The Enigmatic Musings of a Cynical Mind
Thursday, January 01, 2004
I've MOVED
You'll have to come over and visit me at my new site. HERE
Be sure to update your blogrolls.
I need some MT help!
If there is anyone that is sober and knows anything about Moveable type I have a problem that I need help on. When I post a new entry to MT it shows up at the publisher site as being published but when you view site it's not there. I have rebuilt the site and everything else repeatedly and nothing. Someone help me please!!!!!
Tuesday, December 30, 2003
Why am I glad Christmas is over?
You wanna know why I'm glad Christmas is over? Well one reason is I can finally stop going around saying "Fa La La La La, French Vanilla!" Damn the Cool Whip people and their catchy adverts!!!!
The Great Christmas Eve Coup (or "Don't Make Me Call Santa!!!")
Something funny happened last week. Santa became my secret weapon. Yes Santa is the last resort for parents of hyperactive, excited over anxious kids who are hyped up on holiday sugar. When all else fails and around this time of year IT DOES use the old Kringle Connection. Time Out? yeah right. Spankings? Thank you Sir, may I have another? I'm gonna call Santa! "Oh please please please don't call Santa! We'll be good. We promise!" This is how it went down;
The Babyboy and Babygirl were full of holiday energy. (Not having school for two weeks they were in the process of killing each other, destroying their rooms or driving The Wife and me stark raving mad.) I had tried all the usual threats and even followed through on a few. Alas, to no avail. Finally in a last ditch effort to save the shreds of authority in my dictatorship I picked up the phone, held it over my head like the Olympic Torch and announced.
"THAT'S IT, I'M CALLING SANTA!"
A look of puzzlement came over the faces of the two guerilla warriors. The rebel leader "Blonde1" posed the one word question "Why?" "Because mom and I have had enough of dealing with naughty kids who don't pay attention to what we say."
To further emphasize the point I "fake" dialed (ASIDE: Can we still say dialed even though we don't dial a number any more? hmmmmm)
Me: Santa? This is me. I have two naughty kids here who are being bad.
(wait a few seconds, act like I'm listening to Santa) We tried to tell them to be good but they wont listen. I don't think they want any presents tonight. You can just give them to some good little boy or girl who listens to their parents."
The rebels are watching me with their mouths open. From time to time they speak the words of surrender "We'll be good. We'll be good Daddy." Smiling inwardly (effectively pulling said muscle that allows you to smile inwardly) I continued.(Power corrupts)
ME: "What was that Santa? Give them another chance? I don't know....they have been pretty bad."
At this point Babyboy jumps up and rushes the phone in a suicide run worthy of any Al Quiada terrorist. "Let me talk to Santa. I want to talk to Santa."
Holding the phone out of reach I tell him. "Santa says he is really busy and doesn't have time to talk to bad boys and girls." The jaw drops. (absolute power corrupts absolutely) After a few well placed "OKs" I bid farewell and have a nice trip tonight be careful to "Santa" and hang up the phone. I then inform the rebels that Santa told me if they are not good from now on they will not get any presents on Christmas morning. They agree to the terms and I leave the the table having crushed this uprising. Or had I...?
A few minutes later a courier (we shall call him "Wet1") for the rebellion enters my headquarters (The Living room) and approaches my throne (Lazy boy). Shocked that he would dare interrupt me without being summoned. He informs me that the rebel leader, "Blonde1" ,says she doesn't want any presents." I seethe at the impertinence of the statement. I know her game and like "Dubya" I am determined to stamp out terrorism in my household and those who support it. I will not submit to their demands. "Ok then she wont get any." I state offhandedly and dismiss him. What ensues is a waiting game that I was determined to win. I had not struggled 37 years to achieve power to have it snatched from me by few guerrillas. About 10 minutes later Wet1 returns to announced that she had relented. The bloodless coup was over. My dictatorship was safe at least for 24 more hours. I need another strategy people. I appeal to you, my fellow world (blogoshpere) leaders for your support in this endeavor. No doubt some of you will be like France and sit by and watch society as we know it crumble but I know there are some of you out there who see the emerging danger and realize that the best defense is a strong offense. Any ideas? Anyone have the pager# for the Easter Bunny?
I"m Moving!!!!!
Hey guys and guy-ettes. Those of you who have been attempting to keep up with me for the latter part of 2003, probably forgot that I said I was going to be moving to a new place that will allow me to use MT. Well I haven't forgotten and behind the scenes I have been working to get everything set up. With the help of Asherah, DaGoddess and Mel (who is going to be my bloghost) I have achieved stasis. What does that mean? Well it means that I have the basic site ready but there are probably going to be a few tweaks here and there. I will officially STOP posting here and START posting there on New Year's Day. So for those of you who will be coherent on 1 Jan 04 stop by HERE and say hello. For those of you who will be 4 sheets to the wind I hope to see you on 2 Jan 04. (Don't forget to update your blogrolls,favorites,bookmarks with my new address. http://enigmaticmusings.highlymoody.com)
What is the purpose?
I had to go back to work yesterday. It was a freakin waste of time. This was time I could have spent at home wasting time. The difference you say? Well at least I'd be in a place I love with family. I spent the day doing little projects here and there. Not only was it Monday but it was very cold and very windy and rainy very hard. It doesn't look like much of a change for the rest of the week either. I don't see why they even bother with making us sit at our desk and pretend to work the weeks of Christmas and New Years. The amount of work done adds up to about one day of nose to the grindstone work. Two more days of this and then another 4 day weekend. WOO HOO!
Thursday, December 25, 2003
Happy Holidays!!
I wanna wish each and everyone of you a happy holiday! Even Google gets into the spirit of things.
1999
2000 (They got cheap this year)
2001
2002
2003
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
And still more holiday games
For those of us who have to work during the next two weeks HERE are some games that will help past the time.
IS there nothing sacred?
How can anyone mess with the sanctity of the Thundercats? These are my childhood memories they are stomping on HERE. OH THE HUMANITY!
Elves DON'T go Commando
As I wandered through my blogroll I visited Susie and found this post about Elves wearing panties. As I laughed at this I thought to myself of course elves would wear drawers. I'm sure it get's cold up there in the arctic wasteland that The Man (read Santa) has chosen to place his workshop. If you live there and don't want frozen nibblets you would wear drawers. Not those frilly Victoria's Secret waistband that pass for panties but industrial strength, little house on the prairie, Walton's mountain granny panties. I'm sure there is nothing worse than a frozen thong in the crack of your @$$. Talk about rosy cheeks.
Secret Santa- A throw back to a totalitarian regime?
Jodi has the guts to say what a lot of people want to but don't have the nog to say. Secret Santa sucks. Two of the main problems with the travesty called "Secret Santa" is 1) What if you draw the name of someone you hate? To make matters worse what if they know you hate them and they hate you? Talk about false holiday spirit.
Them: Thanks for the home knitted six fingered gloves.
You: You are welcome. Actually there's only ONE finger that matters when it comes to you though.
2) What does a guy get another guy that doesn't come off kind of sweet and cheesy? This is a question that has stumped males since the dawn of time. I mean if you have a female you can by all sorts of junk that women love. You know what I mean. Candles, bath oils or beads, lotions etc. Buy some of those for Bob and you might get some unwanted attention. I drew the name of a male co worker this year so I gave him a baseball and a basketball stress ball, various candies, and lottery tickets (The dollar scratch offs). For the big gift exchange that ended our Holiday party I gave him one of those little pool/basketball tables for his desk. I know I know I'm quite the little santa's helper. It's a gift.
Sunday, December 21, 2003
Something that is good
This holiday season I discovered a few things that are good;
1) My wife's Pumpkin Roll.
I normally don't like pumpkin but this stuff is great.
2) Nestle Toll House sugar cookies.
You know the ones that come frozen. You just break and bake. I normally don't
do the sugar cookie thing. In the past they have always had a play doughlike
after taste. But these bad boys...... I would commit murder for a batch of these.
Yes I would. When the judge asked me if I did it I would have no problem saying
yes I did and if you bake another batch I'd do it again. They are that good.
What's good for the goose...or Equal Opportunity
I have never been one of those guys that feels like women need to be treated differently when it comes to work. Don't get me wrong, I know that physically you sometimes need to make concessions for strength but that's about it as far as I'm concerned. Militarywise she took the same oath that I did. She chose the same career field that I did. She can do the same duties that come with the job just as I have to. Belive me I have been in situations where the females got to stay in the air conditioned office and work on the computer while the males had to work in the heat and sweat and do physical labor. That pissed me off. Is it wrong of me to feel that way? I don't think so.
Something else that I don't like? Being expected to do something because somewhere in your mind you feel that I should because I'm "The Man". Uhh hello? Who says that the male has to take out the trash, do yard work, and handle the finances? Why can't a woman do these things? When does having a penis mean that I am mandated to carry out the garbage? This weekend I did all of the laundry. I mean I washed every dirty item of clothing in the house. The Wife woke up on Saturday and felt bad because I was doing this. My answer to her? "I Live here too. Can't I wash clothes if I want too?" Sometimes a woman can manage bills a whole lot better than a man. The guy should get up off of his ego and let her do them. I am lucky to have married a woman that agrees with me on this. Let the person best suited for the job DO the job. What a novel concept huh?
Oh yeah. I have known a few guys that have messed around on their girlfriends/wives. I always ask them "What would you do if she was cheating on you?" The answer is most often. "I'd kill her." or "I'd put her out." Uhh Yoo Hoo aren't you the guy who is cheating as we speak? Why is it ok for you to creep but not her? Once again does having a penis automatically give you license to sleep around? I think not. If you can do it, so can she. How dare you get upset at her especially if you KNOW you have been doing it. What an @$$! Hmmm kinda reminds you of the old adage "Do unto others..." huh?
Old Age
How do you know that you are getting old? What are the tell tale signs that father time has snuck up and slapped the hell outta you repeatedly? That is a question for the ages(aged?). I went and picked up a CPAP machine this past week. It's supposed to help me to keep breathing when I fall asleep at night. Doesn't that sound like the apex of laziness? He was so lazy that he had to be forced to breathe. Naw. Im just joking. I'm not THAT lazy. Since moving to Northern Kali I have had a number of breathing problems (Allergy induced asthma). Is this a sign of old age? No? Well me shoulders have been hurting for about a week now like they used to when I did shrugs in the gym. I think this may be a visit by those Itis brothers (Burt and Arthur). Is this a sign of old age? Well during those two weeks when I went to Texas to get the Silver Bullet, I grew a goatee. Guess what? It had grey hair in it. NOW, is that a sign of old age? It is? Thanks for the confirmation.
Saturday, December 20, 2003
Rudolph revisited
This just cracked me up. I found it HERE
Admit it, parents. By now you're rooting for the Abominable Snowmonster, aren't you? Anything to add some variety to the 1,346th viewing of the Beloved Christmas Classic "Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer."
Life goes like this:
Childhood: rapt enjoyment of Rudolph; faint sneers toward those babies who are scared of the Abominable Snowman, even though he sorta makes you wanta pee, too.
Teen years: studious ignoring of Rudolph to show how cool and goth you are, even though you secretly yearn to watch it.
Early 20s: kitschy, hip, ironic parties built around watching Rudolph, complete with speculation about the character's private lives; aren't you all so terribly witty?
Late 20s: if unmarried still, the sight of Rudolph at Christmas gives you a vague and unpleasant sense of mortality. Better get busy on the whole family-kid thing, lest you end up an old man gumming his holiday dinners from a microwave-safe dish in a rented room, with no cards on the mantle, no phone calls on Christmas Eve to wish you well, no -- whoa, I forgot, it's a Baywatch marathon on Spike TV! Awright!
Everyone loves the Rudolph Christmas special. But isn't there something, well, wrong about the show? Something that doesn't hold up after 30 years of scrutiny? Let's look at the cast.
Santa. If I may be frank: Mr. Kringle is a jerk for most of the picture. He goes to visit the newborn Rudolph, sees the red nose, and tells Rudolph's dad that he should fix that horrible abnormality, lest shame visit the House of Vixen for six generations. Or words to that effect. After Rudy flies better than any other reindeer -- a feat prompted by a coquettish doe's flattery -- he's everyone's hero, but his schnozz suddenly burns as red as Lenin's heart; what's Santa's reaction? Too bad your kid is a mutant weirdo. You must be very disappointed. Earlier Santa listens to the elves perform their latest song, "We Are Santa's Helpers," and it's a great tune. (They're all great tunes.) In essence we have some small creatures working in a non-union environment for Boss Claus, and in their spare time they come up with songs that not only swear their fealty to the old man but literally declare themselves his dependents. Santa rolls his eyes, tells them it needs work, and leaves the room. You think: Man, what a jerk.
Yukon Cornelius. Everyone's favorite, I suspect. Yukon brims with confidence and bluff hearty cheer. But this year I noticed something: he's packing heat. He has a pistol tucked in his belt. Of course, if Yukon emptied a clip on the Abominable in the second act, that would be the end of it, and kids would be traumatized. Parents would have to explain that the Snowman fell down in some ketchup, and now he's sleeping, and my stars, look at the hour! Time for bed.
King Moonracer. He's the ruler of the Island of Misfit Toys, a winged lion who flies around the planet every night looking for busted merchandise. They get to live on his island. I accepted this totally as a child, but now I wonder: Why doesn't Moonracer deliver the busted toys himself? Does Santa have the toy-distribution racket sewn up? Seems to me Moonracer could deliver the merch, kick back 20 percent to Claus out of respect, and everyone's happy, bada bing bada boom. But no: Moonracer asks Rudy et al. to tell Santa about the Island, so Santa can take the toys off his hands. This makes no sense. Santa and Moonracer are both flight-capable mythological figures occupying the Northern Pole ice sheets; if nothing else they'd bump into each other at Union conventions. One suspects that Moonracer has issues with Mr. Claus. Probably goes back to an argument at a party -- Kringle got a snootful of punch and said, So let me get this right, you're the king of remaindered merchandise? Where'd you get the crown, Marshall's or maybe Ross?
The Bumble. Let's recall the scene at the Bumble's cave. Rudy's gone. Dad's gone off to look for him. Mom and girlfriend have struck off on a separate quest. Yukon and dogs are looking for all of the above. And they all reach the Bumble's cave at the same moment? Right. Rudolph shows up just as Clarisse is about to be eaten -- and let us just note right here that the Bumble takes a long time to consume his victims. It's as if he's waiting for someone to come to the cave and offer some fresh-ground pepper.
You know, there's a bug in the program. Literally. This year we watched the show on the larger TV, and I saw something I'd never noticed before. The opening credits are written on Christmas presents; the camera pans right, stops on a box, then moves along to the next one. When we move to the box that tells us what Burl Ives sings, there's a small jerky black spot in the snow. When the camera pauses, the spot crawls around like a fly. When the camera moves along, the spot appears here, there, over there, then disappears. It all takes two seconds, maybe three -- but that's a fly. And it's the only thing in the show that's literally alive.
Nowadays they'd shrug: Ahh, we'll take it out with computers. In those days they just left it in: Who'd notice? The idea that people would be picking this thing apart 39 years later would have struck them as ridiculous -- why, surely by 2003 kids would be watching live broadcasts of Santa visiting the Moon colonies.
No. We're still watching Rudolph. Bad lip-syncs, curious motivations, a testy Santa, patriarchal deer -- doesn't matter. You look at the show and you hear the tunes and you're a kid again. And if you're a kid already -- so much the better.
Note to Charlie in the Box: Did it ever occur to you to just say your name was Jack? It's not like kids ask for your ID, you know.
Some more holiday games
Here are some more holiday games to help you wile away that mandatory time of day they like to call "work" time. Waste some time playing with Santa's balls. (smirk)
Enjoy! CLICK
PSA: Cat's seek to destroy Christmas
At first I thought it was just me, but as I surfed the net I have noticed a trend of people complaining that their cats are destroying christmas bulbs, lights, pulling over trees, tearing open presents. Me thinks there is more to this than at first it seems. (don't ask) Just the other day I went into the living room first thing in the morning to realize that the christmas lights in the window were off. Assuming The Wife cut them off before bed I went on about my daily routine. Later that night I realized that the VCR was not working. After careful investigation on my part, I discovered that L.C. (Lazy Cat) had not "unplugged" the lights but had turned off the surge protector that had the christmas lights AND the VCR, that we had watched christmas toons on the previous night, plugged into it. Now you tell me that that isn't damned suspicious. Oh and the dog is in on it also...in exchange for her silent partnership the cat leaves her tasty treats (read: tootsie rolls with a crunchy outer coating) in the litter box (read:The drop off/pick up point). I'm sure it's done all in the spirit of Christmas. Riiiiiiiigggghhhhhtttt.
And as if that wasn't proof enough of the comin CAT-astophe (pronounced CAT + ASS + Trophy). The shining example of cat arrogance has a movie coming out. CLICK
It was The Year Without a Santa Claus
One of the things I love about the christmas holidays is that I can watch the various Rankin and Bass christmas shows without feeling like some kind of freak. I mean come on who can get past the jerky animation, the sugary sweet ideology of these shows without going NOW THAT'S CHRISTMAS!!!!! One look at Yukon Cornelius, Baby New Year, The Winter Warlock (Winter ..please), Burgermeister Meister burger and you are hooked. The highlight of the season is the classic "The Year Without a Santa Claus" which included in it's cast the most talented brothers to ever entertain (since the 5 balck boys from Gary Indiana who had the lead singer to grow up and become white) THE MISER BROTHERS. If you share my love for this epic tale of angst, depression, and sibling rivalry GO HERE read and vote.
You can also GO HERE and take a Christmas TV Quiz!
Friday, December 19, 2003
Ghosts for Christmas?
I am at a lost of words for the ad execs at Mcdonalds and Disney. Well not actually at a lost of words or I wouldn't be writing this blog now would I? Christmas is a time of Santa, Frosty, Rudolph and all other wintery characters. So why would you release a movie like "The Haunted Mansion"? You're looking for Halloween. You are about two or three holidays late.
Thursday, December 18, 2003
Smells like Christmas Spirit
I found out a very interesting bit of information. Cinnamon is good for gas! So now after the big holiday meal, when everyone is saluting the cook by releasing aromatic gratitude through out the house, your sense of smell will be overcome by the smell of cinnamon.
"Mmmmmm smells like someone's baking a few dozen snickerdoodles in here"
"Okay who brought Spice Cake?"
"Mom? Did you make my favorite cookies?
Well I guess it's better than smelling deviled eggs where there is none.
Holiday Games
During the holidays things slow down at work and you need a way to keep from throat punching your co-workers. Here are some seasonal diversions for you. Enjoy!
Need to relive those good old snowball fights? CLICK
How about making your own snowflake? CLICK
Want to join the snowball fight from the movie "Elf"? CLICK
Wednesday, December 17, 2003
The Ever living Fruitcake!!!!
Why in the hell do we subject our friends and neighbors to the terror that is fruitcake? It doesn't look very appetizing? With it's red, orange, and green bits. If you ask the baker what those mysterious bits are they will tell you "It's fruit." Maybe. But what fruit? Some strange fruit from the outer reaches of the cosmos? I can hazard a guess that the orange ones are orange, the red ones could possibly be cherries but what in the blue hell are the green ones? What green congealed fruit is this? When I lived in England during the holidays they had a dessert that they would eat that looked suspiciously like fruitcake but they called it Plum pudding and listen to this....THEY SET IT ON FIRE right there on the table!HERE is some info. CNN Pays tribute to the fruitcake HERE.Science says that fruitcake gets better as it gets older. A fruitcake even SURVIVED 911! Now bring us some figgy pudding and bring it RIGHT HERE!! We wont go until we get some.
Aside Who the hell do these non-singing people think they are demanding I bring them figgy pudding and then topping it off with the threat of NOT leaving until they get some? Oh.... I think not.....you are sadly mistaken my friends. You are gonna be leaving either in a box or running for your life "Here goes a gun click, 911 shyt all over some dumb shyt aint that some shyt" (name that tune Enigma?)
When I ran spell check it suggested "britches" as a replacement for fruitcake. See the computer doesn't even like fruitcake.
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
Damn a Beta
I came into my office this morning to find a note on my computer from my beta it reads;
Dear TSgt,
I have been a loyal pet. All I ask is for you to change my filthy water. There is only so much stink a fish can take.
your pet, Mr. Fish
I immediately sat down and crafted the following reply;
Mr Fish,
While you were out of your tank writing smart ass notes, you should have changed your own damned water. If you are clever enough to use a paper and pen then you should be clever enough to clean your freakin tank. Your Owner, TSgt
I work with a bunch of part time commedians.
Update: This was sent to me via email;
Hello sir,
I didn't know what to do with this email. It was a weird one that I received yesterday. I just decided that I should just forward it to you. Who is Mr. Fish?? From what I gather... it might be someone who is quite disgruntled!! :)
-----Original Message-----
From: MrFish
[mailto:MrFish@.tank]
Sent: Tuesday, December 16, 2003 2:23 AM
To:
Subject: Where's the lovin' ?
Can you tell my owner that the living conditions that I have to endure are unfit for my kind. I am writing to let someone know because my owner is usually found on your side of the world! I should up and leave, but my weary fins from the filthy and oxygen-depleted water has made my mobility quite slim. Any help that you can give would be much appreciated.
Correction. I work with a bunch of out of work commedians.
Honey Dew and Honey don't
I had a Honey Dew list of things that I needed to do this past weekend. I don't think I did one. Why? I blame it on Christmas. Something about the holidays makes the Spudliness (the act of being a couch potato) of men come out. I don't want to do ANYTHING. Not even breathe.
The Wife: (Yelling from the kitchen) Hey Honey?!
Me: (aroused from my TV stupor) What is it?
The Wife: Just wanted to remind you that you need to breathe!
Me: (Slipping back into the haze) I'll do it later.
I'm mean all I want to do is sit either at my computer or TV (I'm not picky as long as it is kinda square, electronic and gives off a glow I'll stare into it) and become as close to resembling a vegetable as humanly possible.
Babyboy: Mom? Where is Dad?
The Wife: That's him on the couch.
Babyboy: Uh Mom? That's a 200+ piece of Broccoli.
The Wife: (Glances over) No that's your Dad. Now leave him along and before you go pass me the cheese sauce.
Maybe it's the weather. Here in Northern Cali it rains in the winter and it's cold. That my friend is hibernation weather. It's the time of year to shut down all bodily functions and survive off of the Thanksgiving fat. I mean fit me with a colostomy bag (will that be paper or plastic sir?) and leave me be. Next week I will be off of work for the entire week. Maybe I'll get to that Honey Dew list then? Uhh..... maybe not.
My journey into HELL
Sunday was Babyboy's Bday. So on Saturday we went to Sacramento to Joe's Crab Shack. (Funny how the place that HE wanted to go "magically" was also the place that The Wife wanted to go? Hmmmmmm) We got there about 30 min after it opened. After eating we took a walk around "Old Sacramento". Then The Wife says "Let's go over to The Mall." (key cheesy B movie suspense music) I know it's gonna be crowded and horrible but I'm like trying to get into this whole " Tis season" thing. So we find our way there and parking is HORRIBLE. I look at The Wife and say "Damn I must be psychic" She looks at me and says "You are a grouch." BAH HUMBUG. We find a parking space and make our way into the mall. I'm talking wall to wall to floor to ceiling people. They were everywhere. Taking a deep breath to focus all of my Chi, I grab the hand of the Baby boy and I dive into the fray with The Wife and Baby Girl behind us. About two hours later I emerged with the determination NEVER to go there again during the holidays. Note to the manager of the Arden Fair Mall; TWO urinals does not a bathroom make.
The Holiday Party
Call me anti-social. Go ahead. It doesn't bother me. Don't waste your time and my attention trying to guilt me into going either. I don't want to hear your propaganda about "squadron support". If the squadron wants support let it buy a bra or a jock strap. I don't go where I don't want to go and I DIDN'T WANT TO GO TO THE SQUADRON HOLIDAY PARTY!!!!! (Used to be known as Christmas party until the AF got all PC and stuff) Why such strong feelings about a gathering of co-workers? There are a few reasons. I have been to a few of these functions at a few different bases and they ALL have not, no never ever been FUN. Oh they promise you door prizes, great food and entertainment but NEVER deliver. What you end up with is people trying to get face time with the Commander, lined up to kiss the orifice of the day. I'm not about that. I will sit around and make sardonic/cynical/sarcastic comments about the goings on to those who gather around me. (Yes I do tend to draw a crowd) At one of these so called happy, stress free gatherings the Commander stood by the door to make sure that NO ONE left until he said so! WTF? (George were you at that one?) I expect to hear stories about all the great gifts and food that I missed. SO?! I guess I'll have to find a way to struggle through this season knowing that I missed out of that little shindig. Call me antisocial. Go Ahead.
Saturday, December 13, 2003
Sleeping with a stranger
The Mighty Geek tells a story of a recent incident he had at a hotel. He went to his room and found that someone was already sleeping there. I've actually had similar incidents occur to me before also.
1) A couple of years ago I was attending Technical Training School at Sheppard AFB and I was in my room unpacking my suitcase and I hear a key in the door as I turn to see what the hell is going on a guy walks in with his suitcases. He looks at me and I look at him for about 2 seconds. He then checks the room number on the door and the room number on his key. He then asks me if I'm in the right room. (Uh excuse me? I think Iwas the one unpacking and you are the one standing in the door) I tell him that they must have made a mistake because as a SSgt I DON'T get a room mate. (He was a SrA). He then tells me that he doesn't want to walk all the way back to the office can he call from my phone. Well he calls and they tell him to ask me if I'm in the right room. (UH HELLO? YOU gave me the key to this dump earlier this afternoon! What do I travel from Air Force base to Air Force base breaking into rooms to get sleep?) They tell him that he needs to come back down and get another room assigned and he complains to me about the distance. (Tell it, walkin Bubba!!!) I close the door behind him and securely lock it and the deadbolt. I think to myself what if I had been Booty Butt naked? He would have gotten quite the shock. A BIG Shock!!
(Flash forward six years)
2) I'm again at an Air Force base for Technical Training (Brooks AFB) I was loungin' on my bed watching TV when once again I hear keys in the door. My mind races back to the incident at Sheppard. I only have on my underwear and a T shirt. Not knowing if this will be a male or female I move quickly (insert duck and dash) into the bathroom. Thedoor opens and there stands a guy with his suitcases looking perplexed and confused that I am in "HIS" room. Looking around the corner from the bathroom I tell him that this room is occupied and that he needs to go to the office and get a new room. He doesn't argue or falter. He just apologizes and leaves. I had made a point of locking the inner deadblot to my room for years after the Sheppard incident but after six years I had gotten lax. Needless to say I lock that bad boy everytime I'm in a motel, hotel,Holiday Inn (*name that tune*) AH Memories..misty water colored memories.......
A new game show
Me and the wife were watching "The Wheel" last night and I came up with an idea for a game show. It would be called "Pimp Slap". What would happen is at the end of the show if you didn't win and had made stupid choices the host would walk up to you and slap the hell outta you. It would go something like this;
Host: (Walking towards Agnes the blue haired old granny from Iowa with his hand out as if to shake) Agnes sorry you didn't win anything today....SLAAAAAAAP (He backhands her across the cheek) Maybe you should be aware of how to actually PLAY the game before embarassing yourself and your family by coming on national TV. What the hell you think this is "Cops"?
What do you think? A hit or what? (no pun intended)
Friday, December 12, 2003
Ten Things You Should Never Say To a Woman During an Argument:
1. Don't you have some laundry to do or something?
2. Oh, you are so cute when you get all pissed off.
3. You're just upset because your ass is beginning to spread.
4. Wait a minute - I get it. What time of the month is it?
5. You sure you don't want to consult the great Oprah on this one?
6. I'm sorry. I was just picturing you naked.
7. Whoa, time out. Football is on.
8. Looks like someone had an extra bowl of bitch flakes this morning!
9. Is there any way we can do this via e-mail?
10. Who are you kidding? We both know that thing ain't loaded.
Some Holiday Spirit from BK
Have you heard the Burger King guy singing carols? No? Well go HERE and join the rest of us.
Boycott for the rights of illegal aliens?
Uh I'll be the first to say that I am not a pundit. This is not one of those blogs where I go on and on about politics and the like. On the news I saw/heard that the hispanic americans here in Kalifornia were calling on a boycott of commercial/retail stores and not going to work becasue of The Govenator's plan to get rid of the right for ILLEGAL aliens to get drivers licenses. Uh the key word to me is ILLEGAL. Meaning they aren't supposed to be here anyway. They snuck in. If they are ILLEGAL then why SHOULD they be allowed to get a drivers license? Maybe I'm missing something in this story. Somebody PLEASE explain it to me.
The Tampon Angel ornament
Running a little short of cash? Cat pulled all of the ornaments off of your tree? Well here is a inexpensive answer for the frugal Ho Hoer. The Tampon Angel.
(via Primal Purge)
Lunch The Movie
Lunch is the last refuge of the downtrodden middleclass...... Ok I got nothing just go HERE.
(Via Greeblie)
Ah that Santa...What a stalker he is
Wanna know what Santa has on you? Go HERE. This is what my file said;
Nicer than nice. A real champ! I was really proud of all the hard work that went towards changing those "naughty" habits of last year. Treated friends nicely and was exceptionally honest (which happens to be one of my favorite traits!) It's amazing what a good old fashioned "I'm sorry!" can do for a rating. Keep up the good work!
Thursday, December 11, 2003
Santaphobia
Babygirl is deathly afraid of Santa. Not pictures or cartoons of Saint Nick but anything that is lifelike, moves or sings drives her into a frenzy. We have no idea why. We have just accepted it as a fact. While we were in Wichita Falls last week The Wife while on a shooping spree told Babygirl that they were going to go see santa. (We do this yearly to access if the fear remains or if it was just a phase) In her stark fear to getaway Babygirl attempted to bite the wife. Hmmmm not quite out of it yet. I remember when we were dating and Babygirl was about 3 we went to see the Christmas lights at Midwestern State and they had a mechanical Santa that turned his head and waved while saying HO HO HO. As we walked towards where he lived Babygirl must have sensed the impending presence of Claus because she stopped, sat down on the steps and announced. "You guys go on. I'll wait for you right here." and placing her head in her hands began to watch people walk by. Other things that frighten her;
*A bed time bear that snores.
*Chuck E Cheese
* Any of those life size characters (people in costume) That you see at amusement parks all over America.
So if you are out and about and see a black man with a little blonde girl climbing over him to get away from something that most kids are running towards....it's me. Holla at me wont cha?
The 12 Politically Correct Days Of X-mas
On the 12th day of the Eurocentrically imposed midwinter festival, my Significant Other in a consenting adult, monogamous relationship gave to me:
TWELVE males reclaiming their inner warrior through ritual drumming,
ELEVEN pipers piping (plus the 18-member pit orchestra made up of members in good standing of the Musicians Equity Union as called for in their union contract even though they will not be asked to play a note),
TEN melanin deprived testosterone-poisoned scions of the patriarchal ruling class system leaping,
NINE persons engaged in rhythmic self-expression,
EIGHT economically disadvantaged female persons stealing milk- products from enslaved Bovine-Americans,
SEVEN endangered swans swimming on federally protected wetlands,
SIX enslaved Fowl-Americans producing stolen non-human animal products,
FIVE golden symbols of culturally sanctioned enforced domestic incarceration,
(NOTE after members of the Animal Liberation Front threatened to throw red paint at my computer, the calling birds, French hens and partridge have been reintroduced to their native habitat. To avoid further Animal-American enslavement, the remaining gift package has been revised.)
FOUR hours of recorded whale songs
THREE deconstructionist poets
TWO Sierra Club calendars printed on recycled processed tree carcasses
AND a Spotted Owl activist chained to an old-growth pear tree.
20 Ways to Confuse Santa
20 Ways To Confuse Santa Claus
1. Instead of milk and cookies, leave him a salad, and a note explaining
that you think he could stand to lose a few pounds.
2. While he's in the house, go find his sleigh and write him a speeding
ticket.
3. Leave him a note, explaining that you've gone away for the holidays.
Ask if he would mind watering your plants.
4. While he's in the house, replace all his reindeer with exact replicas.
Then wait and see what happens when he tries to get them to fly.
5. Keep an angry bull in your living room. If you think a bull goes crazy
when he sees a little red cape, wait until he sees that big, red Santa
suit!
6. Build an army of mean-looking snowmen on the roof, holding signs that
say "We hate Christmas," and "Go away Santa."
7. Leave a note by the telephone, telling Santa that Mrs. Claus called
and wanted to remind him to pick up some milk and a loaf of bread on
his way home.
8. Throw a surprise party for Santa when he comes down the chimney.
Refuse to let him leave until the strippers arrive.
9. While he's in the house, find the sleigh and sit in it. As soon as
he comes back and sees you, tell him that he shouldn't have missed that
last payment, and take off.
10. Leave a plate filled with cookies and a glass of milk out, with a
note that says, "For The Tooth Fairy. :)" Leave another plate out
with half a stale cookie and a few drops of skim milk in a dirty glass
with a note that says, "For Santa. :("
11. Take everything out of your house as if it's just been robbed. When
Santa arrives, show up dressed like a policeman and say, "Well, well.
They always return to the scene of the crime."
12. Leave out a copy of your Christmas list with last-minute changes and
corrections.
13. While he's in the house, cover the top of the chimney with barbed
wire.
14. Leave lots of hunting trophies and guns out where Santa's sure to see
them. Go outside, yell, "Ooh! Look! A deer! And he's got a red
nose!" and fire a gun.
15. Leave Santa a note, explaining that you've moved. Include a map with
unclear and hard-to-read directions to your new house.
16. Set a bear trap at the bottom of the chimney. Wait for Santa to get
caught in it, and then explain that you're sorry, but from a distance,
he looked like a bear.
17. Leave out a Santa suit, with a dry-cleaning bill.
18. Paint "hoof-prints" all over your face and clothes. While he's in
the house, go out on the roof. When he comes back up, act like
you've been "trampled." Threaten to sue.
19. Instead of ornaments, decorate your tree with Easter eggs.
20. Dress up like the Easter Bunny. Wait for Santa to come and then say,
"This neighborhood ain't big enough for the both of us."
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
12 Days of Christmas
December 14th
Dearest John:
I went to the door today, and the postman delivered a partridge in a pear
tree. What a delightful gift. I couldn’t have been more surprised
With dearest love and Affection, Agnes
-----------------------------
December 15th
Dearest John:
Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine, two turtle
doves....I’m just delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They are just
adorable.
All my love, Agnes
-------------------------
December 16th
Dear John:
Oh, aren’t you the extravagant one! Now I must protest. I don’t deserve
such generosity. Three French hens. They are just darling but I must
insist....you’re just too kind.
Love Agnes
----------------
December 17th
Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now really! They are
beautiful, but don’t you think enough is enough? You’re being too
romantic.
Affectionately, Agnes
----------------------------
December 18th
Dearest John:
What a surprise! Today the postman delivered five golden rings. One for
each finger. You’re just impossible, but I love it. Frankly, John, all
those squawking birds were beginning to get on my nerves.
All my love, Agnes
--------------------
December 19th
Dear John:
When I opened the door, there were actually six geese a-laying on my front
steps. So you’re back to the birds again, huh? Those geese are huge.
Where will I ever keep them? The neighbors are complaining and I can’t
sleep through the racket. PLEASE STOP!
Cordially, Agnes
----------------------
December 20th
John:
What’s up with you and those fucking birds????
Seven swans a-swimming. What kind of goddam joke is this? There’s bird
shit all over the house and they never stop the racket. I’m a nervous
wreck and I can’t sleep all night. IT’S NOT FUNNY.............so stop
with those f**king birds.
Sincerely, Agnes
----------------------
December 21st
OK Buster:
I think I prefer the birds. What the hell am I going to do with eight
maids a-milking? It’s not enough with all those birds and eight maids
a-milking, but they had to bring their own goddam cows. Just lay off me.
SMART ASS.
Ag.
--------------------
December 22nd
Hey Shithead:
What are you? Some sort of sadist? Now there’s nine pipers playing.
And Christ - do they play. They never stopped chasing those maids since they got here yesterday morning. The cows are upset and are stepping all
over those screeching birds. No wonder they screech. What am I going to
do? The neighbors have started a petition to evict me. You’ll get yours.
From Ag
-------------------------
December 23rd
You Rotten Prick:
Now there’s ten ladies dancing - I don’t know why I call those sluts
ladies. They’ve been balling those nine pipers all night long. Now those
cows can’t sleep and they’ve got diarrhea. My living room is a river of
shit. The commissioner of buildings has subpoenaed me to give cause why
the building shouldn’t be condemned. I’m sticking the police on you.
One who means it, Ag
----------------------------
December 24th
Listen F**khead:
What’s with he eleven lords a-leaping on those maids and aforementioned
"ladies"? Some of those broads will never walk again. Those pipers ran
through the maids and have been committing sodomy with the cows. All 234
of the birds are dead. They have been trampled to death in the orgy. I
hope you’re satisfied, you rotten swine.
Your sworn enemy, Miss Agnes McCallister
----------------------------------
December 25th (from the law offices Taeker, Spredar, and Baegar)
Dear Sir:
This is to acknowledge your latest gift of twelve fiddlers fiddling, which
you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Agnes McCallister. The
destruction, of course, was total. All correspondence should come to our
attention. If you should attempt to real Miss McCallister at Happy Dale
Sanitarium, the attendants have instructions to shoot you on sight. With
this letter, please find attached a warrant for your arrest.
A little Christmas Trivia
Not long ago and far away, Santa was getting ready for his annual
trip...but there were problems everywhere. Four of his elves got
sick and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the
regular ones so Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind
schedule.
Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her Mom was coming to visit. This
stressed Santa even more. When he went to harness the reindeer, he
found that three of them were about to give birth and two had jumped the
fence and were out; heaven knows where to... More Stress!
Then when he began to load the sleigh, one of the boards cracked and
the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys. Totally
frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey.
When he went to the cupboard, he found the elves had hit the liquor and
there was nothing to drink. In his frustration, he dropped the coffee pot and
it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went
to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw it was made from.
Just then the doorbell rang and Santa cussed on his way to the door.
He opened the door and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.
The angel said: "Where would ya like ta put this tree, ya fat bastard?"..
And that my friend is how the little angel came to be on top of the Christmas tree.
A place to pee
Just in case you didn't know we males have an unspoken book of rules that we live by that help us maintain the balance. This guy has done extensive research into one of the major rules is proper spacing when using the urinal. HERE is a little test that will help you gauge if you are up to snuff. (Ladies you are on your own) If you need a little more URINformation go HERE and flush when you are done.
My Cat Hates Christmas
I awoke this morning and went to the living room to find that Tigger (AKA L.C. *Lazy Cat) decided he didn't like the christmas decorations on the tree. He preferred them on the floor. He was also no where to be found. He removes his collar with the bell on it so that he can go about in stealth mode under cover of the night. THEY say that there are steps that I can take to ease him into the spirit of the holidays. I say there are steps I can take to ease him into the Spirit World. Because as I go about my morning preparations for the day I can't help but feel that somewhere just outside of my field of vison he watches...and chuckles to himself.
You're a mean one, Mr. Cat.
You really are a heel.
You're as cuddly as a cactus,
You're as charming as an eel.
Mr. Cat.
You're a bad banana
With a greasy black peel.
You're a monster, Mr. Cat.
Your heart's an empty hole.
Your brain is full of spiders,
You've got garlic in your soul.
Mr. Cat.
I wouldn't touch you, with a
thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole.
You're a vile one, Mr. Cat.
You have termites in your smile.
You have all the tender sweetness
Of a seasick crocodile.
Mr. Cat.
Given the choice between the two of you
I'd take the seasick crockodile.
You're a foul one, Mr. Cat.
You're a nasty, wasty skunk.
Your heart is full of unwashed socks
Your soul is full of gunk.
Mr. Cat.
The three words that best describe you,
are, and I quote: "Stink. Stank. Stunk."
You're a rotter, Mr. Cat.
You're the king of sinful sots.
Your heart's a dead tomato splot
With moldy purple spots,
Mr. Cat.
Your soul is an apalling dump heap overflowing
with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable
rubbish imaginable,
Mangled up in tangled up knots.
You nauseate me, Mr. Cat.
With a nauseaus super-naus.
You're a crooked jerky jockey
And you drive a crooked horse.
Mr. Cat.
You're a three decker saurkraut and toadstool
sandwich
With arsenic sauce.
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
White Trash Christmas
Ahhhhh THIS reminds me of christmas in the trailor park. Almost brings a tear to my eye.
Monday, December 08, 2003
Could "The Hobbit" be in our future?
The popularity of the LOTR movies has of course spurred the thoughts of making "The Hobbit" into a movie. I remember watching "The Hobbit" cartoon years ago. It was my initiation into the world of J.R.R. Tolkien. It seems like HE has the same memories.
It's Janet...Ms Johnson if your nasty.
Ms Johnson bit off a piece of her boyfriend's tongue whenhe tried to kiss her after a fight. Ouch.
George Clinton arrested for drugs
Why must he be like that? Why must George chase the crack? It's nothing but the drugs in him. Read about it.
There must be fifty ways to leave AOL?
Ah AOL...... like a door knob most of us have had a turn at a relationship with her. Read what this guy had to say about his love affair with her.
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