Monday, March 31, 2008


Hi there,

I'm sick of my own excuses, so you must be ready to toss me in the street. So NO MORE!

I am making a solid effort to visit everyone's blogs and journals today. I hope by evening's end to have seen you all. If tomorrow comes and I haven't been, you have every right to come here and YELL AT ME!

And if I don't, I'll come clean your house instead. Alright, maybe not. But it's a gesture of sincerity, ok, dammit???

Or maybe I will come clean your friggin house. Ya never know.

Anyway, I'm wasting time. Off I go!

Tuesday, March 25, 2008


So Hillary Clinton, that Standard of Righteousness and Honor, apparently didn't get the facts quite right about a little visit to Bosnia. She told people that her aircraft made a "corkscrew landing", and that she and her party had to run off the plane under sniper fire. Well, the film footage shows events a little differently than she described. As in, no corkscrew landing, no running (in fact she was seen posing for pictures with different groups, including a bunch of 7th grade girls) and no sniper fire.

I keep reminding myself that this woman is supposed to be honorable.

This whole thing is like me recounting my tale of falling off Mount Everest, when the truth is, I rolled out of bed onto the floor.

Pants on fire?

Friday, March 21, 2008

Who Hasn't?

I lost my friggin mind the other day. It's like I turned into one giant stomach or something.

I woke up early. I decided to eat a good breakfast that morning 'cause that's what "they" tell you ya oughtta do. Well, I ate, and it seemed to ignite my appetite. Like I had a tip on a famine or something!

I needed sweets. I ate sweets. Then, of course, we had to wash that down with something salty, right? Then it was pizza, then a candy bar, then I had to have a Pepsi, then a cupcake 'cause I read about a cupcake crawl that someone went on (then gotta have milk, right?) Then it was dinner time, had to sample all the menu items, then eat them. Then Pop was hungry, wanted French Toast, and of course that looked good so I made a little extra for me. And, of course, who doesn't want desserts. Yah, plural.


Thank the Lord that there were only 24 hours in that day, and the sun went down. I went to bed. I'd eaten enough to be considered a small neighborhood.

I was a little grateful that the bed didn't collapse.

The Things We Don't Think Of?

A friend posted an entry about her laptop going on the fritz. She was ok with it, because she was covered by a warranty. However, she was told that it would be up to 3 weeks before the work would be done.

That happens a lot. No matter what you want to get done these days, "3 weeks" seems to be a magic number. It takes approximately 12 hours to build a computer, start to finish. The whole thing. So what exactly goes on there that it takes them 3 weeks to replace 1 part?

Someone suggested, however, that the 3-week period is caused by the sheer volume of repairs. Yayyy, there's a great advertisement for your product, huh? "Our Stuff Breaks Down by the Thousands!"

I noticed something else that has me curious. I needed to buy something for my kid's science project, and the product (a very simple item) was tagged with "ships in 2 to 4 weeks".

So, when an order hits the warehouse, do they print it out and tie it to a snail? I mean, the dumbest guy I know could take an order off a printer and find the item in less than a week. I think about the actual dynamics, you know? What happens between today and 4 weeks from now, you know, like step-by-step?

And don't get me started on the whole "Same Day Service" thing...

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Balderdash, Or Something Like That...

This week has been ridiculous, so I'll spare everyone the nausea. I have to be honest, it wasn't a complete loss, though. I did learn some things.

The lowest-stress job on earth is a pharmacist at the VA Hospital in Northport, NY. There is absolutely no danger whatsoever that anyone employed there will ever die from overwork, or working too quickly. The problem I find is that, often, the medications expire before the prescriptions are filled. Yeah, that slow.

But they're not the only goofballs. The way it works there is, your prescriptions get put in via computer, and when they're filled, the patients name will appear on a TV monitor in the waiting area. So one day recently, I sat there an extra half hour longer than I had to because I was waiting for my name to appear on the little screen. That was a problem because the prescriptions were for "Pop", who is not me. I figured it out eventually.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Bye Eliot!

So yeah, the genius who got himself elected Governor of NY State had to resign after it was revealed that he was involved in prostitution.(Makes you wonder a little what he was talking about in this photo)

I got yelled at by some friends for my harsh letter to Mr. Spitzer some time back (see it here)in regard to his plan to issue driver's licenses to illegal immigrants.

But I guess I wasn't too far off the mark, huh?

Take A Look Around

Trouble comes at us in a lot of ways. Sometimes it's a mean, old sledgehammer - WHAM! Sometimes it's like an avalanche - look out! Other times, though, it's sneaky, like stepping into quicksand. You don't even know how much you're in until you're really in deep.

It's really easy to go into "woe is me!" mode, and I can't ever say I blame people who hit that level 'cause it's good and scary out there sometimes. But man, there comes a moment where, baby you either sink or swim.

Right now, I'm up to here with being in this quicksand. Enough already with being angry. I was angry with God, angry with the Government, Big Business, just about everyone and everything with a pulse.

Enough. Time to grab the vine, pull myself out, flip the bird to everyone who did their best to screw me, and move on!

Recap: Things really sucked lately. I was mad, but that gets you nowhere. It took a good look at my little girl, playing quietly and happily in the family room tonight, to slap me in the face and remind me just what it is I'm supposed to be doing here on earth. The crying towel is being put away now, folks. It's time to be a big boy. The world is only a bad place if you stop seeing all the good things. I'm as beat-down as I have ever been but I ain't dead. Time for the comeback. So here it goes.

And God and me? We're ok too. He knows me well enough to let me slide when I get out of line.

I'll be back.

Thank you so very much to all those who checked in to see if I hurt myself in my absence :) So nice to be missed.

Saturday, March 01, 2008

I AM NOT A GIRL! Well...

So yeah, I got called a girl. If that were true, mind you, I'd be a pretty hideous-looking girl, seeing that I'm 6'4 235 pounds and the proud owner of facial hair that needs to be shaved twice a day if I don't want to look scruffy. Not exactly "America's Next Top Model" material.

So why this assault on my masculinity? A Crock-pot.

Yeah, a Crock-pot. What a crock!

There is a group of people, family and friends, that I exchange gifts with at birthdays, Christmastime, etc. And we've taken to using wish lists to accomodate that task. I love a wish list because I know if I buy anything for someone using their list, it's something they want, so I usually can't mess it up.

Now my take on gifts is, the items are things that I want, but just won't buy for myself. Indulgences, you might say. And while I've always enjoyed eating meals prepared in a crock-pot, I've never gotten one for myself. It's something I'd like, but, well, you know...

I had left my wish list open on my computer earlier. I had just replaced an out-of-date crock-pot that was no longer available with one that is. I gots me a birthday coming up soon! My friend stopped by and she asked to use my laptop. I was in the other room when I heard, "This is your wish list?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You're such a GIRL! Look at this stuff!"

She proceeded to call out every item that she considered "girly". All cooking-related items. I would hardly think that would qualify me as a female (Emeril isn't a girl, right?)

But, anyway, I guess I better go out and go to the hardware store or something. Maybe spit or scratch myself or something.

I'd just love to have that crock-pot, you know?

Alright, who's singing "I Feel Pretty" wise guys?