August 14, 2005
The worldÂ’s largest truck stop is on I-80 in Iowa. We stopped there just to check it out. Yep, itÂ’s a mighty big truck stop.
There is a place in Iowa called the Amana Colonies. It is about 30 minutes north northwest of Iowa City. This place is a really neat rural community with a rich history. The food is excellent (heavily German influence), they have all kinds of specialty industries including wool weaving, wine making, beer brewing, meat processing, etc. I will go out on a limb and say I had some of the best beer I have EVER (better then Guinness in my opinion) had from the local brewery, an oatmeal stout. I brought home two one liter bottles of it for my next weekend re-enactment. At their woolen mill we were able to pick up a historically correct wool blanket for our re-enacting for only $59.00.
Clone needs to work on his restaurant etiquette. We really need to get him to stop yelling at the top of his lungs things like; “I go potty” and “Momma, you go potty”.
While in a nice family restaurant in the Amana Colonies, Clone was coloring when he dropped a crayon. At which point he proceeded to yell out, “DAMMIT!” I don’t know where he learned such language. I blame my wife.
Kansas City sucks. This is the worst city I have ever been too. There are 3 major highways through/around Kansas City, and they feel it is completely appropriate for them to completely close down two of them at the Missouri River to work on the bridges at the same time. Our hotel was right at one of the last exits before the bridge was closed on the highway we wanted. We planned our alternate route that night before going to bed only to discover the next day that highway was also closed. I was more then a little miffed.
People in Kansas City do not eat in restaurants unless it is fast food or at the Casino. We spent an hour driving around looking for a decent sit down restaurant and couldnÂ’t find one. Finally I went back to the hotel and asked the clerk where I could go find a decent restaurant. The clerk went on to say that I could take my family to either the casino or a sports bar. I felt so trashy taking my 2 and 12 year old to a casino to eat mediocre food.
We spent half of a day in Independence, MO, the launching point of the Santa Fe, Oregon and California Trails west. We went to multiple museums and soaked up a lot of history about early pioneers and settlers. If you like history or just want to do something educational on a vacation, this is an interesting town. It’s also where the Harry Truman library and Museum is. While touring the Frontier Trails Museum my wife made an interesting observation. In a lot of their displays about mountain men and frontier travelers they had replica items. From our re-enacting, we own many of those replica items and or know where which retailer they bought them through, especially the ink packets labeled “Jas. Townsend”. This was consistently the case at every museum and historic center we went to that had displays ranging from the 1700’s through the 1880’s Does this mean my house is a museum?
My wife has been lying to me for years. She grew up in Wichita, KS and has told me for years that Kansas is flat and has no trees. We drove through some pretty hilly areas covered in forest. We did come to spots where there was not a tree in site, however it was still rolling hills.
If I really wanted to quit my job and do living history full time, there are plenty of places for me to find a job. The pay is pretty bad however.
At the Zoo in Wichita, animals like to get right up to the glass. This makes for some really neat picture opportunities.
Wichita has a really neat Living History center, Old Cow Town. This is one of the best-recreated towns IÂ’ve seen. Even on a weekday they have re-enactors peppered through out the town to talk to the people. They even had the saloon open and running, however you could not get a whiskey there, no matter how hard I tried. There was even period pr0n on the walls!
While at Old Cow Town, the boys decided they needed guns. I ended up buying Boopie two six shooters and Clone a Derringer. These being my boys, they ended up getting into a gunfight IN the church.
They had a fur trapper/hunter section in the town. After the living historian finished her speech about the display, I politely explained IÂ’m a re-enactor and she had some of her information wrong. I corrected her on the use of a couple of items and even cited sources for the information. She seemed generally appreciative of my information. She was also rather annoyed by her inability to answer a couple of my questions. No matter how tempting it was to quiz her, I didnÂ’t. My questions where all legitimate ones that I didnÂ’t know the answer two.
In the small Kansas town of Hutchinson is located the Cosmosphere and Space Center. This impressive center also houses a museum on space flight and holds a large collection of rocket and space artifacts from the back up Sputnik satellite to the actual Apollo 13 capsule. IÂ’ve been to the Smithsonian and Cape Kennedy; this place rivals them. It is located about 45 minutes northwest of Wichita, if you are ever in the area you would be doing yourself a disservice by not stopping by. We attempted to see a couple of shows; I however had to miss two of them. Clone would start getting loud and crying and I had to take him out of the theater. We figured this would happen, so I was prepared. I wish I had been able to finish the I-max movie on fighter pilots, as that was interesting.
We went to a chuck wagon supper at the Prairie Rose. The food was great. There was also a cowboy song/story show that went with it. Clone would not sit still or be quiet for the show. I ended up having to take him outside so he could run around. Boopie joined us shortly after. I just could not get Boopie to go back in and try to give the show a chance. He kept saying he didnÂ’t like country music. Even after explaining to him this was the other kind of music, western, he still would not go back in. When clone finally settled down I took him back in and actually was able to see part of the show. These guys where good. After three songs Clone was back to his old tricks and I had to take him out again. This time Boopie decided to stay to watch the show. He liked it so much he ended up buying a CD and having the cowboys autograph it. Dad knows best!
Clone did scream a lot during the drive. If any of you had stock in Advil and noticed that itÂ’s value skyrocketed; itÂ’s because I was popping it like pez.
West of the Mississippi they have gas stations called Kum & Go. Words cannot begin to describe the juvenile levels of mirth I had with that name.
During the whole trip I was constantly speeding. I passed many more people then I was passed. Doing some quick calculations, I figure that for every 500 vehicles I passed, one car would pass me. Yet I did not get pulled over once. There were a couple of close calls.
IÂ’m sure I forgot something, there was so much that happened.
UPDATE: Per request, here's a picture of the Kum N Go sign. Yes, I'm juvinile enough to get a picture.
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August 05, 2005
I contemplated turning over the keys to the blog for a guest poster. The more I thought about it, the less I liked that idea. Most of the people I would have asked to do a guest post or two I either wouldnÂ’t trust with the keys or wouldnÂ’t want to touch this dark hole in the basement of the internet. (Hey, itÂ’s ugly but itÂ’s mine!) And that really is the main reason I didnÂ’t ask someone to guest blog, this is my blog. I donÂ’t want to share. There is some satisfaction in knowing that I did this by myself.
Just in case someone decides to throw a party here in my absence, I left some party favors out.
Click to enlarge
I hope you have a blast!
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A) That someone will read it and think that I’m talking about them, and I’m not. A mistake like that can damage a relationship be it friend or family. This post is about a very specific set of people. I can’t get into too much detail because it’s just not necessary and I don’t want to list specific names. However depending on how an individual reads it, they could very easily slide themselves as one of the persons of my ire. Even you casual readers that accidentally stumbled on this page while looking for the phrase, “Squirt my wife.” (I’ve been getting a crap load of hits for that)
2) The persons that I write it about will read it and know it is about them. IÂ’m not about to say anything to these individuals, itÂ’s not my place; I just want to vent. As it stands right now, IÂ’m not sure if all of them read this blog on a regular basis let alone know of its existence. I believe that one of them does and reads it at least 3-4 times a week.
D) Even if I am wrong and they donÂ’t know of this blogs existence, someone who knows them and me will say something to the individuals about what I wrote. Thus, it gets back to them. The last thing I need at this point is anymore of a strain in the relationship IÂ’m having with them.
All I want to do is really vent at this point, yet I canÂ’t. That really pisses me off because it defeats the purpose of having a blog. Where I am not a person that lets anything bother him for long periods of time, this has been eating away at my soul like a cancer for the last three weeks. There hasnÂ’t been a loss of sleep over it, just a lot of daytime pondering.
I thought that if I wrote the post, and just saved it, that would do the trick. Nope, not at all. There is no satisfaction in that. ItÂ’s like buying the car of your dreams and leaving it in the garage, never taking it out and never going for a ride. You can look at it and know itÂ’s yours, but you donÂ’t actually enjoy it. My rant is written, linked, and saved in a safe place. The thought of saving it as a draft crossed my mind, however I was afraid IÂ’d accidentally post it. GAH! (Bangs head against the desk).
This must be one of those problems that I need to hold in to make it go away on its own. Just push it down deep into the recesses of my soul that I save for other issues I have no way to cope with. Not having had to do that in over 8 years, I donÂ’t know if I can do it again.
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August 04, 2005
Part of packing tonight is going to be a huge bottle of Advil and some left over oxycotin I have from a knee injury two years ago. I know, I know… but I don’t have the contacts to get morphine. That’s a joke people, I don’t have any oxycotin left, and I sold that last year. j/k. There is going to be toys, books, snacks, drinks and even a new seat just to try to appease “Scream Master C” (Clone’s street name if he was a rapper). The drive down there and back is the part I’m dreading the most. I wonder if it is too late to have a soundproof barrier built into the van.
IÂ’m not sure if any of my readers live in the areas that I am heading. If you are and want to get together, e-mail me and weÂ’ll work something out. Other then a handful of people, I think most of my regular readers are east of the Mississippi river. If IÂ’m wrong, call me out on it.
Once we arrive in the hot, oh so hot, Wichita (ItÂ’s been getting over 100 the last couple of weeks!), we are spending 5 days with my in-laws. My wife will be showing me around her old haunts, she grew up in and around Wichita. This vacation is mostly so my wifeÂ’s family can spend some time with her and the kids. As far as I know, we arenÂ’t doing any type of touristy/site seeing activities. If IÂ’m lucky maybe my wife will let me stop at a spot on the Missouri where Lewis and Clark set up camp 200 years ago and snap a couple of pictures. Then again, IÂ’m not sure how far out of the way that will take me and if I really want to drive that much extra with Clone.
Then on the return drive, we are zipping back the same way we came (quickest possible route). Except this time, we are doing it in only two days, with a stay in Des Moines, Iowa. Afterwards IÂ’m expecting that IÂ’m not going to want to get into a vehicle with my family anytime in the near future. That wonÂ’t be possible, as on the 19th I have to drive them three hours to a re-enactment down state. IÂ’m a glutton for punishment.
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Two things crossed my mind the second this girl pulled out. First being, “She’s not going to survive this.” The mass, angle of impact and speed of my truck versus her car would have sent her rolling down the street like a freshly kicked soccer ball. The second was, “I don’t even have 2,000 miles on this truck yet!!!!!” I wasn’t worried about any physical injury to myself. I’ve investigated enough accidents between vehicles of comparable size differences. The bigger vehicle always wins, always. Fortunately, it was a near miss and I only lost some of the life span of my brakes and tires. Although, since my windows were down, the girl did learn some new colorful phrases and words. Then, to top things off, the stupid little git just drove off with out even an apologetic wave or mouthing, “I’m sorry.” On the off chance you find this post and are reading it, I hope you loaded your pants!
When I get home, IÂ’m now hungry, tired, irritated and annoyed. There was a minor snafu with dinner, which didnÂ’t help my mood any. Since we are leaving for Kansas on Friday, we have not done a lot of grocery shopping; we donÂ’t want food spoiling in the house. By the time I found something to make for myself and start cooking it, it was almost 8:00 pm. That is where the huge karmic practical joke kicked in.
IÂ’m at the stove cooking when all of a sudden the lights dim. Not a slight dim, but to the point that you can see a faint glow from the light bulbs. Our electric stove shows that it is on, but the burners arenÂ’t on. Laughingly I make a smart arse comment about how it figured weÂ’d have a brown out that night. Then we notice that all the power in the neighborhood is on and we really have partial power. In the kitchen the refrigerator, microwave work fine, the stove kind of works, the lights are dim and nothing else is working. In our office, I can turn on the computer, desk lamp and window fan, but the overhead light doesnÂ’t work. In the living room, the window fan and desk lamps work, but nothing else does. Upstairs the window AC unit and TV work, but the overhead doesnÂ’t. It was sporadic and didnÂ’t make any sense. Most of these items are on the same circuit with something that is working. My wife says she thinks itÂ’s the fuses. I tell her if a fuse goes out, then you have no power not a trickle of power. Moreover, we have circuit breakers.
To appease my wife I head down to check out the power box while I send her to make sure the neighbors aren’t having the same problem. I had contacted ComEd to report the brown out earlier. In the basement, I’m looking at the circuit breakers and they all look fine. Just to make sure I start flipping them one at a time. My wife is telling me which lights are going off and coming back on. After finishing that, any lights working before still worked, however anything that was “browned out” now was dead. WHAT THE HELL!?!?!?!? Roaming around the house, I’m trying to figure out what is going on. This makes no sense.
Back into the dark depths of my basement I go. Now I need to give you a little background on my house. It was built in 1912; originally, it did NOT have plumbing and electricity. Electricity was added sometime in the 1920Â’s. In the 70Â’s a new furnace was put in to replace the old gas converted coal furnace. When they did that, they updated the electrical box in the house. Instead of taking out the old one, they put a second one in at that time, which brought it up to code. Our electricity flows through two boxes. ItÂ’s goofy, itÂ’s illogical, but itÂ’s not unheard of and it does follow the electrical code. Electricity flows into my house first through the old box, then the new box, then to the various outlets. Opening the cover to the original box, I look at the old screw in fuses in there. They all are okay, nothing wrong. I flip the lever on the main line in, killing power to the entire house. When I flip it on, no difference then when I turned it off.
By now, my anger level is reaching a peak. None of this makes any sense. I call my father who is a plumbing and electrical engineer to come over and give me a hand. While he is on his way over, I go back to the old power box. Reopening the cover, I take a second harder look at it. Right above the fuses there are two black squares about 4 inches wide and 5 inches tall each. This time I notice on each of these ancient electrical artifacts it says On and Off, except the off is upside down. There is a metal handle on each one. It is a handle, NOT a lever. After a quick inspection, I realize that each square is actually some kind of cartridge that is meant to be pulled out and flipped over to turn on/off power to the house. IÂ’m not familiar with this electrical lay out, but at this point I figure there isnÂ’t a whole lot more damage I could do. Grabbing the handle of one of the cartridges, I notice it feels hot. ThatÂ’s not right. Bracing myself for a jolt of electricity and using more muscle then I thought I would need, I pulled the cartridge outÂ…
Sounds… Funny sounds… it sounded like… like… the scene in Ghostbusters when they shut down the containment field on the ghost storage unit. I was waiting for there to be a green glow and the dead guy from the wall (That is a story for another time) to come out and tell me it was about damn time I freed him from his prison. Then my wife yells down that there is no power in the house. My flippant comeback to her was, “No shit, really?!?!” I hear her smart something off, but I couldn’t quite make out what it was. Then it was silent, eerily silent. I’m in this old limestone basement of a house with no power, a dead guy in the wall and I’m by myself. Talk about being a happy man, I was in my element! However, I was hungry.
Looking behind the cartridge, I see there is two huge cylinders about 5 inches long and a little thicker then my thumb. IÂ’ve seen these beforeÂ… IN FRANKENSTEIN MOVIES FROM THE 50Â’S! There is no way to tell if these ancient fuses are blown by looking at them. My father finally arrives and we flip the fuses. When I plug the cartridge back in, the parts that had electricity was dead, the parts that didnÂ’t now do. ItÂ’s now 10 minutes to 9 pm. We quickly run to the hardware store and pick four of them up. I figured I should change the two in that cartridge at the same time and have two extras, just in case. We get home, change the fuses and plug in the cartridge. WE HAVE POWER!
My father looks at the electrical in my house and confirms what I had been thinking. My electrical is damn goofy. That fuse should never have blown. Sometime, probably in the 50Â’s or 60Â’s they reworked the interior of that fuse box. The power to my house actually goes in through these tube fuses, then through the screw fuses, and THEN through the circuit breakers. I have a triple redundant fuse system. They installed the screw fuse portion so they wouldnÂ’t have to deal with a blown tube fuse. Then we have the circuit breakers so we shouldnÂ’t have to worry about blowing a screw fuse. That means that I should trip a circuit before I blow a screw fuse, and I should blow a screw fuse before I blow a tube fuse. At least that is the theory of it. What is sad is that IÂ’ve tripped the circuit breakers before and never had this problem. I guess the fuse just got old. It was pretty late before I actually got to eat dinner last night.
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August 03, 2005
My life is rated NC-17.
What is your life rated?
Blatantly stolen from CalTechGirl
Actually I think someone is giving me more credit then I deserve. I don't think my life is all that.... interesting.
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This Friday I am leaving for my vacation. My wife and I are taking the kids to visit her relatives in Wichita, Kansas. While we are passing through Iowa, I have the opportunity to meet a guy from one of my football message boards. HeÂ’s a Green Bay fan that lives in Iowa. Since we were swinging that way, I thought it would be nice to put a face to his name/handle.
Last week I worked up the nerve to put in for another promotion at work. Apparently, IÂ’m doing well enough in my current position in the mentoring area. My manager put pressure on me to apply for a supervisory position that opened up. That does mean direct reports. While IÂ’m not sure IÂ’m quite ready for it, I figure what does it hurt to apply. What is the worst thing that will happen? They say no. Then IÂ’m in the same position I was in if I didnÂ’t apply, I donÂ’t have the promotion. IÂ’d rather try and not get it then to not try and never know.
Football season is right around the coroner. Preseason starts here shortly, and the camps began last week. IÂ’m ready for football; I need it. Maybe this year I can get more participation in my pool and salary cap league (ItÂ’s like fantasy football only easier) then I did last year. Both are run through Yahoo, so you have to have a Yahoo account. Last year I ended up winning the pool, so IÂ’m not complaining. ItÂ’s just more fun if you have more people playing. If you are interested, leave me a comment and IÂ’ll send you and invite. If you donÂ’t have a Yahoo account, you can create one free.
Damn, I wish I could tell you a couple of my stories. They are all that is going through my head right now. That makes it hard to post.
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August 02, 2005
Skye, a friend of the family, has the privilege of being the first second generation Mortar Maiden. In July, when we did our last re-enactment, Skye volunteered to pose with the Howling Jezebel, our mortar. It only took most of a year to convince her that it was for her betterment.
Remember all you lovely ladies out there; IÂ’m always looking for new Mortar Maidens. DonÂ’t hesitate to volunteer!
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This morning I walk into our bathroom and I pause for a second to admire my beautiful wife. Of course, I start to grin; beautiful women always make me grin. From the corner of her eye, she sees me looking at her. Whipping her head in my direction she yells, “What the hell are you smiling for?” Attempting to save my hide, I explain I was just admiring her beauty. My loving wife then tells me to “Shut up and finish getting ready for work!” While putting goop in my hair to make it all nice and spiky, I’m apologizing for smiling at her. To which she responds with a grunt.
After finishing my hair and cologne, I head downstairs to wake up Boopie, then to make lunch and breakfast for Ktreva and me. When Boopie comes bopping into the kitchen, I warn him. I tell him, “No matter what you do, do NOT smile at your mother this morning.” Boopie, like all 12 year olds, wants to know why. With a warning look on my face, I explain that, “Your mother is in a bit of a mood this morning. Worse then normal.” Boopie then bounces out of the kitchen grinning. He says, “What ever you say dad.” Typical 12 year old, doesn’t believe what I’ve told him. Hollering after him that I wasn’t kidding, I go back to work on packing our breakfast and lunches.
Then it happened. From upstairs, I hear Clone crying (He has his mother’s love of mornings) and my wife yells, “What are you smiling at?” A heard of elephants comes flying down the stairs, a crash comes from the living room. Sticking my head around the corner to see what is going on; I can see Boopie with a look of terror on his face. He is sprawled out on the floor after tripping on some of Clones toys. My wife comes through the door holding a screaming Clone. Boopie is trying to scramble to his feet to get away as his mother attempts to wrangle him in with one hand. I’ve realized that one of my worst nightmares has come true… my wife has hit “kill” mode. Poor defenseless Boopie is frantically attempting to scramble to his feet with minimal success. If it weren’t for Clone wiggling as much as he was, Ktreva would have easily skinned Boopie.
I’m looking around the kitchen for some kind defensive device for me to use to help Boopie; hence, I missed how he actually did escape. I’m searching around for a large cutting board to use as a shield when Boopie comes running into the kitchen screaming, “HELP ME DAD! MOM’S AFTER ME!” For a second I contemplated letting her destroy him, I mean I did try to warn him and he didn’t listen. Isn’t my duty as a parent finished at that point? I didn’t think so. My wife comes crashing into the kitchen almost taking out the trashcan. Clone comes screaming in behind her wanting to be picked up.
Murder.
It was murder in her eyes. One of us was going to go down. Boopie was cowering behind me. This was it folks, I knew I was a dead man. The karmic wheel has spun and is paying me back for all the mean things IÂ’ve done to others. My wife, with a voice like Gozer the Gozerian, proclaims that we shall pay in blood for our disrespect. Boopies goes limp as he falls to the floor. Her eyes glint to him for a second and return to me. Knowing I had precious little time left before IÂ’m wearing my rib cage as a hat, I did the only thing I could think of.
It’s amazing how the most innocent phrase can turn a super pissed off ancient Sumerian god back into a lovely and enchanting woman. It was a simple phrase that made everything okay and restored normalcy in the Contagion household. When the words, “I packed you a chocolate bar in your lunch today, because I love you” passed from my lips, all was restored. My wife smiled, tilted her head to one said and said, “Really?” We finished getting ready and then went to work.
For those of you that need a moral to this story. I have three for you. 1) When women are made at you, Chocolate makes things better! 2) Children sometimes need to learn lessons the hard way, especially when they disregard valuable advice. 3) DonÂ’t awaken a pissed of ancient Sumerian god if you donÂ’t want to pay the price.
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August 01, 2005
1) You can name everyone you graduated with.
2) You know what 4-H means.
3) You went to parties at a pasture,barn gravel pit, or in the middle of a dirt
road. On Monday you could always tell who was at the party because of the
scratches on thier legs from running through the woods when the party was
busted.(See #6)
4) You used to "drag" Main.
5) You said the "F" word and your parents knew it within the hour.
6) You scheduled parties around the schedules of different police officers,
because you knew which ones would bust you and which ones wouldn't.
7) You could never buy cigarettes because all the store clerks knew how old you
were ( and if you were old enough, they'd tell your parents anyhow.)
When you did find someone old enough and brave enough to buy cigarettes, you still had to go out in the country and drive on back roads to smoke them.
9) You knew which section of the ditch you would find the beer your buyer dropped off.
10) It was cool to date somebody from the neighboring town.
11) The whole school went to the same party after graduation.
12) You didn't give directions by street names but rather by references.
Turn by Nelson's house, go 2 blocks to Anderson's, and it's four houses
left of the track field.
13)The golf course was only 9 holes.
14) You couldn't help but date a friend's ex-boyfriend/girlfriend.
15) Your car stayed filthy because of the dirt roads, and you never owned
a dark vehicle for this reason.
16) The town next to you was considered "trashy" or "snooty" but was actully
just like your town.
17) You referred to anybody with a house newer than 1965 as the "rich people."
1
The people in the "big city" dressed funny, and then you picked up the trend 2 years later.
19) Anyone you wanted could be found at the local gas station or the town bar.
20) You saw at least one friend a week driving a tractor through town or one of your friends driving a grain truck to school occasionally.
21) The gym teacher suggested you haul hay for the summer to get stronger.
22) Directions were given using THE spot light as a reference.
23) When you decided to walk somewhere for the exercise, 5 people would pull overand ask if you wanted a ride.
24) Your teachers called you by your older siblings names.
25) Your teachers remembered when they taught your parents.
26) You could charge at any local store or write a check without any ID.
27) The closest McDonalds was 25 mile away (or more).
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The closest mall was over an hour away.
29) It was normal to see an old man riding through town on a riding lawn mower.
30) You've pee'd in a cornfield.
31) Most people went by a nickname.
32) You laughed your butt off reading this because you know its true, and you
forward it to evererybody who may have lived in a small town. Also to those who just don't know how great it is living in a small town.
This was stolen from an e-mail a friend (YES I DO HAVE ONE OR TWO!) sent me.
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Now down to business, it’s Monday and I’m still feeling like hell. That is because I decided that if I was going to do this right, I was going to get really drunk… Mission accomplished. My “Brewutiful” (TM T1G) wife was nice enough to drive me down to Fritz’ Wooden Nickel in Stillman Valley so we could eat some of the best prime rib I’ve had and meet up with T1G. Aneth said she was going to come, but she showed up fashionably late, but not as fashionably late as Tammi. Then Tammi tried to pick up one of the locals for some reason or another. T1G tried to warn her it might not be a good idea, but she ignored him for some reason. We do believe she now has a stalker.
Fritz was tending bar and what a great guy, he just left the bottle of Jack Daniels right there for me. A couple of times he stood there holding it and just kept topping off my glass, as I would empty it. T1G and I decided we should do some shots of JamesonÂ’s. Not a bad whiskey, I prefer Bushmill's if IÂ’m drinking Irish whiskey. The Wooden Nickel didnÂ’t strike me as a joint that would carry a good single malt Scotch, so I didnÂ’t ask. You never know, it might have.
That is the end of my “clear” memory. I went out with the entire purpose to get trashed so I could come back and make comments. Through out the night I remember turning to my wife and making comments like “If I was driving, I’d quit now”, “This is drunker then I usually let myself get”, “This is the drunkest you’ve ever seen me.” “This is the drunkest I can remember being since college.” I think Fritz went through at least three bottles of Jack Daniels while I was there. I’m not saying I was the only one drinking it, but I did a lot of damage. The bottle I started on when I arrived was freshly opened, and I remember him opening up a second bottle before 9 PM. At that time, no one else was drinking Jack.
Funny things I do remember.
-T1G falling out of his chair
-Tammi, Aneth and Ktreva having a best boobies contest
-T1G “raising the roof” and making the “Whoot Whoot” noise.
-Aneth poking T1G to see watch him change colors
-Using a thick Scottish Accent to call blog momma-sis Bou
-Bou being drunker then I wasÂ…
-My trying to balance a tray of drinks at the end of the night
-Tammi flirting with me while my wife was sitting right next to me
-My inability to say simple words like “intoxicated”
I remember laughing a lot too, but I just donÂ’t recall what I was laughing at.
When we finally got home, my wife took our sitter home. While she did that, I did a couple more shots of whiskey and made a drink for me to sit down and start blogging. I figured I should start with my own post first. Then I planned to hit all the Frizzen Sparks and Bad Example Family members to leave a comment. There were also some other blogs I meant to hit. My plans went to hell. Yesterday when I was going back through I missed some blogs I really had meant to leave comments. After I finished hitting everyone in my Frizzen Family, I tried to go onto the Bad Example family. However, the blogroll was fubar. It didnÂ’t even show up. That required me to use my Jack DanielÂ’s soaked memory to find everyone. That is quite a chore. I did cheat and use HarveyÂ’s hand coded blog roll after a while. Going back and reading my comments yesterday I realized that you could tell which blogs I hit in what order. My comments were worse as the night went on. I will say I am a little disappointed in the turn out of comments on blogs, I was hoping there would be more drunken comments on different blogs. This may be due to the fact that there was a chat room created for it. It was a good idea, but I think it took away from what I was looking for.
Now for the aftermath: I passed out in my front yard. My wife went to bed while I plugged away making comments. She came down to check on me as I was deciding to go outside and have a cigarette. I generally only smoke when I’ve been drinking. (So I smoke seven nights a week! Ba-da-bum-bum) Ktreva decided to join me, so we sat outside talking when I just get up and start walking off the porch. I vaguely remember her asking me where I was going. Then the floodgates opened up. I had the urge to ‘gurge and let it flow. Maybe I’m wrong, but I remember it covering about 75% of my front yard. Next thing I remember is I’m lying on the ground and my wife is trying to wake me up by kicking me in the head. Apparently, she attempted to move me, but she just wasn’t strong enough. Making it to bed, all was well with the world… or so I thought.
Along comes 4:30 AM and I feel my stomach starting to contract. Running into the bathroom, I make it in the nick of time, as my body evacuates the remainder of what it had missed earlier. Stumbling back to bed, all was well with the world againÂ… and again I was wrong. There was a repeat performance of this scenario every 15-30 minutes until about 1 pm Sunday afternoon. No matter what I did, my stomach would not settle down. I would sip water and it would come up, I would nibble on saltines and they would come back up. Not even the damn Advil wouldnÂ’t stay down to help my headache. I finally crawled out of bed to stay around 1:30. At this time, I would like to say that my wife is a Saint. The whole time she was looking in and taking care of me. She was nice and sympathetic. I told her she didnÂ’t have to, it was my own damn fault, but she insisted. Disparaging remarks about my wife will NOT be tolerated.
I spent the afternoon drinking broth and water while snacking on saltines. Around 5:00 PM, my stomach felt strong enough for me to eat normal food. It was then I discovered that I wasnÂ’t 100% sober yet. Having had enough of water, I decided to drink some pop. As soon as the carbonation hit my mouth, I could taste Jack Daniels again. The caffeine and carbonation brought the alcohol back out in me. No, I did not get sick again. I just kind of felt mellow and my headache went away. This lasted for the rest of the night and into today. ThatÂ’s right folks; IÂ’m still suffering a hang over.
Let this be a valuable lesson to everyone. I do NOT normally drink that much, I only did so to ensure that I would make appropriately drunk comments on everyoneÂ’s blog. When I tried doing it with less then total drunkenness, my comments and posts were still okay. When my body told me I had enough to drink, I kept going. I probably should have gone to the hospital for a good stomach pumping/charcoal slurry. Through out college I saw a lot of people that had alcohol poisoning, including myself once. How I feel is exactly how I felt after that incident. This was not one of the smarter things IÂ’ve ever done and I do not plan to do it again, ever. I will continue to drink, just not that much. Actually, I could go for a Jack and Coke right now, IÂ’m kidding. Kind of, well maybe in an hour.
BTW, at the bar it was decided that I should host the BlogCrawl Annually. Mark Your Calendars, The second annual BlogCrawl will be July 19, 2006!
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