Sunday, November 30, 2008

The Problem With Bedlam Game Martinis


Yes I changed my banner a bit. Yes I have been missing more daily posts lately. Maybe I am living life more and retreating to my computer room less. Maybe I am more busy with the new job and I get tied up replying to emails or sharing information with my community partners. Maybe I stayed out too late drinking Orange colored alcoholic drinks while watching Oklahoma State quit in the fourth quarter... again.

On the other hand, B.F. Skinner says if you want to train an animal to do what you want, you should not reward them every time they give you the desired response. See, if you do that, the animal will only come for the treat and lesson is never learned. Skinner says to mix it up, give treats sometimes for the desired behavior, praise the desired behavior and scold any variation.

What... You think I am going to bitch that more people are not reading my blog so I can cash in on the gazillions of dollars other people make? Nawww, that's not me. I enjoy the game. I like the opportunity to share and maybe develop an improved writing skill.

As the year draws to an end I am sure there will be many tales of my growing children facing the holidays with a different outlook. My daughter is realizing her time as a child is nearly over and she feels the fear and anxiety that comes with losing the security of always having an older, wiser person in charge. My son is growing body hair and his voice is changing. He speaks more aggressively and is constantly telling his family members "I outta BEAT you!"

It's an age thing with him. His sister went through nearly the same thing at the same age. The nature of the beast, so to say. I try to deal with it as a caring and loving father and will often even turn down the volume on the TV before offering my sage advice, "You need to quit writing checks your butt can't cash!"

Such is life at the Opprobrious house. Endless days filled with love, wonder and growth... with the occasional threat of a 13 year old beating.


In other parts of the country the word Bedlam is something that reasonable, thinking individuals would avoid. In my home state we embrace it. We revel in it. It defines us and brings us together as a people, despite religious, political, or economic views. In Oklahoma Bedlam means football, and football means either Oklahoma University or Oklahoma State.

And on the longest weekend of the year, God has blessed us with two state teams in the top 15. We have OU with a real claim to being the best team in the nation and we have up and coming Oklahoma State with young Mike Gundy as coach. While 75% of the state's college educated population will attend an OSU school, 98% of the state roots for OU. The state, even OSU fans, love OU because OU is a football powerhouse. 364 days a year the entire state roots for the Crimson and cream, but on Bedlam blood runs thicker than water. Which means that three-fourths of the the 20% that got a college education will be decked out is ugly Orange, flying their fan flag and cheering State to ruin OU's bid at another national championship.

Tonight a group of us gathered in the Northern edge of the county around a tiny 64 inch TV screen and with little more than Cranberry martinis and screwdrivers (Red or Orange drinks) for protection, rooted for our teams and against each other. End result, my guys lost again, like almost always... but next year it will be different! Next year I'll find a real sincere pumpkin patch and I'll wait all night if I... sorry... I guess it's all the orange getting to me. But still... Wait until next year man... Next year!

Friday, November 28, 2008

A Day of Rest

So the boy and I started off hauling firewood. The girls went shopping so the house was still pretty trshed from Thanksgiving. Once the firewood was stacked and put away we hauled in the Christmas boxes and the empty Thanksgiving decoration boxes. We took down the old decorations and cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom.

I had my son put away all the clean dishes and told him I would clean the rest of the kitchen, which, trust me, is a huge mess after I have been cooking in it. WHen I say scrubbed it from top to bottom, I am not kidding. I am a bit of a mess. As soon as the boy finished his part, he was on the phone to his friends.

"Dude you gotta help me out here. I'm home alone with my Dad and he's in one of those WORK moods! You gotta let me stay over at your house, I can ride it out there and he will be back in his recliner once the football games start."

"What do you mean you are out of town?!! When will you be back? Do you hide an outside key I could use? He won't know, and I can just go in your room and play video games. ..... well then when will you be back? WHEN?!! Oh man, I gotta make some more calls! Bye."

So we brought all the storage boxes up on the porch but I would not let them in the house. The field mice had been all over them and I felt they smelled bad. That meant we would take the decorations out of the boxes and carry them into the house until the box was empty and can be returned to the storage building. About 12 hours after we started hauling firewood we were emptying the final box when the girls came home. The boy hitched a ride with them to some kid's house... I don't really care which one because honestly... I am beat!

Thursday, November 27, 2008

A Day of Thanks

I know, I know there are always blogs that get all full of themselves as they feel the urge to spew out all the things that have blessed them for which they are thankful. That is not what this Holiday is about. It is about survival people. A bunch of freakin retards were abandoned in a harsh barren wilderness with nothing more than the bare essentials the crew of Gilligan's Island used to survive.

Only Gilligan could scurry his skinny drug addled ass up a coconut tree anytime he felt a hunger pang. The churchy do-gooders on the Mayflower had no Professor, no coconut trees and it was about to get so freakin cold the landing party was about to die. Only the kind act of the Native Americans saved them from total destruction. If they only knew then what they know now, huh?

Ever wonder why the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock? I read about this over a decade ago when I started working for Oklahoma State University. See the ship was looking for a good spot to land the Pilgrims. There was no love lost for them back in England, Bloody Mary was all about Catholicism or death. Catholics get that way... you have learn to give them space and some personal time and things usually cool off. It might help if you have a beheading or two of the people in charge but it is not always a prerequisite.

ANYhooo The Pilgrims were given the bum's rush off a perfectly good boat that could have easily sallied down the coast to the warmer, more fertile lands of Virgina or the Carolinas. The reason they Pilgrims were abandoned on a freakin rock, and yes my friends the ground was barren and rocky and not good for crops, the reason they were left to die in the cold north was written in the Mayflower Captain's log.

The Captain entered into his log that while he would like to continue looking for a suitable place to unload the passengers, his ship was running low on supplies, especially beer.

Yes, the true story behind Thanksgiving is the Pilgrams were dumped in a cold barren land where they could not possible survive because the Captain and crew of the Mayflower needed to make a beer run. And NOW you know the rest of the story.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Avitable's Contest

Not since Seinfield had a contest to see who could go the longest without wacking off has a guy wanted so desperately to win a friendly competition. See, Blogger Giant Adam Avitable has a contest. If you send a picture of yourself with his name written across your naked chest, or post in his comments of your favorite Buffy moment or make your Blog post all about his contest... you might win the full collection of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series. Oh yeah and if you do the thing in your blog about his give away you have to link back to Adam's blog.

Now my kids grew up watching Buffy. I liked the movie but loved the series. Didn't you love the episode where everybody lost their voice and the creepy guys from the Brother's Grimm Fairy tales came in take all the children?

Oh well, I really want to win that contest.. hope I don't look stupid trying though.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

It's GO TIME Baby!!

Thirty-six hours to Turkey time and we are in full pre-host mode. We have already called my son's friends and made them cry and told them they could not even think about coming to our house until AFTER Thursday. We have created a fair dispersal of chores for each family member based on ability.

I will do a lot of cooking, my daughter will do a lot of cleaning. My son will say he is working but will keep showing up to ask stupid questions that never should be asked... If Clark Kent had diarrhea, wouldn't it cause the entire town's septic system to explode? Can Super poop even break down without a Kryptonite sewage system? Do parasites go to heaven when they die? Then is it really heaven if we still have bed bugs?

Mrs. Cris will again play to her strengths and take several naps then take full credit for how nice the house looks and how good the food tastes. My son will feel insulted for not being included in the credit for all the hard work.

I have set the Holiday beast to thaw. I have prepared the traditional electric roaster and have already baked a cake and a batch of peanut butter cookies. Unfortunately, as will happen at the Holidays... I have already eaten one batch of peanut butter cookies.

But the season is upon us! We will work like demons to clean and cook and clean again while thinking of Friday as the day of rest. There will be guilt about not wanting to brave the lines to Wal-Mart for the super day after sale, but we know after days of cooking and cleaning and in-house fighting we deserve a rest. Which will last until 11:00 a.m. and the call to erect the Christmas tree can no longer be ignored.

Soon... there will only be a few weeks left til Christmas and we only have so many free weekends available to put up trees, wrap packages, decorate the house, pay personal property taxes (bastards) and watch football. Like I said... IT's GO TIME BABY!!


AOL did one of those silly polls where they ask you to list the most and least noble professions. Out of the list provided, Nurses were the most noble profession, besting clergy and school teachers, while car salesmen were the scum of the Earth.

Now I have to admit I put lobbyist on the bottom rung of the ladder. I have to deal with them in my job. They write policy that allows kids access to alcohol and drugs and set up a life time of deadly addictions for profit. They are, in my opinion only worthy to be lined up and gut shot. Left in the hot baking sun to suffer in mortal pain for hours and hours. Hopefully, they will make use of that time to beg God forgiveness for not being of a sweet, kind of giving nature like myself. Bastards.

But then I thought about it, after I cast my vote. Let's face it, in my heart I was raised and will probably always be a conservative Republican... even if all the other Okies call me a flaming Liberal. But I got to thinking about it, and I don't think Lobbyists think of all the lives they ruin when they walk into a Congressman's office, smooze him/her with gifts and provide a pre written policy that creates greater profits for the company. I think they focus on the job. In most cases, when they are asking for seduced deadbeat credit card holders to be relegated to a lifetime of un payable debt, they are thinking of system abusers and divine justice. When they think of exclusive rights to life saving medicines, they are not thinking of the people who will go without due to unaffordable prices, they are focused on corporate rewards for the winning team.

A car salesman like you might find at DAVID STANELY FORD IN OKLAHOMA CITY on the other hand is really the scum of the Earth. They might tell a family an outright lie just to get them to drive all the way across a fucking state and THEN tell them the car they promised to hold... just had the engine fall out or the transmission seize up. Those guys know they are lying out of the box. They exist off of dishonesty.

So, like most Republicans SHOULD feel over the past eight years, I really regret the way I voted. I wish I could do it all over again, but it is too late and I will have to live with the consequences of making a bad choice. I just hope it doesn't effect you, my friends, in too negative of a way.

Monday, November 24, 2008

Malibu Stacy

Top Ten Stories of my New Car!!

10. It gets an average of 30 mpg
9. It has an on-board computer that tells me my average mpg as well as average speed, oil life, and what kind of music station I landed on.
8. It's freakin paid for baby!
7. It has loads of leg room in the back seat.
6. All my friends are jealous of how cheap I got it!
5. It has STUFF I can fiddel with on the steering wheel
4. I have been back home for two days and the computer says I am still averaging 52 mph (heh heh I am such a nerd for getting THIS tickled over that fact)
3. I finally (after 28 years) have a newer car than my wife
2. My Dad feels like a hero for having his friend buy it wholesale
And the Number one story about my new car is:

I met Mrs. Cris at Wal Mart to buy the Thanksgiving Day food. After about an hour of madhouse like congestion, I left her to check-out while I went to another grocery store across the street for the few items we could not find.

As I walked up to my new Fleet Silver 2007 Chevy Malibu I could see from the pedestrian crosswalk that there was a huge freakin ding in my door! I had parked away from other cars, in a spot where nobody should have been able to open a door into my door... and now there were no cars around at all... and I had a HUGE HONKIN DOOR DING!!

You can guess I am already pissed off as I am stomping up to my new 2007 Fleet Silver Chevy Malibu when things get worse. See, I had to go to the Chevy dealership here in town to have a spare key made. No big deal, I had keys made for my Caviler, they cost about a buck a piece at Wal mart. So I go to the parts counter and ask how much for a spare key.

Fourty-Five Freakin Dollars, the man said. OK... maybe my mind inserted the profanity as it was reeling from the sticker shock. When I asked if he was kidding I was told the new keys have an anti-theft computer chip in them to protect me from getting ripped off. The guy said he was protecting me from theft as he began to cut my new key. Which with tax... total cost.... FIFTY-TWO FREAKIN DOLLARS!!

I am pretty sure I did not just whisper that in my head at the dealership. I was using context clues like the security guys walking towards me and even the mechanics in the back stepping to the windows to watch the show.

OK I went there because I needed a new key and the light bulb in the reading lamp replaced. But if those bastards were going to charge $52 for a damn $1 spare key, I was NOT about to ask them to replace a $3 light bulb! I had also noticed the battery on the keyless entry was getting weak, but screw that! I can get a new battery anyplace but this clip joint.

Then I go to Wal Mart and meet Mrs. Cris and we do the shopping thing and then I see the door so you know how the mood swig is shifting. Then I pull out my keyless entry and I don't hear any click, no lights come on, no indication it is working. I hold it over my head, around my crotch, in my pocket, out like a fairy wand and as I walk closer and closer I realize I can't even see if the damn locks have popped up through the stupid tinted glass windows

I was just about to use the key to unlock the door. I mean my key was right at the tip of the keyhole when a sweet innocent voice inside my hear said with awe and crystal clarity... "But my new car doesn't have tinted windows."

I jumped back as if I had been shocked. Mothers who had been out shopping with their little children suddenly clutched them tightly and reached to call 911 for perv squad to haul my freaky ass away... after all I had been walking through the parking lot paying pocket pool and fiddling with my hands around my crotch while making pained expressions. As a parent I would have been a bit concerned!

So I tried to stand with as much dignity as I could muster in my short, squat little frame, and I walked to my actual 2007 Fleet Silver Chevy Malibu without a door ding, which was parked four spaces further away in the same row.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Financial Rant

So I was getting ready for bed following the Colbert Christmas Special, and I check the Google News Reader and see that the US Government is ready to pull Citigroup's Chestnuts out of the roasting fire. And THAT pisses me off.

See a few years ago the credit card companies used their political influence to change the bankruptcy laws. With the oh so smart Repuglicants in power, they changed the system to where people could not write off debt from unsecured loans like a credit card. See, the system used to be that if the credit card companies kept sending out cards to people they never screened for good credit, then they (credit card companies) got what they were asking for with deadbeat customers.

The system was set up so that the banks had a level of responsibility. They had to protect the customers and the investors. But suddenly the Fox was watching the chicken coop and all the rules got changed. So now if you lose your job in this cluster fuck that will be the economy in the next year... oh yeah, we will not feel the pain until next summer, and then you might be lucky if you can buy a job. SO if you lose your job and you try to save your home and feed your kids and try to hold your shit together until the job market opens up and life returns to normal... you just MIGHT be temped to use one of the 12 or so credit cards you have in that wallet.

And if that new job never shows up, you will lose the house, lose the car, lose your shit and still owe for all of that PLUS the unsecured debt you racked up on your credit card while hoping "Tomorrow is another day." At which point you will be sooooo screwed because you just used borrowed money to pay a debt you can't pay without a job and an income... but you still owe!

Yes the unpaid credit card bill is now on the level of the college loan and unpaid medical bills. You will be hounded to your grave.

On the other hand, when Citigroup blows their wad YOUR government will promise YOUR taxes will bail them out to the tune of $306 billion.

Wasn't the bailout only $700 billion? WTF does this mean most of this shit is all Citigroup's fault? I think it's time to see some nads hanging from all the street lamps that line Wall Street! How many damn times are we supposed to pay the bills of high dollar screw ups while being told we need to solve local problems on the local levels?

All I got to say is there damn well better be some socialist redistribution of wealth around this place. What do you think the executives of Citigroup were paid to run up a $306 billion debacle? How come we asked the big three Auto Industry to retool the way they do business for $25 billion and yet never made one demand of a single business that is getting more than 8 times the amount as Ford, Chrysler and GM combined? The more I think about it, the pissed offier I feel.

Whaaa? I Missed a Post?

OK first of all in my defense for not posting last night... OU kicked Texas Tech's ASS and might even have jumped back into contention for the National Championship! Second of all, I was at a friend's house, where, after a few drinks we decided we should drive to another friend's house because they had the biggest TV. Finally... there was alcohol involved and the night ran late.

So Friday, as soon as school was out, we took off for PeePaw's house. We drove his used truck that he just bought from his sister, and spent the night with my Dad. We needed to check up on him and see how he is getting along 7 weeks after shattering his right side, breaking most all his ribs, his clavicle, puncturing his lung and tearing his liver. And... he had a friend of his buy a Program Car (Malibu) for me at a little over wholesale. So we thought we should get that while we were there.

We really like the car. My buddies are jealous, which is a bonus, and they tell me that "a little over wholesale" was a hell of a savings! Go PeePaw!

Saturday started with a casual visit as we drank coffee. Then I made breakfast for the family with Dad coming in from time to time to make sure I didn't cause the world to come to an end with badly scrambled eggs. Then Dad suggested we go over to his garden where he had turnips.

Now I don't know nuttin bout no turnips. I bought one last year and put it in some corned beef around St. Paddy's day, but really, I don't know anything about the plant. Dad said to peel it and make it like mashed potatoes.. but don't pour gravy on it. By the way, that answer to my question was made with a look that clearly said "Dumbass."

So Dad drives us over there in his new, used truck. Then walked through the garden and begins pulling turnips out of the ground and cutting away the greens. Did I just mention that he was lying unconscious in a Hospital with his entire freakin side SHATTERED and chest tubes coiled up around his punctured lungs less than 2 months ago??

Who the hell does that? What 66 year old man can do that? I am 46 and I couldn't do that! We had a great time, but in all honesty, Dad didn't look like he wanted to visit much after that, so we loaded up the new Malibu and drove home to watch football. Oh yeah.. and not post on Saturday.

P.S. The BCS just announced that OU did not jump Texas for the #2 position and is now ranked #3 and might not be in contention for the national championship.

Friday, November 21, 2008

Tis the Season

So yesterday a friend of mine came by the office so we could work on a funding project for an after school program. While here she talked about how her and her best girlfriend watch the TV shows Dirty Sexy Money and Boston Legal while on the telephone together.

I read several blogs that rave on and on about the wonderfulness of the TV show Pushing Daisies. They say it is the best show on TV and they can't imagine a better program on Network TV.

My family and I like watching Eli Stone. It is quirky, is has Victor Garber and pays more than a passing homage to a greater power in life.

While I knew Boston Legal was in it's final few shows of it's final season, I just read that the networks are cancelling Eli Stone, Pushing Daisies and Dirty Sexy Money.

On the other hand King of the Hill got another life extension.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

A Holiday Tale

So there I was in Tulsa. I had finished up my meetings and I had more scheduled for late into the night. But for now, I had some free time. Since taking this unofficial and unpaid position at work my time has been absolutely consumed as I am trying to do all of the work I did before and make up for the lack of staff that wont be filled until after New Years. But for now, I had some time.

I got to thinking that if it stays this way I will never have time to get my wife thoughtful and considerate holiday gifts. OK, let's be honest. I am not known for thoughtful gifts. Usually I have a female co worker go with me and I ask them to help me look thoughtful, and price is no object, up to $50. Normally I pick a nice gift and then a bunch of gag gifts. One year I guess my daughter and I got carried away with the gags so now I try to stick to what works... let others tell me how to look thoughtful.

Except yesterday I screwed up the plan. I stopped by Best Buy to see if they still had the TV I wanted ta the price I liked. They didn't. So I went by Target and walked around and saw nothing that looked wifey. Finally I left the electronics and sex toy aisles and walked over to women's clothing. Once I sucked it up and stepped into chick world, I think I did an excellent job! I think I got some of the best buys on the clearance rack and then I got her some nice matching fake jewelry and some work out clothes because she just got a new family membership to the local Y.

So... what do you think? Is this gunna be the best Christmas ever or what?!!

Later, I got home, slipped the presents into my daughter's room and tell her we need to wrap them very carefully because Mom cheats worse than the little brother! She always peeks or something, because she ALWAYS knows what she is going to get. So we discuss how we need boxes and wrapping paper and we need to mark out the prices so she doesn't think we are real cheap. (eh-hem) And we have a plan we think will work.

Then tonight my Mrs. Cris is grinning from ear to ear at dinner as she admits, "I found your credit card receipt."

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Xmas Xberry

So there we were gathered around the reading table. A core group called "Neighbors Without Shame." All of us have been super busy and we all agreed to be in another quick murder mystery for the Old German(OG) writer. Tonight was our first read through and, for most of us, our first time reading the whole play.

It is another corny take on Dickens "A Christmas Carol." It is set as a 1930s radio broadcast and several of the cast has multiple roles. We get started and several of us, myself included, stumble over the obscure names in the script.

OG: What is WRONG with you people? Have you not ever read the story? Have you not seen any of the hundreds of versions of movies and TV specials? Do you really not know the names of these characters?!!

Girl in the play: I never heard of a Fred in the story.

OG: Fred was Scrooge's Nephew!

Woman in the play: I thought that was Bob Cratchet.

OG: NO! Cratchet was his poor employee who had to work on Christmas and had a starving family back home with a crippled child. Scrooge was his stingy employer who had no Christmas joy for anybody.

Girl: Well, I never heard of Fred.

OG: You need to go watch the movie

Me: Which one?

OG: Any of them!!

Me: OK OK OK so who was this Scrooge guy supposed to be?

That old German looked like steam was about to blast out of his ears... til he saw I was kidding.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

late night post

Mrs Cris: Why are you not home yet?

Me: I just left (little town near Tulsa) I will be home in an hour. We need to grab a bite and then drive to Talequah to get Dad's pickup.

Mrs. Cris: But you're still an hour away and Talequah is over 90 minutes away! Why tonight?

Cris: Because I have play practice tomorrow and Thursday we have the Parks Board meeting at 5pm and the After School Program Board at 7pm. Then Friday we have to take Dad his pickup and drive our new car home. Tonight is the only night we have to drive to Talequah.

Mrs. Cris: But.. what am I supposed to get out of all this?

Cris: Oh yeah, have you bought all the food for Thanksgiving yet? I invited a lot of people over. Be sure to get extra pie makings.

Mrs. Cris: You owe me Big time fat boy. BIG. TIME.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Risen from the Dead

So my buddy and sexy muse over at this blog is WAY smarter than I will ever be. She found a link to some of the old Y2K Survivor posts. It was like old home week reading about a conference I went to last year. In fact I enjoyed it so much I decided to report it. Thanks for sending me the link! Uh.. is Y2K now the undead?

So there I was in Edmond at a state conference. I was hearing all about community problems and ways to refrain them and even a few strategies that might help. As you know, I live in Oklahoma. In this state we have high numbers of cardiovascular disease, diabetes, and of course we lead the nation in "Serious Mental Illness" so suicide is one of our bigger causes of death in the state. It is probably bigger than anybody realizes because, well... my suicide plan involves plowing head first into one of those big ass semi tractor trailer rigs along I-40.

My plan used to be to just drive at full speed into a bridge, but I just got off that freakin I-40 and the semi tractor trailer rigs were pissing me off the entire drive. SO screw it, I am taking one of them with me! ...but I digress

Thus the meaning of this conference became clear. It is I, and maybe even I alone that is needed to bring sanity into the dark ages that is Oklahoma. Yea I say unto thee I will be a beacon of light to guide the misguided fuck ups and losers into the promised land that is a lot like Massachusetts only not as faggy and hell of a lot easier to spell. How will I accomplish this super human task, you might ask? Well, with the skills I gleaned from the state conference!!

I will go hither and yon unto varied City Councils of great men and tell them we have engineered a society that encourages fatassitudes (my own term meaning, an attitude that leads to a fat ass) We allow giant corporate monsters into our protected bosom and they spawn unsafe and unholy parking lots with giant mega centers that we love. But it is unsafe and unfriendly to the people who traverse upon foot, and thus should be redesigned. We can have city policy that says Home depot and the Mart that is Wal will build near the main street, with friendly shaded sidewalks and parking in the rear. It will look like the community of old and will be a friend to the lowly foot traveler who dwells in poverty and can't pay for his fucking gasoline.

And this City Council of Great Men will rise unto me and say, "You fat fucker! You parked as close to the door as you could get! You don't know shit about healthy living you butt munch. You have spent the past ten years of your life teaching kids to say "NO" to drugs. (A curricula that does not work, by the way) What the hell do YOU know about city engineering?!"

And I will thus look those Great Men in the eye (more than one eye if they have them) and I will say unto them, "uh... I slept in a Bestwestern last week." Low unto me, that was the ONLY arrow I had in my quiver... thus leaving me standing before this great City Council of Greater Men simply quivering. And thinking unto mineself, next time I think I am inspired by a state conference.... JUST SAY NO ASSHOLE, JUST SAY NO!!!!

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Bastards At AOL

OK OK OK if you don't know it, AOL is trying to kill off their business. See, Steve Case started this really good idea back in the 1990s and sent out an ass load of free CDs loaded with semi virus filled software. America embraced the near idiot proof introduction to the internet and a new medium was born.

Then Steve Case took this huge freakin monster business and sold it in a package to Time-Warner, the world's largest news source. In fact, at that time, AOL was so big, the reports were that Steve Case bought out the media giants. This was overstated. Soon after the deal, the dot-com disaster hit the nation, AOL and a ton of other internet businesses lost value and Time-Warner have never been able to figure out how to handle America On-Line.

So they aren't saying it outright, but they are doing all they can to get the message across.. "GET THE FUCK OUT! We are not smart like the people at Google! We bought a cornered market and lost it due to dumbassarosis so just GET THE FUCK OUT!"

Yes boys and girls, AOL wants to close it's doors, pitch it's tent, pack it's bags and hit the road. They are cutting their losses but they don't want to see totally inept by saying "We're too fugging stupid to know how to run AOL." So instead they are slowly cutting off services. Their picture sharing software is gone, the free spyware protection is a thing of the past and worst of all (please don't get too upset here...) They closed their blogging format.

Gone forever is the blog Y2K Survivor. The orange caveman suit, the tales of Bubba the Vampire Slayer, the tons of comments of friends saying "Dude, really... get the fuck off of AOL!" ALL GONE!

I know, I know, we should hold a wake. We should celebrate the light that once shone so brightly in the void of internet porn bots and eBay retailers. But no, my heart was too broken by the loss. I keep saying I should have visited more. I should have let the sight know how much I loved it... but I had moved on to other more Opprobrious interests. So tonight, without drama or fanfare I quietly deleted Y2K Survivor from my blogroll. They say you will never forget your first love, and as most of you already suspected, my first love was a self-love. A self love that I chose to leave behind so as to embrace others. And now the proof of that self love has been wiped away. Wiped away like the tears of a mournful reader, as I am sure you must be after reading this post.

Well fear not my friend. I replaced Y2K Survivor with a bog by my very own little girl! Check her out but keep your freakin hands to yourself or I WILL use the BB gun sitting in the corner.

Uppity Black People

Ever been to a real gun show? One of my best buddies took me to one a few weeks ago. You know, I am a dude from the South, so guns are a part of life. I have had some kind of gun since I was around 9 years old and you aint any kind of a man if you never killed a deer. Not out here. So I've hunted deer and birds, shot a few coyotes and a few other lifeforms. In fact, we are still so close to our agricultural roots here, where many families still butcher their own meat, the animals they raised and fed everyday as food animals, that killing a creature is expected. Not only kill it, but kill it and don't be squeamish about you freakin pussy! Do not embarrass your Mom by acting like a a little baby that's freaked out over pulling the head off a chicken you plan to eat tonight! Later you can pluck it, cut out it's guts and eviscerate the rest of it's body so it will fry up nice in a pan.

Yeah, killing is part of farm life. From your best friend cow dog that gets run over by the hay truck, to the Mama Cow you worked all morning to help deliver a dead calf only to see the cow can't be saved either. Two very common times a growing boy in Oklahoma gets to use his ever present gun, often kept behind the seat in the pick-up, clean, loaded and ready.

Now not all of Oklahoma lives that rustic charm I just described. In fact, the majority of the population have done their best to move the hell away from real farm and ranch life because to paraphrase Forrest Gump, "Farmin' is tough!"

But the ideals never leave. Kill to eat. Live off the land. Protect your property from coyotes (which will kill calves when pack numbers increase) or other predators. Kill, kill without compassion or remorse. Know you are in the right in whatever you decide and kill kill kill. The army LOVES farm boys.

And redneck fathers love acting like they are still on the farm, even if their family has been living in town and working other jobs for generations. So my buddy, a computer programmer, the son of a baker, takes me to a gun show so he can get adequate firepower for his 10 year old son. And it is a scene dude! Acres of nothing but killing machines! They have knives and swords (what kind of a fool brings a knife to a gun show?) little toy guns, giant assault rifles and automatic weapons. They cost around $500 each and the ammunition was expensive.

But that building was so packed with rednecks, BUYING all the guns they could afford, that you can barely move around in that HUGE Expo center in Tulsa. It was wall to wall white guys buying everything in sight.

OK this was my first gun show. I went to see what one was like. I had no interest in buying a gun. I am the great disappointment to all father's of the South. I don't like to kill things. That's why I don't hunt or fish. I have done both quite a bit, and it took me years to get past the conditioning to realize I just didn't enjoy killing and mutilating the corpse of some animal. But I will gladly eat meat! I am not ridiculously liberal after all! But the point is, I didn't want a gun, I went to hang out with an old friend and see what a gun show was all about.

It was amazing and frightening how many people want to have a gun, and the variety of guns available. (Yes, I am sure I am now watched by Homeland Security just because I "signed in" to win a free TV... my paranoia tells me "That's how they track you!")but I went, I saw and I remembered.

Now there are reports that it was not just Tulsa. Gun sales have increased all over the country since Barack Obama was elected as President of the United States. And THIS is insane! A couple of weeks ago I wrote about how the older generation was raised in fear of black people. I wrote that they would need help making the adjustment and accepting what those of us raised in desegregated schools learned from the beginning. We are all the same. But these were not older men at the gun show. This was a healthy mix of ages from little kids to old men. All white.

The press is playing this up. It must be about a black dude getting himself elected as President. But I wonder... Could it also be that when the economy goes bad then crime increases? Could it be the news of gang related drive-by shootings that are happening more and more all over the state? Could it be a reaction to the fact that it is fall which means Deer season? It seems there are many other explanations than saying the white people are up in arms over uppity black people. I mean, don't you think?

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Real Ad On Tulsa Craiglist

Please come joining us in training in the self-defense art of the ninja!!! In the class cirrculumn we do join locks, locks escapes, striking and kicking(defense and offense. Please come for a free class, also we offer discounts for High School and College Students!!! The price for a month training is $55 a month. If you have any questions please email at the address below,

eh... DUDE!! Don't let the Ninja know we are laughing at them or we will ALL get our asses kicked!! shhhhhhhhhh!!!

Thursday, November 13, 2008


Don't you just hate those sissies who go get a shot, and then BITCH AND BITCH about how they hurt? "My arm is swollen!" "It hurrrrrts!" Those big ass babies need to grow up and get over it. Skin is porous and needles slip in and don't do any damage and often can't even be felt.

In spite of that I went for my Flu shot yesterday and opted for the mist. They only offer it until you turn 50 years old and the clock is running out on me. I know, I know... one more deadline in life that brings me closer to dead than a line. But still I was all proud of my self and giving myself those self congratulating props when the evil blond nurse says, "It looks like you haven't had a tetanus booster since 1996. Do you want to take it today? You need it."

I consider it, then sniff to foreshadow the macho man way in which I embrace my medical responsibility, as long as it is offered free through the County Health Department. "Sure let's throw them all in, if I need them." Like I said, they were free.

So she comes out with this syringe type thing and says that is the mist. It often puts more fluid (live virus) in one nostril than the other. She offers to give it to me, but again... macho man can do it himself. Who needs a pretty blond nurse, half his age standing between his knees, as he lays his head on her comforting chest while she nurses him to preventative health, right? eh... yeah... ok I have had some second thoughts on THAT decision.

I blast that stuff into my nose and sniff it down into my lungs as instructed. Did you know the medical people love to tell you that with the mist you get "...mucosa protection too?" Yeah, that kind of grosses me out. But I blast away and when I am finished the nurse asks me if one shot was bigger than the other.

"Mostly air," I replied. "But I am starting to drip a little back down." Without a tissue I touched the watery discharge clinging to my nose with my fingers.


"That's a LIVE virus! You need to go wash your hands! NOW! NOW!!"

You know me, I do as I am told (Operant conditioning from 25 years of marriage) but I can't help but feel a little freaked out that I just shot this shit UP MY NOSE and she is concerned that it touched my finger tips?!! Yeah that leaves a warm safe feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Then she pulled out some mini chemistry set and tells me how lucky I am to take my tetanus shot this year because it is different and I will never need it again.

"Cool! So I won't ever need another 10 year booster shot for tetanus from now on?"

The nurse looked at me irritably and said "No, you need to take that every 10 years. But this year we are adding vaccine for whooping cough, and you wont need to take THAT again."

Before I could point out I had never agreed to a Whooping Cough vaccine (I would have though.. it was free) she stabs me in the arm with a needle and injects the fluids into my system. I am still staring at the hole in my arm covered by a teeny tiny little round sticker (no smiley face) when the nurse hands me a pre-printed paper and starts telling me all the risks I just took in getting those shots and the horrible ways in which I could die.

But you know none of that really bothers me. What REALLY bothers me is "My ARM Huuuuuurrrrts!!"


I grew up in the late 60s and early 70s. This was the day of the manufactured music of the Monkeys and The Partridge Family. This set the stage for later manufactured pop stars like Brittany, New Kids on the Block and that fat chick who can't seem to pick a note to sing and stay with it.

When I was a kid this song was a huge part of my life. You heard it all the time on the radio and cereal companies printed it on the cereal boxes. I am not kidding here, you had to eat a box of cereal and then using all of your 8 year old skills, scissor out the round 45 rpm shape. Then when your parents were not looking you tried to spin this semi round chunk of cardboard (whith sugary goodness still clinging to the backside) on the Pioneer Turntable you were banned by "pain of death" from ever touching. Sure it sounded like crap and it ruined the needle on the turntable and caused ants to invade the felt pad. Sure our parents never forgave us. But it was real manufactured rock and roll baby, and it was made specifically for us by the people who made nutritous, fried, sugary, breakfast foods. Life was good. Short... but good.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008


So Dad is recovering and he knows I had a bad experience with a rip off group in Oklahoma City called David Stanley Ford. So Dad, an old used car salesman, says he will call some of his contacts and have them pick up a car for me at $200 over wholesale. How much do I want to spend?

Well NOW we get to the crux of the problem. See, I was raised by my father. So therefore I don't WANT to spend a damn thing! In fact, life would be best if automakers paid ME to drive their cars... after all... I AM the one doing all the work in the relationship. It's not like they wont keep making cars whether I buy one or not, yet they KNOW I have to drive. In fact my job requires I have a dependable car. But life, once again, just ain't fair.

ME: "Oh I don't know Dad... I guess if I got a good 5 year old Stratus or Malibu with about 80,000 miles, I could drive it several years. So I guess about $5 or 6,000."

DAD: "How about a Buick Century or La Sabre? Damn good cars, not as good as my Towncar but you don't want to buy a Lincoln. You want me to look for a Le Sabre too?"

ME: "OK Dad, whatever you think is best. But I like $5000 better than I like $6000"

Several weeks go by. He has been sick. We have been concerned and cars are not all that important, my old 1999 Cavalier Program Car is still reliable with 185,000 miles. Then Dad calls this morning.

DAD: "Hey how about if you bought a Program car? Those used cars are getting higher than hell and these car dealerships need to move some stock. What would a Program Malibu cost?"

I grab a newspaper and open to the car section. "Malibu? I thought you said a Le Sabre was better?"

DAD: "Oh hell no! Damn things have window motors that burn out all the time. Must be made in Mexico or China or someplace. You can't find a good made car anymore unless you move on up to something like a Town car, but you don't want a Lincoln."

ME: "OK here it is... 2007 Malibu is $12000. Wait here is one for $8000, no here is one for $15000. This is just a newspaper, not a blue book. But dealerships will list any price and not live up to it. It looks like we would be in at around the $10,000 range."

DAD: "Yeah that's what I thought. It would be the better move. You want to get a program car?"

ME: "......uh........ but that's twice what I wanted to spend."

DAD: "What... you need to borrow the money? I can float you a loan til the CDs turn over."

ME: "But..... I only wanted to spend about $5000."

DAD: "I know it, but this is a better deal and it'll only be about $10,000"

ME: "Which is TWICE as much! You know... I have a problem spending money."

DAD: "I know. I know. But look at it this way. Say you get 0.40 per mile for driving your car. By the time you drove it from 40,000 miles to 80,000 miles you would have more than paid for the new car AND you would still have a good car to drive."

ME: "OK if you think it is the better deal, then go ahead. I know you are not feeling well and I ....

DAD: "Good, we just bought you one and it will be delivered on Friday. Is Silver a good color for you?"

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Horrible News

I think my wife is suicidal. Sure, sure there have always been signs like how she is always napping, the way she drives, and not taking medicine regularly, but this is serious! Once I armed her with the medical findings of the amazing Dr. Oz (Oprah's Doc) she has not altered her life one iota! Not a smiggen. Not even a little bit.

And I am the loving husband who cares for her welfare, so I follow her from room to room both at home and at work literally BEGGING her to "buck up" and embrace life and LIVE! But her mood never alters, her behavior never changes and day by day I see her slipping away.

What's worse... she's taking me with her! I mean sure I could find alternate forms of health care on the internet (so I assume) but doing that (and talking about it) would be WRONG! So here I sit (with BOTH hands on the keyboard) while Mrs. Cris is in the other room slipping into her nap of depression and life get just a little bit shorter, a little more bleak and a lot more blah.

And according to Oprah's doctor all she has to do it have sex 200 times. He wasn't even specific if it had to be spread out over the year or all at once. Naturally, given my personal limitations, I would prefer it be spread out over say... a 430 day year. But damn it I am a trooper and her health means everything to me, so I am willing to sacrifice for her well being. All I ask is a bit of the same.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Race To Get Naked

So every year at this time I always delight in a silly little fantasy. No, nothing perverse or dirty. I simply love to watch the leaves that have fallen as they are blown by the wind. Do you remember the beginning of the movie Forrest Gump? Where this little white feather is blown about willy nilly until it randomly lands on a person, so we hear their story? At the end of the movie, Tom Hank's Forrest opens a children's books and never even notices the same old feather is blown away by a gust of wind and the story ends. I always loved that bit of symbolism.

Well, my fall fantasies have nothing to do with feathers or mentally challenged people. I wish! No, it is simply watching the leaves ramble on the gust of the wind. A time of year when some people think that a dried leaf if a symbol of death. It lived it's purpose, died in a blazing burst of colorful glory and now needs a compost heap... but I say there is still life in those brittle old things.

Now let me explain... again, I live in Oklahoma. You know... where the wind comes sweeping off the plains? We get a lot of honkin wind. And in the fall, you can see all the eddys and currents of wind along the ground because it is filled with dried leaves. And... it is one of the happiest, most joyful things to watch! You see groups of little leaves, that are just the right size to hitch a ride on swirling currents of air. What was void of life or motion one moment is filled with a playful little family chasing each other and tackling the one in front to gain position.

Like sufer dudes on the beaches of California, these leaves paddle their way out to the exact spot and catch the ride of their lives. Some body surf back and forth across the street, too timid to venture out far. While there is always the daring one that will revel in being scooped up to frightening heights only to gently float back down to Earth. After happy Spring births, and a long hard summer's work the leaf is set free to enjoy it's retirement. And like the Monarch butterfly, that stars life as a caterpillar then changes into a beautiful new life form, the leaf also changes. But the leaves change from green to multi-hued wonders of nature before falling dry and seemingly listless. Unlike the rest of us, leaves revel in the final days of old age. Some stay with the comfort of their old friends and some take the freedom to move on and see as much of the world as possible in the little time there is left.

And this morning I realize we are getting close to watching the adventure again. I look around and I see some trees that have lost a lot of leaves and I see some that still have most of theirs. Suddenly I realized they are in a race to get naked! You have the few exhibitionist standing tall in front yards and already buck naked. Then you have the more subdued and refined trees, often found standing behind houses or other bits of cover, grudgingly holding onto all of their leaves with a fierce determination to preserve their modesty.

But the season is upon us all and I say we should embrace the spirit of fall! Shed your old coverings, hitch a wild ride on life and let the fun begin. There's been frost on the pumpkin and the race to get naked has started. Enjoy.

Sunday, November 9, 2008


So tonight I get a text that my oldest best friend is in the hospital with her dying father. I would move Heaven or Earth for her or her family. I am going there now.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Don't Do As I Do But As I Say I Didn't

OK So an old buddy calls and invites me to come to Tulsa (an hour away) and watch the OU game at a local pub (Called Dirty's) then he says cryptically that he failed to do something for reasons we will have to talk about later. As a good friend I went to said pub where I was treated to glass after glass of Crown and diet coke. IN fact, my old buddy was so toasted he would order another round and then pour his dink into mine.

So after OU kicked hell out of Texas A&M we moved bars and watched most of OSU lose to Texas Tech before I was told my buddy just spent a little too much this month and he needs to cut back. Then I am poured into my car and sent home.

You know what I need to do now...? Drunk dial... comment on somebody's blog! That's what I freakin need to do man! Drunk comment!

Friday, November 7, 2008

More Great News

So there is this article on AOL where Dr. Mehmet Oz (Oprah's MD) says there is a magic amount of sex you should have to keep you feeling young and healthy.

And this is not counted in attempts but in orgasms dude! I mean, I have never heard of this guy before in my life but I FREAKIN LOVE HIM!!

If the elections were held today instead of last Tuesday, this Mo-Fo would be the new President, hands down! What did the GOOD doctor say was the magic number to a better, longer and happier life...? 200!

Oh yeah baby! Hail to the freakin Chief Oz!

p.s. feel free to email for a clinical consult (heh heh heh)

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Random Thoughts

OK the elections are past. I feel bad for the gay bashing in a few states, but then again I feel even worse about the uneducated faith based morality that grips my own state. I live in a small little Democrat stronghold where 70% of the population is registered as Democrats.

After eight years of Bush, with the highest unemployment rates in the state, with half the average income of the next largest county... There is not one single elected County official that is not a Democrat and our elections end in the Primary because Republicans no longer even bother to run for an office. And in spite of all this tradition... John McCain won big in my County.

On the other hand my people. My fellow Okies would never even consider gay marriage and in fact they don't really consider kicking a homo's ass should be called a "hate crime." That's what good old boys do.

The new chick at work told me today her friends were all upset Obama was going to take their guns away. When the hell did he ever say that? And why is she hanging out with those freakin rednecks?

Oh well... it is time to put politics behind us and turn our thoughts and concentration to what lies in the future. Christmas shopping!

Gayest Place on Earth Hates Homos!

If you head has been stuck in the sand over the past few months, maybe you don't know that the Right Wing Conservatives stood up to take back the morality of the West Coast. The state that a couple of years ago said it would not deny happiness to people who choose to live together in monogamous bliss, sharing lives and property and living the American dream... That state got out the vote and told the friends of Dorothy to keep it in their pants cuzz "Marriage is only between a man and a woman."

Now I have a real problem with this and it is NOT just because I think it would be hot to watch Ellen and Portia... and I do! Frankly I don't care what religion you are, color you are, economic status you are... You have the right to pursue life, liberty and happiness. That is the fundamental American value. You don't get any more American than that. But to deny marital rights to couples who have chosen to share their lives together based on some interpretation of Biblical scripture, an interpretation that is not even universally embraced by the country's leading churches, is flat ass wrong!

This week America tossed aside old prejudices and chose the first African American President to lead the most powerful nation. We chose to go with smart rather than fear and ignorance. Then in the same day we cast bigoted hate votes that prevent loving couples from the same rights we all should enjoy. It just is not fair nor reasonable. Worse, after many couples (Ellen and Portia; Rambo and Steven Segal; Xena Warrior Princess and the Mushroom chick from Mario Brothers) got married and began a life of accepted wedded bliss, the most liberal state in the Union turned around fucked them! Yeah, right up the ass! Which is, let's face it California... pretty freakin gay.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

The Day After

So here we are, a world where the armies of good finally defeated the armies of evil after many years of watching the world get plunged into darkness. And how did the side of light over come the evil clutches of darkness..? With a BLACK MAN!

Now while the new generation is dancing in celebration of the election of the first African American President we have a large percentage of the country plunged into fear. Elderly whites, those who never attended a desegregated school, who grew up hearing tales of of the threat of outright racial warfare are in complete terror. The worst nightmare they have been trained from birth to fear is now manifested in the shape of a well educated, highly qualified man with a plan who just happens to be a bit darker than the 43 Presidents to hold office before him.

Now do not get me wrong. I am not saying we should hold a big pity party for the old established bigots of the nation. I am not saying we should clasp the cold and shaking liver spotted hands in our warm grip of hope and say with a smiling face, "Oh, you're a racist? Isn't that sweet!" NO! I am saying we need to acknowledge that reasonable or unreasonable as it may seem a century and a half after the fall of slavery, a half a century after the civil rights acts, more than 10 years after Doug Williams won the Super Bowl... as preposterous as it might strike us... We have 10s of millions of people that are gripped in absolute fear.

I don't know the answer, but I will bet there is not a reader that comes to this blog that doesn't have at least one family member who feels this way. It is not Republican dogma that controls this fear, it is not concern about taxes. It is a fear of race or skin color. It is still fed by the evening news and nurtured by a lack of direct contact with a real community.

Fueled by tales of Social Service workers and Medical Administrators who only deal with the poorest of the poor. They spread skewed stories of a incomplete demographic as if it were indisputable fact. The gang bangers are in the Whitehouse!

Please be patient. As time passes and the nation sees the leader that emerges, try not to gloat. They grew up in different times with different beliefs. Change is hard. We need to show a little understanding but we also need to continue the movement and shine light on the fears. If we don't stand up and expose the good that will start happening the fear will grow and fester. But we can help. Yes we can.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Guess What I'm Doing on the 4th??

Probably Already In The News

So there is this story going around that old French soothsayer Nostradamus predicted the outcome of tomorrow's election and the old fucker wins! The theory is Frenchy calls McCain Feeble and Palin his queen.

At the war's end
The Feeble Kept-One will strike down the Night
And his Imbecile Queen will rise from the snow
Bedecked in finery and the pelt of a wolf.

OK OK OK see I can see this as saying Obama grew up like Steve Martin, a poor black child. I don't know nuttin about his wife, so I would have to let that one go. Although when I read this the first time that imbecile Queen really threw me. I had no idea what it meant. Then the news story showed the second stanza.

"In five moons, the Feeble Kept-One is no more
And his Imbecile Queen sees the Great Bear
From her backyard, alrighty, and flings giant poison arrows
And the Great Bear responds in kind, and, well, The End.

Oh shit! OH SHIT! HOLY SHIT!! OK I agree it's about McCain and we are all going to die! Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh Shit!

Maybe it's all made up like that fake Nostradamus story following 9-11, ya think? Please? Huh? Don't cha? Huh? Huh? Oh shit!

Sunday, November 2, 2008

12 years ago

It was a dozen years ago. I was a father with young children and working at my first real professional job... and hating it. I loved the work, but it was with a pretty crappy administration. If you have ever worked good work for bad people you know exactly what I am talking about, if not... get a freakin job, you loser!

Anyway I was in a separate building from the main campus. This was great because we were not under the watchful eye or evil thumb of "the man." There three of us in that little building endured blazing heat in the summer and freezing cold in the winter. Two were mental health people that worked to put families back together. I dealt with every kid that got arrested in the County. I ran a six week "diversionary" course where the juvenile AND his/her parents were required to attend.

Everybody at that place disliked the administration. I met some amazing people who are still my close friends. I also met people I was cool if I never had to work with again... the kind that teach you how to NOT do a job. Again, if you don't know what I am talking about, get a FREAKIN job dude!

So one day this red headed chick blasts into our little sanctuary. She was a bundle of energy and in overdrive while complaining about feeling tired. She worked in a satellite office in a neighboring county. She stopped by on the pretense of dropping off paperwork, but in fact had just interviewed for a new job. I was told her name was Pam.

While bitching non-stop about feeling exhausted she came in and demanded coffee. The three of us natives exchanged blank looks as we were told by a person who DID NOT work in this building with us, that "Surely you have a way to make coffee! You have a kitchenette, you teach classes to adults out here, so I know you have coffee and a pot!" At that point she began looking through all of our cabinets and storage places til she came out with coffee, filters and Mr. Coffee Maker!

Then while harping on how exhausted she was, she cleaned the coffee pot, ran a pot of water through it to make sure the insides were clean and made her a pot of coffee by pouring grounds (unmeasured) into the old paper filter. Us natives just kind of kept working in our cubicles and only answered if directly asked. We worked close enough to mental health to recognize a crazy person when we saw one.

Every so often Becky, our resident LPC mental health specialist would ask open ended questions that allowed the manic episode to pass without causing too much damage to the surrounding furniture or residents. So it was at this point, doing what I was sure was feigned interest that ONLY a real counselor can fake, she asked, "What kind of a job did you apply for Pam?"

"I don't even know! It was the oddest interview. This Jewish man who looks like Jerry Garcia talked to me for, I swear, more than two hours... and he never said a work about the job. I think he liked me and he ended the interview with a bonus question about European History. All I know is it is with OSU."

Now my grandmother worked for OSU when she moved into Oklahoma from Nebraska. My mother went to work for OSU when I was a kid. Both retired from the college. Neither of them had college degrees but I was a fairly recent graduate and loved the academic world. So when I heard the words OSU, my fear and avoidance of raving lunatics vanished. I suddenly popped up and informed the fruitcake, "You know... I am an excellent teacher!"

That was a dozen years ago but I can still vividly recall the blazing red hair of the crazy woman in a green van full of political campaign posters. She was full of energy while bemoaning exhaustion and made a full pot of coffee with supplies we never knew we had, then complained it tasted awful and never finished her first cup. Within about 2 years I was working with her at OSU. "We are going to make a great team." She used to assure me.

Twelve years later, I think we still do make a pretty good team. Happy Birthday Pam.

Great News! My Ring Finger is LONGER!!

According to University of Liverpool researcher John Manning, the size of your ring fingers and genitals are directly related to how much testosterone you received in the womb; the higher the testosterone level, the longer they are. In fact, looking at the length of ring fingers in comparison to index fingers will give an idea of the size of a man's penis. If the ring fingers are longer, it means that there were healthy testosterone levels; if they are the same size or smaller, it means that there were lowered levels.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Holiest Day for Healing

Today is All Saints Day. The Morning that follows All Hallows Eve. Last night I was a pirate with two swords and an eye patch and eye make-up. I pillaged free food from my Uncle's 10th Wedding Anniversary (costume) party, went to a spook house and ended up in a bloody knife fight back at my uncles.

I walk in the door and some grandpa is taking pictures of his itty Fairy granddaughter. They were blocking the road to the free stuff. So I waited patiently until they took a shot or two, and in the break I tried to step past them.

The little girl evidently realized there was a real live person behind her, and not just one of the life sized talking robots. So when I tried to politly squeeze past the little rug rat freaked the hell out! She shrieked like a little girl and ran and hid behind Grandpa. I shrieked like an even bigger little girl and cowered along the wall. Then three four-year-olds dressed as Tigger, a Knight in shining armor and some furry brown thing... maybe a bear or a rodent... grabbed my costume swords I got at the dollar store yesterday... and the fight was on!

Like Orlando Bloom fighting Captain Jack (only the little buggers ganged up on me!) we battled back and forth across the community hall floor. There were thrusts and parrys, sword clashed upon plastic sword and I might have even seen sparks fly from the manly contact... except as I said... plastic. Finally Tigger took the aggressive and was slapping at me in a furrious attack and all I was left to defend my poor self was my hook I had in place of a hand. Tigger drove me back into a corner against the large folding tables when disaster struck. In slapping his flimsy sword against my mighty hook, his sword broke! I thought I had the advantage but he ran me through with the broken end.

I died right there on that community hall floor with my now decade long married Uncle and his wife looking on (I assume weeping from grief) and as I coughed out my death rattle I heard applause as Tigger held up his bloody instrument of death and took a victory lap around the Community Hall like a conquering hero!

Later, while saying thank you and good night to our hosts I suddenly felt sharp pain and saw Tigger was once again behind me with his broken sword and I realized I had just been shanked like a prison bitch in the yard! Sure I yelped, all us shanked prison bitches yelp with we get a shiv shoved up out butts. I tried to stay in manly character and hope nobody noticed the girly scream as I shouted out, "I've been broadsided!"

So there I limped outside, beaten and bloodied by a band of ruffians only found in rural Oklahoma and journeyed home with my pirate tail tucked between my legs so I could remove my one eye make-up and go to bed. All in all, it was a good night.