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!
Monday, May 22, 2006
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!
Upcoming: Savannah, GA here I come, sun and sand, and great food. Will be arriving on Sunday the 28th.
Can't wait!
Sunday, May 21, 2006
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.
"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.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
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
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
Apologies all around.
Cha
Friday, May 19, 2006
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?
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?
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
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 :)
I am still amazed on a daily basis just how crazy people like Dobson, Falwell, and Robertson really are.
Wonders never cease :)
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
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!
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!
Saturday, April 29, 2006
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.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Walmart: 1, American Family Association: 0
Heh, Walmart just gave these fascists a big-ole' FUCK YOU!
Friday, March 24, 2006
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
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
Saturday, March 11, 2006
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?
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?
Thursday, March 02, 2006
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.
Friday, February 24, 2006
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.
Word to the wise and the stupid alike: Stay the fuck away from fixer-uppers. They are the bastions of evil on earth.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Friday, February 17, 2006
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 :)
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.
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.
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