That last post kind of followed the line of talk my wife gave me a little while ago. She asked me if I was becoming a hillbilly. I work with some country boys and spend the majority of my day with them.
Lately, I have been saying "Muh" instead of "My" and "Tuh" instead of "To" and "Morenun" instead of "Morning" and "Tuh-day" instead of "Today."
I think that in my mind I realize I'm saying these words with strange inflections and subconciously I think I'm being funny like when Lisa Simpson imagines a future where she gives up and marries Ralph Wiggum and becomes a fat immobile slug in a hammock inside her trailer and yells at her kids, "Don't bug mom-muh when I'm watchin' muh stories." By which she means the television.
But lately I've barely realized that I've been talking that way and I talk that way far too much for it to be a joke anymore. I also expect to work with the country boys for several years to come.
What can I do?
Friday, July 31, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Though I Wish You Were There, I Was Less Than You Could Bear and I'm Not The Only Dust My Mother Raised
As you may or may not imagine, conversations between my wife and myself end in strange places. We were deep into a conversation the other day while driving when my wife ended the conversation with an emphatic:
"I don't care who you are... if you've eaten bear before I'm going to call you HILLBILLY. No exceptions!"
"I don't care who you are... if you've eaten bear before I'm going to call you HILLBILLY. No exceptions!"
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Was this over before it ever began?
It was not my intention to disappear like I did. It seems like everytime a bad thing comes my way, it starts a chain reaction of bad things and soon my daily routines are gone as though they never existed. Usually, I adapt pretty quickly but I must say that I did miss having a computer and use of the internet after a couple of months.
At the other end of the spectrum, there seem to be a great number of people who have absolutely nothing going on in their lives who still like to tell people all about it with hourly posts on Facebook and Twitter.
Of course I've been busy without fail and I'm trying to enjoy the summer. We took the kids to the waterslide this morning and I played baseball with some neighborhood boys the other night. But I've also been working a ton and doing things like installing a water heater. Yay!
I heard about these artists Madeline Gins and Arakawa who design houses based on the concept that people should keep themselves in an environment where they cannot get comfortable. The idea is that people won't sit around staring at the tv or computer. They will get up and get active and ultimately live a longer and healthier life.
It's an interesting hypothesis but I feel that it is unnecessary to DESIGN a house to be uncomfortable. If I have to do homework or if I want to write or read a book and the room is a mess, I can't stand to be there and I'll usually find something else to do. Sometimes I clean the place but it makes me mad because I showed up to do something enjoyable and ended up cleaning. But what I'm really trying to say is that life seems to have a natural tendency towards chaos and disorder and it's kind of our job as the intelligent little crawly things on this planet to organize and rebuild useful things.
One of several crappy companies I have worked for had an orientation for newly hired people. The master of the ceremony mentioned that we may have heard bad rumors about the company and had this to say about any such rumors: "Any mule can kick down a barn but it takes a good architect to build one." Meaning that it's easy to complain about your job but it's difficult to start and maintain a successful business. But it's funny because it was kind of like the guy was saying, "We know we suck but we'd like to see you do better!"
It's a strange notion to have to CREATE an awkward environment around yourself. I seem to find myself in that situation nearly everywhere I go. If you look around, I'm sure there is plenty to do. And don't you want a long, loooooong life of steady work? With that being said, I think we should all go fold some laundry.
At the other end of the spectrum, there seem to be a great number of people who have absolutely nothing going on in their lives who still like to tell people all about it with hourly posts on Facebook and Twitter.
Of course I've been busy without fail and I'm trying to enjoy the summer. We took the kids to the waterslide this morning and I played baseball with some neighborhood boys the other night. But I've also been working a ton and doing things like installing a water heater. Yay!
I heard about these artists Madeline Gins and Arakawa who design houses based on the concept that people should keep themselves in an environment where they cannot get comfortable. The idea is that people won't sit around staring at the tv or computer. They will get up and get active and ultimately live a longer and healthier life.
It's an interesting hypothesis but I feel that it is unnecessary to DESIGN a house to be uncomfortable. If I have to do homework or if I want to write or read a book and the room is a mess, I can't stand to be there and I'll usually find something else to do. Sometimes I clean the place but it makes me mad because I showed up to do something enjoyable and ended up cleaning. But what I'm really trying to say is that life seems to have a natural tendency towards chaos and disorder and it's kind of our job as the intelligent little crawly things on this planet to organize and rebuild useful things.
One of several crappy companies I have worked for had an orientation for newly hired people. The master of the ceremony mentioned that we may have heard bad rumors about the company and had this to say about any such rumors: "Any mule can kick down a barn but it takes a good architect to build one." Meaning that it's easy to complain about your job but it's difficult to start and maintain a successful business. But it's funny because it was kind of like the guy was saying, "We know we suck but we'd like to see you do better!"
It's a strange notion to have to CREATE an awkward environment around yourself. I seem to find myself in that situation nearly everywhere I go. If you look around, I'm sure there is plenty to do. And don't you want a long, loooooong life of steady work? With that being said, I think we should all go fold some laundry.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
And That's The Way It Was And We Liked It!
I must be getting old because I keep getting it in my head that things made today are cheap knock offs of those from yesterday.
For instance, you can't find a steel snow shovel. All you can buy are plastic and aluminum snow shovels that fall to pieces after one winter of shovelling. An old man backed into our minivan at the bank and had to buy us a new headlight. Our original headlights on the van were all old and cloudy and looked like crap. When the shop replaced our broken headlight, I asked how much it would cost to replace the second light. The shop said $350. For a headlight. I can get a headlight replacement for my 1992 Jeep and replace it in about 5 minutes for $10. My minivan doesn't even have HID lights or anything. Just a typical headlight that functions fine but looks like crap. $350.
But I actually think it's strange that the autobody industry exists. It's an industry where thousands of businesses wait around for good, everyday people to crash their cars. They don't care if you hit a pole in a parking lot or if you slam into cars while you're running a red light. They'll just hang out waiting for misfortune to hit you and then cash in when it does. People don't seem to do much to prevent accidents. They don't even put bumpers on cars anymore. They just wait for you to crash. Have you ever asked about getting a car painted when someone's insurance ISN'T going to pay for it. Autobody shops freak out. It's just like not having health insurance. Because it's all about getting checks from insurance companies.
When I got married in 1999, we bought ourselves a DVD player for Christmas. We got an awesome discount and brought that puppy home for $200. We used that DVD player until late 2007. By then it was a noisy old clunker so I packed it up and put it in the closet. Since 2007, we have gone through at least 4 more DVD players. They seem to last about 6 months before they die. I finally got bothered to the point where I pulled the old clunker out of our closet and started using that one again because I'm positive that it will last more than 6 months.
My pants are worn out. My wallet is falling apart. My computer is barely alive. And these things don't just nickel and dime you, EVERYTHING seems to cost somewhere between $50 and $500 anymore.
If my Jazzy wasn't on the fritz I would use it to roll on Washington.
For instance, you can't find a steel snow shovel. All you can buy are plastic and aluminum snow shovels that fall to pieces after one winter of shovelling. An old man backed into our minivan at the bank and had to buy us a new headlight. Our original headlights on the van were all old and cloudy and looked like crap. When the shop replaced our broken headlight, I asked how much it would cost to replace the second light. The shop said $350. For a headlight. I can get a headlight replacement for my 1992 Jeep and replace it in about 5 minutes for $10. My minivan doesn't even have HID lights or anything. Just a typical headlight that functions fine but looks like crap. $350.
But I actually think it's strange that the autobody industry exists. It's an industry where thousands of businesses wait around for good, everyday people to crash their cars. They don't care if you hit a pole in a parking lot or if you slam into cars while you're running a red light. They'll just hang out waiting for misfortune to hit you and then cash in when it does. People don't seem to do much to prevent accidents. They don't even put bumpers on cars anymore. They just wait for you to crash. Have you ever asked about getting a car painted when someone's insurance ISN'T going to pay for it. Autobody shops freak out. It's just like not having health insurance. Because it's all about getting checks from insurance companies.
When I got married in 1999, we bought ourselves a DVD player for Christmas. We got an awesome discount and brought that puppy home for $200. We used that DVD player until late 2007. By then it was a noisy old clunker so I packed it up and put it in the closet. Since 2007, we have gone through at least 4 more DVD players. They seem to last about 6 months before they die. I finally got bothered to the point where I pulled the old clunker out of our closet and started using that one again because I'm positive that it will last more than 6 months.
My pants are worn out. My wallet is falling apart. My computer is barely alive. And these things don't just nickel and dime you, EVERYTHING seems to cost somewhere between $50 and $500 anymore.
If my Jazzy wasn't on the fritz I would use it to roll on Washington.
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Tell Your Children Not To Walk My Way
About this time last year, my wife hung a windchime in front of our house. Within a week or so it had disappeared. Last Christmas, I bought my wife some copper-looking sun and moon lights to put in the ground along the walkway to our front door.
When I got home the other day I realized that someone had stolen all of the moon ornaments. One moon was left behind because the thief broke it as they tried to pull it out of the ground. The suns were untouched. My wife hung a new windchime in front of our house and I checked to see if it had been stolen, too. It's still hanging there.
I told my wife about the theft and before I could say it, she said, "I think some punk kid in our neighborhood is coming over every spring to steal his mom a Mother's Day present from our yard."
I said, "That's exactly what I was thinking. They didn't steal the new windchime because that's what mom got last year."
After Mother's Day, we're going to cruise around the neighborhood and see if we can find our moons in someone's yard.
When I got home the other day I realized that someone had stolen all of the moon ornaments. One moon was left behind because the thief broke it as they tried to pull it out of the ground. The suns were untouched. My wife hung a new windchime in front of our house and I checked to see if it had been stolen, too. It's still hanging there.
I told my wife about the theft and before I could say it, she said, "I think some punk kid in our neighborhood is coming over every spring to steal his mom a Mother's Day present from our yard."
I said, "That's exactly what I was thinking. They didn't steal the new windchime because that's what mom got last year."
After Mother's Day, we're going to cruise around the neighborhood and see if we can find our moons in someone's yard.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
You're Gonna Get Yourself Knocked Down And You Better Learn To Stand Back Up For Those That Dwell On Disaster Let Sorrow Be Their Master
I was just remembering a day from my senior year in high school. There was a girl who seemed out to get me in a romantic way. I don't know if she was nice or not. She always just asked me to give her a ride home. I don't know much about her personality. She always just wanted me to drive her home.
I did once. Usually I said no. One day I told her I would sit with her until her bus came. We just sat there in the sun, not saying much. We decided we should do something so I asked, "Do you want to fall over backwards and I'll catch you (a.k.a The Trust Game)?"
She said, "Okay."
And I hopped up and I was about to jump over the railing to get behind her but by the time my feet were under me, she was already flopping off the rail backwards. I stood there in front of her and watched her as she hit the ground, flat on her back.
She immediately started yelling at me, "YOU'RE A JERK!!!"
I said, "You weren't supposed to fall yet. You were supposed to wait until I got behind you."
Her first mistake was trusting me. Which isn't a bad thing in and of itself but I suppose the lesson of this story is that: If you're going to trust me, you need to give me half a second to get behind you.
I was just remembering that today and it made me laugh.
I did once. Usually I said no. One day I told her I would sit with her until her bus came. We just sat there in the sun, not saying much. We decided we should do something so I asked, "Do you want to fall over backwards and I'll catch you (a.k.a The Trust Game)?"
She said, "Okay."
And I hopped up and I was about to jump over the railing to get behind her but by the time my feet were under me, she was already flopping off the rail backwards. I stood there in front of her and watched her as she hit the ground, flat on her back.
She immediately started yelling at me, "YOU'RE A JERK!!!"
I said, "You weren't supposed to fall yet. You were supposed to wait until I got behind you."
Her first mistake was trusting me. Which isn't a bad thing in and of itself but I suppose the lesson of this story is that: If you're going to trust me, you need to give me half a second to get behind you.
I was just remembering that today and it made me laugh.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Gayboobs
My wife and I were watching a DVD I checked out from the library the other night.
Her: "This is the longest and WORST movie I've ever seen."
Me: "It has a lot of good actors in it: Tom Cruise, Julianne Moore, William H. Macy. Philip Seymour Hoffman... I figured it must be alright but it's gayboobs."
Her: "This movie really is gayboobs. It would have made so much more sense if the name of the movie was Gayboobs. There was a gay guy in it, there were boobs in it. But what does a Magnolia have to do with the movie. Nothing!"
Her: "This is the longest and WORST movie I've ever seen."
Me: "It has a lot of good actors in it: Tom Cruise, Julianne Moore, William H. Macy. Philip Seymour Hoffman... I figured it must be alright but it's gayboobs."
Her: "This movie really is gayboobs. It would have made so much more sense if the name of the movie was Gayboobs. There was a gay guy in it, there were boobs in it. But what does a Magnolia have to do with the movie. Nothing!"
We Will Win!
I know I'm probably one of the rare full-grown people in this world to be a fan of Robotech AND to have kissed a girl, but there may be others out there like me and I'm posting this for them.
The cartoon Robotech was actually three seperate japanese cartoons dubbed into english and jerry-rigged together to tell a single story. The first season was based on the japanese cartoon called "Macross."
Americans have tried to make their own sequals based on the old Macross story but they pretty much suck. Last year, for the 25th anniversary of Macross, they released a new show in Japan called Macross Frontier and it looks pretty cool with a lot of similarities to the original. You can watch an episode here. It's in japanese with english subtitles, though.
Watch macross frontier 2 in Animation | View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com
The cartoon Robotech was actually three seperate japanese cartoons dubbed into english and jerry-rigged together to tell a single story. The first season was based on the japanese cartoon called "Macross."
Americans have tried to make their own sequals based on the old Macross story but they pretty much suck. Last year, for the 25th anniversary of Macross, they released a new show in Japan called Macross Frontier and it looks pretty cool with a lot of similarities to the original. You can watch an episode here. It's in japanese with english subtitles, though.
Watch macross frontier 2 in Animation | View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com
Saturday, April 18, 2009
But I Don't Know That Guy And I'm Not Going Over There
I got home from work today and my son and a couple of his friends were playing video games. His friends looked up at me when I walked in the door and one of them said, "Uh oh. Your dad's home."
I said, "Yep. You'd better be scared. I spank every kid in the house every time I get home from work. That's my policy."
The friend said, "But I'm a GUEST!"
I said, "That means you get it first."
I said, "Yep. You'd better be scared. I spank every kid in the house every time I get home from work. That's my policy."
The friend said, "But I'm a GUEST!"
I said, "That means you get it first."
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Yes. No. Maybe. I Don't Know. Could You Repeat The Question?
The weather has been pretty horrible lately. But here is one brightside.
My boss is a tough old grizzly bear of a man. His way of encouraging you to work harder or faster is to say things like, "Do you need me to do that for you? I would have had that done by now," and so on. It doesn't bother me because I understood his personality from the first day I worked with him. The bottom line is that you aren't really ever allowed to complain about anything to him.
So when the wind was blowing all directions and the rain came pouring down yesterday we were standing in a four foot deep trench I had dug, heating up some PVC pipe with a little blowtorch.
It was seriously like being in the shower with your clothes on. We were soaked and dripping from head to toe. I sat there smiling like I didn't even realize it had started to rain and finally he snapped and said, "I think this work will be waiting for us when we come back next time. I'm going home."
So even though the weather was bad, I got sent home early with pay. I would stand in the rain for that any day. He also told me he had got us some inside work for the next day.
Today, we were moving some equipment in at a hospital. The equipment was bigger than the door to the building. The thing was heavy but we got it in by laying it down on its side. But it involved standing in the rain and snow for over an hour. I said, "I thought you got us some INSIDE work today."
But later we did go do some work at some other businesses that was inside so he wasn't lying.
After digging trenches for a week and working in the rafters of a warehouse that had never been cleaned once in the 50 years that people have been welding there, I gave up on trying to keep my sweatshirt clean.
I heard that the word "Khaki" is an old persian word meaning "dust." And today I realized that khaki is the color that ALL clothes turn when you never wash them. I have a hypothesis that if you look at homeless people from a hundred yards away they will all have a khaki tinge to them.
Today, my boss and I pulled into a parking lot on 4th South in downtown Salt Lake and we saw some shabby guys running to a coffee shop. They wore ragged work coveralls and winter coats and hats and they were very dirty. They each carried a small guitar case and a bunch of other stuff. It looked like they were carrying everything they owned.
My boss pointed at them and asked, "Homeless?"
I said, "No. They're just musicians."
My boss is a tough old grizzly bear of a man. His way of encouraging you to work harder or faster is to say things like, "Do you need me to do that for you? I would have had that done by now," and so on. It doesn't bother me because I understood his personality from the first day I worked with him. The bottom line is that you aren't really ever allowed to complain about anything to him.
So when the wind was blowing all directions and the rain came pouring down yesterday we were standing in a four foot deep trench I had dug, heating up some PVC pipe with a little blowtorch.
It was seriously like being in the shower with your clothes on. We were soaked and dripping from head to toe. I sat there smiling like I didn't even realize it had started to rain and finally he snapped and said, "I think this work will be waiting for us when we come back next time. I'm going home."
So even though the weather was bad, I got sent home early with pay. I would stand in the rain for that any day. He also told me he had got us some inside work for the next day.
Today, we were moving some equipment in at a hospital. The equipment was bigger than the door to the building. The thing was heavy but we got it in by laying it down on its side. But it involved standing in the rain and snow for over an hour. I said, "I thought you got us some INSIDE work today."
But later we did go do some work at some other businesses that was inside so he wasn't lying.
After digging trenches for a week and working in the rafters of a warehouse that had never been cleaned once in the 50 years that people have been welding there, I gave up on trying to keep my sweatshirt clean.
I heard that the word "Khaki" is an old persian word meaning "dust." And today I realized that khaki is the color that ALL clothes turn when you never wash them. I have a hypothesis that if you look at homeless people from a hundred yards away they will all have a khaki tinge to them.
Today, my boss and I pulled into a parking lot on 4th South in downtown Salt Lake and we saw some shabby guys running to a coffee shop. They wore ragged work coveralls and winter coats and hats and they were very dirty. They each carried a small guitar case and a bunch of other stuff. It looked like they were carrying everything they owned.
My boss pointed at them and asked, "Homeless?"
I said, "No. They're just musicians."
Take her arms and hold her down and hold her down and hold her down
Me: "At the last job I was working on there was this cool Dodge Charger always parked in the parking lot; bright red with racing stripes and a hood scoop and fancy brakes. At first I thought it must belong to some snooty guy but later I found it that it belongs to this girl. This really big girl. This really big girl in a sporty red leather jacket.
And then at the bank where I'm working now there is this nice Ford Mustang that parks next to me everyday. And I finally saw the girl that drives it and she's kind of this squatty little blonde girl...
And I just sort of think...
...it seems like...
...it's kind of weird..."
Then my wife realizes that her husband is about to demonstrate what an insensitive and shallow jerk he really is. She yells, "Noooooooooooooooooooooooo!" as if she can stop me from finishing.
Me: "It's weird that these mediocre girls are driving cars that are way sexier than they are."
And my wife's face is crushed like she can feel the pain those girls would be feeling if I had said that directly to them. I don't mean to sound like a jerk, but I would rather prefer a pretty girl in a crappy car. Like a flower on a withered branch. That's all. It's just an opinion.
And it probably applies the same to guys. Except I don't sit around thinking about how sexy guys may or may not be.
It's just something that's been on my mind.
It had to come out.
Don't worry. I like girls with sweet spirits, too.
And then at the bank where I'm working now there is this nice Ford Mustang that parks next to me everyday. And I finally saw the girl that drives it and she's kind of this squatty little blonde girl...
And I just sort of think...
...it seems like...
...it's kind of weird..."
Then my wife realizes that her husband is about to demonstrate what an insensitive and shallow jerk he really is. She yells, "Noooooooooooooooooooooooo!" as if she can stop me from finishing.
Me: "It's weird that these mediocre girls are driving cars that are way sexier than they are."
And my wife's face is crushed like she can feel the pain those girls would be feeling if I had said that directly to them. I don't mean to sound like a jerk, but I would rather prefer a pretty girl in a crappy car. Like a flower on a withered branch. That's all. It's just an opinion.
And it probably applies the same to guys. Except I don't sit around thinking about how sexy guys may or may not be.
It's just something that's been on my mind.
It had to come out.
Don't worry. I like girls with sweet spirits, too.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Stop What Your Doin, Cuz I'm About To Ruin The Image And The Style That Your Used To
The financial world is in pretty poor standing at the moment. Banks are closing, home foreclosure and unemployment are high, but the devastating affects of this economic downturn are even farther reaching than you may have guessed. Even people who are still lucky enough to have a steady job are facing new challenges.
For instance, the mofos at the furniture store find themselves with a lot of down-time because furniture is not selling like it used to. When work slows down, horsing around increases. But you can only hog-tie your coworkers or unexpectedly jump out of boxes yelling RAH! so many times before you need to come up with a new form of entertainment.
This is how it came to pass that the mofos decided it would be a good idea to get the two goofiest goobers on our crew and convince them that they should have a dance contest, to see who was the ultimate furniture store Lord Of The Dance.
Before you watch the video of these guys, please know that as it transpired, whispers did circulate through the crowd, "Are we going to hell for this? Yes. We are totally going to hell." It is disturbing, yet you can't look away.
At first, I felt so bad for the dancers. I have talked about Bregg (yes, his name is BREGG) several times on my blog before, and his exploits are endless. ENDLESS. But I stopped telling them because they could carry their own blog and I didn't want to completely demean him. Please trust me when I tell you that the footage of him dancing is practically a compliment in comparison to the embarrassing stories that I have avoided telling.
I've never talked much about Richard. I am pretty sure that he suffers from turret's syndrome (no foolin). The more excited he is about something, the harder it is for him to concentrate and he ends up grunting a lot. He also considers himself a serious martial arts student.
It is also important to remember that the mofos do not hold anything back. These two guys have spent years being verbally abused, yelled at, called names, and talked down to. During the dancing, the people who usually tell them where to stick things are suddenly cheering them on. I think the guys enjoy being the center of attention. They definitely give it their all. And for a brief moment or two, I think they actually believe, in their minds, that they are spectacular dancers.
The next couple of days after this video was shot, they seemed to strut around with pride at work. Richard came to me today and asked, "Did you see our video on Youtube? They cut out my best parts. They didn't even show my grand finale." Richard wished the mofos had posted the full 30 minutes of dancing. It's for the better. You have been spared the part where Bregg throws off his shirt.
Anyway, here are the highlights (If you don't like cussing then turn down the sound, they aren't called the mofos for nothin):
Anyway, if business doesn't pick up from here, just imagine what else may happen.
Speaking of dancing: After my brother's wedding, they had some dancing in a beachhouse. I didn't dance, but my wife was talking about it to my sister.
My wife said, "Have you seen Emmett dance? It is so...."
My sister said, "Yes. He used to dance like Axel Rose."
My wife said, "Yeah. It's so interesting. And people form circles around him when he dances."
I said, "Yeah, but it sucks. They make a circle around you and you just sit there dancing and you're like this is all I've got, people!"
For instance, the mofos at the furniture store find themselves with a lot of down-time because furniture is not selling like it used to. When work slows down, horsing around increases. But you can only hog-tie your coworkers or unexpectedly jump out of boxes yelling RAH! so many times before you need to come up with a new form of entertainment.
This is how it came to pass that the mofos decided it would be a good idea to get the two goofiest goobers on our crew and convince them that they should have a dance contest, to see who was the ultimate furniture store Lord Of The Dance.
Before you watch the video of these guys, please know that as it transpired, whispers did circulate through the crowd, "Are we going to hell for this? Yes. We are totally going to hell." It is disturbing, yet you can't look away.
At first, I felt so bad for the dancers. I have talked about Bregg (yes, his name is BREGG) several times on my blog before, and his exploits are endless. ENDLESS. But I stopped telling them because they could carry their own blog and I didn't want to completely demean him. Please trust me when I tell you that the footage of him dancing is practically a compliment in comparison to the embarrassing stories that I have avoided telling.
I've never talked much about Richard. I am pretty sure that he suffers from turret's syndrome (no foolin). The more excited he is about something, the harder it is for him to concentrate and he ends up grunting a lot. He also considers himself a serious martial arts student.
It is also important to remember that the mofos do not hold anything back. These two guys have spent years being verbally abused, yelled at, called names, and talked down to. During the dancing, the people who usually tell them where to stick things are suddenly cheering them on. I think the guys enjoy being the center of attention. They definitely give it their all. And for a brief moment or two, I think they actually believe, in their minds, that they are spectacular dancers.
The next couple of days after this video was shot, they seemed to strut around with pride at work. Richard came to me today and asked, "Did you see our video on Youtube? They cut out my best parts. They didn't even show my grand finale." Richard wished the mofos had posted the full 30 minutes of dancing. It's for the better. You have been spared the part where Bregg throws off his shirt.
Anyway, here are the highlights (If you don't like cussing then turn down the sound, they aren't called the mofos for nothin):
Anyway, if business doesn't pick up from here, just imagine what else may happen.
Speaking of dancing: After my brother's wedding, they had some dancing in a beachhouse. I didn't dance, but my wife was talking about it to my sister.
My wife said, "Have you seen Emmett dance? It is so...."
My sister said, "Yes. He used to dance like Axel Rose."
My wife said, "Yeah. It's so interesting. And people form circles around him when he dances."
I said, "Yeah, but it sucks. They make a circle around you and you just sit there dancing and you're like this is all I've got, people!"
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Killing Is My Business And Business Is Good
The 20-year-old (whom I call the 18-year-old) that I hang out with from the furniture store recently got a small promotion.
The other night I asked him, "So how do you like your new position?"
He said, "It's so boring. I don't do anything. Last night I watched Clerks I, Clerks II and The Matrix: Revolutions on my iPod. Then I read two issues of the City Weekly paper and then I TRIED to do some work on the computer but the other boss had already finished it. And then I went home and I was bored to death because I got kicked off of World of Warcraft!"
I said, "I heard. What exactly did you do to get kicked out of World of Warcraft?"
He said, "I bought a bunch of virtual gold from some chinese dude and then I went in the game and bought ALL of the adamantite and sarmite ore in the entire World of Warcraft. When I had all of the ore I put it all back up for sale at super-high retarded prices and stupid people kept buying it from me anyway. But the next time I tried to log into my account I got a message that I was banned for ECONOMIC EXPLOITATION."
I said, "It's funny that you run around murdering and stealing and riding zebras and stuff in this fantasy world and that's all wonderful but then the moment you try to use common business tactics like Walmart and Microsoft they completely ban you from playing anymore. Like sorry, you only get to do crazy stuff like that in THE REAL WORLD, this here world is just for killing stuff."
What does that say about the real world? We are surprised the global economy is broken?
The other night I asked him, "So how do you like your new position?"
He said, "It's so boring. I don't do anything. Last night I watched Clerks I, Clerks II and The Matrix: Revolutions on my iPod. Then I read two issues of the City Weekly paper and then I TRIED to do some work on the computer but the other boss had already finished it. And then I went home and I was bored to death because I got kicked off of World of Warcraft!"
I said, "I heard. What exactly did you do to get kicked out of World of Warcraft?"
He said, "I bought a bunch of virtual gold from some chinese dude and then I went in the game and bought ALL of the adamantite and sarmite ore in the entire World of Warcraft. When I had all of the ore I put it all back up for sale at super-high retarded prices and stupid people kept buying it from me anyway. But the next time I tried to log into my account I got a message that I was banned for ECONOMIC EXPLOITATION."
I said, "It's funny that you run around murdering and stealing and riding zebras and stuff in this fantasy world and that's all wonderful but then the moment you try to use common business tactics like Walmart and Microsoft they completely ban you from playing anymore. Like sorry, you only get to do crazy stuff like that in THE REAL WORLD, this here world is just for killing stuff."
What does that say about the real world? We are surprised the global economy is broken?
Sunday, April 05, 2009
You Can Do So Much
Just thought I would share a little music I can't stop listening to:
Keane is still a thousand times better than Coldplay
If you wish the band Rush was still pumping out good albums then maybe you would like Coheed and Cambria
Keane is still a thousand times better than Coldplay
If you wish the band Rush was still pumping out good albums then maybe you would like Coheed and Cambria
I Never Knew What Everybody Meant By Endless Hopeless Bleak Despair
At the request of my readers, here is a blurry picture of my precious kidney stone. In addition to not owning a chainsaw, I also don't own a microscope. The kidney stone is not spikey, but upon closer inspection it looks to be comprised of little lumps all mashed together into a ball; like if you took a bunch of little wads of playdough and squished them into one ball without smoothing out the seams. Oddly, staring closely at the kidney stone makes me hungry for a rootbeer float.
And I never actually intended to tell a story about the kernel of popcorn that was stuck in my teeth but here is a picture I drew really quick which sums up the problem.
I walked around with a piece of popcorn stuck behind my tooth for a couple days. I finally got it out, but a couple days after that, I ate popcorn again and another piece of popcorn got stuck in the exact same spot.
When I was younger, we went and saw "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade" and I got a piece of popcorn stuck in the back of my throat for a week. It was horrible.
Those are my popcorn stories. I wouldn't have told them except our dear sweet friend Holly requested them and she was in my dream last night. I dreamed we were trying to play Boggle but I couldn't find all the letter cubes we needed to play.
Dreams are dumb.
And I never actually intended to tell a story about the kernel of popcorn that was stuck in my teeth but here is a picture I drew really quick which sums up the problem.
I walked around with a piece of popcorn stuck behind my tooth for a couple days. I finally got it out, but a couple days after that, I ate popcorn again and another piece of popcorn got stuck in the exact same spot.
When I was younger, we went and saw "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade" and I got a piece of popcorn stuck in the back of my throat for a week. It was horrible.
Those are my popcorn stories. I wouldn't have told them except our dear sweet friend Holly requested them and she was in my dream last night. I dreamed we were trying to play Boggle but I couldn't find all the letter cubes we needed to play.
Dreams are dumb.
Monday, March 23, 2009
I Was Strong As I Could Be, Nothin' Ever Got To Me
My wife blogged our trip to California pretty well, so instead of going into all of that, I will just regale you with the tale of my little kidney stone and its travels through my body on the night we returned to Utah.
First of all, I am slightly annoyed because I endure impressive amounts of pain on a regular basis but never obtain convincing visual proof of the events. I almost cut my thumb off at work with a sawzall but instead just smashed it really bad (but just the fingernail turned black) and now I have a 3mm kidney stone in a cup but when you take a picture of these things they don't compare with Sculpin's ice-skating mishap photos.
So anyway, we drove all day across Nevada. When we got to Wendover my back was starting to bother me but I figured: I drove this far and I can drive the rest of the way. We got home about 10 pm and the kids had school and I had work in the morning, so we just got everyone in bed. It seemed like business as usual.
Somewhere between 2 and 2:30 am I rolled over in bed and my back was killing me. I kept rolling around, trying to find a comfortable position but that position did not exist. When I couldn't get back to sleep, I quickly became frustrated. I already knew that within the next few hours I was supposed to dig a trench by hand for work. I couldn't beleive that sitting in a car could damage by back like that and the pain was bad enough that I was worried that I would need back surgery to fix the problem. Back surgery would keep me from doing both of my jobs for quite some time. I was upset. I also felt like I was going to puke.
My wife kept trying to tell me to go to the doctor, but I don't like doctors. I just asked her for a heat-pad. She has one that she heats up in the microwave. She got it for me and I laid on it and was able to fall asleep for an indefinite amount of time. But when I woke up, the pain in my back was still waiting for me. I went into the bathroom and looked at my back in the mirror. The heating pad had been hot enough that my skin was burned red and I had a blister forming.
I got back into bed and flopped around until it was time for me to wake for work (5:30). I asked my wife to call my boss and tell him that she was taking me to the emergency room.
I find it funny that nurses always seem upset that I haven't had any significant health problems in the past 18 years. They act like I'm lying or they just look at me like I'm a freak. But when I told the nurse my syptoms she guessed it was a kidney stone right away. She said people come through the doors with a sudden onset of extreme back-pain, then pass the stone and walk out like nothing had happened.
Compared to the back surgery I was imagining while flopping around in bed I became optimistic. I said, "That sounds good to me. Let's do that."
The nurse laughed at me and declared, "You are the happiest kidney-stone patient I have ever seen."
She checked my pee to see if it had blood in it (it did) and then she gave me a shot of morphine. She said, "Some people say morphine makes their chest feel restricted and makes it hard for them to breathe so be ready."
I said, "Yeah... it does kind of feel like someone is choking you. It's strange that some people take this stuff for fun."
The nurse said, "You can always tell the people who do from the ones that don't."
If you haven't been to the emergency room before, I will tell you that they have this scale from 1 to 10 with a happy face assigned to the number 1 and a sad, crying face assigned to number 10 and then various faces to the numbers inbetween.
She asked me what level of pain I was experiencing when I arrived at the hospital. I told her I was probably a number 6, which is the circle face is frowning a little and looks like he's just starting to sweat.
The nurse said, "Hmmm. Most of the people who come in with a kidney stone say number 10. There's a chance that you already passed the stone before you came to the hospital... or else you're really tough."
I said, "I hope I already passed it. But I like to think I'm pretty tough, too." It turns out that I am tough. They did a cat-scan and said the stone hadn't reached my bladder yet but that it was small enough that I could go home to pass it.
While we were waiting for those results, my wife and kids came into my room to see me. I felt bad that my kids had to wait there for four hours. We looked at the pain chart and decided that each of us was a number four: Where the happy face just has a straight line for a mouth. I personally think that the scale should be extended to 15 where 15 is a happy face with his mouth wide open in a scream and blood is coming out of the ears and an eyeball is hanging from its socket. But that would probably just cater more to the crybabies.
My wife said that lots of people were coming into the emergency room screaming and wailing, pitching unconvincing fits like little kids. My advice to people is to expect to wait around awhile even after you get to the hospital. Crying isn't going to make you better any faster.
My wife told my kids, "Thank your father for making your vacation one day longer." and then we left. We picked up some prescriptions and went home. They told me it was likely that I wouldn't return to work that week, and if the stone didn't pass after a couple of days then to come in to see a urologist and he would help me get it out.
I started imagining my week. I still had annoying back pain and I was groggy from the pills but I was still thinking I could write on my blog, write some short stories maybe go see The Watchmen during the day while my wife was at work and the kids were in school.
But then I peed the stone out a few hours later and I went back to work the next day. And I think every kidney stone quarterback thinks the same thing when they see it come out: That little thing caused all this trouble?
They say I can take the stone in and have it analyzed. I haven't done it because I know those people want money every time you talk to them, but I'm guessing my stone is made 50% of Dr. Pepper, 10% Pepsi, and 40% snakes, snails, puppydog tails and other miscellaneous matter.
When we got to the hospital my wife said, "Well, now you'll get to see what a woman goes through when she gives birth." But when I passed the stone later that evening she said, "Hey! I'm glad you're better but I don't think you got to experience childbirth."
I said, "Yeah. That wasn't too bad. I don't know what you girls are always crying about."
It's hard to feel special for passing a kidney stone, because after you've done it you find out that everyone and their dog has had kidney stones and they all want to tell you their stories.
Tune in tomorrow for the story of the popcorn kernel that refused to be flossed away!
First of all, I am slightly annoyed because I endure impressive amounts of pain on a regular basis but never obtain convincing visual proof of the events. I almost cut my thumb off at work with a sawzall but instead just smashed it really bad (but just the fingernail turned black) and now I have a 3mm kidney stone in a cup but when you take a picture of these things they don't compare with Sculpin's ice-skating mishap photos.
So anyway, we drove all day across Nevada. When we got to Wendover my back was starting to bother me but I figured: I drove this far and I can drive the rest of the way. We got home about 10 pm and the kids had school and I had work in the morning, so we just got everyone in bed. It seemed like business as usual.
Somewhere between 2 and 2:30 am I rolled over in bed and my back was killing me. I kept rolling around, trying to find a comfortable position but that position did not exist. When I couldn't get back to sleep, I quickly became frustrated. I already knew that within the next few hours I was supposed to dig a trench by hand for work. I couldn't beleive that sitting in a car could damage by back like that and the pain was bad enough that I was worried that I would need back surgery to fix the problem. Back surgery would keep me from doing both of my jobs for quite some time. I was upset. I also felt like I was going to puke.
My wife kept trying to tell me to go to the doctor, but I don't like doctors. I just asked her for a heat-pad. She has one that she heats up in the microwave. She got it for me and I laid on it and was able to fall asleep for an indefinite amount of time. But when I woke up, the pain in my back was still waiting for me. I went into the bathroom and looked at my back in the mirror. The heating pad had been hot enough that my skin was burned red and I had a blister forming.
I got back into bed and flopped around until it was time for me to wake for work (5:30). I asked my wife to call my boss and tell him that she was taking me to the emergency room.
I find it funny that nurses always seem upset that I haven't had any significant health problems in the past 18 years. They act like I'm lying or they just look at me like I'm a freak. But when I told the nurse my syptoms she guessed it was a kidney stone right away. She said people come through the doors with a sudden onset of extreme back-pain, then pass the stone and walk out like nothing had happened.
Compared to the back surgery I was imagining while flopping around in bed I became optimistic. I said, "That sounds good to me. Let's do that."
The nurse laughed at me and declared, "You are the happiest kidney-stone patient I have ever seen."
She checked my pee to see if it had blood in it (it did) and then she gave me a shot of morphine. She said, "Some people say morphine makes their chest feel restricted and makes it hard for them to breathe so be ready."
I said, "Yeah... it does kind of feel like someone is choking you. It's strange that some people take this stuff for fun."
The nurse said, "You can always tell the people who do from the ones that don't."
If you haven't been to the emergency room before, I will tell you that they have this scale from 1 to 10 with a happy face assigned to the number 1 and a sad, crying face assigned to number 10 and then various faces to the numbers inbetween.
She asked me what level of pain I was experiencing when I arrived at the hospital. I told her I was probably a number 6, which is the circle face is frowning a little and looks like he's just starting to sweat.
The nurse said, "Hmmm. Most of the people who come in with a kidney stone say number 10. There's a chance that you already passed the stone before you came to the hospital... or else you're really tough."
I said, "I hope I already passed it. But I like to think I'm pretty tough, too." It turns out that I am tough. They did a cat-scan and said the stone hadn't reached my bladder yet but that it was small enough that I could go home to pass it.
While we were waiting for those results, my wife and kids came into my room to see me. I felt bad that my kids had to wait there for four hours. We looked at the pain chart and decided that each of us was a number four: Where the happy face just has a straight line for a mouth. I personally think that the scale should be extended to 15 where 15 is a happy face with his mouth wide open in a scream and blood is coming out of the ears and an eyeball is hanging from its socket. But that would probably just cater more to the crybabies.
My wife said that lots of people were coming into the emergency room screaming and wailing, pitching unconvincing fits like little kids. My advice to people is to expect to wait around awhile even after you get to the hospital. Crying isn't going to make you better any faster.
My wife told my kids, "Thank your father for making your vacation one day longer." and then we left. We picked up some prescriptions and went home. They told me it was likely that I wouldn't return to work that week, and if the stone didn't pass after a couple of days then to come in to see a urologist and he would help me get it out.
I started imagining my week. I still had annoying back pain and I was groggy from the pills but I was still thinking I could write on my blog, write some short stories maybe go see The Watchmen during the day while my wife was at work and the kids were in school.
But then I peed the stone out a few hours later and I went back to work the next day. And I think every kidney stone quarterback thinks the same thing when they see it come out: That little thing caused all this trouble?
They say I can take the stone in and have it analyzed. I haven't done it because I know those people want money every time you talk to them, but I'm guessing my stone is made 50% of Dr. Pepper, 10% Pepsi, and 40% snakes, snails, puppydog tails and other miscellaneous matter.
When we got to the hospital my wife said, "Well, now you'll get to see what a woman goes through when she gives birth." But when I passed the stone later that evening she said, "Hey! I'm glad you're better but I don't think you got to experience childbirth."
I said, "Yeah. That wasn't too bad. I don't know what you girls are always crying about."
It's hard to feel special for passing a kidney stone, because after you've done it you find out that everyone and their dog has had kidney stones and they all want to tell you their stories.
Tune in tomorrow for the story of the popcorn kernel that refused to be flossed away!
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Know Your Mofo And More
Let's call today's mofo Drago. He's from a slum town in Indiana. He's my same age and tried marraige for a year or two but it didn't work out. He was able to work simultaneous shifts as a firefighter for the city and a steel mill and had a pretty good thing going. He had A LOT of paid time off (over two months per year), money in the bank and he was also good friends with an older man at the steel mill. He soon became smitten with his friends daughter and the three of them were almost like a family.
After a few years of dating, Drago's girlfriend told him she wanted to plan a ski weekend in North Carolina with some of their friends. Drago's response was like, "Skiing? North Carolina?" but he sighed and was like, "Whatever, Babe." He could barely remember how to ski and wasn't too thrilled about the craggy mountains of North Carolina but he told his girlfriend he would make the most of it.
So they went and when he got to the snowy mountain and went sailing through the trees he got a strange feeling and admitted to the girl that the weekend had completely changed his life. He had found his new purpose in life. He checked around and found that Utah had some of the best skiing the world had to offer. He spent winter after winter here in Utah. But, if anything, it only made his hunger worse.
Just a few years ago the economy was not so bad as it is today and he realized how easy it is to get a job in Utah and share a house with others who have devoted their lives to sliding down mountains.
He told his girlfriend he was moving to Utah. It was something he had to do. She said she would come with him. But when he loaded all of his stuff into boxed and his boxes into his truck he found that she hadn't packed anything. She told him she couldn't move to Utah. He just told her, "You ended this, not me." And he drove to Utah.
He's one of the mofos that comes to the Waffle House on the weekends. He tells us crazy stories about his experience as a firefighter and an EMT. He told us how they were attending to one guy who had all kinds of stuff messed up on his insides. They were loading him into the ambulance when a deadly blast of diarreah came out and all the life left the man's face. They were convinced that he was dead and not coming back but they were required by law to perform CPR. He says it was horrible because when they would press on the man's chest, more of his guts would come gushing out of his orifices.
He said one time they had discovered a dead body in a bathtub but it had sat for days and became so bloated that the bathtub had to be cut into pieces to remove the body. It was a pretty gruesome mess but the real twist came when they realized the deceased was an old fire marshall they used to work with. They remembered him as a tall, thin man and not as someone who was so big that a bathtub could not contain him.
He said one time they were dealing with a burning building and he needed to get a window open for some reason. They were on an upper floor and he couldn't just smash the window because people were entering and exiting the building several floors below and he didn't want to shower them with broken glass and debris. He was wearing all of his fire garb and struggled to get the window open. He was still in a frenzy when another fire fighter came up behind him and motioned to his feet. There was nothing he could do but sigh and curse when he realized he'd been stomping on a barbecued human body while he'd been fighting with the window.
The stories he tells are pretty rough but I figure it's good for him to get them out of his system. He gets a season pass to Snowbird every year and spends the warm months hiking through all of Utah's scenic parks. He says that moving furniture feels like a vacation for him. Yesterday he shared some girlscout cookies with me and asked if I'd like to go hiking with him in Zions or Canyonlands this summer.
Speaking of dead bodies, I've been working the last couple of weeks at a facility where they perform nearly all of the autopsies for the state of Utah. It's actually been a pretty good job aside from the occassional smells. Every once in a while they get what they call a "stinker." It's not the worst smell ever but it seems worse when you know that it comes from a dead person.
It seems like it would be a depressing place to work day in and day out. We tried to make jokes about the place to keep our spirits up but everything comes out seeming inappropriate. It is strange, though, to see an endless stream of trucks and vans rolling in with lifeless bodies.
I go back to the indian reservation in California every spring and the past three springs each included a funeral. It was bumming me out. This week I'm driving out to California with Rogi (of Cow Country fame) for my brother's wedding.
I'm excited about this. I never expected my brother to actually get married. I'm happy for him. It also makes me feel like I'm driving out there to witness a beginning rather than an ending. I'll put up some pictures later.
After a few years of dating, Drago's girlfriend told him she wanted to plan a ski weekend in North Carolina with some of their friends. Drago's response was like, "Skiing? North Carolina?" but he sighed and was like, "Whatever, Babe." He could barely remember how to ski and wasn't too thrilled about the craggy mountains of North Carolina but he told his girlfriend he would make the most of it.
So they went and when he got to the snowy mountain and went sailing through the trees he got a strange feeling and admitted to the girl that the weekend had completely changed his life. He had found his new purpose in life. He checked around and found that Utah had some of the best skiing the world had to offer. He spent winter after winter here in Utah. But, if anything, it only made his hunger worse.
Just a few years ago the economy was not so bad as it is today and he realized how easy it is to get a job in Utah and share a house with others who have devoted their lives to sliding down mountains.
He told his girlfriend he was moving to Utah. It was something he had to do. She said she would come with him. But when he loaded all of his stuff into boxed and his boxes into his truck he found that she hadn't packed anything. She told him she couldn't move to Utah. He just told her, "You ended this, not me." And he drove to Utah.
He's one of the mofos that comes to the Waffle House on the weekends. He tells us crazy stories about his experience as a firefighter and an EMT. He told us how they were attending to one guy who had all kinds of stuff messed up on his insides. They were loading him into the ambulance when a deadly blast of diarreah came out and all the life left the man's face. They were convinced that he was dead and not coming back but they were required by law to perform CPR. He says it was horrible because when they would press on the man's chest, more of his guts would come gushing out of his orifices.
He said one time they had discovered a dead body in a bathtub but it had sat for days and became so bloated that the bathtub had to be cut into pieces to remove the body. It was a pretty gruesome mess but the real twist came when they realized the deceased was an old fire marshall they used to work with. They remembered him as a tall, thin man and not as someone who was so big that a bathtub could not contain him.
He said one time they were dealing with a burning building and he needed to get a window open for some reason. They were on an upper floor and he couldn't just smash the window because people were entering and exiting the building several floors below and he didn't want to shower them with broken glass and debris. He was wearing all of his fire garb and struggled to get the window open. He was still in a frenzy when another fire fighter came up behind him and motioned to his feet. There was nothing he could do but sigh and curse when he realized he'd been stomping on a barbecued human body while he'd been fighting with the window.
The stories he tells are pretty rough but I figure it's good for him to get them out of his system. He gets a season pass to Snowbird every year and spends the warm months hiking through all of Utah's scenic parks. He says that moving furniture feels like a vacation for him. Yesterday he shared some girlscout cookies with me and asked if I'd like to go hiking with him in Zions or Canyonlands this summer.
Speaking of dead bodies, I've been working the last couple of weeks at a facility where they perform nearly all of the autopsies for the state of Utah. It's actually been a pretty good job aside from the occassional smells. Every once in a while they get what they call a "stinker." It's not the worst smell ever but it seems worse when you know that it comes from a dead person.
It seems like it would be a depressing place to work day in and day out. We tried to make jokes about the place to keep our spirits up but everything comes out seeming inappropriate. It is strange, though, to see an endless stream of trucks and vans rolling in with lifeless bodies.
I go back to the indian reservation in California every spring and the past three springs each included a funeral. It was bumming me out. This week I'm driving out to California with Rogi (of Cow Country fame) for my brother's wedding.
I'm excited about this. I never expected my brother to actually get married. I'm happy for him. It also makes me feel like I'm driving out there to witness a beginning rather than an ending. I'll put up some pictures later.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Besides, You Ain't Got Nothin' Better To Do And I'm Bored
This family is all about hair-brained schemes. We come up with crazy ideas and pursue them. Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose. We have a big hair-brained scheme in mind but we can't act on it unless we can come up with a fat wad of money and the economy suffers a mild recovery.
So I told my wife, "We should get super serious about saving a bunch of money. We should buckle down for as long as we can stand it. If we can't stand it, then we can binge with whatever money we actually saved."
My wife agreed so we started brain-storming ideas on where we could save money. It turns out that all I do is work. The only place I can possibly save money is to not eat out so much, but that is hard to do when you work anywhere from 8 to 22 hours in a day. My wife said lamely, "I guess I could stop using paper plates, but that means we'll have more dirty dishes that I won't have time to wash." We buy everything on sale. We get DVDs from the library. We go out to see a movie about every six months.
It's funny that we sat down to think of ways to save money but only came to the conclusion that we need to spend money and have some fun for once.
So I told my wife, "We should get super serious about saving a bunch of money. We should buckle down for as long as we can stand it. If we can't stand it, then we can binge with whatever money we actually saved."
My wife agreed so we started brain-storming ideas on where we could save money. It turns out that all I do is work. The only place I can possibly save money is to not eat out so much, but that is hard to do when you work anywhere from 8 to 22 hours in a day. My wife said lamely, "I guess I could stop using paper plates, but that means we'll have more dirty dishes that I won't have time to wash." We buy everything on sale. We get DVDs from the library. We go out to see a movie about every six months.
It's funny that we sat down to think of ways to save money but only came to the conclusion that we need to spend money and have some fun for once.
Friday, February 13, 2009
When Will I Meet My Fate? Baby I'm A Man And I Was Born To Hate
We were driving through our neigborhood looking at houses.
Me: "When we get divorced I'll probably rent one of these apartments."
My Wife: "Why?"
Me: "So I can stay close to the kids. They aren't much to look at but I'm sure they're cheap and I can live there with a younger, skinnier, prettier version of you and pay off my bills."
My Wife: "It sounds like you've really been thinking about this. How can you even think these things? Even if you're joking?"
Me: "I'm a man. That's what men do, isn't it?"
Now that I type it, it sounds REALLY mean. But I assure you that it was quite funny. Don't let my wife's crying eyes dissuade you. She cries about everything you know.
Me: "When we get divorced I'll probably rent one of these apartments."
My Wife: "Why?"
Me: "So I can stay close to the kids. They aren't much to look at but I'm sure they're cheap and I can live there with a younger, skinnier, prettier version of you and pay off my bills."
My Wife: "It sounds like you've really been thinking about this. How can you even think these things? Even if you're joking?"
Me: "I'm a man. That's what men do, isn't it?"
Now that I type it, it sounds REALLY mean. But I assure you that it was quite funny. Don't let my wife's crying eyes dissuade you. She cries about everything you know.
All Us Boys On Deathrow, We're Just Waiting For a Pardon
I'm lucky enough to be working a lot of overtime, so I haven't been around much. But Jonah stayed home on Monday with a fever so I took a day off. It was nice because I had plenty of one-on-one time with my other kids when they were his age, but this is the first time that it was just me and Jonah. His daytime personality is much happier than his nighttime personality.
I've heard good things about the show "Super Why!" on PBS so when I saw it was on TV I paid attention. It didn't make a very good first impression though and here is why:
There is a group of kids and a pig and the pig starts feeling sad and says, "You're all human and I'm a pig. I feel different and it makes me sad."
And I'm sure they did this just so they could talk about a story, "Well here is a story about a Little Mermaid who also felt like she was different..."
They didn't say, "Hey! You're a pig! You've got that curly-Q tail and you get to roll around in poop and you taste delicious!"
Suddenly they were just IN the story, talking to a little mermaid, but they never seemed to get to the part where she sold her soul to the sea witch for a chance to be human just to watch her prince marry another woman and pass the opportunity to regain her soul by murdering him and instead choosing to cast her human form into the ocean where is dissolves into air or foam or something... and by a stroke of luck, as a spirit in limbo, she is given the chance to regain her soul so she can get into heaven after she does good deeds for 300 years or so, all so that the kids can turn to the pig and say, "See... if you feel different and sad just commit suicide and maybe you can go to heaven one day."
I guess they don't tell you the end of the story because they want kids to read it for themselves.
Last weekend I was supposed to go snowboarding the mofos from the furniture store but I was too tired and I missed my family so we went and saw that movie "Coraline." I enjoyed it. It was very strange. I thought there would be more music in it but I will settle for the one song that They Might Be Giants contributed. I don't care if this is a spoiler. Anyone who takes their kids to see Coraline should be prepared to see gigantic naked bouncing old-lady puppet boobs. There. I said it. Coraline did a better job of delivering their message than Super Why: Be happy with what you have.
Business at the furniture store has been pretty slow. I heard one of the mofos talking on his cell phone, "I used your credit card at the furniture store so don't be surprised when you get a bill in the mail..."
When he hung up, I said, "Did you steal your girlfriends credit card and go on a shopping spree again?"
He said, "No. That was my wife. With our discount we can get $30 headphones for $4. So I used our credit card to get some and I didn't want my wife to freak out when we got an extra bill at the end of the month."
I said, "Why didn't you just pay cash for them?"
He said, "I don't have any money. These are tough times. But I did do 90-days-same-as-cash."
I said, "You only have 90 days to come up with $4? You'd better get your butt to work."
At my daytime job, I did some work at a military facility. It was out in the middle of nowhere so I had to go to the store on the base for lunch. I thought I would just get a drink and a candy bar but they were hard to find. I had to walk down a 30 foot aisle with alcohol of all kinds on both sides and I finally found a box of Almond Snickers, Watchamacallit, Skittles, and Red Vines tucked away on an end cap.
I went to pay and right next to the cash register was a magazine rack. It had an upper-section and a lower-section. The upper-section was nothing but pornography. Lots and lots of pornography. And the lower section was only magazines like Mens Journal and Guns and Ammo. There were actually a lot of girls in line behind me and it felt awkward being so close to the stockpile o' porn.
I told my coworker that it was weird that they have miles of hard liquor but you can't find a 3 Musketeers to save your life. He said the military bases are the only places in Utah where you can buy a keg of beer - if you're military.
The whole thing made me feel sad for the troops. The message of the store seemed to be: "Don't dream about a life off of this base, just get drunk and look at boobs when you're feeling down."
The last couple of weeks, I've been working in a frozen vegetable warehouse in Ogden. There are welders from Tennessee flashing blue lightning and spraying orange sparks everywhere and everything is made of stainless steel aside from the cement floor. So we set up our tristands and bandsaws and pipe-threaders with their oil guns and get to work builing something from Super Mario World. After lunch we come back and the workers have spilled peas all over the floor and a river of peas rushes through our work area and looks like the everglades from the sky.
Everyday is an adventure. What will it be? Brussel sprouts? Corn? Carrots? Mixed vegetables? And then someone drives through the everglades with a giant scissor lift and it just looks like a crappy warehouse again.
I've heard good things about the show "Super Why!" on PBS so when I saw it was on TV I paid attention. It didn't make a very good first impression though and here is why:
There is a group of kids and a pig and the pig starts feeling sad and says, "You're all human and I'm a pig. I feel different and it makes me sad."
And I'm sure they did this just so they could talk about a story, "Well here is a story about a Little Mermaid who also felt like she was different..."
They didn't say, "Hey! You're a pig! You've got that curly-Q tail and you get to roll around in poop and you taste delicious!"
Suddenly they were just IN the story, talking to a little mermaid, but they never seemed to get to the part where she sold her soul to the sea witch for a chance to be human just to watch her prince marry another woman and pass the opportunity to regain her soul by murdering him and instead choosing to cast her human form into the ocean where is dissolves into air or foam or something... and by a stroke of luck, as a spirit in limbo, she is given the chance to regain her soul so she can get into heaven after she does good deeds for 300 years or so, all so that the kids can turn to the pig and say, "See... if you feel different and sad just commit suicide and maybe you can go to heaven one day."
I guess they don't tell you the end of the story because they want kids to read it for themselves.
Last weekend I was supposed to go snowboarding the mofos from the furniture store but I was too tired and I missed my family so we went and saw that movie "Coraline." I enjoyed it. It was very strange. I thought there would be more music in it but I will settle for the one song that They Might Be Giants contributed. I don't care if this is a spoiler. Anyone who takes their kids to see Coraline should be prepared to see gigantic naked bouncing old-lady puppet boobs. There. I said it. Coraline did a better job of delivering their message than Super Why: Be happy with what you have.
Business at the furniture store has been pretty slow. I heard one of the mofos talking on his cell phone, "I used your credit card at the furniture store so don't be surprised when you get a bill in the mail..."
When he hung up, I said, "Did you steal your girlfriends credit card and go on a shopping spree again?"
He said, "No. That was my wife. With our discount we can get $30 headphones for $4. So I used our credit card to get some and I didn't want my wife to freak out when we got an extra bill at the end of the month."
I said, "Why didn't you just pay cash for them?"
He said, "I don't have any money. These are tough times. But I did do 90-days-same-as-cash."
I said, "You only have 90 days to come up with $4? You'd better get your butt to work."
At my daytime job, I did some work at a military facility. It was out in the middle of nowhere so I had to go to the store on the base for lunch. I thought I would just get a drink and a candy bar but they were hard to find. I had to walk down a 30 foot aisle with alcohol of all kinds on both sides and I finally found a box of Almond Snickers, Watchamacallit, Skittles, and Red Vines tucked away on an end cap.
I went to pay and right next to the cash register was a magazine rack. It had an upper-section and a lower-section. The upper-section was nothing but pornography. Lots and lots of pornography. And the lower section was only magazines like Mens Journal and Guns and Ammo. There were actually a lot of girls in line behind me and it felt awkward being so close to the stockpile o' porn.
I told my coworker that it was weird that they have miles of hard liquor but you can't find a 3 Musketeers to save your life. He said the military bases are the only places in Utah where you can buy a keg of beer - if you're military.
The whole thing made me feel sad for the troops. The message of the store seemed to be: "Don't dream about a life off of this base, just get drunk and look at boobs when you're feeling down."
The last couple of weeks, I've been working in a frozen vegetable warehouse in Ogden. There are welders from Tennessee flashing blue lightning and spraying orange sparks everywhere and everything is made of stainless steel aside from the cement floor. So we set up our tristands and bandsaws and pipe-threaders with their oil guns and get to work builing something from Super Mario World. After lunch we come back and the workers have spilled peas all over the floor and a river of peas rushes through our work area and looks like the everglades from the sky.
Everyday is an adventure. What will it be? Brussel sprouts? Corn? Carrots? Mixed vegetables? And then someone drives through the everglades with a giant scissor lift and it just looks like a crappy warehouse again.
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