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."

Random Acts of Stupidity

I would wager that not a day goes by that I do not hear someone tell a story that begins, "Let me tell you what that stupid sumbitch did." I do not know why I like to hear stories of the ineptness of others since on the occasions when I am actually a witness to stupidity, it bugs the piss out of me. But I thought that I would share a few today that I have picked up at work.

In the breakroom at work, one employee related the story of picking up a cheeseburger at a local restaurant where he had asked them to cut the onions. They did. They cut them into little tiny pieces and smothered his burger in them.

A coworker and myself were discussing the dumb things that another coworker had done. He told me that he had worked with this individual previously on a roofing project. He was holding a chalkline on one edge of the roof and had asked the bonehead to go to the other edge of the roof with the other end so they could pop the chalkline to get a straight edge. While the bonehead was walking off, his attention was diverted and was looking down getting his tools in order. That is when twenty feet of chalkline zipped by. Yes you got it right this bonehead got to the edge and kept on walking.

Now for an oldie but a goodie. Back when I was still on the floor and holding the position of lead operator, which is kind of like a straw boss when the supervisor is busy holding court in the breakroom, an end of a dropcord of an electrical line was pulled off while moving some equipment. My supervisor, who was also the safety coordinator of the plant at the time, repaired the end by placing a male end on the end of the dropcord rather than the female end so the end of the dropcord was hot with 240 volts coming straight out of the end. I told him to take that off and I would go get a female end to plug in so that no one would get shocked, but as he did not want to appear that he had made a stupid mistake, he said it was fine as it was. I shrugged but did not push it. I warned the other crew and went about my business. A week later, while moving the equipment hooked to this plug, my supervisor (you guessed it) took the full force of the 240 straight through the noggin. Immediately after seeing that he was not dead, I laughed my ass off. And the laughs kept coming all night as about every 45 minutes he would shake like a dog shitting a peach seed with the effect of the electricity.

If I ever follow up on this post, I will add other stories of my ex-supervisor regarding forklift rodeo, dangling into the grinder pit, and how to land a cushy job and lose it in three months.

Superman, Pygmies, and Perverted Poetry on a Crisp Fall Morn

Catchy title huh. As I write this post a cold front has dipped down and the temp is in the upper 40's so it actually feels like autumn is finally here.

Nicolas Cage must be the king of ubergeeks everywhere. This week but he better get his kid into martial arts classes as soon as he can walk. By naming his son Kal-El, Superman's Kryptonian birthname, when he starts to school, his ass will be prone to a daily beating by some bully yelling, "Kneel before Zaad, Bitch".

The pygmies of the Itari desert have an average birth weight of 8.6 pounds.

Today a twisted poetry selection from the thundering days of yesteryear. This comes from an infamous men's magazine published by Larry Flynt circa early 1980's. For some demented reason, I have always remembered this poem. In the illustration, this twisted masterpeice was plastered to a bathroom stall.

A Public Restroom is a Sicko's dream.
There is shit on the seat mixed with testicle cream.
But for the ultimate bad taste caper,
Take a Piss on the toilet paper.

The Evolution of an Alias

(or Why I am :P Fuzzbox)

My brother Big D, the intrepid webmaster, created a website to track local concerts and other items and started a blog on Blogger that he had linked to his site. Back in July, he kept pestering me to check it out but for some reason I never found the time. When I finally did check it out, I was impressed with not only the things he had done with the creation of wallpapers and commentary on odd news but also with the forum of blogs in general. In the past my only glance at a blog was a travel blog and the dangers of taking a dump in Antartica didn't really impress me any. In order to comment on his blog incognito but not wanting to just use anonymous, I came up with what I thought a catchy user name :P Fuzzbox ( first name to be pronounced Lick).

After he figured out who it was, I had a few posts on a blog of my own and decided to go back and start using my own first name but he was not impressed and thought that I should go back to using my alias. Now it has grown on me, so on this blog and on my comments to others I shall remain :P Fuzzbox.

As for how :P Fuzzbox became a battleaxe swinging dwarf, my other brother Crazy Dan, the arch-nemisis of the boring mommie bloggers out there in blogdom, has kept a running story going and created the charector of :P Fuzzbox the old and crusty dwarf who has helped him in his quest to defeat being p.w.ed by the evil Brainkin ( he came up with the evil part not me, luv ya Breezy) my soon to be sister-in-law. I suppose he cast me as a dwarf due to the fact that at six foot tall I am the runt of the family with my three brothers ranging from 6'2" to 6'5".

That is the short version of how I became the dwarf with the hidden foul name, for what it is worth. Now you can get back to the important things in life like surfing for porn or trying to look like you are busy in case the boss walks by.

Weekly Phrases

Wisdom from a T-Shirt: "The older I get the better I was."

From my late father-in-law relating his freind Bill's favorite saying concerning Bill's wifes housekeeping: "The bitch is nasty. Every time that I go to piss in the sink. It is full of dirty dishes."

Sometimes advertising hit's the mark. Todays final phrase comes from the TV spot for Cheese-Nips: "We love Nips and it shows."

*** Special Reminder for Greenday ***

WAKE UP DOUCHEBAGS!!!

September has ended and now the radio can stop playing that driveling tune. Normally Greenday rocks but every time that the insipid tune "Wake me up when September Ends" comes on the radio, I get the feeling of shoving a red hot poker under my fingernails. What happened to the not-so-happy- go- lucky slackers, that had snappy tunes of jerking off on the couch. Wake up, enough sappy balleds already.