New Year

Be safe in your merriment tonight kiddos.

I'm giving the spousal unit a big kiss come midnight. Of course, I'll have to wake her up to do it and she'll be peeved until New Years next year, but tradition is tradition darn it.

Here's to you. May you be kissing someone at the appropriate hour. Oh the heck with it, start the kissing now.

Peace.

Bowl Bound and Down

Took the family down to San Antonio for a couple of days. We went to see the Tigers play in the Alamo bowl.

For the record, it’s 13 hours one way. Enjoyed the game, enjoyed the River Walk, enjoyed the time with the family in warmer weather. The drive, not so much.

We traveled all that way to watch my Tigers almost give it away. Putting a game into the hands of our defense to win is a bit like telling the wolf to watch the hen house. They got it done. Doesn’t matter how pretty I guess.

We were down in Mizzou end zone after the game. Little guy got to high-five the players as they left the field. He was stoked. Good times.

Best Of

From the best of 2008 files...

Go Figure.

“What you hear on the radio today is 1/2 marketing, 1/2 public relations, and 2/3 timing. And if that math makes sense to you, you no doubt work in the royalties department of a P.R.O.”- Dennis Miller

I read this the other day and made me laugh.

Best Of 2008

From the best of 2008 files...

Well folks, it happened. In a fit of shaking, belching, rattling, and vibrating the old girl finally gave out. I sent my wife and young one away, couldn’t bear to have them watch. Sadly, at 11:10 pm last night, I had to put her down. She’d been with us for almost 15 years, a wedding present. Never complained, always faithful, and reliable right to the end, she was, indeed, a valued member of our family.

Yes, gentle readers, the washer is dead.

She’s bad sick and I have no elixir
Shop soon you must for I cannot fix her
Repair man, no, we all shouted in shock
Who’ll clean our pants, shirts, underwear and socks
Come to my store see Maytags and Whirlpools
That’s when my dear, sweet wife started to drool
Her resolve began quickly eroding
Amid talk of new units front loading
You Judas, traitor, how quickly you forget
It’s not time to close the lid on the old girl yet
Honey, this is the way it has to be
She’s been with us since nineteen ninety three
Repairman had brochures, glossy and slick
This ultra deluxe one should do the trick
Efficient, sleek and not very pricey
It will fit into your home quite nicely
With much glee he took my wife by the arm
Intent on doing my credit card harm
Alas, dear friend, it is the end I see
Of faithful service to our family
May you dream in bold colors while you sleep
Rusting with your friends in the garbage heap
Forget you I shant as they close the deal
On too big a one clad in stainless steel
Goodbye to your buttons and clunky dial
Dealing with your loss will take me a while
Sad, but this is the spin cycle of life
I’m off now, to argue with my wife………

Best Of...

From the best of 2008 files...

Mr. President, can you tell us if the troops in Iraq will have to extend their tours of duty?

Heh-heh, he said "doody"

Best of 2008

Let's take a look back at some of the Best of the Blah over the last year. Shall we??? Enjoy.

Too Sexy For My Anger Management Class
http://www.welt.de/english-news/article2047038/Naomi_Campbell_charged_over_Heathrow_rage_incident_.html

Seriously, what does Naomi Campbell have to be so angry about? She works maybe 100 days a year in places like London, Paris, Rome, and New York City. People pay her vast sums of cash to wear their clothes, walk runways, and appear in magazines and on talk shows. She’s fabulously wealthy and extremely attractive.Why she gotta be a hitter?

Come on everyone, put on your leather bomber jackets and mirrored shades, grow out your three day stubble, clap your hands, and sing to the tune of George Michael’s “Faith.” This one’s for you Namoi.

I know you’ve looked in every crag
And yet you still can’t find my bag
Want to see me turn into a hag?
You better look again now

Jerk Wad

I’m going super model diva all up in the place.

So I punched him in the face, face, face,
I punched him in the face
So I punched him in the face, face, face,
I punched him in the face

Jerk-Wad

It’s Christmas people. Soon the New Year will be upon us. Time for elastic waist bands and fruit flavored Tums. Time for good cheer and reflection.

2008 was a mighty fine year. The spousal unit continues to let me live in the house. We have a great, great little guy, healthy and smart, to pal around with and to love on. I have a job and continue to pay the bills. All the family is well and accounted for. Progress was made on the song writing front. Even began, in earnest, to write a little fiction, something I’ve always wanted to do. All in all, I give it a solid 9 out of 10.

To all the readers out there, all seven of you, please have a happy and safe holiday season. And wherever your holiday travels take you, there you will be. Remember, climbing utility poles is really dumb and your mother loves you.

Most of all…peace.

Cranky and Deaf

So we had an alarm system installed over the weekend. One of the control panels is located right outside the bed chambers. Coincidentally, so is the alarm’s horn

A bleary eyed, slow shuffling head of the Royal Household, clad only in boxers and a t-shirt, attempted to set the alarm to allow him to walk about his castle early, early Sunday morning whilst the queen and crown prince slept in. See the King is wise. He knew that he could sneak down, get the coffee going, slink back in bed and snuggle with the queen for about 30 more minutes before having to get back up. Weekends were made for such finer things, would you not agree? Needing two things to execute his plan to perfection, a bathroom and the coffee maker, the King punched in the appropriate code and set off down the stairs.

Behold, I say unto you, the wrath of the Security Gods came upon the King by the third step unleashing an auditory fury the likes of which have never been experienced before. Not 1.2 seconds later, the crown prince, in a panic, unleashed his own fury matching the wails of the horn note for note and decibel for decibel. Shortly after that, perhaps, as time and relativity were no longer working together as brains and senses were being crushed under the weight of the ear bleeding wall of sound, the queen emerged from her slumber, disheveled and angry, much like a furry grizzly woken early from hibernation. With hands over her ears, and already stamping her feet, her sweet loving voice could be heard above the cacophony tenderly urging the King to quote “turn that _____ thing off!” Ahh, soft and sweet as the coo of the morning dove.

With no glasses on, and sleep still heavy in the eyes, the King stumbled up the stairs, yes up the stairs, making his way to the control panel. Attempting to appease the angry Gods, the King’s hands flew over the key board. Pleased with the many bleeps, bleets and beeps being heard, the King knew the displeasure of the Gods would soon be redirected and peace would be restored. Yet, there was no relief from the horrendous shrill accosting him. The alarm was obnoxious too. The King soon realized that in his haste and haze he was entering his junior high locker combination, his first telephone number back when he still had a party line, hello Martha-Jean, you can click off now, the pin number to a bank account long since closed, and his social security number for good measure. With much wailing and moaning and gnashing of teeth from the crown prince, and with the seething, perturbed grizzly approaching with claws at the ready, the King finally remember the right key combination and entered it just in the nick of time.

Calm descended upon the castle. Sort of. No bloody siren call, but where once could be heard the steady breathing of peaceful dreamy sleep, now there was the hyperventilating spasms of child like cries from the Royal Family. Deep breathing, trying to squelch the affects of the adrenaline dump into his system, the King’s vision began to clear just as the downstairs phone rang. Running to catch it, reaching it just in time, the King heard a bubbly teenager happily state “Hello this is Brinks Security. There’s been an alarm tripped sir. May I have your name and code word please.” Let’s see, the code word. Hearing aides, perhaps. No. Um, Cochlear implants then. No again. Could it be soiled undergarments? No. At last the King remembered the code word only to hear. “So, is everything OK sir?”

Summoning his most gallant, stately voice, the King regally replied, “Madame, I’ve somehow managed to bang my knee so hard that tomorrow I’ll require surgery. My inner ears are now a pulpy mess of blood soaked goo. Moreover, the crown prince screams like a little girl, the Queen cusses like a sailor on leave, and I have to go to the bathroom so bad my bladder is sagging into the floor of my pelvis….and, by the hammer of Thor and for the love of all things holy, I’ve missed my snuggle time! So, no, dear child, everything is most definitely not alright.

Moved

Further to its insidious plot to rule the world, Google has converted another.

http://seventhrowmusic.blogspot.com

Not my work, but too funny to pass up. From Craigslist:

NINJA HAULER: 2005 Nissan Xterra - $12900 (Ronan / Lake County)

Date: 2008-11-19, 10:04PM MST

OK, let me start off by saying this Xterra is only available for purchase by the manliest of men (or women). My friend, if it was possible for a vehicle to sprout chest hair and a five o'clock shadow, this Nissan would look like Tom Selleck. It is just that manly.

It was never intended to drive to the mall so you can pick up that adorable shirt at Abercrombie & Fitch that you had your eye on. It wasn't meant to transport you to yoga class or Linens & Things. No, that's what your Prius is for. If that's the kind of car you're looking for, then just do us all a favor and stop reading right now. I mean it. Just stop.

This car was engineered by 3rd degree ninja super-warriors in the highest mountains of Japan to serve the needs of the man that cheats death on a daily basis. They didn't even consider superfluous nancy boy amenities like navigation systems (real men don't get lost), heated leather seats (a real man doesn't let anything warm his butt), or On Star (real men don't even know what the hell On Star is). No, this brute comes with the things us testosterone-fueled super action junkies need. It has a 265 HP engine to outrun the cops. It's got special blood/gore resistant upholstery. It even has a first-aid kit in the back. You know what the first aid kit has in it? A pint of whiskey, a stitch-your-own-wound kit and a hunk of leather to bite down on when you're operating on yourself.

The Xterra also has an automatic transmission so if you're being chased by Libyan terrorists, you'll still be able to shoot your machine gun out the window and drive at the same time. It's saved my bacon more than once. It has room for you and the four hotties you picked up on the way to the gym to blast your pecs and hammer your glutes. There's a tow hitch to pull your 50 caliber anti-Taliban, self cooling machine gun. I also just put in a new windshield to replace the one that got shot out by The Man.

My price on this bad boy is an incredibly low $12,900, but I'll entertain reasonable offers. And by reasonable, I mean don't walk up and tell me you'll give me $5,000 for it. That's liable to earn you a Burmese-roundhouse-sphincter-kick with a follow up three fingered eye-jab. Would it hurt? Hell yeah. Let's just say you won't be the prettiest guy at the Coldplay concert anymore.

There's only 69,000 miles on this four-wheeled hellcat from Planet Kickass. Trust me, it will outlive you and the offspring that will carry your name. It will live on as a monument to your machismo. Now, go look in the mirror and tell me what you see. If it's a rugged, no holds barred, super brute he-man macho Chuck Norris stunt double, then contact me. I might be out hang-gliding or BASE jumping or just chilling with my ladies, but I'll get back to you. And when I do, we'll talk about a price over a nice glass of Schmidt while we listen to Johnny Cash. To sweeten the deal a little, I'm throwing in this pair of MC Hammer pants for the man with rippling quads that can't fit into regular pants. Yeah, you heard me. FREE MC Hammer pants. Rock on.

Location: Ronan / Lake County
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interestsPostingID: 926508578

Bon Voyage....Soon

With white stuff on the ground, temps in the low 20’s, and more junk predicted for later today, I thought it appropriate to remind myself that in less than 60 days I’ll be aboard a cruise liner headed for tropical climes.

Not bragging, just reminding myself the sun will shine again. I intend to chase it down come Valentine's day.

The brochure calls it the Southern Caribbean. I call it the three Saints and a Virgin tour.

My wife in a bathing suit, me in the Hawaiian shirt du jour, little guy running wild on the Lido deck, sand between our toes, and umbrellas in our drinks.

Oh yes. Yes, Indeed.

Back and Thawing Out

Been out of pocket for a few days. Took a quick trip to Canada. Yes, that Canada. Cold and snow up there. Go figure.

First things first, to all in Montreal, how you can put cheese curds and gravy on French fries is beyond my understanding. Frankly, I think you should have your own country there in Quebec if you’re going to act that way. That’s not just wrong. It’s a classification busting type of foulness that defies explanation.

Secondly, rental cars have the speedometers in kilometers. More than once I slammed on the brakes to slow myself down completely surprised to find myself driving 100, or 60 for those of us stupid English standard only Americans.

When in Ontario, you can never go wrong with jokes about beer or hockey (Maple Leafs in particular), just FYI. Any joke with New Foundland in it seems to be a hit as well. Recycled the same material over a day and a half with much success.

Spend any time in Toronto and you can clearly see that you do not know diversity like they know it. There’s nothing homogenous about any of it. Finding any three nationalities alike in a group of ten is a rarity. Helped an elderly Japanese man fill out a customs form, spoke to an Indian customs agent, asked questions of a Latin security guard, had dinner with two French speakers from Quebec, and met a transplanted South African. All very Canadian, yet different.

It’s easy to tell the Americans in Canada. Yes, Indeed. They’ll be the ones with their mouths agape, revulsion in their eyes, doubting they actually heard correctly when someone asked them if they wanted cheese curds and gravy on their fries.

Seriously. That’s not right.

You've Been Warned

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SecVCh9dg4I

Old Man Winter

Every year it happens, the first real snow, and every year I say the same thing. I hate winter.

This white, frozen reminder of why deductibles exist began around lunch time and is still going some five hours later.

Yesterday it was 50 degrees. Seriously. Today I get this.

Seriously, what’s the deal?

That’s three songwritery types I know now that have gut troubles. They're dropping like flies.

My guts and I might just stick with sales where its safer, thank you very much.

On Vocations

I'm at a holiday party mingling, grazing, and generally having a good time. I stop to shake hands with the host and chit chat a little.

Turns out he's a board certified equine surgeon. The only one within a four hundred mile radius. He just recently finished construction of his multi-stall horse hospital and will be bringing in interns from around the country to train under his leadership. Of course, come spring, he'll be very busy bringing in foals all across the country. He's also working on some neoplasm treatments for horses with various skin cancer lesions. That's a new and very exciting develpment for horses who are getting older, extending their lives like never before.

"So, what do you do Bill?"

Right...

Health Bass-ics

Fish oil: miracle cure or an evil plot by mouthwash executives?

You decide.

Thirty minutes after you take a capsule, you burb bait.

Yummy.

Smooth and Creamy Stupidity

I just found an allergen warning on my peanut butter. It states: Contains Peanuts.

Seriously, gentle readers, I weep for our country.

By the way...I'm fully aware that Satin is a comfy fabric used for bedding and finer things. Satan is the ugly guy down south.

I'm just not going to edit the previous blog out of spit, or spite, whatever...

Enabler, Thy Has a Face and a Name

I was watching MNF last night.

Don't exactly know why, but Plaxico Burress is big news. Haven't heard...He's a receiver for the Giants. He brought a gun into a night club and then accidentally shot himself with it. News? Someone from the NFL involved in an incident with a handgun. How is that news? Seems to me that's de rigeur.

What would be newsworthy would be a week in which someone from the NFL didn't do something stupid.

Then Plaxico's agent got on the mic. Oh, what have we become people? I don't say this lightly, but I swear this man may be one of satin's ambassadors.

Please America, Take it on Faith..That's Really Her!

My left butt cheek that’s really her.

She’s wealthier then you’ll ever be, she’s a super star married to a super star, and now she’s got a photo shopped six pack.

Now all you “other” girls out there hurry and get this magazine. Feel horrible about yourselves, you fat cows, and then buy the crap that’s in here.

Why do this people, I ask you? “A present to myself”, she says. (Yes, I actually read the article) My left foot.

I’m just as much a guy as the next dude. If Faith’s going prance around in her bikini, then chances are I’m going to look. But come on…

Tiger Trouble

Did you see the game? All I want for Christmas is a defensive secondary.

Dear Mother of Mildred, Oklahoma is going to murderize us.

I hate the Jayhawks.

Sad. Just sad...