July 31, 2005
The bartender remembered Contagion from the last time he was there with T1G (is that good or bad?) and had Jack Daniels ready and waiting for him. There were times when the bartender stood there staring at him with the bottle in his hand waiting for him to finish his drink so he could refill it. Exemplary service I must say! Much talking ensued until the beautiful and statuesque Tammi arrived. The entire bar stopped to watch her walk in and basked in her aura with a sense of awe. After brief introductions, and the prying off of some crazy old bar coot who decided he was madly in love with Tammi, we all moved to a round table where we could sit and talk with more ease.
ItÂ’s probably best if I summarize major topics of discussion:
· Evil children and the torture of small animals
· Christmas tree squeezins
· Jack is drunk but not Contagion
· Listening to Aretha Franklin and watching T1G raise his arms and do the “whoo whoo” thing, then vehemently deny it.
· Woad Warrior VS Road Warrior
· Anathamatized poking T1G to watch him change colors for 4 hours (That’s gonna leave a mark)
· Tammi encouraging Contagion by breathing in his general direction.
· Watching T1G fall flat on the floor as the chair was pulled out from behind him, but the camera phone was TURNED OFF!!
· Contagion calling Boudicca and giving her crap for not driving the 29 hours to Northern Illinois to meet him.
It was unanimous that we will be getting together again, and of course inviting the rest of the Bad Example Family for grilling and general shenanigans. Who will be grilling is still up in the air, I think itÂ’s a battle of wits between Contagion and Tammi. That should prove interesting, one has more wit, and one is a jackass stubborn. >big smile at Tammi<.
Contagion's wife
Ktreva
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BTW food was great I dont know how ong I'm going ot last. but damn, that back space key is a bitch. I'm sure my wife, who will be guest posting tomorrow whether she likes iti or not, will have mayn storys for yall. I did call bou... thatas mammma sis tyo you. shit... I'm lit.
happy blogcrawl!
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July 30, 2005
At long last the much talked about BlogCrawl is here. For those of you that don't remember I have listed the rules in this post.
A) You have to be 21 years old to participate and drink. I donÂ’t want some minorÂ’s parents coming back and saying I told them to get pissed drunk and go on the internet. If you are under 21, you may still participate, as a designated blogger. If you don't want to drink but still make stupid comments, be my quest!2) Drink as much as you comfortably feel you should. This is for fun, I donÂ’t want to have blog fodder stories involving charcoal slurries and ER visits. Be responsible, especially if you have to drive. IÂ’m saying right now that if you do something stupid and hurt yourself I will make fun of you. I am neither legally, morally nor ethically responsible for anything you do either in the real world or on the internet. You are all adults and responsible for your own actions.
D) Please attempt to limit the Blog Crawl comments to the time frame listed. Just so, itÂ’s easier to track. Not that IÂ’m going to link to every single post that has a comment on it, I just donÂ’t want to search for them Sunday to see what everyone said. Oh, and a drunken post on your own blog is perfectly acceptable and I will link to those.
4) Try to leave a comment on every blog in the Bad Example and Frizzen Sparks family. You may use my side bar as a reference if you donÂ’t know who they are. Do not feel limited to these blogs only, go ahead and hit any other blog you would like as well. Oh, and a drunken post on your own blog is perfectly acceptable and I will link to those.
Lets have some fun people! and try not to do too much damage... ah hell as long as you pay for the damage, it's all good.
As for me, Today is my father's birthday and for the first time in 20 years my mother planned a party for him. I have to go make an appearance and them I'm heading down to the Wooden Nickel in Stillman Valley. I'm planning on arriving around 6:00PM and starting to get my drunk on there. Any of you interested in joining me are more then welcome to. I believe T1G and Tamilicious is going to be there. I believe all of my blog parents are staying away for the night... apparently they are just too ashamed of me at this point. Like I care, see if I rescue them when flesh eating zombies roam the world!
Please feel free to use my side bar as a list of places to visit. Try to hit everyone in the Frizzen and Bad Example Families. If you want to hit other sites feel free. I know Ogre is wanting to play so we should make sure to send some traffic his way.
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1 lamp
1 cordless phone
1 Winston cup racing mug
1 Packer Barrel of Beer mug.
1 Tommy Bartlet show glass
1 Lambeau Field mug
1 Coca-Cola mug
1 Hucks Now “Do the wild thing” mug.
9 used disposable cups stacked.
2 prescription bottles filled
1 Toe Nail Clipper
Dust (IÂ’m a bit of a slob if you havenÂ’t realized by now)
1 bottle of Love Lickers oral sex syrup
1 tube of KY jelly
1 tube of astroglide (empty)
1 tube of O-glide (empty)
1 tube of “O” female orgasm enhancer
1 cock ringÂ… used
1 TwistinÂ’ Sister Dolphin Vibrator (For use on my wife)Â…. Used
1 pair handcuffs
I think that does itÂ… are you disturbed yet?
As for the cups, Sally and I share a drinking problem. Except mine usually involves my bringing up what ever drink I have in my hand when I decide to go to bed, and forgetting to bring it down the next day.
Update: Apparently my wife is more disturbed that I admited to all of this.
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July 29, 2005
First let me tell you whom is receiving my good will. One of my very own Mortar Maidens, Lady Moira, has a son who is shipping out on his SECOND deployment; SSGT Troy Hunter, 1st Armored Division, US Army.
These men are going BACK in after serving 30 months there already. I felt this was the perfect unit for me to adopt. I am going to leave this post at the top of my page until August 1st. If you are interested in helping our troops out and want to make a donation. I have set up the below PayPal account to do so. If you want to wish them well, leave a comment in this post. I am going to forward a print out of this post and all supportive comments to the unit when I ship my care package.
I have been told that these young men and women need items like baby wipes and flea collars (They wear them around their ankles to keep the sand fleas off). However Lady Moira has advised me that they do not need any cologne as SSGT Hunter apparently has quite a collection of unopened bottles going.
Thank you to all the men and women that have served and are serving our country. May you all have long rich lives.
Update 06/29/05: I had some of my information wrong. This will be their THIRD deployment. They previously served 18 months in Iraq and 12 months in Afghanistan. That's not counting time in Korea, Bosnia and Germany.
Also my heart and thoughts go out to the troops that where on the Helicopter that crashed in Afghan-Pakistan border.
Update 06/30/05: The donation button is now working. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. PayPal finally got around to responding to me request for help
Update 07/30/05:>Just for the blog crawl I am moving this post back one dayte. I don't want anyone to accidently leave a drunken comment on it. Also You only have two days left to donate!
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It was during this conversation that I hurt my minions’ feelings. If you are still reading at this point, I’m sure you are wondering how. As you may have been able to tell by now, I’m not a normal individual. Being a little obsessive compulsive on various things, I tend to like having emergency plans, “just in caseâ€�. My plans contain a contingency for zombies. Okay, now I won’t blame you if you stop reading me now and delete the link, but just here me out. You never know what is going to happen. All it consists of is my plan for invasion by a foreign country, ala Red Dawn. Except that I have it modified for Zombies, Space Aliens and a super disease, ala The Stand. See it’s not AS weird as you were thinking… or it’s even weirder now that you know the rest.
When I went into in-depth detail about my plan, both of my minions said that if zombies did start roaming the earth they where going to come with me. This is where the trouble begins; I told them both that I would not take either because they would be liabilities. Neither of them possess and skills and knowledge that would be useful. My plan consists of my having people with at least a general knowledge of specific topics for it to work. Neither one of them had anything that I could use. Then they asked if I would bring my wife and kids. Which I told them I would, but only because it is my wife and kids; I would however leave my parents and sister. Now they are telling me I’m cold and mean. Then finally, my minion, Big T, says to me, “Well we’ll just show up at your stronghold and pound on the gates.â€� This is where the hurt feelings happened.
I looked her dead in the eye and responded with, “I’d just shoot you in the head. That way you can’t rise as zombie and I don’t have to worry about providing for you.â€� (In most zombie movies, if you damage the brain the zombie ceases to function.) She has not stopped giving me crap about this since. Apparently just because I get along with her and my other minion Ton Loc, that I am obligated to keep them safe from zombies. My thing is that times are going to get hard and the more people you have the harder it will be to supply and take care of them. In addition, there is a greater chance for something happening and someone getting bitten; being turned into a zombie themselves. Big T then tried to justify that her husband would fit into my plan, and he might. When I told her that I’d put him into my “Maybeâ€� pile (yes, I called it a pile. They all found this highly amusing), however that I still wouldn’t take her; she became even more upset.
Now IÂ’m just laughing at the whole thing. CÂ’mon people, I am so skeptical that this scenario would ever happen that IÂ’m willing to say it will never happen. How can she be that upset over something that isnÂ’t ever going to happen? Also does anyone else have a zombie contingency plan or is it just me?
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July 28, 2005
Harvey also has a nice post up and created a blogroll for the Frizzen Family. Apparently my other blog father, Graumagus of Frizzen Sparks doesn't care about his family as much as Harvey does.
If you want a refresher on the rules and condition of the BlogCrawl, check out this post.
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Why is this big? Both of them have that sleaze ball Drew Rosenhaus as an agent. This guy is the biggest, greediest agent I’ve heard of in the NFL. He is like something straight out of Hollywood. I only thought sleaze balls like him existed in movies and TV. He is the agent that represents many big name players and has convinced them that if they don’t like their contracts they should hold out for more. Such as Terrell Owens; Terrell received the contract he wanted last year, he ended up being injured and not playing as well as they hoped. Now he was going to hold out for a bigger and better contract this year. Now TO holding out on the Eagles just irritates me because he is a primadonna with an ego that is out of control. After half of the stunts he has pulled over the years, I have no respect for the man. He is an “About Me” player, not a team player.
We’ve all heard the saying, “there is no I in team.” (But there is an “M” and an “E”, and that spells me. Sorry little joke) Football is a team sport. There is no one hero. Every position is dependant upon every other position. No one player makes a team; I don’t care what anyone might think. A great QB is not going to do anything with out a decent line, receivers and backs. You can have the best offense, but if your defense can’t stop the other team from scoring, you are not going to win the Super Bowl. I think you get my point.
Walker, Jackson and Hunt all decided they were going to hold out for a bigger contract this season. Obviously, I have no appreciation for Hunt as a player. HeÂ’s lazy and seems to put only effort behind his play when he feels like it. Walker and Jackson happen to be two players I had a lot of respect. Yes, that is past tense. I lose respect for someone who, with multiple years on their contract left decides they are under paid and want to milk the team for more money.
Now I know some reader is going spout off the typical, “Look how much money these teams make, why shouldn’t the player get a bigger slice of the pie.” Two words: Salary Cap. If you pay player A more money, then you have to take that money from somewhere else, probably players B, C and D. Its basic economics; if you can spend only 80 million a year on player salaries, then that’s all you have. It doesn’t matter if the team brought in an impossibly low 80 million the previous year or 10 billion, all teams can only spend so much a year.
Walker is scheduled to make $515,000.00 this year. That is not a lot of money for the NFL and he did have a Pro Bowl season last year. Based on last season he wants more money. Okay, IÂ’ll tell you what, the Packers then should get a refund on his first couple of seasons when he severely underperformed. ThatÂ’s fair right? He wants more money for playing one good season, I figure heÂ’s owes the Packers for two sub-standard seasons. You wonÂ’t see that happening however. Why? ItÂ’s part of his contract, which the Packers are upholding. When Walker first started with the Pack, he signed a contract he wanted. He didnÂ’t complain the first couple of years, he has one good season and now itÂ’s not good enough. Lets see how he does this year and next year when it is his last year on his contract talk about a new one.
Jackson we picked up off the scrap heap a couple of seasons ago after being let go by the Saints because he couldnÂ’t stay in shape. He was about out of the NFL when Green Bay signed him. Jackson came to Green Bay and not only made many personal improvements; he drastically helped our inept defense. Green Bay gave him a second chance that he was grateful to receive. Now two years later he wants more money. When he came to the Packers he signed a contract he wanted, he thought it was a good contract. I just donÂ’t get it.
I think I’m underpaid at my place of employment. My performance is superior to that of others that, because they have been with the company longer, make more money then I. Do you know what would happen if I told my boss, “I’m not going to come to work until we talk about a raise.”? My arse would be on the unemployment line faster then Bret Favre can throw a football. I make nowhere near as much money as these guys do, and my company pulls down more then any of these football teams a year.
With Walker and Jackson returning to the team with only missing some voluntary practices, I only lost a little respect for them. If they had held out the whole practice like Rosenhaus had Mike McKenzie do last year; there would be no way for me to restore any amount of respect to either of them. What I really hope is that with all these holdouts failing, that maybe other teams will stop caving into tactics like these.
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July 26, 2005
You are all Bloggers. You read and/or have your own blogs. That is the single trait that we all share, the trait that brings us all together. Some of you may not have your own blog yet, itÂ’s just a matter of time. You, in my book, are still a blogger. If you spend time at other peopleÂ’s blogs reading, what they write and maybe even working up the nerve actually to leave a comment or two, then to me you are a blogger. You might not have taken the final step in your conversion to the fold, but the temptation is there. Go ahead and call me wrong, I wonÂ’t argue with you. Better yet, why not start a blog and post why IÂ’m wrong? There is nothing wrong with being a blogger. No calumny intended.
Finally, that brings us to my problem. There are so many blogs I enjoy reading, I just cannot find the time to sit down and do it. Especially with the added responsibilities of my new position, I just do not have the time to read everyone daily. If I keep trying to do that, I will lose my job, my wife and my family. IÂ’ve taken to skimming posts. Not only do I hate doing this, but also I feel I am robbing the individual that wrote it. While I get the general gist of the post, I am missing out on the quality and flavor of their words.
Right now, I feel I only have a couple of options. The first is to give up the daily reading of some blogs, and once a week read only the topics that seem like they might interest me. The other option is to eliminate blogs from my daily read and only read them when time presents itself. If I choose this route, how would I go about selecting which blogs to read or not read? Most of the blogs I read are either friends, people I find interesting or people with whom I feel I could be friends with if they lived closer. For me to quit reading any one of your blogs is not something I relish.
I enjoy my quality time getting to know you. Reading your posts is what helps to keep me from going insane. Making this decision, for me at least, would be like deciding which one of my children I would save if I could only save one from a burning building. That is why I must turn to you my gentle and kind readers, my online friends and family for assistance. One of you may have a solution that I have over looked. There is even a chance that one of you is in the same position I am in and has devised way to cope with this issue. You have yet to set me upon a path of execration and it is that knowledge with which I have faith in you.
How do you find the time to do it?
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July 25, 2005
Upon arriving there was only four other people at the bar. The two guys, and only other males to show up, where playing pool while the other two were sitting at a table drinking. Shortly after more people arrived. Around 8:00, I realized that I was going to be only one of three males at this little gathering. The reason they went to this particular bar was so they could sing karaoke. My singing voice is horrible, but I loves to sing the karaoke! Watching people cringe in pain from the sound of my voice amuses me. The karaoke didn’t start until after 9:00. By this time I was feeling pretty socially lubricated. My plans failed miserably. This was only the second work-sponsored function I’ve attended. The last one was a Christmas party last year. People where buying drinks for me, to be more precise they were buying me shots. There was still $12.00 in my wallet at 9:00 PM. When the singing started, I couldn’t help but to get into the mood. Picking a song I’ve sung many times before I entered my name into the list. Now some of you may have heard about my legendary performance of Bette Midlar’s Wind Beneath my Wings. That is not the song I performed; I performed Vanilla Ice’s Ice Ice Baby as sung by Sean Connery. I do a passable Sean Connery impersonation. Now I had the bar laughing at me, which is what I was wanting. It was meant to be amusing. I started really getting into my performance. In the heat of the moment, I started dancing… like Vanilla Ice. No good comes from that. Let’s just say there is a table and chair that will never be the same again. As for the rest of the singers, they where all pretty damn good, one of the trainers from my office that was there sang “Son of a Preacher Man”. Her voice was really good; I think she may have missed her calling.
Not long after that, the only other guys left to go to a different bar. They said they wanted to go check out some of the meat markets to find girls they didnÂ’t work with. Personally, I think I embarrassed the hell out of them! Then most of the people from work that I actually knew left. That left me as the only guy with a bunch of females that not only worked with me, but where minions in training. Deciding I needed to get the hell out of there, I did the ultra-fast sobering technique. AKA I drank lots and lots of water, swallowing the ice cubes whole. You sober up real fast doing that. Around 11:15, I tore out of there to head home. Fortunately, I drive a big truck with four-wheel drive; cops donÂ’t patrol peopleÂ’s back yards! IÂ’m kidding; I probably would have blown over a .08 blood alcohol level. But I was fine to drive the ten blocks to get home. Hell I could probably blow over a .08 right now. Of course, I tried my hand at not-quite sober posting in practice for the Blogcrawl. IÂ’m going to have to get much more inebriated for that little shindig.
Saturday my wife and I were invited to a party at a co-workers house in Janesville, WI. It was my wife’s turn to drink. That made me the driver. Before we left, we had to stop at the store to pick up some foodstuffs to bring with to the party. When we got home from the store, there was a message on our answering machine. It was a desperate plea for help. Apparently, the host and hostess picked up a half barrel of beer. They had a tapper and didn't rent one. They hadn’t checked theirs and it wasn’t working properly. There was a leak in it and it made lots and lots of foam. What I found amusing was the fact that they called me for a tapper. They had a drinking emergency and the first thought that popped into their heads was, “Call Contagion, he’ll have what we need.” Even before checking with the store that they bought the keg from, they called me. Not that I blame them, I do own quite an impressive collection of drinking supplies, including a pub grade tapper. After getting my machine, and fearing I had left already, they called the liquor store only to find out they where out anyway. Being the exemplar asshole that I am, I let them stew for a couple of hours prior to my telling them I would bring it. . In fact, we told them we were going to be late arriving because of Clone. When we arrived about an hour and a half after the party started, I was about mugged by guys wanting a beer. Pulling the taper out of the truck and holding it over my head, the sun glinting off the chrome spigot, they all stopped in the tracks. A collective “AH!” was issued by the mass and I was treated like a messenger of god. Walking briskly to the keg, with a one handed move that most only get to witness in movies, I taped the keg and started pouring liquid gold to all my new disciples.
For the first time ever, I played Texas HoldÂ’em against live people. IÂ’ve only played in the past online or against a computer. Figuring I was just going to have some fun and be the first one out, I bought my way in. After 54 hands, I ended up winning the entire competition. Feeling obligated to play in the second round since I won, I invested part of my winnings back in. Now I was the first one out. However, I was sure I had the best hand. When it came down to showing cards, I was beaten by my opponentÂ’s kicker card. I had a Jack, he had a Queen. ItÂ’s okay, I was still up on my winnings and I was able to drink more.
It was a fun party. The details get a little fuzzy because of the alcohol. I know there were shots again, even though these were nasty fruity shots, but I remember doing one or twenty. At one point, I know women where flashing people; my wife was included in participating in the flashing. The host was walking around showing any female that asked his sloppyrod. It was the hostessÂ’ birthday on Sunday; her husband rented her a stripper. I donÂ’t know if he was good or not, I stayed out on the garage drinking beer and playing cards. My wife seemed to enjoy it though. Which is fine by me, he did all the work and later I got to have the fun. I donÂ’t care if she was fantasizing I was some stripper dressed up as a soldier, I was fantasizing she was Adriana Lima.
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July 23, 2005
First is just a neat little graphic that follows your curser. If you click on the buttons on the bottom, it will take you to different graphics, not all of them are as neat as this one.
Secondly is an animated video for a song done by the Beatles, Maxwel's Silver Hammer. I'm not a Beatles fan, but I found this song/video rather amusing enough that I laughed and started teaching Clone the lyrics.
I hope everyone has a good weekend. I'm off to drink this hangover away.
Remember, Next Saturday is the BlogCrawl! For anyone that wants to get together, I'm going to be down at T1G's favorite hangout in Stillman Valley early in the night getting my drunk on and eating some pretty damn good Prime Rib.
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We went out and did some Karioke (SP? yea, I can't spell it right now, and I don't care!) When I'm feeling a little bit more... sober I'll give details. Lets just say Grau's blackmail of my singing Wind Beneath my wings to littleJoe has nothing on what I did tonight. fortunately there is no photographic evidence this time! Else I'd be in jail and divorce court.
At least my wife didn't lock me out of the hosue this time.
I'm going to have to do much worse better next weekend on my "social lubrication" levels.
Now I just have to figure out how the hell I burned my ahdn.
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July 21, 2005
People, driving is not a constitutional right, driving is not something you can do half-assed, driving is not a game. Daily I see idiots that make “brilliant driving maneuvers” such as making a left turn from the right lane, weaving in and out of traffic doing 15+ over the speed limit, cutting people off, and just plain not paying attention to their surroundings. That type of driving behavior is what leads to most accidents. These are also the same people that when an accident occurs are the first to yell, “It’s not my fault!” Do you want to know something? It is your fault. The majority of it is your fault. Sure, the other driver should be paying attention and have escape routes just in case of idiots like you. However, if you weren’t driving like you have cranial-rectum disease it would have happened either.
What makes this worse then a regular accident is that it involved an ambulance. You know the big boxy things that drive down the road usually painted in easy to see colors and with lights for even greater visibility. Just in case you are blind they have this loud handy device called a siren, but you might not hear that due to the excessively loud music youÂ’re blaring out of your speakers. Some people may be willing to give the benefit of the doubt and say that either the ambulance was empty, not running lights and sirens, or caused the accident. I tried to find the local news source for this story online, unfortunately I couldnÂ’t find one, so IÂ’ll paraphrase from the local rag, er newspaper that has the story. The ambulance was rushing a patient to a local hospital when the driver of the truck ran a red light and struck the ambulance. The driver of the truck was ticketed for failure to yield to an emergency vehicle and a red light violation. The patient in the back of the ambulance had to be picked p by a second ambulance.
I worked in law enforcement for many years. After working in that field IÂ’ve come to the conclusion that lights and sirens on emergency vehicles are a waste. Many people just do not pull over for emergency vehicles. It doesnÂ’t matter if it is a fire truck, police car or ambulance, they just donÂ’t care! People are more worried about getting to their destination faster, then the rules of the road. On numerous occasions, IÂ’ve actually witnessed drivers using emergency vehicles to help themselves get through traffic. When others pull over, the asshole drivers speed around them. Then there are the ones that just blatantly ignore the emergency vehicles. Every one else has pulled right, they however have to make a left turn half a mile up and continue on their merry way to their turn. Then because of traffic in the oncoming lane, they canÂ’t move and end up blocking the road, slowing down the emergency vehicle.
Personally, I would love to see them install cameras on all Fire Trucks, Ambulances and Police Cars just to track the vehicles around them when they are running lights and sirens. If someone is driving like an idiot, the owner of the vehicle gets a $200.00 to $5,000.00 fine (Depending on the nature of the response and number of offenses). Make it so these tickets canÂ’t be removed from your record by going to traffic court. Maybe IÂ’m being too harsh, but all I can think of is if it was my loved one that needed help and that help arrived just seconds too late because of idiots not getting out of the way.
What do you think? Do you have this problem where you live, or is this unique to Northern Illinois/Southern Wisconsin?
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When my eyes finally stopped watering, I cleaned him up and dressed him. He was relatively good while he was getting dressed; however, he still wanted his Momma. It wasn’t until I went to make my breakfast/lunch that I ran into problems. While slicing the summer sausage and cheese that I eat for lunch, Clone decided he had to have some. He barged his way between the counter and me, barely missing my sore testicles. He stood there looking up at me chanting, “Dadda, I want more.” Whenever he wants something and doesn’t know exactly what to call it, it becomes “more”. Thinking it wouldn’t hurt anything, and the fact I do this on a regular basis, I sliced him a thin piece of garlic summer sausage. Even though this appeased him, he did not move. There he stood, right in my way.
During the slicing of the hot pepper cheese things became interesting. Again, he wanted some; however, he knows what cheese is and was asking for “Dadda, more cheese”. Hot Pepper cheese is a misnomer. It is cheese, there is jalapeños in it, but it is not hot. Correction, I don’t think it’s hot. According to most people that know me, I have no feeling left in my mouth. For the longest time I disagreed with them, then one day I was eating lunch with a bunch of people that like hot and spicy food. We all tried an appetizer that was supposed to be really hot. Everyone else said they couldn’t eat it; it was too hot. Me, I thought it was mild and finished it off figuring they where wimps. Come to find out, it was really hot… but I’ll spare you the details on how I discovered that.
After telling Clone for the third time, he wouldn’t like it and him insisting on it. I gave him a piece of the hot pepper cheese. I know what you are all thinking, “Insane bastard! That’s just mean.” Well you know what, you’re right; but it shut him up and it was only a small piece. He took a big bite of it and was happy. After a couple of seconds, he pulled it out of his mouth and tried to hand it back to me. I’m trying not to laugh, remember I’m not feeling too sorry for the little boy that tried to detach my testies with his foot. The “my mouth is on fire” dance he did was rather amusing. Taking the piece of chewed up cheese away from him; I asked if he wanted some milk. Of course, there was an emphatic yes. After he finished his milk, we left the house.
Everything was fine when I dropped him off and went to work. After work was a different story. Upon picking him up he did not want to leave, he wanted to stay with Grandma or Momma. Now he doesn’t do this when my wife is with, so he must really not want me right now. This is fine, because when he gets older it will be a daddy thing all the time. When we get home, before I can even get the mail put away, Clone has started instigating trouble with Boopie. Since Boopie had been helpful, I told him he could play a new video game he bought. Boopie’s room is off limits to Clone, and Clone knows that. Being forbidden only makes it that much more desirable. Again, Boopie was being a good kid and told Clone he could come in his room and watch, but he could NOT make a mess. At this point, I should have just said, “Wait! Clone can not go into your room because that is all he is going to do.” However, I did not say that and went about my own tasks. After 15 minutes, I hear Boopie yelling at Clone and go to check out what the problem is. Legos are everywhere. The bucket they where in was upturned and Clone is sitting on the bed laughing. Clone had climbed under Boopie's bed, pulled out the Lego container and dumped them all out by flinging the case across the room. Trying to be a good father, I helped pick them up.
I had spoken with my wife on the phone earlier in the day. She had told me that she was coming home that afternoon, and in fact was leaving around 1:30 PM. However, they where going to stop at a restaurant. Even with Chicago traffic and an hour stop, they should be back to Rockford by about 5:00. I was starting to worry around 5:30 when I hadnÂ’t heard from her. Then I hear my cell phone on the charger in the kitchen vibrating. My phone is always on silent as that at work they are not allowed on the floor and I frequently have to walk out there as part of my job. Wondering who the hell would call my cell phone before calling the house; I go to check it out. It says I have five missed calls and two voicemails. When IÂ’m at home, my phone goes onto the charger. I donÂ’t check it nor listen to it. No one that calls my cell phone after my work hours should expect me to answer it unless they called my home first and there was no answer.
Checking the messages, my wife tells me that she is back in town. Allegedly, she called our main line; however, it rang busy. We have call waiting so I donÂ’t know how that would happen and the phone was working normally. I wasnÂ’t on the phone and no one had called the house. There is no reason to doubt her; I just have no idea why that would happen. We went and picked her up, Clone was so happy to see his momma again. Once she was in the van with us, he settled down and acted the perfect angel. My wife is having a hard time believing that he was not the perfect child for meÂ…
I am taking the necessary steps at work to make sure she doesnÂ’t get to go on a 3-day business trip againÂ… EVER!
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July 20, 2005
Walking out of my house, I look at the ceiling, sure enough, there is a giant wet spot, and water is dripping fairly evenly. Where the hell is it coming from? There are no pipes up there or in the wall it is attached. Investigating further, I walk out to the sidewalk in front of my house. Right above my front porch is my bedroom. The window air conditioner is running and I can see water dripping from it. Now I know where the water is coming from, but how is it getting through the roof and dripping through a wood ceiling? Going to my garage, I pull out the largest ladder that I own bring it to the front of my house. I decided I had to go up on my roof and see what is going on.
At this point, I need to stop the story and share some very important facts with you. Few things in this world scare me. I am able to overcome most of my fears very easily. Heights is not one of them; unsecured heights to be precise. Looking out the windows of skyscrapers, looking over a ledge with a handrail, repelling is all fine. I feel secure and am not worried about falling. Transitioning from a ladder to a roof is terrifying. That brings us to our next fact. The ladder I own is just barely long enough to reach the roof. There are only a couple of inches to play with if the ladder is set at a slight angle. ItÂ’s an old folding ladder. ItÂ’s in decent condition and is sturdy, but the rungs are really thin.
Last Sunday we reached a record high temperature for the day. It was up to 95 degrees. My porch faces due south. It was so hot that day, no creature was moving outside. The only time there was movement was when a car drove past or the occasional slight breeze stirred up dust and trash. When there was a breeze it was like you where standing in front of a furnace blower. The only air conditioner we have is the one in our bedroom window. In order to try to stay cool I was wearing shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt.
Keep all that in mind; itÂ’s pretty damn important to this story. After getting the ladder in place, I proceed to climb to the top of the ladder. Once there I look around and figure out the best way for me to get onto the roof and psyche myself out to do it. After probably 15-20 minutes of me standing on this ladder, I finally push myself up and over onto the roof. It doesnÂ’t take me long to find the problem. The flashing on the roof has pulled away from the side of the house working as a funnel. The water from the air conditioner was running down the side of the house, dripping into that gap, flowing down the siding and coming out the underside of the roof. Knowing what I needed to fix this I turn around to go back down the ladder. I take one look at it and I knowÂ… There is NO WAY IN HELL IÂ’m going to be able to motivate my but over that edge. ThatÂ’s okay; I need to stay up here to fix this anyway.
Knocking on the bedroom window, I surprise my wife. Telling her that I need her to get me some items. She hands me up what I asked for and I fix the roof. After IÂ’m done, I sheepishly ask my wife to hold the ladder for me. I just feel better knowing it wonÂ’t fall over as I try to navigate it over the edge. I mean the top legs only extend about 2 inches over the edge of the roof. As she holds it, IÂ’m trying to climb onto it. Quickly I discovered that in order to do this I will have to get on my hands and knees and back over the edge. As soon as I get down on my hands and knees, I can feel the pain of a burn. I quickly stand up and look at my hands and knees. When I climbed up, I must have given myself a minor burn on my hands and knees. After attempting two more times to get down and burning myself even worse, I decided I was a stupid, stupid man for climbing onto the roof wearing shorts and no gloves on a hot summer day. Attempting to navigate this tricky maneuver four times, I finally gave up. While contemplating dropping my shorts and changing into pants on the roof of my house, I sent my wife to get a pair of work gloves for me.
By the time, she returned I had decided that I was just going to have to pay the price for my stupidity and not change into pants. With my pasty white legs, as soon as my shorts came off, the blinding glare would cause everyone in twenty miles to turn and look. Nobody needs to see me pantsless anytime, let alone on a very hot Sunday. The heat made a very good motivator to get off the roof ASAP. I didnÂ’t dawdle while I tried to psyche myself up. Pain was all the inspiration I needed to get my arse off that roof.
It has been 4 day since I’ve done that, my hands are fine. My knees are not doing so well. It hurts to wear pants. When I’m wearing shorts, it looks like I’ve been doing all kinds of “extra curricular” activities on a carpeted floor while the wife was away. At least the pealing has stopped. That was really disturbing to watch my knees peel.
I learned a valuable lesson last Sunday. If IÂ’m going to climb up on the roof, make sure I have jeans on!
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When I last left you, I had gone to work with my cordless phone in my pocket on Monday. It is now Wednesday... ItÂ’s not exactly rocket surgery to figure out why I havenÂ’t posted. (Yes, that was intentional). Monday I had to work late, when I finally was able to leave, I had to work on my fatherÂ’s computer. My father, after a year of prodding, finally bought a new computer last month. The problem with my father and technology is that even though he is a plumbing and electrical engineer, he knows nothing about computers and doesnÂ’t understand them. I get there and after being fed, I start working on his computer installing software and trying to figure out what he did so his computer wonÂ’t recognize his digital camera. The whole time Clone is being a handful. He wants to play with the mouse or the keyboard. Boopie is fine; heÂ’s outside playing with the neighbor kids. Finally, I take clone outside and tell Boopie to play with him and get back to work.
This whole thing should have only taken me 30 minutes tops, however since I had to explain every little thing I was doing 5 times to my father; it took me almost an hour and a half. When I finally left, it was just after 8pm, Clone usually goes to bed around 7:30 during the week, he was somewhat cranky. All right, he was down right nasty. I had to stop at a pharmacy to drop off a prescription I needed to pick up the next day. By the time I got home even Boopie was saying, “Why the heck won’t Clone stop screaming?” Clone wanted Grandpa, Grandma, Aunt Stacy and most importantly Momma. No matter what I did, he wanted NOTHING to do with me. I’m not kidding, when I picked him up to carry him to the house, he went rigid and fought me the whole way. I almost dropped him twice. When I put him down, he tried to run back to the van!
Finally, I was able to wrangle him into the house, it was after 8:30 PM and he needed sleep. Clone decided that he was NOT going to sleep and let the neighborhood know it. He again fought me tooth and nail to get out of his clothes and into his pajamas. I was finally able to get him down by a little before 9:00 PM. By this time the liquor in my kitchen was screaming, “Contagion, come drink us. We can make the pounding in your head go away.” Making myself a drink I sat down to do some light blogging, reading e-mails, talked to Bou, my wife… my ex-girlfriend. What? What was that last part...? OH YEAH! Unexpectedly, around 10 pm an ex-girlfriend of mine, I’ll just call her Amazon (Stop laughing LittleJoe) called. I don’t know why or how she got my phone number, but she did. That conversation lasted about 3.5 minutes. There were no pleasantries, as it was a short unpleasant relationship. She wanted to know if I still had something she had given me years ago, which I didn’t. Now this has to look good. My wife is out of town, I have women calling me at home. In addition, for the last 3 days I’ve been receiving strange text messages on my phone. The latest one was “Hey Sweetie, last night was great. I can’t wait to see you again. I love you much XOXO”. Boopie is giving me strange looks and asks, “Why are girls calling you?” (Thank god he hasn’t seen the text messages.) I, being in not such a good mood respond with, “Because all women want a piece of me.” I have a feeling that is going to come back to haunt me later on.
Right as I was getting ready to hit the sack, I remember my wife had asked me to do stuff for her. I couldn’t remember what it was though. Then it hit me, I was to water the cat and feed the plants. No, wait… Water the plants and feed the cat. Pulling the hose out of the cats mouth… I’m kidding, I’m not that inept. I’m running around putting food in the cat’s bowl and filled it to near over flowing just in case I forget. I then went and watered her plants. Now I have a black thumb, just the act of my tending for plants tends to kill them. When I was younger, my mother left me in charge of taking care of her plants when they went on vacation. I did exactly as she said. However when she get back they were all dead. Accusations were made that I did not water the plants as I was told to. I had, they just didn’t like my touch. Fortunately, one of the neighbors saw me watering the plants and vouched that I had indeed done it. My mother was so pissed at me she never asked me to care for her plants again. Ktreva has heard all of these stories and knows what is going to happen, yet she asks me to water them anyway. This morning when I left for work, most of the plants where dying. They received a watering exactly as she scheduled. All I can say is in my defense is, “she was warned.”
Tuesday morning, CloneÂ’s mood is much worse. While picking him up out of his bed he does a full leg swing kick right into my right testicle. People, I am not ashamed to admit that after I regained consciousness, I cried. Trying to get him dressed was a chore and a half. Fighting me over the last couple of days must have taught him a thing or two, because he was much better. Finally, I get him dressed; I have him in his clothes and shoes. Attempting to pack my breakfast and lunch he is under foot, screaming that I need to hold him or he wants yogurt, or he wants mommy, or he wants my sanity to slide away so I can spend the rest of my days drooling into a cup attached to my chin. Boopie comes and tries to distract Clone for me. Unfortunately, CloneÂ’s mood was impervious to BoopieÂ’s attempt to play with him. Finally, my cooler is loaded and we head out the door, with the boys this time.
Clone does not want to get into the van. He continues to fight me. He screams all the way to my parents’ house. When we arrive, I’m trying to get him out of the van and he’s fighting that. I ask if he wants to see Grandma and Grandpa. His little head hanging down, chin on his chest, he shakes it no. I ask, “What do you want then?” Head still hanging he says, “Play daddy” DAMN THAT BOY! DAMN HIM! My anger and irritation is replaced with guilt. I thought about calling off of work, but I couldn’t do that. I have too much going on. Talking to my mother, (She runs a daycare out of her home, so she is our daycare provider. It makes her and my father happy) I find out that Clone didn’t take a good nap on Monday, couple that with late bedtime and we have a really tired boy. When I picked him up on Tuesday night, my mother tells me that he took a real long nap. He seemed to be in a better mood. At least he wasn’t screaming for Mommy. He did however scream for Grandma the whole ride home.
Boopie tried to help with Clone once we got home, but Clone was into everything. Attempting to make dinner was fun. Looking at the menu, I see Tacos are scheduled. Son of aÂ… Who the hell picked Tacos?!?! WaitÂ… that was me. What was I thinking? While trying to cook my wife calls and wants to chat about her day. Meanwhile I have the boys fighting in the background and IÂ’m trying to drop the phone into the ground beef. My wife, sensing that not only am I busy but that my phone tolerance is over stretched, lets me go. I proceed to get dinner made and served to the boys.
Clone is not the neatest eater, but he loves the tacos. Actually, what he loves is basically a bowl of taco fixings mixed together with a broken up shell. He likes to smear this anyplace he can reach. There was taco in his hair, all over his face, in his ear, on his ankles. It was everywhere. Contemplating turning the garden hose on him, I cleaned him up. Finally, he was happy. We actually sat down and played for a while. He would sit on my lap and I would read him a story or play cars with him. Then he tells me heÂ’s hungry. ItÂ’s almost seven, so I figured why not. Following Bill CosbyÂ’s advice, I give the boys Chocolate Cake. When Clone is finished, he has cake in all the same places he had taco earlier. YouÂ’d think I would have learned my lesson, but I didnÂ’t. Cleaning the boy for the second time that night, I realize that he is happy and not crying. Apparently, the bribe of chocolate cake worksÂ… Bill Cosby is a genius! Clone is all loving and happy and wants to play by himself. Boopie, who was helpful, goes to play some much-deserved video games. Being 12, Boopie is really self-sufficient so he was no trouble all weekend.
Come 7:30 pm, Clone tells me he is ready to go to bed. This time when I change him, he cooperates and all is well with the world. The angels are singing, the sun is shining down, birds are chirping, IÂ’m having a Norman Rockwell moment. This moment of normalcy is going to come back to haunt me the next morning. Why? Well apparently, IÂ’m really good at getting a diaper on properly when the child is fighting me. When they are relaxed and cooperative there seems to be an issue. This morning when I go into his bedroom to wake him up, he is soaked in urine. Either he had to pee his weight in urine or the diaper leaked seriously. From the warmth of the fluid I could tell it hadnÂ’t happened too long before I went into the room. Waking Clone up I go to pick him up out of bed, apparently he thought yesterdayÂ’s wake up game was great fun, because he kicked me in my left testicle this morning.
Did I mention I am not cut out to be a single parent?
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July 18, 2005
After I gave it to her, she decided she was going to change her mind and not give me a call. All right, I know when IÂ’ve been duped. Resigned to the fact that I was not going to get a call, I let my guard down. Just as that happens, the phone rings. Being as it was late, I figured my wife called from Chicago to tell me about her day. Answering the phone, I hear this feminine southern voice going about a mile a minute start talking. I had no idea who the hell it was at first. Between rapid fired sentences I caught on it was Bou. She apparently didnÂ’t appreciate my calling her out on her tricking me.
She dominated the conversation, not letting me get a word in edgeways. Although I did get her to admit that I do NOT have an accent. ThatÂ’s right folks; she admitted that I do not have an accent. During the entire conversation I believe I got off maybe one or two sentences. One time when I tried to say something, she chastised me for interrupting her.
If it wasnÂ’t for the fact that my wife did finally call, I would never have been able to get off the phone with out hanging up on her. We all know how much I like phones.
Actually it was nice putting a voice to the name. Now when I read her posts I wont be hearing them in an Ellie-Mae Clampett voice. Maybe next time she will let me get a word or two. In all honesty I think we spoke for about 20 minutes. Which is a 6-month record for me; when it wasnÂ’t my wife I was talking to or being put on hold. It was a pleasant experience. I think I even talked her into driving up here to meet the family sometime.
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Actually I'd have to agree with you. I learned some very good stress coping techniques years ago and I do them second nature now. And no matter what people tell you, it's not drinking! Stupid friends all spreading the truth misinformation about me.
But seriously try as I might I saw no movement in those pictures. Go over and check it out and then tell me if you saw movement.
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Once we got home, Clone decided Daddy sucks and wanted nothing to do with me. He wanted Mommy, Grandpa, Grandma, or Aunt Stacy. I figured it was time for daddy to show him how we could have fun. I ordered dinner for us. He had his favorite, pepperoni Pizza. Which made him a happy little boy then. Afterwards I played with him doing puzzles, cars, catch and tag. We both quit playing the overly active games rather quickly. Our region set a record high temperature yesterday here, and I donÂ’t have air conditioning. Too much activity made us very sweaty.
Clone cannot be left unsupervised for more then 2 minutes or he will be destroying something. After my wife was gone, my phone didn’t stop ringing off the hook all evening. I’m trying to get some work done around the house AND watch clone AND deal with people calling me for nothing more important then to tell me the new Harry Potter book is out. As if I care about Harry Potter. One of these calls was from my mother. I had just finished getting Clone a sippy cup filled with Ice water and myself a giant mug of iced tea when she called. I had set my drink down just long enough to answer the phone and start talking to my mother when Clone grabbed it. Laughing in glee, he proceeded to attempt to take a drink out of it and poured 36oz of iced tea down the front of him and onto the floor. Apparently, Daddy’s unsweetened Tea was better then his ice water he asked for. Quickly hanging up on my caller, I proceed to clean up Clone and the mess he made in his “Flashdance” re-enactment.
My evening went down hill from there. Clone would drag out his puzzles and start spreading them all over the place every time I turned my back. I would get on his case and make him help me pick them up. If I left the room to refill our drinks or go to the bathroom (Even if I tried to take him with me) He would find someway to run back and start dumping puzzle pieces all over the floor. IÂ’ve developed a special hatred for puzzles, especially the ones with the wooden pieces and plastic knobs. Those pieces hurt like hell to step on bare foot and they blend into my wifeÂ’s rug really well! If it wasnÂ’t the puzzles, it was matchbox cars, if it wasnÂ’t matchbox carÂ’s it was EVERY OTHER TOY HE HAD IN HIS TOY BOX! People, my living room looks like it was hit by a F5 tornado! If it wasnÂ’t his toys he would go after what ever drink I had. He either wanted to stir it for me or wanted to dump it all over the place. Either way I wasnÂ’t in the mood for either game!
Boopie didn’t arrive until after Clone had gone to sleep. His help would have been much appreciated. Once Boopie arrived and Clone was asleep I was able to get housework done. Today was my late night at work. On my late nights, I don’t have to get to work early. The extra sleep is always appreciated. Since I had to handle both boys on my own this morning, I decided to wake up earlier then I needed to. I’m so glad I did. Clone, like his mother, does not always wake up in the most pleasant of temperaments. All right, he is down right nasty! He has to do everything himself; if I try to help to expedite the process, he starts yelling, “I DO IT! I DO IT!” This leads to me asserting my dominance by taking the “Mean dad” tone of voice and explaining that if he doesn’t settle down, he won’t be able to sit down. Either that or he’ll just cry and go limp while I try to change and dress him.
Then while IÂ’m getting him ready he wants to brush his teeth, put on his shoes; play with his toys, etc. He re-drags out all of his puzzles and books while IÂ’m trying to get my breakfast/lunch together. Boopie is trying to get ready himself so he wasnÂ’t able to help either. Then the damn phone starts ringing. People calling to make sure everything is okay, because they forgot it was my late night and the boys would not be dropped off at their normal time. I had a company call to try to reschedule an estimate on windows (Which I canceled because IÂ’m not interested and told them that twice). There was also a wrong number. The whole time IÂ’m trying to finish getting my breakfast and lunch together, get all my stuff and take care of the boys. Clone is screaming for his mommy, Boopie is asking me questions about various things, IÂ’m trying to remember everything my wife told me to do and I knew I was forgetting something. I still havenÂ’t figured out what it was yet either.
After 30 minutes, I had finally had enough and told the boys, “That’s it! We are going bye-bye!” I grabbed my stuff and headed out to the van. Putting the van in gear, I quickly stop, run back into the house and grab Clone who was happily coloring in a coloring book. Boopie had been talking, but I was just ignoring him at this point. He was trying to tell me I forgot Clone. I stopped by the post office and the bank, and then dropped the boys off. As I did this, I realized that I had something in my front pocket that didn’t belong there. At first I thought I put my cell phone in there. Pulling it out, I looked at it puzzled for a second… It was my home cordless phone. For what reason I put it in my front pocket is lost to me. I have never done that before and I don’t know why I would have this morning. Usually I just toss it where ever when I’m finished with it. You have to understand that I really hate the phone and I try to avoid using it at all cost. It is not uncommon for me to holler at my wife to answer the phone, even if it is sitting right next to me. I hate those vile things.
I was never so happy to get to work in my life. I have until at least Wednesday before my wife comes home. IÂ’ve decided there is no way in hell I can make it as a single parent. I donÂ’t have the patience or the temperament for it. ItÂ’s going to be a long week.
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One of the two trivia questions was “Which two good ol’ boys are playing brothers in the upcoming Dukes of Hazard Movie?” There was a picture of the General Lee with the actors leaning up against it cut out. My being a Dukes of Hazard fan knew the answer was Seann William Scott and Johnny Knoxville. Being in an extra butter and salted popcorn haze didn’t notice the wording problem with the question. My beautiful and observant wife did. From the picture it was obvious they where referring to Bo and Luke Duke, however Bo and Luke are not brothers; they are cousins. My wife and I discussed it for a little bit and it started me thinking on what a screwed up family they came from.
Okay, you have Bo, Luke and Daisy that are all cousins. Jesse is not one of their fathers as they all refer to him as Uncle Jesse. Now, Jesse raised all three of them. What happened to their parents? Was there some terrible moonshining accident that killed three sets of parents leaving Jesse with their children? Is this why Jesse never had kids of his own and if he did, where the hell are they?
Now when Bo and Luke left to try their hand on the NASCAR circuit (The season that Tom Wopat and John Schneider left for contract reasons), Cousins Vance and Coy came to live with Uncle Jesse. These are two more cousins, Vance and Coy referred to each other and Bo, Luke and Daisy as cousins. Jesse was again their Uncle, so neither could be JesseÂ’s kids. Now I know is some of the other episodes they had other cousins that popped in for one episode (I know because I just saw those episodes in the last couple of months). The English one was a cousin by marriage, but the other didnÂ’t say that. We now have six cousins, different parents.
Using deductive reasoning, we can come to some conclusions. Grandpa Duke was a busy man! He had at least seven boys. How do we know this? They all have the last name Duke. Meaning that Jesse had to have six brothers in order to have 6+ nephews and nieces with the last name Duke. Sure, he could have had a sister that had a child out of wedlock, but this was during the late 70Â’s and early 80Â’s on TV. They had yet to address that issue and I could be wrong, but I donÂ’t think the networks at that time would allow it. But back then, when the child was born, wouldnÂ’t the child still have the fatherÂ’s last name, not the mothers? Okay, maybe the mother didnÂ’t know the father. Now we get back to the networks not allowing that story line.
Where the hell are all the parents of these kids? Not once do I recall seeing a one on any of the episodes. Is there a Duke family curse? If you donÂ’t run moonshine you will die and the creepy confirmed bachelor uncle that does make moonshine will take raise your children. What the hell people? In addition, if grandpa duke was producing children like a madman, did his children not breed? There is not one sibling amongst any of the kids that where on the show? Does this mean that their parents had just enough genetic material to breed once and that was it? Maybe moonshining has other side effects besides going blind; maybe it makes you sterile! I honestly donÂ’t know.
Coming to the realization that I have already spent excessively too much time contemplating the genealogy of the Duke of Hazard IÂ’m going to wrap this up. However, I know at one point IÂ’m going to loose sleep on this. While laying in bed staring at the darkness, I will start pondering where all the Duke spawn came from. IÂ’ve already been obsessing on this for 2 days and itÂ’s only getting worse.
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