i like it crunchy...

No, not peanut butter. Unless it's peanut butter with the broken bones from the back legs of that deer I plowed over last night. Now, that would be some crunchy of a different sort.
It is definitely a shock I never want to experience again. I mean, I'm driving along right? All content and warm in my trendy hatchback SUV-sortaish wagon (which is not even paid off yet), when off to my left I see this streak of brown come shooting in front of me. It would have made it, too. If I hadn't been driving there at the time. Stupid me. We damn Democrats and our liberal cars. I had enough time to tighten my grip on the wheel, put both feet on the pedals, yell OH SHIT!, and WHAM! No more Bambi.
60 miles an hour and 4 skinny legs don't mix well.

I pulled off the shoulder with the hazards flashing and made sure everyone was ok. My son and wife were in the car; thankfully, nobody was hurt. Thank you Pontiac! The car did great if you ask me, no damage to the inside of the car. The outside is an entirely different story. One with a not very happy ending. You can see the results on my Flickr page, just click on the link. The car had to be towed. I should warn you, prepare to be horrified, it's a terrible scene of destruction (not really, but it's not great). I am now waiting on the body shop to get an estimate for my insurance company. My luck they'll total the thing and I will be stuck with a pretty small down payment for something else.

Merry Fucking Christmas!

rockin' around the christmas tree...

It has begun. The countdown to end all countdowns! I'm hoping this year is a great one for you and yours!



Merry Christmas! and a Happy New Year!

and Rethuglicans wept...

Eat this Bush!

stamps, schmamps...

I have to confess something to you all. I feel that our relationship as blogger and bloggee can really go no further until I get this out in the open. You see a relationship built upon trust can not be fully realized if one party is not completely open and honest. So for that reason I implore you all to have open hearts and minds and try to understand...








My name is Cha, and I collect gift cards.

There I said it. I feel so much better! It's like a great weight has finally been lifted from my shoulders and the chains which have bound me have been cut!

I am not a collector of just any gift card, mind you. Oh no! I shall not stoop so low as to collect cards so common as a Barney's or Dillard's gift card. I only collect the Toyota of gift cards, the symbol of American ingenuity and capitalism. And cheap goods.

The coveted and rare Wal-mart Gift Card is my junk of choice. I even purchased a small book made to hold business cards to store them in. They fit well in the sheet pockets and look so nice all lined up in rows. Almost, dare I say it? Pretty ")

Um, excuse me, you in the front? Yes, you. Shut up. I don't need you reminding me of my sickness. Yes, I know you're right something should be done.

Can I finish? Thanks.

Every time I enter those hallowed halls of the Low Price Leader©, I immediately head to the kiosk of the cards. I won't always find new and interesting ones, but were I to skip a look I feel certain a great evil would be visited upon the world. Something like the progeny of Bush and Cheney being let out of the White House basement to wreck havoc upon the Democrats.

Oh. Wait.

Rove was seen outside just the other day. So much for my saving the world a terrible fate.

!~!GO VOTE TODAY!~!

time to start calling the shots...

We've finally come to it. Election time. Thank God.
Two years ago, our country was given the opportunity to change the course of it's fate for something better. To choose leadership with goals of reason not madness. Sadly, the voices of those supporting that change were drowned in a sea of fear, self-loathing, and ignorance. Conservative train-wreck legislation implored everyone who wanted to protect America and loved Jesus to vote for their Republican representative. Vote to "protect" marriage from the evil heathens among us wanting to sully the institution. Vote to continue supporting our Dear Leader in his endeavor to rid the poor, desperate Middle East of Satan's evil and bring the glory of democracy to their nations.
They won, then. Bush and Co. got what they wanted, two more years of unchecked power to further erode the American Constitution. Two more years to take more of our freedoms and toss them to the curb. Two more years to send innocent men and women to die for ego and personal legacy. Two more years to LIE. Two more years to pad retirement accounts and three car garages. Two more years to keep sending the economy down the drain. Two more years to give the rest of the world more reason to hate us. Two. More. Fucking. Years.

Those of you out there that voted for this shit, are you happy? Did you get what you wanted? Do you feel safer and more superior to the rest of us? Still? Not so much?

Are you going to finally stand up and do what you know is right this time around? Can you possibly pull yourself away from the television and Dancing With The Stars long enough to actually learn the awful facts about what is and has been for years going on in Iraq? In North Korea and Iran? In your own damn backyard!

It's time people. Time to send every one of the lying scumbags back home and hopefully into the waiting arms of the justice system, what little there is left of it. If you can't bring yourself to swallow your own damned pride and vote what you know is the only course of action that could possibly bring us away from this dangerous precipice ignorance has led us to, then do us all a favor and stay the fuck home. Just don't vote. Your absence will only help us bring some much needed checks and balances back into the government.

worst luck in the f'in world...

Five minutes after scarfing down a huge spinach salad, which by the way was awesome. Co-worker reads aloud this headline: "FDA recalls all bagged spinach due to E. coli contamination."

Nothing more appealing than the prospect of stomach cramps and a probability of death!

a state like no other...

Over at Dooce, Heather wrote a piece describing the ramblings of an unknown guy doing his best to distill the world's supply of grain alcohol through his selfless liver on Jon's cell phone. It reminded me of my own morally deficient adventures in brewery land. I got drunk for the first time when I was 18 years old. I was living in an apartment with 3 other people, dropped out of college and working in fast food. Regular winner was I. We had the great idea to have a party, just a small one, with a few people. Around 20. I think. It may have been less because at some point I'm sure I was seeing double. My friends knowing I was a novice with alcohol, decided to play what they called Circle of Death. What it should have been called was get you shit-faced drunk until you pass out in the parking lot flat out on your back. I had enough Crown Royal to pickle Ted Kennedy. (That's a lot, by the way.) During the course of the evening's escapades, I became hysterically tickled by the bottles of spices on the back of the stove; they kept changing places on me. That was the funniest thing I had ever lain eyes on and let everyone know that I thought they should share in the experience with me by yelling Spices! and laughing my stupid drunk head off for five full minutes before someone finally got me calmed down enough to tell them through several giggling fits what the hell I was talking about. When I was finally ready to die, I figured I could either crawl under the sofa or make my way to the second floor bedroom. OF COURSE I chose the stairs. What kind of alcoholic-in-training would I be if I wussed out now? I began my ascent and made the first riser when it dawned on me I should be moving instead of the stairs. For the next twenty steps I was on all fours with my girlfriend behind me to make sure I didn't break my neck. Again. Winner. I didn't roll down the stairs, but my bed tried to throw me through the wall several times. It was a hateful and evil sort of bed and in need of a good exorcism. The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!

I survived the night, but went into a repentant state of sobriety for almost 5 years afterward.

Then I discovered rum and cokes.

like the weather...

It's starting to turn cooler in my neck of the woods and that can mean only one thing.
That's right, chili my friends. Food of the Gods.

Here's my own recipe for this glorious conglomeration of beef and stuff:

Cha's Famous Chili
1-1.5 lb. ground beef- no more than 85/15 lean
1 medium to large onion (chopped)
4-5 tablespoons McCormick Chili Seasoning
1 tablespoon McCormick Fajita Seasoning
2 16 oz. cans chili beans (drained)
2 sm. cans of sliced button mushrooms (drained) - (use fresh ones if you can find them but canned works well if not)
1 12-16 oz. can Hunts Tomato Sauce
2 cans Rotel Tomatoes and Green Chilies (undrained)


In a skillet, combine the ground beef, chopped onion, and the 2 seasonings. Brown the beef and onions over medium heat.

While the ground beef is cooking; in a large crock pot combine all other ingredients.

Add the ground beef and add to the crock pot, stirring to combine all ingredients thoroughly.

Cook on low heat for 6-7 hours, stirring occasionally.

Serve with favorite toppings and enjoy!

taking the long way...

Let's start this off with an announcement.

I'M EMPLOYED!

Took long enough, huh? I thought so too.
Here's a quick recap for those just joining us. I was fired on April 6th from my hella good paying job for reasons sinister. By June I had reached a state of anxiety so high if you flicked me, my entire body would hum like a tuning fork. Come July I had all but given up on ever being employed again. Either God hated me or I had been named unluckiest man in the world by the U.M.I.T.W.N.C (Unluckiest Man In the World Nominating Committee). I think it was a little bit of both. Somebody stuffed that ballot box. Anyway, I finally broke down and re-applied to my old company from '99 and wouldn't you know they took me back at 99% of my previous employer's salary. Sweet!
So, now I am back in the working world and have just hit my 1 month anniversary. It's weird starting over again but not really being unfamiliar with it because I had previous experience here. I find myself remembering how to do the job in bits and pieces and more coming back every day. And I can't help but get the feeling that I was always meant to come back here, the first day was like going to a high school reunion and seeing all the people I used to know five years older but still the same somehow.

I know that I have changed in many ways but do others see me the same as I see them? Do I want them to?

stuck in neutral...

I wrote a few months ago about losing my job thanks to my own stupidity. Since then I have been firing off resumes like a 4th of July fireworks show, mostly to no avail. I had a promising interview about a month ago with Build-A-Bear for a management position, Ms. Bear Rep told me I would hear something in July. Well, July is almost over with and the phone hasn't rung yet. I'm not holding my breath. So, now we come to today, I am scheduled to interview with a grocery store chain for a store management gig. I hold no hope that this will pay anywhere near what I was making before. But, since it is pretty clear that the employment opportunities around here are few and far between, I am willing to take almost anything.
I have been at a loss as to why my ass is still unemployed. I have always had an exemplary employment history and my job performance has never been in question. So why all of a sudden is me finding a job about as likely as Bush pronouncing nuclear correctly? It has 3, count'em, 3 syllables Dear Leader. In a way being unemployed has given me time to recuperate from working non-stop for 11 years. However, anxiety about the future and my ability to support my family has begun to weigh heavily on my psyche.
I will keep slogging through the classifieds in hope of a new path revealing itself among those black and white pages. Wish me luck.

Finding out you're still a bad person...

"Hey look, it's the one-armed security guard again," the wife said.

"Do you think she carries a gun?"

"I wonder if you could have one arm and still be a policeman?," she says.

"But what if she has to use a flashlight, too? How would she hold them both?," I ponder.

I turn to the wife and answer my own question, "I bet she juggles."

monkey see, monkey do...

Monkeys rock-

pardon me, while I hurl...

The grossest thing I have ever heard:

Our dog going to town snout down between her legs.

Imagine something akin to a pig rooting in mud, your toothless uncle gumming pudding with his mouth open, and the half-clogged drain in your tub sucking that last inch of water down the pipes.

All at the SAME TIME!

the monster that lives in the toilet...

Yesterday while wandering around Lowe's, my son's half-brother (I know very complicated, I have one child and his mother is now remarried with a second, who we keep during the day for her while she is at work), began doing the hunched-over-I-am-pretty-sure-the-buick-in-my-ass-is-in-drive-dance. I rushed him to the restroom, which of course, was on the other side of the store, completely in the back. The pooping commenced.

I learned something during that excursion to waste-management land, children can lay stinkers as powerful as big people and courtesy-flushing while said child is still on the throne will result in his disengaging his ass from the seat at such a rate as to cause a significant drop in air pressure inside the bowl.

of course we are completely rational adults...

Since discovering the guilty pleasure of Art Car mania, we have become nothing short of groupies. The weekend following our foray to Eureka Springs, the wife and I pile into the Pontiac and trek our happy asses to Texas. Houston, Texas, for the Orange Show's Everyone's Art Car Parade 2006!!

We arrived the day before the event late in the evening and got up the next morning to head off to the park. The streets were lined with people from all over anxiously awaiting the cars. We were not disappointed. This year's event included 266 entries of some incredible pieces of artwork. Don't let anyone fool you, these cars were labors of love and imagination. Some of the owners have spent literally thousands of dollars creating their art car. Many of the entries didn't even start out as a car of any sort, but they were as mobile as anything on the road.

My favorite had to be Draka the Dragon, this thing was astounding. Freaking huge!

We had such a good time at the parade, even with the Neanderthal standing next to us who thought it completely appropriate to tell his toddler-size daughter that she needed to grow up with boobs as big as one of the cheerleader type girls' walking with the parade. Somebody please get this man a castration for Christmas. Sleaze extraordinaire.

You can see all the cars at this year's parade and read about some of the entries and history of the Orange Show here:

Really, being unemployed does have it's perks!

marketing strategy, part 2...

Um, it's failing as far as I can tell. Site traffic is pretty much the same, maybe a few more hits. Maybe given some more time, also I have a flickr page now, that may bring in some new readers. Fingers crossed.


Upcoming: Savannah, GA here I come, sun and sand, and great food. Will be arriving on Sunday the 28th.

Can't wait!

when you know you're a very bad person...

After pointing out the one-armed security guard for a factory in our town, my wife had this to say.

"I bet the story of how that happened is not a happy one."

"Yeah, you're probably right."



I'm not sure when we're going, but the handbasket arrived this morning.

long ago and far away...

I was recently asked to write a short essay of sorts on a favorite memory of my grandparents for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. It turned into over two pages.

It was well received and I think I would like you all to be able to read it.
Enjoy :)


Memories of Grandparents
What is my favorite memory of my grandparents? That's a tough one. When I was first approached to do this, my initial thought was, “I have no idea!” I'd never thought about it until then. I knew there were memories that I had cataloged and filed away in some dusty corner of my mind only to be found at a later, but pleasantly unexpected date. So I began with a broom and a flashlight to look for the best one I could find. Did it involve only me and them? Maybe it was an entire roomful of people all sharing the same experience? Was it on some hot summer day or maybe a cool fall afternoon? It might have been only a single conversation overheard through a half-open window.
The first memory I wiped the cobwebs from was brought on by a pang of hunger. I smiled remembering how each year during my childhood, Grandpa would carry into the house a flat full of onions and potatoes. Grannie would look them over, deem them acceptable and they would set to work sowing the small field behind the house with that year's garden of crops. Sometimes I was able to help, but only if I was not previously engaged with a book or a bike. The summer would pass into early fall and Grannie would get out the canning equipment. There would be jars upon jars lining the counter-tops of green beans, tomatoes, pickles, and any number of vegetables that happened to have sounded good when they were out buying the seeds. Everyone knew they were going to get a share and if needed, an extra jar or two to help during a short week. Yes, that one was a great memory. But was it my favorite?
So I set that one aside, ear-marked just in case and began to dig some more. Years of lost thoughts coming to light again. Lost being the operative word. Picture a road trip to Kansas with Kris, Grannie and me to visit Aunt Billie. On the return trip, we left pretty late in the afternoon and before long we found ourselves driving in the dark. We'd been on the road for several hours and gradually it became quite apparent that we were not in Kansas anymore; but, neither were we in Oklahoma where we should have been. Grannie drove a few more miles and came to a road sign that read Missouri. At least a hundred miles into Missouri at that! East looked like west. Grannie, not panicked or upset, just laughed it off with us and turned the car around. It took longer to get home, but gave us three more hours together on our little adventure.
Road trips were one thing all the grandkids in our family shared with glee. We couldn't wait when summer rolled around to find out if we were headed south to see Aunt Janet and the Red River of Oklahoma or north to visit the never-tiring Aunt Billie. It didn't matter to any of us just as long as we all got our chance to go. I'm almost positive that Grandpa and Grannie drove us around the world several times over before we were all grown and out of the house, driving ourselves. I don't wonder if any of us would think twice about doing it all over again.
Must. Take. Road. Trip. Soon. OK, OK, back on task.
I still need to decide what is my favorite memory of all. Memories go by, pages upon pages of old pictures from a long lost photo album just recently found again.
I turn to a dog-eared photo showing a lit and haphazardly decorated Christmas tree. And you can't see the carpet for all the presents under that tree. Boxes and bags and ribbons and colorful papers and people I love and all the food you can stuff your face with. Christmas at my grandparents home was an affair to be envied by just about any standard. Every member of the family there talking over everyone else, laughing at some goofy trick one of the kids was doing, sometimes arguing over who had the biggest gift under the tree. I help out in the kitchen one year, the next year I'm in the bedroom laying out paper and tape to wrap last minute gifts, years before that I'm one of the kids doing some goofy trick of my own. Was it really that long ago? How did I forget so much? I'm almost crying at this point. Who wouldn't be?
It's not possible for me to pick out just ONE favorite memory from these thousands of good and bad and in-between. Each revision of my choice triggers yet another moment of nostalgia. No, I don't believe I will choose only a single, solitary memory. I cannot do the impossible, so I will do the closest thing.
Instead, I will honor my grandparents with this thought. I have been blessed with a Grannie and Grandpa who saw their family as their highest priority. Never letting you forget how much you were in their thoughts as they were giving advice you might not have wanted but probably needed at the time. Few in this world have arms wrapped around them so tightly. I am one of the lucky ones.
I congratulate you both on holding us all together (even while you might have been holding yourselves together by only a thread.) I congratulate you both on your having the courage and faith to never abandon each other. I congratulate you both on making everyone feel welcome in your home no matter who they were or why they were there. I congratulate you both for the last fifty years of bringing us joy, anger, compassion, laughter, tears, but most of all unyielding love.
Love, Cha

Post post post post post...

I promise I will have several posts coming soon. Life has been hectic and I have been unmotivated it seems lately.


Apologies all around.

Cha

diese parade ist gut, ya...

So many weekends, so little time. You know how it is, your company fucks you over for five years, then sends you packing. You spend those five years giving up precious weekends for a 4 day work week. You don't want to think about all the places and events you've missed (they occurred on weekends, you see). Did I mention that the four day work week took place on the weekends (Thursday through Sunday)? Needless to say I have a lot of weekend party time to make up for.

Let's begin.


May 6, 2006: A little something called the art car parade takes place in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. I know, I'd never heard of it either. But hang in there things are about to get interesting.
So anyway, here we were the wife and I, hanging out on a Saturday in Eureka for the sole purpose of seeing a yellow submarine.

Wait, wait, wait, I seem to have started somewhere in the middle of the beginning of this post. Let's back up, almost two months up. (Hint, I was still employed). Keep backing, almost there. Okay, that's far enough. I'm at work, being the good little slave when the wife calls. She is, oh just, I don't know, excited a tad? Yeah, that's it. Excited. Here I was at work and she's out in the world excited to beat the band.

Truthfully, it was only Fayetteville and there was no band (I think).

But she was excited. At first I couldn't understand what the hell she was talking about. She kept saying a yellow submarine, yellow submarine. A yellow submarine? WTF? Finally after she stopped laughing about it she got out this: "I'm at Walmart and there is a yellow submarine car in the parking lot!" Yeah, she's smoking something at this point. I'm like, "Oooookayy, what are you talking about?"
She proceeds to tell me about this late model Olds Cutlass Ciera that is decked out, I kid you not, as the Yellow Submarine. It has portholes painted on the side and bubbles going out the back. There are pipes coming out from the top and Beatles regalia everywhere.

Fucking awesome and then some.

So the wife, being the adoring fan of all things funk, leaves a note on the windshield with her cell # telling the owner how much she thinks the car rocks and wants to know more about it.

Alright kiddies, lets go forward again to three weeks ago. Ready? Okay, just a little farther and...Stop!

We're home and her phone rings, it's the car guy. This is cool, heh:) The wife suggests we all get together for dinner some night and car guy (aka- Gary) says, "Well, I'm going to be in Eureka Springs this weekend, my car is one of the entries in the Art Car Parade, we could meet up there."

Perfect.

We arrive in Eureka during what has to be the longest downpour in history, second only to the Great Flood. Although I did see some bird with what looked suspiciously like an olive branch in its beak. Not knowing where Captain Gary is, wife calls him. We are directed to a hole-in-the-wall joint called the Pied Piper (which by the way, has the most awesome fish and chips platter). Now, remember we have never met this man but it is immediately apparent which one he is. Audience? The man in the skipper's hat. Of course. He and his merry crew are commencing with lunch, which we are obliged to partake in. Cue plug for the fish and chips! Gary informs us that the parade of Art Cars begins at 4:00 pm and we have time to wander the streets, see the sights, look like drenched rats. Oh, and yes peruse the parking lot full of funked out vehicles!

First up, the car of the hour and what started this whole adventure, The Yellow Submarine. It is a 90's model Olds Cutlass Ciera that looks like it had been attacked by a drove of backroad bandits brandishing the many shades of yellow and putting it to use for their own sick pleasure. The car, folks, has pipes coming out of the roof and a fin bolted to the trunk. Lest I forget, there is also a spoked ship's wheel attached to the steering wheel. Fun on a first date? You betcha! More interesting than a first date? Hmmm...

After we have walked around this homage to the Beatles, it's on to the other works of art on display. There is the Hillbilly Car built by Pam and Rich from Nebraska. Picture the Clampett's without Grannie riding shotgun on the roof (although it was mentioned how great it would be if they did tie some relative to the top). Then, meet Renaga and his Chick Magnet. He has not only one weird car but also holds the Guinness Record for World's Largest Windchimes. How cool is that? Gary's friend Phil has a Chevy van bedecked in toys from front to back. He calls it the Chariot of Desire. Trolls, dollheads, you name it. It all adds up to one bitchin' van!

It's getting close to time for the parade and Gary asks us if we would like to ride in the car with him? Um, yeah, Gar, that would be ok with us. Silly skipper, thought he had to ask.

Up the hill to the Crescent Hotel we go, lining up in the rain. Yes, it's still raining. The animals are suspiciously pairing off.

We start down the hill all smiles and wrinkled fingers waving at the crowd. It's a small crowd but very enthusiastic :) We wind up parking back at the Pied Piper for drinks. Second cue the plug for the fish and chips!

After a round of our poison of choice, hunger sets in with a vengeance. We head over to indulge ourselves on some local Latin flavor at Caribe! and do our best to offend some of the other patrons with our antics of art car silliness that evening. As the alcohol is poured liberally over us the darker side of some begins to come out. It is generally held that men should not play with dolls, well this night I was almost positive of it. There was a poor defenseless Barbie among us who went from being only slightly immoral at the beginning of the night to a complete and utter dime store tramp by the end. The stories we told on that woman would shame a New York cabbie to church. I think she ended up with at least one or more STD's. Pretty impressive for a chick made out of plastic. When we couldn't stick a penlight up her butt, off came her head! She was lit up like a Gloworm at bedtime and we were receiving several looks of disdain from other diners. They just didn't know how to have any real fun.

The closer of the evening occurred at a side-street bar with Reggae accompaniment. The band was pretty good once the feedback ended. Dancing was inspired by the tunes and it was great fun watching from the upper tier bar. Both my left feet were at home, thankfully. It is not pretty folks, trust me. The wife and I took off afterwards, thanking Gary for showing us a hell of a time and for having us ride with him in the parade.

Everybody we met that day was extremely cool and I am so glad to have had the opportunity to spend an afternoon with them.

Anyone know a good way to turn a Saturn sedan into a planet?

the idiot's guide to the galaxy...

Posted over at Daily Kos yesterday.

I am still amazed on a daily basis just how crazy people like Dobson, Falwell, and Robertson really are.

Wonders never cease :)

marketing strategy...

In an effort to increase this site's traffic, I have devised a simple, yet ingenious, plan. I shall list the names of high-profile people, places, things, and events in totally random order as an entire post. Hopefully, through random internet searches, people will be directed here. Should this mission fail, I will go back to writing snarky missives for the few who actually stumble onto my little corner of the www.
Actually, should it succeed I will write the snark anyway. It's too good to be left unsaid.

And now without further adieu:

Martha Stewart, Iraq, Hurricane Katrina, George W. Bush, New Orleans, Martha, Martha, Martha, Vladimir Putin, Condoleeza Rice, Gas, alternative Fuel, Gay, Gay, Bi, Marriage, Fundie, Fascist, Martha, Bush, Oprah, Tom Cruise, Mission Impossible, Scientology, Crazy Scientologists, Crazy Christians, Crazy Muslims, Crazies, Good Christians, Good Muslims, Good Scientologists, Oprah, Oprah, Martha, Bush, Rice, Dick Cheney, Cheney, Guns, First Amendment Rights, Global Warming, Greenpeace, PETA, Poseidan, Lohan, Basic Instinct Sucks, Sharon Stone, Katharine Hepburn, Dogs, Cats, Rabbits, Disney, Martha, Martha, Martha, Cheney, Rumsfeld, Donald, Rumsfeld, Aliens Invading, Immigration Debate, OIL!

pump up the volume...

One of the perks of being unemployed (did I just say that?!) is the ability to go to the movies at any time you want. Say, right before dinnertime, on a Tuesday, after catching up on some highly involved reading on the crapper. Yes, it's true! Anytime. That was exactly what I did this week. Well, it was after dinner, but you get the idea.

Wife and I went to see Silent Hill, Ba-by! I really liked it, wife not so much. She's like way smarter than me so it's probably just the case that I don't know a good movie from a good beer. I don't really like beer though, so she may have a point. Or something. But it rocked, I swear!
The director wasted no time in getting the whole thing started. Let's just say that if you have any problems with heights, grab your seat post-haste! From those first few minutes, the ride just gets more intense. I think the effects are some of the best I have seen and the frighteningly good use of air raid sirens is perfect. If you are a fan of game-based movies, you won't be disappointed.

I only have one complaint. Just a small, teenie-weenie concern. It has nothing at all to do with the movie itself, but the movie theatre. I'm referring to the Malco Theatre in my area to be exact. Apparently some jack-assed moron thought the volume wasn't high enough for the space station's crew to hear so this pickle-headed dimwit cranked it up some more. My ears were ringing for two, count them, one + one = two days!

I'll remember from now on to bring me some earplugs.

peanut butter, baby!...

Ok, so I finally gave up looking for that damn jar of crunchy peanut butter and just bought a new one. It's chained to the cabinet door. Let's see that fucker try and run this time.

will work for...

Ok, it is now week 3 since I lost my job. I am still unemployed. Bummer and stuff. It is really sad the quality and quantity of jobs here in Arkansas. I didn't think it would be this long trying to become gainfully employed again! I have put in my resume to several companies, my favorite being this :)

Onward ho I say!

I'll keep updating, at least until I have to sell my laptop to buy milk for the baby. Er, don't have a baby but you know what I mean. Right?

Right.

a new day dawns...

It has come to my attention recently (read April 7) that it can, in fact, happen to me.

Fired! Let Go! Terminated! You're out Here! Your Services Are No Longer Needed!

Life generally sucked for me that day. It has slowly gotten a little better each day since. I'm still in the process of looking for work now, but I have been enjoying the time off :) I don't know if I should feel a certain amount of guilt or if it's natural? The funny thing is that what got me fired wasn't my job performance. I was if not the best FM then pretty damn close to the best. They said I accessed an inappropriate website on one day. Yes, that's right, one day. One day in five years, 3 months, and 6 days. Fuckers. What it really boils down to is this company has a habit of each year, around evaluation and raise time, to suddenly do sweeps of each department's employee's internet usage. After the sweeps are done, there is almost always one or two people who lose their jobs for "excessive internet usage". Abso-fucking-lutely utter bullshit! What it really is my readers, is an easy way to fire the people who don't conform to their little Nazi-like regime's plan. If you are a trouble-maker, which is really someone that stands up for themselves and calls their asshole bosses on their shit, if you make too much money (not in your department, I'm talking in general), or if they cannot make you transfer to a day position if you work nights. I worked on nights and wouldn't transfer to a day position. Go figure. See I was part of the first group of employees they hired when the company first centralized in 2000 and I was not required to sign any agreement that I would transfer to a day position at a later date. This is what they do now you see. Every new employee that starts work at night as an FM is required to sign a piece of paper that they will transfer to days when the company feels they are ready. There were about ten of us left from the original group that have or had NO plans to move into a day position. Why would we? The hours suck ass. 50 hours every goddamn week and 5 hours every other Saturday. Why would we do that when our work week consisted of 3 nights one week, 4 the next and an average of 40 hours per week? Plus all of us were making well over $30 K each year. This jack-off of a corporation won't even start new employees at that anymore. How fucking rich is that? You give up your entire life to work and don't bring home anything more than an ass-raping when it's all said and done. I have seen over the last 5 years there such utter contempt for any kind of family life and belief system. You believe what the company tells you or else. Fuck That. They will promote people who are nothing more than cheaters, liars, and abusers. That's what they want running the place!! My own manager was promoted into his position after being caught fucking one of his subordinates in the parking lot and his wife caught him out with her. The girl got a nice new position in Marketing. I kid you not.

Last fall, my wife who was also employed there in a different department was fired because her supervisor said she was not performing her job functions satisfactorily. What they ignored were the months of pleading and damn-near begging she had done to get some actual help because there was too much for her to do. The other employees working with her were 1: all guys and 2: all buddies of the boss. They could do whatever the hell they wanted and it was just too fucking bad if she couldn't keep up. She was just making more work for the others. I really wished for something bad to happen to this guy about this time. He kept telling her that they were trying to work on her schedule and get her some more help. Never fucking happened. Are we surprised kiddies? I didn't think so. She put up with so much shit from everyone in that department she was fucking traumatized to the point of nearly mental breaking. Life was utter hell for her even on her days off. She dreaded going back on Thursday afraid of what lay in wait there for her. They finally fixed the situation for her. They called her into the office one afternoon and told her she could leave if she couldn't come up with a plan to get the work done she was assigned. Now, remember what I said about there being too much for one person to do? Right, they didn't give a damn. She told them there was nothing more for her to do to improve the situation, it was in their court now. She was asked to leave. About two weeks later, they moved two people in to replace her. She made over $36K, think that had anything to do with it?

Now that I am out of there and finally have had time to get the poison out of my system I realize what a waste of time it was there for me. The whole four-story brown brick building next to I-540 is nothing more than a pit of vipers sitting on the gates of hell. I can only hope that one day those gates are going to open and the entire place will eventually pay for the way it operates.

Walmart: 1, American Family Association: 0

Heh, Walmart just gave these fascists a big-ole' FUCK YOU!

have you looked under the couch...

I am at a loss; or rather, I am the victim of loss. Have you ever misplaced something, not of any particular value, but nonetheless you would like to know where it is? I have been through this on occasion, you know the car keys, wallet, shoes, kid (ok, so I haven't misplaced my kid anywhere). Except for that one time at the...well anyway, we won't get into that.

Where was I?

OH! Yes, the subject.

I have lost a newly, freshly, smells great, barely touched, jar of JIF Crunchy Peanut Butter! And when I say lost, I mean really lost. Like so lost I haven't been able to find it since the day I opened it. That lost.
I have looked through every cabinet I can think of. It wasn't in the bedroom or behind the bed. Hell, I even looked in my car just in case I had thought to take it to work with me and forgot I had ever carried it out of the house. Cuz folks, that's just the kind of moron I am. My wife swears, swears up and down that I took it out of the house and left it either at work or it is still in my car. But, I ask you, why would I have forgotten something like that? I love peanut butter! I distinctly remember opening it; giddily anticipating the first crunchy bite of its peanut buttery goodness. I remember getting out the Krispy Whole Wheat Saltines just for the occasion. I remember sitting down on the futon, with my plate of crackers and my virgin jar of JIF Crunchy Peanut Butter, and savoring the first and most wonderful bite of saltine/peanut butter fusion. It was wonderful:) Sadly, the bliss was only to last that day. Because as I stated before, I am a moron.
I keep hoping it will turn up soon. Unless it was absconded with by a brood of roving aliens, whose only lot in life is to search the universe for planets of unsuspecting tools such as I and stealing their peanut butter. Bastards. Intelligent beings. My. Ass. Common thieves if you ask me.

If any of you happen to see a random jar of JIF Crunchy Peanut Butter hanging around your house and you don't know how it got there; please email me so I can retrieve the wayward thing.

Thank you for your support.

Cha

I. Am. Bored.

Work this weekend has been slllllooooooowwwwwwww w w w w w. Did I mention the slowness of the work? Right.

So I have been tossing around an idea to write a book for awhile now. I had a lot of trouble coming up with themes for it, would decide on one, toss it, then another. I have finally nailed it down and will be starting the rough draft of it maybe tomorrow night depending on how my night goes. It's either gonna go one of two ways... Really smashing or really badly. Let's all hope for the former, 'k?

Wish me luck!

Oh yeah! Almost forgot- favorite new word: FUCKTARD! - someone who is so completely incompetent as to fuck up everything they ever lay hands on

*definition my own. You can come up with your own as you see fit.
But, isn't that awesome in its awesomeness of word-dom?

I really couldn't have said it better myself...

This posted in the comments section of Steve's post on March 1st, titled "Bush knew Katrina was coming". Absolutely appalling, but as has been the case for several years now, nothing we didn't already know.

Posted by LowerManhattanite 03.01.06 - 11:56 pm - "Well. Well, well, f*cking-well. What have we here? It is said...that a "picture speaks a thousand words". Much like the infamous snap of the Dipsh*t-in-Chief's puckered, lame-*ss impersonation of a Chuck Berry "duck-walk" that accompanies this post. The little idiot posed for this pic as water, sh*t, death and ruin washed over New Orleans, Louisiana last year. The photo was emblematic of the callousness and "f*ck all save for me" regard that Bush had for Katrina's victims. Now, we have video...hours of moving pictures, whipping by at aprroximately 29.97 digital frames per second, showing the same miserable, little brat being warned--and direly at that, about the hell that Katrina would bring. The tapes show him being told that the SuperDome could be a deathtrap. The tapes show him being desperately warned that the levees could be rendered null and void. The tapes show him being told about a possible catastrphic loss of life. These tapes...whooshing by at 29.97 digital frames per second show him squirming like a kid at 2:58 p.m. on a school day--anxious to say anything to get the f*ck out of there and outside "to play""We are fully prepared. ""RIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNG!", and out the door he f*cking goes, leaving homework assignments and every book he needs to read haphazardly crammed into his desk. What. A. Child. Every one of those thousnds and tens of thousands of frames of video is a snapshot...of a soulless, depraved, blood-on-his-hands LIAR of the highest order. The guitar photo is almost a parable, a wry joke, a moment of irony etched in time. The stills from this video are individually captured moments of a f*cking crime scene. He sat there two days ago and LIED on national T.V. again about his response to Katrina. Stammering on about how the scenes he saw of people screaming days later let him know there was a problem brewing down there. He LIED when he said they had "no idea the levees wiuld be topped". He knew they could be topped and was vigorously warned about their topping on these tapes. He LIED about his alleged "level of engagement" with the hell that was to befall NoLa beforehand. It's documented on these tapes where he sits there mute, like Cindy-f*cking-Brady looking at a red light during a long government-wide briefing the day he left to go pose with that Goddamned guitar. This "engaged", caring--oh, the hell with it, dry-drunk f*ckstick uttered one sentence as he was told about NoLa's impending Gotterdammerung: "We are fully prepared." And then he went off to a fundraaiser and posed with his gee-tar for the cover for his then-upcoming album, "Callous Motherf*cker's Blues--Vol. 1" He lied. Lied. Lied. LIED! And we all knew it. You could see it in his guitar-face, rock-daddy picture. But now...someone has decided to do "a heckuva thing" and provide us, America, the world with moving picture evidence--29.97 frames per second; every one of 'em telling a heinous story, of the president's mendacity, un-caring and disconnected-ness from his job. He lied, folks. Lied. Lied. LIED! And now we can see it. Not merely extrapolate it from a still photo of him staring blissfully off into the distance at a cow. Or a cold beer sign. Or a fat-pocketed would-be fundraiser spilling cash all over the barnyard. Nope. We can see him sit there, utterly disengaged, haughty and lying--through his snaky, little fangs in clear digital video. Lies, folks. Lies. Lies. LIES, before the fact, during and after the fact. Deny it, now. Cover for him on this one. Tell the whole f*cking world as they watch this puny, little boy swagger and harrumph his way through life that he didn't lie about his response and knowledge about Hurricane Katrina, well beforehand. Go ahead...refute that video. Running by at 29.97 digital frames per second.Each still telling a thousand words.Or actually..more like...around thirteen hundred words. Thirteen-hundred words, people. Proper names. Words. Words...gone forever. Pictures...don't lie, people. Power-drunk, *ss-covering, callous sociopaths do".

See? I told you I couldn't have said it better.

the sky is falling!...

Actually, no, that was just the large chunk of drywall from my ceiling hitting the floor. It's a bit soggy and makes a dull, wet thud as it lands. No, we aren't redecorating the living room for that Underwater Tunnel ambiance, the roof decided to take a big ole' crap and shower us with love, as it were. If the fucker burned to the ground tomorrow I would roast marshmallows and sing Kumbaya I swear to God.

Word to the wise and the stupid alike: Stay the fuck away from fixer-uppers. They are the bastions of evil on earth.

got a new toy...

And the wife is probably going to strangle me. Maybe. But, I bet she likes it:)

Ok, so changing the site address...

Dang that was kind of a bitch! Kept screwing up the title. Anyway here we are. I thought the hyphenated web address was a little tedious so there is the reason behind the move.

Enjoy :)

Dick sprays fellow shooter, news at 11 or whenever the hell we feel like it...

Ok, so let's recap a little here.

First, Bush and Co. stole the 2000 election and were given the WH by the SOTUS.
Then, Bush was reading with his classmates when some wackos pulled a crash and burn.
Next, we have the Call To War! Yes, folks these bastards are all out to get us so we have to get them first. Typical asshole bully behavior.
Let's not forget our illustrious leaders listening in on the phone like they still used a party-line(Pretty much done away with in the late 80's to early 90's).
And now! Yes, now we have Big Limp Dick huntin' some grub or some shit and instead shoots his 'friend' in the face. What else should we be on the lookout for? Bush snorting coke off Condi's ass? Or maybe Rove losing his shit on the White House lawn, throwing his clothes in the fountain and scaling the fence shouting obscenities at the tourist? Oh wait, I know! Laura finally admits what we have all been wondering, she just married him for the pretty shoes.

Wonders never cease.

"i must say, the way you load that is absolutely amazing..."

Hello and such everyone! (All 5 of you who read this) I have been on vacation, hanging out with the kid and working around the house the last couple of weeks so sorry for the delay in writing.
Now, without further delay...

Some men are extremely adept at very many things; baseball, driving, speaking, fucking...
Some are adept at just a few; speaking, fucking...

And some have a talent that is beyond compare.

I am one of those talented souls.

I can load any dishwasher, anywhere, better than anyone. Including the owners of said dishwashers.
Now, I know, there are some of you out there who are in total awe of me at this moment but please don't make fools of yourselves throwing praise my way. Or money. Or phone numbers.
Just know that hard and long as you may toil, you could never best me at this feat. Don't even try. I don't have enough tissue in the world to sop up all the tears of defeat.
My skills have been honed through years of intensive and grueling training. I began my adventure with a late 80's model Whirlpool. It was small, loud, and trimmed out in chrome plating. But I taught it to love the large skillets and heavy glassware. It was my bitch. I have since conquered a Kenmore, Hotpoint, and am working on my second older Whirlpool. This Whirlpool, having heard the lore surrounding his distant cousin's mighty defeat gave up easily with nary a rebellious rinse cycle! Oh yes! Dishwashers shall no longer take advantage of their owners. They shall no longer refuse to accommodate those bulky pots and pans. Let it be known far and wide that there is a force to be reckoned with.

That force has a name. He is Dishwasherman!



Check local listings for showtimes in your area. Look for the action figure at a retailer near you. Read the bestselling book "Days with Dishwasher and Other Tales".

the movie rocked as does the new cola...

So we saw Brokeback Mountain last Sunday. It was awesome. The producers and director did a wonderful job staying true to the original short story by Annie Proulx. I urge you all to go out and see this! If you don't I am soooo telling :)

I am totally addicted to this.

It makes me happy!

Drink it!

It will make you happy! too.

no you won't go blind...

"Did you like spooge on the shower door and forget to rinse it off?" - The wife as she is rinsing something (I'm voting conditioner here) off one of the doors.

"Um..." - Me trying not to choke.

"You had to think about that didn't you!"

"I was just trying to remember if I had done that in this shower yet."

"Uh huh, we have lived here more than a day, I'm voting yes."



Is nothing sacred?

crunch time...

As in being crushed to death with a large, heavy, slab, of Natural Gas.

2550 square feet of home: Pretty f'ing great.

50 year old windows: Not so pretty f'ing great.

2 months of gas bills totalling $750: I need an oxygen mask now.

Becoming a whore on D Street to buy sweaters: Priceless.

and behind this curtain, the review!...

I have been reviewed, my friends out there in the ether :) Let's get a little taste of Teh Blogfather's medicine.

"Yeeeeeee-haaaaaaaaaaw! Ladies and gents, it's been a while 'cause I had to travel, but I have a grenade in one hand and a Fanta in the other so lets get this show started! Now get naked, run around a fire and do the cha-cha-cha dance as we put our hands together for Chaaaaa "Tha Sarcasminator" Entertainmanatooooor ....

wow, we found our shoes...

I have just been pleasantly surprised. Hell, even very surprised. It's in my profile but I don't know how many of you have noticed that I live in Arkansas. Specifically NW Arkansas. Now granted we have for a very long time been the butt of jokes revolving around hillbillies and kissin' cousins and for very good reasons. Only in the last decade or so have we finally evolved enough to be considered one of the fastest growing areas and states in regards to population, education, and technological industry. Kudos to us! But, there are still large sections of the population, ie: rural population and right-wing jack-asses in corporate clothing, that holds onto their firm beliefs in bible-thumping bigotry and under-educated morality lessons for us poor lost souls who don't have our very own, personal (their idea of) relationship to Jay-sus! It's called a personal relationship for a reason dickweed. Go back to your pew and leave me be.

I do have a point here, bear with me.

Last year I read a short story written by Annie Proulx. If you have not read Brokeback Mountain, I urge you to do so here. It will break your heart if you let it. When I heard that it was being filmed for release last winter I was thrilled if somewhat skeptical that it would reach a wide audience in this country thanks to the current trend to toss us back into the stone-age with regard to equality, life, liberty, and happiness. You know, those ideals that we are not apparently all entitled to according to the what was it? Eleven states, including my own that voted to discriminate against their citizens. Yeah. Real American. Morons. I kept waiting for the release dates to be announced anywhere near me. Waiting, waiting, did i mention the waiting? I was almost resigned to the sad fact that for all our progress some jerks with an agenda would decide that this state was not about to promote such filth and sully it's good name. That good name has a long history of hate and racism of every kind. Anyone remember Orval Faubus?

Well tonight, that wait has finally ended, our local theatres will begin showing the movie on January 20th.

My faith in this state just got a slight boost tonight. May it continue :)

I'm sure Toothy Tile will be proud!

I so want this blown up and put on a wall...

ahhh, welcome to the '06 edition...

I am finally feeling human again! 'Bout time I say :)
Did everyone have a great holiday? A just ok one? Alright, a plain, ole' shitty one? Let me know. Mine was pretty good (even with the four days of porcelain throne worship). I had bruises on the backs of my thighs due to that. I know everyone definitely wanted to know that, which is why I told you. Now, don't you feel special?

Soooo, I have voiced on here a few times my displeasure for our current "administration". It is not unknown to my readers (and all my friends and family since I never hesitate to let them know) that I hold Bush and Co. in less than esteemed regard. More like secretly hoping the earth would open up and swallow them all post-haste! You can just imagine how ecstatic I was to read this. Just one more nail in the coffin to his demise I hope. I have watched for the last 5 years as this asshole degrades public sentiment, pilfers the coffers, supports his cronies regardless of competency and ethics, and lies his way out of everything. I swear the dude is made of teflon. Shit just won't stick to him. Not yet anyway. I have waited to post anything on the issue of Bush authorizing illegal (yes, I firmly believe that breaking a law the constitution specifically outlines to be illegal) wiretapping on all communication between supposed terroristic suspects outside our borders and American citizens simply because there are better and more informed people out there. See: here, here, and here just for starters. I am among a large number of people who would not be surprised to see some of Bush's most vocal opponents on the list of persons ordered to be wiretapped. Why put it past him? Fucker's already proven numerous times he wants nothing less than Dicktator for life (Emphasis mine, obviously).

I know that it is a long shot to get anywhere with the impeachment aspect, at least until the November elections when we can finally boot the Repubs from their cushy seats onto their asses in the street, but we can all do something. I started by signing petitions to my congressmen and women. I also wrote letters to the individual House and Senate reps for my state. Here's where you can find yours and do the same.

Not another lie left unpunished. It's time to take back our country!