car drove in from the other direction and whipped on in. This prompted the official start of the Christmas rage season here in our humble corner of West Texas.

Merry Christmas to all and to all safe parking.

West Texas Nutrition 101-C

Chapter Three: Approved Cooking Methods

There are basically four main approved cooking methods in West Texas. These are Boiling, Baking, Barbequeing, and Nuking.

Boiling: This is one tasty way to cook, and it is one of the healthiest ways to cook. One of my favorite dishes is boiled chicken. The recipe is simple. Roll cut up pieces of chicken in flour and then throw it in boiling grease. In all actuality, there are three ways to boil food. One is to boil in grease, another to boil in water, and the last is to boil food in it's own natural juices. I never use the term frying as it has taken on an unhealthy connatation and I believe in being healthy.

Baking: This is a method of cooking mostly reserved for approved desserts such as pies, cakes and cobblers but is also handy for such dishes as certain casseroles, enchilades, and meat loaf. One casserole in my family is from a recipe that Angry Joyce received from her mother. I did not know the name of it so when the kids asked me what it was, I simply replied Shut Up and Eat It and so that is the name it goes by to this day. It is simply layering taco meat mixed with undiluted cream of chicken soup, Velveeta cheese, ro-tel tomatoes, and flour tortillas , and served with a side order of refried beans.

Bar-B-Q: The creme-de-la-creme of cooking methods. Whether grilling or smoking, food just tastes right cooked over a good bed of coals or smoked to perfection with mesquite or pecan wood. Any wood that puts out a fruit will also make a good wood to cook with. I bar-b-q once a week and at one time did it more frequently until Angry Joyce told me to cut it out.

Nuking: Although it is not traditional, there is one modern convenience that is too handy to pass up. The microwave oven is good for two purposes. One is to reheat food and the other is to pop popcorn. Other than that, they make a handy clock in the kitchen.

This concludes Chapter Three of the Nutrition Saga. Once again thanks for all the suggestions. I believe that I will have one more post regarding a few staples of West Texas Cooking.

West Texas Nutrition 101 - B

Chapter Two - Drinks, Condiments, Sauces, and Dips

Condiments: Mustard and Miracle Whip are important when talking of West Texas cuisine as they are two main ingredient to the required sidedish to any Bar-B-Q; Tater Salad. Mayonaise is a nasty and dangerous foodstuff and should be avoided at all costs. They are also important additions to that All-American concoction the Cheeseburger, and although I am personally a mustard man myself, the use of Miracle Whip is also acceptable for this use. Ketchup is also a major player as use in fried taters and also can be used to cover up such dubious foods as salmon patties in the attempt to make them palatable. Tobasco sauce might be considered the most important of condiments for giving foods that extra kick. I know of some people who will not even frequent certain restaurants that do not have it available.

Dips and Sauces: The sauce of premeire importance is Bar-B-Q sauce. Some value it so highly that they dip damn near everything in it. A key ingredient to any homemade bar-b-q sauce is beer. I personally go for the semi-homemade approach in bar-b-q sauce by first buying storebought sauce and season it for the appropriate meat. If I am Q'ing pork, I will make the sauce sweet with brown sugar and honey, and if it is beef or wild game I will spice it up a bit with Tobasco and red pepper, but adding some beer to both the sauce and the cook always makes it better.

Almost of equal importance is salsa. From dipping tortilla chips, to slathering on Tex-Mex, to topping eggs, nothing is quite comparable to the sheer perfection of salsa. Many varietes abound. There is the green salsa of tomatillas and jalapenos, the red salsa of tomatoes, onion, jalapenos, and cilantro, and the orange salsa that my dad makes of habeneros and tomato sauce, which will literally melt the container holding it.

Queso is an important dip. My approach to queso at home is also of a semi-homemade nature. I simply take a can of Fiesta Cheese Soup spoon in some Ro-Tel and voila out comes a very passable queso.

Ranch Dressing in my opinion is the crack of condiments. But as most all females in this region devour mass quatities of this stuff, I would be remiss in mentioning it. It is used to steal needed vegatation from real food by putting in salads and dipping broccoli and cauliflower ( I shudder at the very thought) . It is also used for purposes of which I will not mention at this time but if you would like to see another of its uses just check the comment section of my last post and check out Crazy Dans comment.

Beverages: When drinking non-alcoholic beverages, you cannot go wrong by sticking to the big three: Coffee, Iced Tea, and Dr. Pepper (which was invented in and is bottled right here in the state). When it comes to alcoholic beverages, pretty much anything goes. If it gets you off, it's got to be good. Although it is not considered very masculine to order any drink which contains an umbrella. Didn't your mother warn you that you could put an eye out with that kind of thing? But if you feel that you must stick to a very strict social norm just go with the big three: Beer, Whiskey , and Tequila.

Water is a very dangerous beverage as fish fuck in the water and all manner of aquatic life do their business there. I will admit that on certain occasions I have been forced to partake of this liquid. When faced with thirst, I have bellied up to horse troughs and got down and drank from irrigation pipe and stock tanks. The best water that I have ever drank was from a piece of pipe drove into the base of a mountain in Northern New Mexico. The source of this water was from a pond formed by a beaver pond at the top of the mountain and the runoff stream (aptly named Beaver Piss Springs) meandered down the mountain. The water was cold as a witches tittie and if all water tasted like this, I could overcome my misgivings about drinking a liquid teeming with fish spunk.

Fruit juices such as orange juice are approved beverages for children. However if such juices are to be consumed by an adult, it is advisable to add a buffering agent such as vodka or tequila. This is due to the tendency of the acidic properties of fruit juices to break down the protective layer of grease in the digestive tract.

That concludes this chapter of Nutrition 101 and the same guidelines apply to this post. All suggestions for amendments and additions will be given due consideration. Thanks again to everyone for their help on the last post.

West Texas Nutrition 101 - A

Before I start this series of posts, I would like to state that this is not meant to be a comprehensive guide on the subject. It is only a primer for those individuals who may for one god- forsaken reason or another find themselves in West Texas and do not wish to commit any social blunder concerning the cuisine of this area and for those residents who have forsaken their culinary roots and now wish to re-enter the fold. I am sure that certain omissions or vaguaries of terminology will occur so all suggestions for possible amendments, additions, or editing will be given due consideration. With that out of the way, I bring you:

Lesson 1 - Basic Food Groups

1) Fruits and Vegatables:
As far as vegatables are concerned, you cannot go wrong with the three staples; beans, 'taters, and corn on the cob. Other acceptable vegatables are okry, squarsh, jalepeno peppers, onions and home grown tomaters. As the old song tells us, 'There is only two things that money can't buy and that's true love and homegrown tomaters.' All other vegatables are suspect as you are essentially stealing the food source of real people food which is meat. If you are in a West Texas restaurant and are given the choice between salad or soup always choose the chili. This is important as it could affect the swiftness of the waitstaff when bringing beer refills.

Most all fruits are acceptable provided that they are cooked in an acceptable fashion, which is either baked in a pie, cake, or cobbler or if they are sliced up and swimming in Cool Whip.

2) Dairy Products:
Dairy products consist of: Milk which is essential for breakfast flakes. Butter for slathering on toast or cooking items which don't produce enough essential grease on their own. Cheese for burgers or hell everything is better with cheese and remember cheese in a can is not only handy but is nutritional gold in a can. Eggs which along with salsa and enchilada's is a key tool in fighting hangovers. Cool Whip and remember although Reddi-Whip is handy for sexual purposes has almost no nutriative value due to the laughing gas which releases the Reddi-Whip. Although that has uses of which I will not discuss here. Ice Cream which is essential for a decent cobbler.

3) Grains and Cereals:
This is an important part of the healthy diet of any West Texan as it is the essential ingrediant behind breakfast cereal, white bread, tortillas, and approved desserts such as cakes, pies, and cobblers.

4) Meat:
Now this is real food and includes any animal flesh that can be killed, caught, fished, or scooped off the side of the road after being runned over before it gets to ripe. From armadillos to zebras, all creatures can be made edible and even tasty if cooked using time tested methods. More on these methods in Lesson Three.

5) Gravies and Greases:
In West Texas, it is known that food is better when something is added to help make it slide down better for digestion and to enhance the taste. It is so important that it is a food group in and of itself, eventhough its ingredients are derived from the other food groups.

Gravies: The three main vareities of gravies includes cream gravy, brown gravy, and Tex-Mex gravy. In a future post, the uses of these gravies will be dealt with in greater detail.

Greases: It would be impossible to overstate the importance of good grease in preparing West Texas Cooking. Although lard has lost favor, it is still used by some but most of it's uses have been replaced by vegatable shortening and oil. In times past all kitchens had three coffee cans for catching the three main greases. These three greases are bacon grease, chicken grease, and fish grease and woe to the child, when it was their turn to clean up the kitchen and they poured a skillet of grease into the wrong can.

This concludes the first edit of West Texas Nutrition Lesson One and the next will cover condiments, drinks, sauces, and dips. My thanks to everyone who has contributed their suggestions and shown interest in the subject.

Crazy Dan Tutorials

My step-daughter needed to type out a homework assignment for band class and my printer is on the fritz, so I called up my brother, Crazy Dan to see if she could type it up on his computer. He said that it would be fine and to send her over. I had some reservations on how the paper would turn out as my step-daughter;as documented earlier in this blog, is an insufferable smart-ass and Crazy Dan; well if you aren't familiar with Crazy Dan just go over to the links page and pop over to his blog 'Accidental Goat Sodomy' and give it a read. I figured if she needed any help at least the paper would be good for a few laughs.

When I returned from work the next day, I was not disappointed. After a few chuckles, I called her into the living room and pointed out a few sentences that might need a little editing and asked her how much help Crazy Dan had given her. She said that her two pages of handwritten material had shrunk to about a quarter of a page when typed out and Crazy Dan had only suggested certain areas to expand upon and did not actually coin any of her phrases.

Her assignment was on Respect and was handed out by her band teacher to the class due to their lack of this commidity. I will now quote a few lines which I suggested she might edit.

1) 'All those people that quit band and are in the Music History Class with Mr. Shipley are all gay. They are quitters and losers.' I told her that it is not correct to offer up such broad generalizations as they might not be all gay but only partially so and while the band instructor might agree with this statement, I doubt that she would like to see it on the paper.

2) ' It is our duty to keep the band hall clean. But everyone knows most of the mess comes from the trumpet and percussion sections. They are just nasty.' While this statement might be correct it is never the less devisive and might make her even more enemies in these sections.

On a better note, I believe a couple of her phrases were catchy. Her quote of, 'Band Geeks Rock', might earn her points from the head band geek and her quote of, 'If we come to class with Band Spirit, everything will come out alright.', I believe showed some ingenuity.

On her closing statement, I hope that she does not have to read the selection aloud for I do not believe that she is a good enough actress to pull it off with a straight face. 'See look at me. I do nothing wrong. Here I am standing up straight with my flute level.' And then her pic from a halftime show. That is her on the left.



Maybe they will let her tutor visit her in the dungeon where they hold in school suspension if she doesn't take my advice and edit it before turning the paper in.

Blowin' In The Wind

As Christopher Robin would say, 'It's a blustery day Pooh'. The West Texas Wind is blowing out of the west today with gusts over 50 mph. Although the brown air makes it hard to breath and a pain in the ass for doing anything outside, I was expecting the November winds to show up and am thankful for them. How can I be thankful for them you might ask? The answer is simple. The West Texas wind is natures own leaf blower.

I have two fruitless mulberry trees in my front yard that are over 30 feet tall and these trees put out a tremendous amount of leaves. This year I haven't gotten around to raking them up yet(pure laziness). I was waiting until all the leaves fell because otherwise as in years past, it is a day a week pain in the ass job. But this wind is successfully blowing all these leaves to parts unknown. It looks like the few that will be left will be easy to clean up.

People that have moved here from other parts of the country consider these winds to be hell on earth but being born and raised here I consider it only a mild annoyance. My sister-in-law is from up north but has lived in West Texas for many years. My wifes family loves to tell the story of how she does not beleive in wearing panties with panty hose as it is her belief that they are built in. She works in a law office and wears dresses to work everyday so when the wind whistles through downtown Midland on a skirt alert day, she gives the folks on the street a little show. When the wind blows the bush shows.

Another Bonehead Story

Wednesday night as a prelude to Thanksgiving, I went over and hoisted a few beers with my neighbor of the mullet militia. The conversation at one point turned to work and people that we have worked with. We found out that we had both worked with the bonehead. This is the same guy that I have previously discussed that walked off the roof twice while working as a roofer.

My neighbors experience with the bonehead came while both of them were working as guards at the prison on the outskirts of town. My neighbor was a sargeant and the bonehead was a new guard. The prison is no different than any other job in the fact that it is the duty of old hands to break in the new employees by putting them through their paces.

A short time after the 9/11 attacks the supervisor on the shift called the hapless bonehead into his office. The supervisor was holding the phone and told the young guard that he had a Major Johnson on the phone and the major was requesting that the bonehead load up immediately as they were calling all ex-army personel to meet at the National Guard to fly to Afghanistan. The Bonehead stated that he had never served in the army. The supervisor then talked into the dead phone and pretended to talk to the fake Major. He hung up the phone and said that they were also calling up all ex-boy scouts and that is why his name was on the list.

Boneheads jaw hit the floor. With an expression of sheer terror,he stammered and stuttered that he had to go home. The supervisor then broke down and told him that it was all a joke. Some people are just so gullible that it is almost a cruelty to pull their leg. Almost.

Blugstuff Thanksgiving Part 2

I will not get into the debate of white meat v. dark or dressing to the side v. stuffing up the birds ass, but I will take a firm stand on the issue of cranberries; fresh v. the colorful and succulent goo in a can known as cranberry jelly. I believe that the Thanksgiving meal is all about the comfort foods and nothing says comfort to me like the molded can of cranberry jelly jiggling with pride, the indentions of the can gleaming like Montezuma's gold upon the table.

When I was a child in school, most every friday was sandwich day in the lunchroom. For the first round, you had to pick either pimiento cheese or tuna. Neither of these I found to my liking at all but if I could not find someone to pawn them off on, I would wolf them down like they were good in order to go back for seconds. Seconds on sandwich day consisted of the most delectable pb&j sandwiches served on the heels of the loaf of bread. Countless others and myself raced through our first servings in order to secure this delight.

Years later, I discovered that these sandwiches were not filled with grape jelly as I had thought but with that oh so delicious commidity from Uncle Sam, the superecono-size vat of cranberry jelly. I was also told that when a new head lunchlady came in and tried to introduce grape jelly, there was a revolt from students and teachers alike and so cranberry jelly on these sandwiches were reinstituted to their rightful place.

That was the long sought after secret to the incredible pb&j sandwiches of my youth. So now I buy two cans every Thanksgiving, one for the traditional meal and one for pb&j sandwiches the day after(beats the hell out of leftover turkey).

Be safe on the road and Have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Blugstuff Thanksgiving Part One

Legend has the first Thanksgiving in the New World as a coming together of Native Americans and the new settlers. If the Native Americans had any clue what the coming years would hold in store for them then maybe they wouldn't have been so keen on the festivities.

I find it strange that upon meeting the white man for the first time the Native Americans thought that the guns of the white man were penises slung over their shoulder. When the white men were angry, they would point their penis at the offending party. Smoke and fire would come out the end and a projectile would spew forth and either kill or injure the offending party.

If some alien lands in my vicinity who has the ability to shoot death lasars out of it's penis, I can guarentee that I will do everything in my power to get it the fuck out so that none of its fellows will want to come back or die in this attempt. I will not be going to any damned feast with them. If you don't learn from history, then you are doomed to repeat it.

Happy Thanksgiving to All!

Tagged I'm It

I was recently tagged by whoami. This is the first time that I was ever tagged. The rule of the tag was to go back to your 23rd post and copy your fifth sentence and attempt to find some hidden meaning or significance behind it.

I am not ordinarily enthused about these tagged posts, it seems to me that it forces the blogger to do something goofy or out of their norm. But when I went back to the archives to look for my 23rd post, I discovered that my first posts sucked sewage. I generally only posted a pin-up and a short tag line. Sometimes I would write a very short story or summerize an odd news story of the day but by and large I had nothing to say and said it that way.

My 23rd post was a pin-up of a gothic nurse holding a needle. At the time I did not mention the reason why this particular pin-up struck a chord with me and realize now that this was an oversight on my part. As I have said before, I am at most times a private person and was using my blog as a way to have a few laughs and did not use it as a reason to relate things of a personal nature.

When I was sixteen, I was injured in a weight lifting accident. In the middle of the clean in the clean and jerk, I fell over backwards and my spotters failed to spot me. I fell in the floor with the weights on top of me. My wrists were dislocated and broken. I spent a few days in the hospital with my arms in traction.

I have always been a night owl and one of the night nurses spent time talking to me. She had light blonde hair; the shade of blonde that was almost silver in the moonlight streaming from the window. She wore dark lipstick and the pale makeup of the goth of the era. She wore a thin sheer uniform and a black bra that peeked through.

So I will now dedicate that post to her now with my thanks to the gothic nurse with the kind voice and the soft touch, who gave a sixteen year old boy something better to think about than the pain and humiliation of being stuck in a hospital bed with his broken limbs jacked up over his head.

To all of those naughty nurses who combat the fear of needles one poke at a time.

My thanks to whoami at http://couldntstayaway.blogspot.com/ for making me go back and search for meaning in my ramblings. I will not tag anyone else but I urge everyone to go back in their archives and see just how their blog has changed. Hopefully you will not discover the things that I was forced to but it should at least give you pause to see where you started and where you are now.

Back To The Sickness

Drunken Phrases for the Weekend:

From the Old Sages Favorite Song, 'Rye Whiskey': If the ocean were whiskey and I were a duck, I'd dive to the bottom and drink it all up. But the ocean's just water and I ain't no duck so I'll stay on dry land and just fuck...

Anonymous Saying from a Barstool: 'The drunker I sit here, the longer I get.'

Old Irish Toast: Not drunk is he who from the floor can rise again and still drink more. But drunk is he, who prostrate lies without the power to drink or rise.

There are just as many sayings about drinking as there are drinkers so go ahead and post a fav of your own if you want, I am always looking for a good adage, but just remember this weekend to not drink and drive. You wouldn't want to spill anything.

Farewells

I feel like a must give a short prologue to the following post. I rarely write things here in my blog of a deeply personal nature. In the first place my life is a generally mundane thing and secondly I am a very private person by nature. But as I am attempting to use this as a journal of my thoughts, I felt that I owed it to myself to jot this down. I was going to post this last month when the incident happened but every time that I sat behind the keyboard to write, I erased it. But this time I will post it although I might delete it when I post again. Until then I am sorry to all readers if I seem self-pandering and long winded for I know it is not what anyone came here to read. Don't say that I didn't warn you and give you a chance to click away now.

Over a year and a half ago, an old and at one time very close friend of mine passed away. She fought with her internal demons and finally lost to them finally succumbing to complications from anorexia.

I knew her my whole life. We started to Kindergarten together. In Junior High, I went on my first real date, when I took her to see Jaws at the local movie theater. As young adults we helped each other through first her divorce and then an engagement of mine that went sour.Then time, distance, and circumstance drew us apart and I had not talked to her in a few years.

When I got the call that she had passed, I spent a good deal of time in a stupor; shocked that it had come to this. The last time that I had seen her she seemed thin but I did not think that it was a life threatening thing. My mind was momentarily crippled by the what-ifs:what if I would have realized her problem and what if I had done something about it. But as the weeks passed by a realized that even if I had been able to see her problem and tryed to help her, It would most likely have been for nothing. If she or those close to her at the time could stop this from happening then nothing that I could have done would have helped.

The week preceeding my high school reunion, I kept having a recurring dream. My friend would come to me in my sleep and warn me of something. I could feel her frustration at my inability to understand her. When I woke up in the morning, I could never understand or remember just what she said or tryed to say. Then a day before homecoming the dream stopped and has not returned.

I am by nature a cynic so I do not beleive this was her actual spirit coming to warn me of any approaching doom or danger, also I am very leery of Freudian mumbo-jumbo so I really do not think that it was feelings of guilt resurfacing. No, I feel that sometimes the mind gets so full of memories that we must put some of them in a zip drive in the back of our consciousness to make room for more. Though I will never completely purge myself of these feelings of guilt and remorse, it is time to shove them back to the far corner of my mind and seal them away.

I will always remember the good times and bad times that my friend and I shared but I no longer have room for regrets and what-ifs. Vaya con Dio's my friend , I hope that you have found peace.

Toys, Stalkers, and Moving

This past week in Rochester N.Y., a new toy was inducted to the Toy Hall of Fame. Joining such luminaries as Lincoln Logs, Lego's, marbles, and Barbie is the newest inductee, (drum roll please) The Cardboard Box. At first you might say WTF but when you think about it how many times as a kid did you spend more time playing with the box than with the actual present. With a little imagination a cardboard box can be anything from a fort to a pirate ship to a space ship to anything else your heart desires. When the fourteen year old here was younger, she was partial to Kleenex Boxes. She would stick them on her feet and skate across the carpets. So my hat is off to the newest inductee, Long live the simple cardboard box. Now that it is officially a toy, my christmas shopping list just got much cheaper.

This weekend, I read an article regarding blogger Julia Langbein. It seems that Julia's blog mocks NY food critic, Frank Bruni. The article goes on to explain that she is drawing a large following and gave an example of her work calling it sassy and witty. The last paragragh was a quote from a former NY Times reviewer William Grimes regarding the differences between blogs and review sites that review all food critics, " In the past it was random pot shots. Now it seems that you are in grave danger of being stalked on the internet by a philosophical assasin." I don't know but this seems harsh to me. I take occasional pot shots regarding my mullet headed neighbor on one side and my snake charming neighbor on the other but I certainly wouldn't consider it stalking and I occasionally take pot shots at the crazy goings on of certain celebs but I wouldn't call it philosopical assasination. Maybe some people just need to grow a tougher hide. If you are in the public eye or have your work published, like it or not, you are putting yourself in a position to face either adulation or ridicule from the public at large; so you might as well suck it up and not be a wuss.

On a personal note, my thinks to Big D for coming over and helping with the big room move. Angry Joyce finished with her latest home improvement misadventure and all the rooms were sorted out this weekend. Not only did he lend a hand in the heavy lifting, he was forced to put up with the good hearted banter (yeah right) between Angry Joyce and myself.

Another Black Mark

I escorted my wife to a funeral this afternoon. The father of her half-brothers passed away and we went to pay our respects. We took our seats on the last pew, some pews behind the family. The service started as most services with the congregation joining in a couple of hymns. Afterwards two of his step-daughters gave a eulogy. A wizened old woman shrunk from age approached the podium and I asssumed that she was going to say a few words of eulogy for the departed but then the hillbilly gospel music started up.

I knew then that I should not just leave but run as far and as fast as my legs could carry me. Things that most others find mildly amusing or even distasteful, I find hilarious. But it was if demons themselves were pinning me to my seat forcing me to bear witness to some strange ritual. Then she started singing with a voice cracked from old age.

When she started singing I was reminded of the John Mellencamp Album 'Scarecrow', where his grandmother sang a song about a baby crying on a train and a small giggle escaped me. Then my mind wandered to a thought that this sweet little shrunken old woman looked like Maxine of the Twisted Hallmark cards with her wild shock of white hair and owl glasses peering over the podium and a small giggle escaped me. Then I recalled the stand up routine of Kathy Griffin, where she talks of having the church giggles, and although when I heard her routine I thought that I knew what she was talking about but I did not have a clue as to the depth that this condition can overcome one's senses. I experienced sheer physical pain from the conflicting emotions. On one hand, this was just too funny to keep from laughing and on the other hand a funeral is not the place to break out in hysterical laughter and must be avoided at all costs. After I snorted while trying to suppress my laughter, it caused Angry Joyce to laugh. When she started laughing, I could no longer contain myself so I faked a coughing fit and fled from the church.

I was able to suppress myself for the most part until I reached a respectable distance from the church; about a half block away. Then I was able to bust out laughing; a thigh-slapping, gut-busting, tears rolling down my eyes, relief of hysteria. For this I know that another black mark will be entered in the book of life by my name. If there were any doubts about my destination after death, these questions are now answered.

Campfire Cookin'

This weekend while browsing in Target, I saw a handy dandy kitchen appliance; an electric tabletop barbeque grill from Crockpot, that can hold three racks of ribs. Although it is against my religion to call anything cooked indoors barbeque, this looked handy for those times when the West Texas wind is barreling across the plains or the occasional hard rain, although I have carted the pit under the car port in times of need. To prove my dedication, I have even barbequed during a tornado watch patiently watching my smoking pit as the neighbors scurried for the storm cellers. When the all clear signal went up, I was taking up my ribs as the heads of the neighbors peeked from the ground like a bunch of mullet headed snake charming gophers.

Living in Redneck, America, the fine art of the barbeque is not only a prerequisite but an intuitive thing ingrained in the womb. I consider myself a fair hand at cooking anything that doesn't dodge bullet or bumper but I generally do not do much in the area of cooking in a dutch oven except for a cobbler or chili, but once I had a hand in producing one of the most dangerous pot of beans known to man.

A group of friends and myself decided to have a kegger/cookout about 20 miles from civilazation out in BFE. After the meal had been devoured and buckets of beer had been drank, the only two left standing were Charlie and myself. We were both night owls with a renowned prowess in the drinking arena. When the first light of false dawn arrived, we felt the inevitable hunger pangs associated with any all night drinking binge. Upon searching the campsite, we discovered that the only foodstuffs were some dried out tortillas and about two pounds of beans left out by the fire.

The crusted over beans more closely resembled a dried out creekbed than anything edible. Therefore we doctored it up by pouring in a generous amount of Budweiser from the keg and put the pot back on the fire. We also figured that anything that crusty had to have lost much of it's taste so we added a copious amount of salt. As the sun peaked over the horizon, the pot was bubbling with an eery intensity.

These beans were fantastacal. Not only were they crazy tasty but they produced intestinal gas that is legendary to all the other campers/victims that arose to the stench wafting through the West Texas Plains. I have not ate any dish since that created in my digestive system such a lethal and toxic flatulance. The lasting power, volume, and stench of the maloderous eminations were an incredible once in a lifetime acheivement.

Beans anyone?

Crack, Caskets, and Other Assorted Crap

Last week in Gloversville, NY, there was a drug raid at the Hollenback Funeral Home. As the forty-five police officers converged on the scene, several of the alleged perps were found tossing crack into caskets. As the cops led the suspects to a bus in cuffs, a group of neighbors gathered and were singing the refrain from 'Cops', "Bad Boys, Bad Boys, what cha gonna do." The officials had gotten wind of the operation when neighbors had called in reporting naked corpses in plain view of the neighborhood. Although the crack was the illegal operation, it is hard for me to decide which was the more immoral of the two, the dealers or the way funeral homes gouge people these days. Thanks to Laurie over at Stranded in Suburbia, I recently saw that Costco now sells caskets but except for natural disasters and war there is (thankfully) not much call for burying in bulk.

This weekend a high school basketball team in Oklahoma has the distinction of being the recipients of one of the biggest ass whuppings ever. The team was beat 112-2. If a boxer is getting pummeled that badly the guy in the corner throws the towel. Why didn't this coach? I might can see trying to teach a never say die attitude but this is taking it a little far.

According to Peggy Post, an expert in manners, the tradition of pulling off your hat indoors started in the Old West. Cowboys would pull off their hats to prove that they were not hiding a weapon under them.

Phone-A-Friend

The last time my brother-in-law and I got together, we hoisted a few cold ones and swapped the shit. Our conversation eventually came to old stories of stupid things that we had done while drunk. It seemed to us that of all the stupid things that we had done could have been averted if we had a friend, that would have told us that this was stupid and guided us through the situation. Whenever we committed a stupid act, either there was no friend to be found or our friends encouraged us in our drunken stupidity.

My brother-in-law told the story of one Super Bowl viewing at a local bar. He won the first quarter of the squares game and proceeded to celebrate by getting drunk and buying rounds for the house. A young vixen that he was now drinking with won the second quarter and the party kept on a-rollin'. The next morning in the dark he heard a sexy voice greet him good morning. She explained to him that he had left his vehicle at the bar and he then asked if she could give him a ride to his vehicle so that he could get back to work. That is when he was hit by the tsunami waves as she arose from the bed. The next day he called in to work to take a mental health day and went to the bar, where his friends who had witnessed the event bought him drinks to commiserate his misfortune.

I then related the story of one night of drinking heavily in a bar during my college days. I can distinctly remember the tequila shot drinking contest but the rest of that night are a god given blur. The next morning, I arose with the sun nude laying in the bed of my truck with the mother of all hangovers. My clothes thankfully were beside me so I dressed and went back to my dorm room. I then proceeded to ask my friends just what the hell had happened. They said that close to closing time they came to me and explained that they were ready to leave and told me so but I was having fun dancing with two rather robust women and they were going to give me a ride home. That is where my knowledge of what happened thankfully ends as I never saw the Rubinesque young ladies again (to the best of my knowledge).

We decided that most friends will go ahead and let you do something stupid just so they will have the opportunity to laugh at you and so they will have something to hold over your head when they do something stupid themselves. There should be a service for people when they are drunk and their thinking processes are askew. There should be someone who will help you when you are thinking of getting back with an ex-spouse or ex-girlfriend or ex-boyfriend, when you are hooking up with someone that you shouldn't, or any other of the hundreds of stupid things you can do when you are drunk.

We decided to start a new venture; a business with unlimited growth potential:Phone-A-Friend. For a nominal fee, we will enter you in a data base and issue you a pin number and our 24 hour a day hotline number. If you find yourself drunk and about to do something stupid, give us a call. We will drive to where you are and with a specially designed tool we will knock you the fuck out and drag your drunk ass home. The next morning we will call you making sure you were able to wake up and allow you to heap your gratitude, and a nominal surcharge, upon us for being a true friend and not allowing you to do something that will embarass you for the rest of your natural born life.

We are currently producing a marketing campaign with a tv ad as the centerpiece. The commercial will feature an Average Joe with a black eye and a gash on his noggin, who says,"I could have ended up with her if it wasn't for Phone-A-Friend." Fade to a shot of a green toothed woman with a tube top on and a body that looks like a can of biscuits that has blown up in the sun. Then fade back to Average Joe saying, "Thanks Phone-A-Friend."

To sign up for this much needed service, all you need to do is dial 1-800-RUF-UKED. Operators are standing by so that we can be ready to rescue your drunk ass.

Twisted Vocabulary

While doing the usual blog surfing, I came across the latest post of Dear Jane. She posted about the Washington Post Mensa Invitational, a contest where you had to alter a word by changing, adding or subtracting one letter, and then give a definition of the new word. Although the examples of their work was good, I couldn't help but think that these eggheads just were not down with the sickness. Here is my twisted spin on a few words.

Auwhority - An expert in prostitution.

Egopistic - The pride in writing one's name in the snow.

Insomenia - A sleep disorder akin to sleep walking but it is sleep phucking. A man wakes up and he is in some.

Misterbate - When during the act of self-gratification, the man loses track of where the semen went, as illustrated in 'Something About Mary'.

Miscalcumate - An error in judgement when using the rhythm method.

Premanstrual syndrome - The protective reflex of a male when his mate is suffering from premenstrual syndrome.

Priccalo - A musical dildo that whistles while it works.

Pulemia - The compulsion to masterbate after eating a meal.

Returded - When the shit hits the fan and flings back in your face.

Transfuguration - The hideous metamorphysis that occurs, when after drinking heavily in a bar, one goes to bed with someone of beauty and wakes up with someone who is fugly.

Feel free to share your own twisted words. Remember vocabulary is a living breathing thing who knows one of your words may be the new shizzle. If Snoop can do it, why not you?

Vacation Lowlights

Before I moved into the office, my job on the night shift allowed me plenty of time to catch daytime boob tube. So on one of my days of vacation, I decided to catch 'The Tyra Banks Show'. I had heard about it and decided to see if it was as bad as I had heard. Oh yeah it was that bad and a rotten bag of chips.

I would say that it was Jerry Springer lite but that would be giving it too much credit. The show had all the sleaze of Jerry Springer but none of the self-effacing humor of the master of trash tv. The show actually tries to take itself seriously.

The particular episode that I caught was a story of love gone wrong. First they trotted out the wronged young man . Tyra explained that he had caught his girlfriend cheating on him by finding Poloroids of the momentous occasion. He went on to say that the two of them were trying to work things out but it was hard to regain trust. He further said that she was the first person that he had a strong connection with. Tyra went on to grill him and he admitted that wasn't the only first, as she had busted his cherry.

Next they brought on the skank that had wronged him. When questioned on how it had happened, she explained in as much detail as network smellovision allows. The details were as follows. She was meeting up with a girlfriend for a girls only campout at the lake. Her friend then got sick and she went with the other girls that she hardly knew. When dark was falling the other girls got scared and called over a group of guys. Most all of the other girls and guys partnered up and left her alone with one other girl and four guys sitting around the campfire drinking. She got a little drunk and when the other girl started kissing her, she just went with the flow. Someone broke out the camera and snapped a few shots of her performing oral sex with the other girl and some of the guys.

This is the time on Jerry Springer where the shit starts happening but this is the time on Tyra Banks where the shit starts getting boring. There was no cursing, no one got bitch slapped, no chairs were thrown, and no one even flashed their boobs. Instead Dr. Drew, the biggest spewer of pop-culture psycho-babble out there today, enlightened all with his steaming pile of drivel. He surmised that she had been involved in a relationship where things were chaotic, either being cheated on or abused. By doing this deed and leaving the poloroids for the boyfriend, she was trying to bring instability into a type of relationship that scared her.

Bullshit. They don't need Dr. Drew. What they need advice from a redneck with common sense. I don't know about the common sense part but most everyone that I know will attest to the redneck part, so here is my piece of advice on the situation.

Number One to the wronged geek, grow a set dumbass. She didn't just cheat on you, she munched a rug and blew four drunk sleazebags and left Poloroids for you to find. Leave the skank.

Number Two to the skank maybe it's time to give up your amateur status and go pro.

Number Three to Dr. Drew. Blow it out your ass, you condescending blowhard. A gutless weinee is a gutless weinie and a drunken ho is a drunken ho.

Number Four to Tyra. You are a model not a social worker get over it.

And Lastly Number Five does any of you bungholes on this show have any copies of those Poloroids.

Random Thoughts

Halloween Edition

For an excellent overview of the Samhain festival, here is a link to the modern day practioners of the ancient Celtic Tradition, the Wiccans. It is both a short and informative treatise and I was to lazy to post the whole story here.

Last week in Frederica, Delaware, a 42 year old woman hung herself in her front yard overlooking and in plain view of a highway. Although many motorists saw her hanging body, it was not reported to authorities for hours due to it's being mistaken for a Halloween decoration.

Yesterday before the football games, I was flipping through the channels and came upon VH1's show 'I Love the 80's: In 3D'. On one segment, Elvira gave off the Biggest Boob of the Year in Review. Although she has to be approaching or over 60, there she was with the same bra-busting exposure of massive fake cleavage. I was thinking how tough this generation has it. When I was young, you only had to worry about being embarrassed when the occasional freind would have a hot mom. Now in the age of fake breasts, a young kid has to worry about offending a freind by blurting out, " Man, your Great-Grandma has some rocking Boobs." Oh well it's a sick world and Happy Halloween to all.

The Game

Last night the old high school team was beat miserably. I am still getting use to the school going to a six-man football team, but enrollment is down to a little over 300 kids in grades K-12, with the dissolving of rural America. It beats no football at all.

Six-man football is basically a track meet and most of the time the team with the most players on the bench wins. Our team fielded 10 players while theirs fielded 12 players so by numbers we were close but the game was not. One team down the road aways were on the brink of not fielding even a six player team with only 5 boys going out for football but a pair of sisters joined up for a total of 7 players. My hat is off to these sisters, who probably put up with a good deal of guff from opposing teams. It seems to me that they exemplify the true meaning of team spirit.

The dance afterwards was not that crowded but a fair turnout arrived and I scooted a boot with Angry Joyce and even managed to dance with and embarrass the 14 year old. So my parental duties in this regard are caught up for a while.

My hangover was not bad at all. I used the old cure of eating breakfast burritos with a good dose of jalapenos before going to bed. In the morning, the fiery runs flushed all the poisons from my body and left me freshy fresh and ready for today.

Today the parade was better than usual although it certainly was no Tournament of Roses. The addition of the Nifty Fifties Car Club added quite a bit to the proceedings and it seemed that more classes joined in. I don't know if they won a prize but my hat is off to the class that had members walking down the route with a sign in front that read, "No Money for Gas" and a sign in back that read, "Save Gas: Reduce Your Ass."

Enough of my ramblings, I'm gone to see if I can tempt fate and see if the cure will work two days in a row.

Bone Fire

This weekend isn't just the prelude to Halloween at the little berg where I reside, it is also the high school's homecoming. Last night, the festivities started with the bonfire. It is amazing how some ancient institutions of Halloween have been co-opted for modern times. During Samhain, the precurser of Halloween, after the feast the bones of the eaten meat would be thrown on the ceremonial fire creating a bone-fire. Today we burn piles of cardboard boxes and burn an ephigy of a football player in the bonfire. I guess it is a good thing that football season coincides with Halloween and not Easter. A bonfire is much more intimidating than chasing after easter eggs.

No Treats Then Tricks

For the first three years living in our current residence, the snake charmer neighbor always took off about a week before Halloween so as not to pass out candy. But who say's you can't teach an old dog a new trick. Last year he not only stayed and passed out candy but actually put up a cheesy Happy Halloween sign in his front yard. And to think that it only took three years to figure out that you can't be a tightass on Halloween and expect your yard to be toilet paper free (damn kids).

Another tightass halloween story comes from Angry Joyce, who had a neighbor, when she was a child, that passed out small tubes of toothpaste and toothbrushes for Halloween. No amount of egging, toilet papering, or other mischeif ever detered her from preaching the gospel of good dental hygeine.

I have always been somewhat disturbed at the Charlie Brown Special, 'It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown'. If every house that I went to gave me a frigging rock for Halloween, I can guarentee that they would get the rocks regifted right through their window. Then again he always was the poster child for wusses maybe he should have stayed in the pumpkin patch with Linus.

UNDEAD ALERT!!!

Warning to all fellow bloggers. Everyone knows of the common bloodsucker such as Drac that comes out at night to feed from human flesh but mostly unrealized is the threat from a new hybrid bloodsucker. It seems that the common bloodsucker has formed an unholy union with some Grade A Ass-Kissers and created the Ass-Vampire.

Unlike the common vampire that can be fought with crosses, holy water, and stakes, the ass-vampire is much harder to fight. Once it finds an unsuspecting victim, it will latch on to the fleshy part of the buttocks and is near impossable to extricate.

One can find ass-vampires at work, in the neighborhood, even while shopping at the grocery store. Be wary and watch your ass.

Las Dias de los Muertos

Coinciding with the Halloween season is Mexico's Day of the Dead. The two day festival celebrates and remembers the ancesters who have passed away. As so many holidays, the festival was created by the pre-christian peoples and was co-opted by the Catholic Church in order to appease the masses who had celebrated the holiday for untold generations.

One observance includes the making of an alter in the home decorated with calaveras, which are stylized skeletons. Although alters vary with both decoration and content there are three basics. Water- to quench the thirst of the dead; Salt to season the food and for purifacation; and Bread to ease the hunger of the dead. The alter is set up to make the dead comfortable, if the deceased was a smoker then a pack of cigars or cigarettes are placed on the alter, if the deceased was a child then extra sweets will be added to the alter. Candles and Incense are burned so that the dead may be drawn to the alter.

Skulls and other ornaments are wrought in sugar and chocalate as tasty treats for the dead. Other observances include decorating the gravesite of relatives with elaborate colors and wreaths, a parade to the graveyard, and then an extended family reunion for the living and the dead to come together.

One reason for the holiday is due to the short amount of time for viewing of the deceased before burial back when embalming techniques were less than adaquate. The holiday allows family members a day of remembrance in the fall for those who have passed in the year before. The legend of the actual holiday goes back to the pre-hispanic peoples of Mexico who believed in three different kinds of death. The first type of death was when bodies cease to functon and the heart no longer beats of it's own accord, when our gaze no longer holds weight or meaning and the space we occupy slowly loses all of it's meaning. The second death is when the body is lowered into the ground and is returned to mother earth out of sight. The third and most definative death is when there is no one left to remember us.

Words of The Dead

The cemetery in my town is not all that old in the grand scheme of things. This part of the country was not settled until the mid to late 1800's. It does hold a deal of history with the burial site and memorial for Buffalo Soldiers who died in the Indian Wars fighting Quanah Parker. It also has the oft repeated legend of Bloody Mary's Grave that moves from one location to another.

The most disturbing sight in the graveyard to me is the words left etched on a tombstone from the 1930's. I have never been sure as to whether the author wanted to leave words of caution from his Christian Faith to future generations or whether he thought that it would be a kick to spook generations to come. I will leave it for you to decide.

'Remember Now As You Pass By, As You Are Now So Once Was I. As I Am Now, Soon You Must Be. Prepare For Death and Follow Me.'

Halloween Week

Yes it is that most festive of seasons once more. Halloween is Angry Joyce's and my favorite holiday. We had planned on being married on Halloween with a Costume Party betrothal but due to unforeseen circumstances (as these things happen), we had to move the date up to a typical June wedding because the pregnant nun isn't near as hot as the nasty nun. Maybe one day we will renew our vows on this holiday.

Whether you are carting around trick or treaters, home passing out goodies, getting wasted at a costume party, committing random acts of mischief, or dancing naked around a bonfire in the woods have yourself a merry little Halloween time. Personally I will be scaring the bejesus out of unsuspecting trick or treaters.

Random Thoughts

In Washington State, bestiality is not illegal unless it can be proven that the animal was harmed. Good news for the goat fucker.

At the start of our marraige, Angry Joyce stressed her feelings about a french maid outfit as either a sexy Halloween outfit or a lingerie item. "After cleaning up after these demon spawn all day, the last thing that I find sexy is being a damn maid."

Next week I will be on vacation. I do not have any big plans or any travel planned. My plans involve spending as much time as possible lounging around the house in my underwear while the younguns are in school but I will have to be sly or Angry Joyce will rope me into spending all of this quality time on helping with the current home improvement project.

Auntie Q's

While waiting for that great epilogue of white trash culture, "My Name is Earl, Angry Joyce was catching an episode of "The Antique Roadshow." Usually when she is watching this program, I find something to do such as read the newspaper, surf the 'net, pick lint from my bellybutton or some other manly pursuit. On occasion something happens on this show that piques my curiousity. There are two things that can and sometimes do play out that amuse me.

One scene is the poor slob/slobette that buys something in a flea market or garage sale for less than five bucks or inherits something from poor old Aunt Martha and it ends up being worth a fortune. As he or she is standing there in a frayed out concert tee, the dapper metrasexual appraiser asks them how much they payed for some painting that they had purchased to hang in their bathroom. They tell him that the sticker on the item was a buck fifty but they were able to haggle it down to fifty-seven cents. Whereupon he tells them that if it was in his gallery he would ask no less than one hundred thousand dollars. This is where Angry Joyce screams at the screen, "Tell him to write you a goddamn check just once will someone ask for a damned check." I feel that it is a common thing to have the belief that no matter how remote the possibility, anyone can stumble onto a pot of gold or make a silk purse from a sow's ear.

The second scene actually cracks me up. It is when some uppity bitch/ass gets his or her's comeuppance by bragging on their object de art and it ends up being a completely worthless pile of junk. They are standing there dressed to the nines while a knowledgeable looking appraiser in granny glasses sunk two inches down his nose describes some piece of furniture by a well-known 18th century carpenter. He then asks them how much they paid for the item and they tell him that knowing that it was a priceless piece of Americana they got it for a steal at fifteen thousand dollars. Whereupon he tells them that they have been hosed and possess only a cheap knockoff that they possibly could pawn for twenty bucks.

I know that it may seem wrong to laugh at the misfortune of others but it is human nature to root for the underdog and mankind by it's very nature is envious. Who am I to screw with human nature?

As for the title of this post it refers to one of Angry Joyce's aunts, who pronounces antiques this way. It took my mother-in-law and Angry Joyce a while to comprehend just what she was talking about when she described shopping at an Auntie Q store. Relatives are good for a laugh even though it is scary knowing that except for the grace of god or some strange twist of fate, it could have been you instead of them that received the deep redneck gene markers. We all have relatives like this whether we want to admit it or not.

Man's Best Freind

A couple of posts back, I introduced J.D., so I thought that today I would tell a little story in order to give a little background glimpse of this enigmatic ex-bullrider. I had the strange fortune or misfortune (however one wants to look at it) to work with J.D. for a few years and not a day passed that he failed to amaze me in one way or another.

One night as J.D. and his wife was having sexual relations, in the missionary position, J.D. felt a magical sensation sweep his nether regions. As it was an experience both strange and new, he asked his wife what she was doing to create this wonderful sensation. She having no idea what he was talking about asked him, "What the hell are you talking about." He stated to her, "Well it's like your pussy grew a tongue and is licking my nutsack while we are having sex." To which she responded, " I still don't have any idea what the hell you are talking about."

At this point, J.D. looked over his shoulder and discovered the creator of this wondrous sensation. The family pet, a little terrier, had jumped onto the bed unnoticed by J.D. and his wife and was licking J.D.'s scrotum like there was no tomorrow. At this point in relating his story to us, his co-workers, he stated wistfully, " I would have kicked that dog out but it just felt too damn good."

As you could imagine J. D. received quite a bit of ribbing both good natured and otherwise. Some asked him if he rubbed peanut butter on his balls to get the dog to lick them. Some told him that his wife had the dog trained and he just happened to get in the way. I never gave him to much hell over it. In the first place, I couldn't keep a straight face long enough to get more than two words out of my mouth and in the second place it is a sick world and I am a happy man.

I must sadly give the conclusion to this tale. A couple of years after J.D. related this story, the beloved family pet died in a tragic accident. The family buried the pooch in the backyard and gave it a heroes farewell. I am sure that there was not a dry eye in the proceedings. There are those who might think that cowboys are hard of heart and there are those that feel that men cannot show emotion. But those people did not see the haunting sadness in the eyes of J.D. when he told us that his best freind had died.

In Memorium: Skippy 1996 - 1999

Artsy Fartsy (Part Two)

Yesterday while the 14 year old spawn was at a marching band competition, Angry Joyce and I took the 9 year old male spawn to a museum down the road aways. One of the exhibits was a traveling gallery from the Smithsonian. This exhibit was ' Driving Force' , which featured the grand prize winner and 14 finalists from a competition featuring young artists between the ages of 18 to 24 with disabilities. The winning entry was a breathtaking portrait of a man in a wheelchair painted by Sunny Taylor. Due to a birth defect she was forced to learn to paint holding the paint brush in her mouth and her feet and rig devices to paint her large canvases. The picture in the link does not give justice to the portrait in it's 6' x 5' dimensions. It definantly was awe inspiring to all that were viewing it on this day.

I am certainly not an art critic but all the artwork seemed aptly judged. The artists delved into their feelings of their disabilities but their work was not defined by their disabilities. Chris Hodge, the artist who created the work to the left in lipstick, perfectly summed up my feelings on art. He stated,"The average guy thinks he knows what art is. The fairly wise man realizes he doesn't. The very wise man isn't even sure if he's actually here, so an art definition might just have to wait." I can relate to Chris Hodge for not only does his view of art and mine coincide but also for the fact that he has Aspberger's syndrome. The 9 year old spawn of Angry Joyce and I was diagnosed with Aspberger's syndrome when he was five. For more info on the artists and the competition and the program sponsoring this event, you can go to www.vsarts.org .

When driving home, I realized that art is all around us. When stopping at a convenience store to gas up, get drinks, and use the restroom, I noticed a spectacular piece of running prose while washing my hands. Written on the condom machine by a true poet were the words 'Fuck Bag', beside it another astute thinker had wrote ' Before writing on this or any other machine, think of what Jesus would think', and to finish the thoughts another wrote beside this 'Vandals for Christ'. Yes art is all around us.

Reflections and A Warning

This week an eight year old girl donated a lost tooth to the American Red Cross so that the tooth fairy could donate to the hurricane relief. It takes quite a bit to touch the heart of a grizzled old fart like me but I must admit that this somewhat worked in redeeming my faith in human compassion.

This week the 14 year old girl that lives in my home and calls me Dad when she needs money was given one day of in school suspension and three days lunch detention. I was not able to further reprimand her because I must take partial blame for her offence. She was disciplined due to the fact that she is an unsufferable smartass, even when she doesn't realize it. I am sure that both my tutelage in the ways of the world and the fact of being sprung from Angry Joyce have much to do with this fact. Both nature and nurture have conspired against her and you are what you are. Her history teacher, who is also a football coach (why is it that jock wannabes and high school history go hand in hand), is plagued by premature male pattern baldness and tries to hide it with a spectacularly ugly combover; is there any other kind. So the spawn politely asked him just how the beautician cuts his hair so that it is short on one side but can whoosh around his head and cover his baldness and further asked him how bald he actually is. She swears that she meant no disrespect and even if she did I'm sorry but that's funny. I thought of sending him an e-mail telling him that when I started going bald, I shaved my noggin to even up my hairline and he might try the same unless his head is to bumpy, lumpy, or scarred up, but I decided that it might cause her unneeded trouble with him in the future; since evidently this is a source of great embarressment for him. If she has any more problems, I will be forced to go and make fun of him in person.

Now for the warning. In the New York Times Bestseller, "Why Do Men Have Nipples?" by Marc Leynor and Billy Goldberg, M.D., it is reported that you can get hemorrhoids from sitting on the toilet too long. They state that when a person is sitting on the toilet, the anus is truly relaxed and that this is the only time it is fully relaxed and fills with blood and if the veins fill too much they can swell and voila you have 'roids. The solution move the bowels quickly and get off the pot. So don't sit there reading porn until your legs go to sleep or you will regret it later.

Forklift Rodeo

For those individuals not familiar with the sport of Forklift Rodeo which is much like bullriding, I will give a few particulars regarding the rules and practice of the sport. First the forks of a large industrial forklift are driven into two stalks of 8" diameter polyethylene (plastic) pipe about 12' in length. Secondly, the contestant/victim straddles the two stalks of pipe close to the end of the stalks. Thirdly, a nylon strap approximately 14' in length is wound around the pipe much like a bullrope and is used to dally the hand the same as a bullrider. Then the forklift operator raises the forks so that the contestant/victim is about 3' off the concrete floor so that the contestant/victim will not bang the ground with his feet, revs the engine and pops the clutch. This procedure causes the pipe to bounce wildly and gives the contestant/victim one hell of a ride, that most of the time causes him to crash to the concrete floor.

The sport of forklift rodeo had been practiced for a while at the plant but the shift I was on perfected the sport. This was due to the makeup of the people on the shift. You have already been introduced to the supervisor, if you haven't just scroll down a couple of posts and read about him in Random Acts of Stupidity, there was also Bronco Billy, who was the superisor's faithful yes-man, myself, and J. D. an ex professional bullrider; whose claim to fame was that in the mid-80's , he was the winner of the Hard Luck Award at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. You might have actually seen J.D. on television. The footage of his award winning performance has been on more than one clip show, I saw one entitled "Dangerous Games People Play". He made the full eight seconds but then got hung in the rope and was beat half to death. At times I wondered if he might have been stomped in the head a few too many times but I never doubted his courage. Every one of his stories ended up , 'And that is when I ended up at the hospital in (insert name of city here).

To give everyone a glimpse into the actual practice of the sport, I will relate a story of one event. We were training a new employee and the supervisor and Bronco Billy convinced the newbie to try out forklift rodeo. J. D. helped dally him down and I took up a spot close enough to the action to innocently spectate. After the newbie was strapped in the supervisor took his position as the forklift operator, reved up the engine to a deafening roar, and popped the clutch. On the first bounce, the newbie bounced 10' in the air and came crashing to the concrete floor. The supervisor and his faithful yes-man stared in horror at the prostrate body of the newbie wondering how they would get the supervisor's ass out of this crack. I was actually trying to keep a straight face after I saw that he wasn't dead, I can't help it for some perverse reason the pain of others amuses me. That is when J. D. walks over, turns his head and spits tobacco juice a polite distance from the newbies head, and says "Puss". I did manage to get mostly out of earshot before busting a gut.

( No Idiots were seriously injured or fired during forklift rodeo. And all names have been changed to protect the guilty.)

Trivialities and Trivia: A Post in Three Parts

One T.V. show that both Angry Joyce and myself can watch together is Desperate Housewives. She likes it since it is a humorous show from a womans point of view and I like it because if the truth be known, I have had a schoolboy type crush on Teri Hatcher ever since she was on Lois and Clark. This season I have a problem with the show. Last season, one of the couples had four kids but this season they have been reduced to only two kids. There was no explanation of what happened to them. Hopefully the family did not go through so tough a time that they were forced to eat the twins during summer hiatus. Who knows since they didn't say? I don't think that it is quite a ' jump the shark ' type thing but damn it is annoying. It is somewhat like the two Darrins on Bewitched. Do the writers think that no one will notice?

Scientific Studies report that a teaspoon of ejaculate contains 5 calories and is high in Vitamen C.

In an addition to a past post on random acts of stupidity, I must continue the roofers saga. About a week later after his second fall from the roof, the bonehead was reduced to working on the ground getting things ready for the guys on the roof and as a gofur. One morning a guy on the roof yelled down and asked the bonehead to go to the truck and get a five gallon bucket out of the back of the truck and bring it back. Bonehead takes off like a flash and comes running back lickity split and yells back at the guy on the roof, "What size five gallon bucket do you need?". There is no way that you could make up such classic stupidity.

OPERATION PANTY PURIFICATION

This past week in McLean, Va. , thirty woman picketed their local mall in outrage over the window display at it's Victoria's Secret outlet with allegations that it was promoting lesbianism and sadomasochism. Even when the store display was toned down by removing the ropes from one mannequin, the women were concerned that it was still leaned against the pole with it's arms over it's head. Even when the display removed one of the mannequins that was lying in a bed spooning with another mannequin, they were still concerned. Even when one mannequin that was on hands and knees crawling towards another mannequin was removed, they were still concerned. And the picketing and threats of boycotting the new mall continued and will continue until the racy lingerie store is gone. Or so they now insist.

They could possibly be right maybe sexy ladies undergarments have no place in an outlet mall tucked between KayBee's Toys and the Great American Cookie Factory. Perhaps one wave of the future will be Adult Outlet Malls of America. Victoria's Secret will be right at home tucked between CayGees Sex Toys and The Great American Nookie Factory.

But why stop there, what about the department stores like Sear's, J.C. Penny's, and Mervyn's. Don't they show off lingerie and undergarments right on manniquin's, and on the shelves, and right on the racks, and for that matter don't the discount stores such as Wal-Mart and K-Mart have their items right in plain view. Since these stores probably have the right to sell these items, why not package them in brown paper bags and give a short description of their size, style, and color. Something along the lines of either, Size 5, black, thong or Size 18, pink, granny panty.

Maybe these picketers need to just get a life and get over it. The ogling of ladies undergarments has been an American tradition since it's inception. In day's past before Playboy or indoor plumbing or modern toilet paper, the last pages ever ripped from the Sear's and Roebuck's catalogue in the outhouse was the section selling ladies undergarments. So to these picketers, I have to say, "Don't get your panties in a knot."