Home town

Missouri river at the town of Sugar Creek

I have fond memories of my childhood in the midwest. People were friendly, the streets were safe and everything seemed so innocent.

I lived in and around the Kansas city suburbs until about 1978. My grandmother rented the duplex next door so I spent a lot of time with her and my teenage aunt and uncle. They used to torture the shit out of me, take my blanket and hide my teddy bear...assholes They kept saying that by 7th grade I should give up Mr Bear. But I digress...

Grandma's place was fun, she made me chili dogs, fried chicken and pork chops. I used to watch Gilligans Island in the basement family room and I got to sit in grandpas lazy boy recliner. It smelled strongly of spilled coffee and stale cigarettes. Damn I miss that chair.

I had to vacate the chair when Grandpa came down. Everyone called him "old man" because he was old way beyond his years, crazy and over medicated. I actually thought his name was old man until I was about 11 years old.

When the "old man" came down he always wanted to watch game shows. Jokers Wild, Match Game and Hollywood squares. He would chain smoke unfiltered Pall Malls and guzzle cup after cup of coffee. He never talked but I liked to watch him laugh at the TV.

I was the only one who felt sorry for him. Everyone else treated him like shit. I remember the only words he ever spoke to me, the whole time I knew him "Boy, don't ever grow up to be like me" That made me kind of sad, but it was sage advice.

My Aunt and uncle were twins born 4 minutes apart. My Aunt was petite attractive and popular and my Uncle was a giant boy/man who looked like a big goofy slacker.

My uncle used to let me watch him mess with his cars, tinker with stuff or whatever teenagers do. He used to smoke pot, siphon gas and take Grandmas car out, get drunk and wreck it...a lot.

I liked hanging out with him so I didn't rat him out, very often.

My aunt was moody, self absorbed and spoiled, she was afraid of everything and her brother used to have great fun torturing her with snakes, and bugs just to watch her run and scream. It was fun to watch them go at it, at least they weren't picking on me.

I also had an older uncle who was a Vietnam Vet, alcoholic, drug addict. Grandma used to bitch at him incessantly but she was actually a total enabler. He used to come in drunk, sit down at the kitchen table, roll joints and pass them under the table to his younger siblings. I remember his wild stories filled with these crazy words I had never heard before. As a 6 year old this was fascinating, I didn't know any better.

My mom hated everyone so she rarely walked the 50 feet from our house to Grandmas. Which was fine by me.

The cul-de sac we lived on was interesting, an old man named Mr Suitor owned all the houses. He built them himself and rented them out. They were nice and he kept everything up really well. I learned to ride a bike on that street. I was one of the only kids on the block, so I would help the old ladies carry in their groceries, they would always give me a quarter or a soda for being a nice kid. I had no qualms about knocking on their doors just to tell them a knock knock joke.

I think they were lonely and bored just like me. The old folks were always nice about my interruptions. Ha! just try doing that shit today and you'll be the only 6 year old with a restraining order.

One day I was playing outside and the neighbor girl who was the same age as me and who I kind of had a crush on, walked outside and came up to me...She was buck naked. My mouth gaped open and I asked "Where's your pee pee?"

.

She said she didn't have one. That was really confusing to me. I asked her how it got chopped off...she said she didn't know but I could show her mine if I wanted.

.

I told her she had better go back inside her house, because I was pretty sure being outside at 3:00pm butt ass naked, in the middle of the street was not proper behavior.

.

I felt like I was going to get in trouble for being seen with her.... I've always been prudish like that.

I guess I'm just rambling down memory lane today.

Owning up

I'm sure it's been this way since the beginning of time. People do not like to admit when they screw up. Maybe it's some kind of survival mechanism.

It has come to the point where no one will own up to their mistakes. There is always an excuse, someone else's fault, I'm just a product of my upbringing etc...

Scientists have discovered that when people fail, lose or get caught, There is a massive decrease in the brain chemical dopamine A significant drop in this chemical makes you feel like hammered dog shit.

If a person feels like excrement after doing something bad, stupid or irresponsible, then hopefully they won't take that course of action again.

Someone once said, doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result is insanity.

For example:
Drunk drivers who use up the courts good graces and finally go to jail on their 18th offense.

Women who continually pick scum bags over and over to date and marry that beat them, do drugs, abuse the children and drink away all the money.

People who sit at home, do nothing, aspire to nothing and do the barest minimum to get by, then cry and whine to anyone who will listen about how their life sucks.

Why do these people continue to do stupid shit?

It could be they have never been forced to fully and completely take the mental fall and accept the fact that they are a total fuckup and need to change the way they do things.

Some folks cannot make a direct correlation between their actions and the repercussions of those actions.

It starts in childhood when parents tolerate poor grades, poor manners, poor behavior and poor hygiene without kicking the kids butt and telling them they are being a screw up and need to do better.

Parents that don't take away privileges, use consistent discipline take steps in building a conscience and a sense of responsibility risk raising a social and emotional cripple.

Instead of having decent responsible parents who care about what values they teach, many children these are being raised by lazy shitheads that are doing things that are just as stupid and irresponsible as their children.

The kids grow up emulating the examples they have been shown.

This cycle can be broken if one really wants change in their life. It takes will power, dedication and sacrifice to break out of a shitty mindset and bad habits.

The next time you hear your someone say to you, "I got fired from my job but it's not my fault", or "I can't become successful because someone is blocking me","I'm broke, jobless and I'm losing my house but it's not my fault" Plant your foot up their ass and tell them to shut the fuck up.

It's about time people start taking personal responsibility for the things that are wrong with their lives and take steps to fix them. I've noticed that even the most half-assed investment into ones personal life can do wonders.

Birthday meme

Found this at Burfica's place and though it was interesting.

Go to Wikipedia and type in your birthday, month and day only. (mine is November 15)

List three events that occurred that day.
1. 1969 - Dave Thomas opens the first Wendy's fast food restaurant in Columbus, Ohio.
2 2004 - New Jersey Governor Jim McGreevey leaves office, three months after resigning due to a gay extra-marital affair
3. 1990 - Producers acknowledge that Milli Vanilli, who won the 1990 "Best New Artist" Grammy Award, did not sing on their album.
4. 1864 - Union General William Tecumseh Sherman burns Atlanta, Georgia and starts Sherman's March to the Sea.
5. 1969 - Cold War: The Soviet submarine K-19 collides with the American submarine USS Gato in the Barents Sea.

List 3 people with funny names that share your birthday
1. Little Willie John, American singer (d. 1968)
2. 1952 - Zoltán Buday, Hungarian born actor
3. 1968 - Ol' Dirty Bastard, American rapper (d. 2004)

List one death
1. 1996 - Alger Hiss, American government official and alleged spy (b. 1904)

List a holiday or observance if any
1. Roman festivals - Festival in honor of Feronia

Meme

Saw this meme over at Bagwine so I thought I'd try it.

LIST FOUR SENTENCES YOU'VE NEVER SAID BEFORE:
1. Rosie O'Donnell is so right on this issue...
2. Lets go shopping for bath towels and curtains...
3. Hillary Clinton won't be so bad once we get to know her..
4. Are there any romantic comedies playing at the movie theater this week?

LIST ANY NUMBER OF SONG TITLES THAT DESCRIBE HOW YOU'VE FELT THIS WEEK:
1. Beer Drinkers and hell raisers, ZZ top
2. Am I going insane, Black Sabbath
3. Piss up a rope, Ween

IMAGINE YOU'RE HAVING THE IDEAL PERFECT DAY. WHAT FOUR THINGS WOULD YOU BE DOING?
1. Bowling
2. Reading in the newspaper that Fred Thompson is our new President.
3. Buying a new gun.
4. Watching a John Milius movie

MAKE UP FIVE CREATIVE NAMES FOR A NEW ROCK BAND:
1. Slick Willie and the red rockets
2. Testicular inflammation
3. Connie lingus and the crotch gobblers
4. Dysentary
5. Stump broke Sammy

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU GET TO GO BACK IN TIME AND ENSURE THAT THREE SONGS WERE NEVER WRITTEN, THUS SPARING HUMANITY FROM EVER HAVING TO HEAR THEM. WHAT THREE SONGS WOULD GET THE AXE?

1. Give Pat Benetar's father a condom
2. All out of love, Air Supply
3. Private Eyes, Hall and Oates

Anyone who wants to do this is welcome. I can't wait to see what you come up with.

Thoughts on driving

I was taking my son to the orthdontist today and I noticed a very nervous student driver in front of me. My dad always said to wait for and expect someone to do the stupidest thing possible and be prepared for it. That sound advice was in my head and I backed off and gave this wobbly new driver a wide berth.

We got to the entrance of the freeway and the kid pulled right in front of an 18 wheeler that was going about 70mph. The Truck driver swerved to miss the collision and the kid swerved the same direction and almost got run over again. I think I puckered the leather on my drivers seat as I watched this unfold.

That poor instructor was likely cured of any constipation issues he may have had.

I basically taught myself to drive. I had driven off an on since I was 8 but it was mostly steering on the freeway with cruise control. When I was 13 I got a crash course. My dad had a broken leg and arm from a bad motorcycle accident and was having trouble driving. He basically handed me the keys and said let's go.

From that point on I drove him around all the time. I was nervous as hell and had no permit of any kind but dad would calmly instruct me. From that point on I drove him everywhere, even after his bones mended.

By the time I went to driving school I was almost an expert. I failed my first driving test though because the emergency brake indicator light was on as I took the test. I told the cop it was just a short but he failed me anyway. Officer Hadley...grizzled old fuck. Everyone told me that he would find a reason to fail you the first go around. He pretty much failed everyone in my class.

I found out when his shift was and went during an off hour to try again. Passed no problem.

These days, I HATE driving, I HATE other drivers and I can't wait until my son is old enough to haul my carcass around town like I did for my dad.

I let my son drive my old 77 Granada around a parking lot when I still had it. The look in his eyes and grin on his face reminded me of my first time in the drivers seat.

However, I don't see letting him on the freeway anytime soon.

Funny and disturbing

Is the world different or are we different?

If you were born prior to 1980 think back to your childhood.

Would you let your kids, nieces, nephews or whatever have the freedom that you had?

I remember being 9 years old walking about 5 miles from my house to my dad's shop, crossing busy streets and traipsing through dilapidated neighborhoods.

When working with my dad when I was little, he would send me walking to to the junk yards and parts shops to pick up items he needed. I would step over bums, walk though groups of gang members and fend off wild eyed snarling guard dogs sometimes all in one day. It was scary but I figured if my dad wasn't worried why should I be.

I used to leave early on a Saturday morning and play outside all day until dark. A couple times my mom got pissed off and yelled for me but otherwise there were no problems.

Starting in the 3rd grade when I was eight years old I had my own house key, I would get off the bus around 3pm, let myself in, do my chores and wait three or four hours for my parents to get home. There was never any problem.

Whenever my friends and I could find some woods we would go out and build tree houses sometimes forty feet up, we shot sling shots and BB guns at each other sometimes had fist fights with other kids that would pick on us.

When my parents would go out on a Saturday night they would leave me with a 12 year old baby sittter. Hmmm that wasn't half bad come to think of it.

I wasn't alone. Most of my friends were treated exactly the same way.

Looking at my kids now I would NEVER let him do that kind of crap. I don't let them out of my sight. Most of the stuff I just described would be considered child abuse now.

Is the world really that different? Are there really more child kidnappings now than thirty years ago? Do strange men stalk the woods waiting for unsuspecting kids?

Are children more helpless, more irresponsible or more gullible?

Do we love our kids more than our parents loved us?

Why do parents worry so much more than they used to?

Hell, I don't know.

Looks like if I want my kids to have any of the same experiences I had growing up
I'm going to have to take them myself.

I think I'll leave out the guard dogs, bums and hoodlums.

Quickie

An elderly gentleman went to the local drug store and asked the pharmacist for the little blue "Viagra" pill.

The pharmacist asked "How many?"

The man replied, "Just a few, maybe a half dozen. I cut each one into four pieces."

The pharmacist said, "That's too small a dose. That won't get you through intimacy.

The old fellow said, "Oh, I'm past eighty years old and I don't even think about intimacy much anymore. I just want it to stick out far enough so I don't pee on my new golf shoes.

A to Z jobs meme

I've seen this meme running around several blogs so I thought I'd try it.

alphabetical order of jobs you’ve been paid for

A. Alcohol server.

B. Bouncer

C. Computer Repairman

D. Department store clerk

E. Emergency electrician,

F. Field Technician,

G. Gopher

H. Handyman

I Ice cream taster (not kidding)

J. Janitor

K. Karaoke DJ

L. Line installer

M. Money Counter

N. Network administrator

O. Oil changer

P. Planner (manufacturing)

Q. Question answerer. (help desk)

R. Recycler

S. Shipping clerk

T. Television installer

U. Underwear folder

V. Vehicle repairer

W. Warehouse supervisor

X-mas display window designer

Y. Yard care

Z. Zip code checker (mail room)

Golfing

An 80-year old man called Tex goes to the doctor for a check-up.The doctor is amazed at what good shape the guy is in and asks, "How do you stay in such great physical condition?""

I'm a golfer," says the old guy, "and that's why I'm in such good shape. I'm up well before daylight and out golfing up and down the fairways."

"Well," says the doctor, "I'm sure that helps, but here's got to be more to it. How old was your dad when he died?""Who said my dad's dead?" The doctor is amazed. "You mean you're 80 years old and your dad's still alive. How old is he?""He's 100 years old," says the old golfer.

"In fact he golfed with me this morning, and that's why he's still alive . . he's a golfer too.

""Well," the doctor says, "that's great, but I'm sure there's more to it than that. How about your dad's dad? How old was he when he died?""Who said my grandpa's dead?"Stunned, the doctor asks, "You mean you're 80years old and your grandfather is still living! Incredible, how old is he?" "He's 118 years old," says the old golfer .

The doctor is getting frustrated at this point, "So, I guess he went golfing with you this morning too?" "No. Grandpa couldn't go this morning because he's getting married today."At this point the doctor is close to losing it, "Getting married! Why would a 118 year-old guy want to getmarried?"

"Who said he wanted to? The bride is pregnant..."

Sometimes a few choice words have more meaning than an entire book.

I'm going to post some of my favorite quotes I've read over the years.

These phrases have been selected for their, poignancy, wit and wisdom.

They are in no particular order. Enjoy

An appeaser is somone who feeds a crocodile hoping it will eat him last...Sir Winston Churchill

The strongest reason for the people to retain the right to keep and bear arms is, as a last resort, to protect themselves against tyranny in government...Thomas Jefferson

One ought never to turn one's back on a threatened danger and try to run away from it. If you do that, you will double the danger. But if you meet it promptly and without flinching, you will reduce the danger by half.... Sir Winston Churchill

If I hadn't been President of the United States, I probably would have ended up a piano player in a bawdy house.... Harry S. Truman

The atom bomb was no "great decision." It was merely another powerful weapon in the arsenal of righteousness... Harry S. Truman

Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same... Ronald Reagan

Government is like a baby. An alimentary canal with a big appetite at one end and no sense of responsibility at the other... Ronald Reagan

In Israel, free men and women are every day demonstrating the power of courage and faith. Back in 1948 when Israel was founded, pundits claimed the new country could never survive. Today, no one questions that. Israel is a land of stability and democracy in a region of tryanny and unrest... Ronald Reagan

America will never seek a permission slip to defend the security of our people...George W. Bush

Every nation in every region now has a decision to make. Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists...George W. Bush

A democracy is nothing more than mob rule, where fifty-one percent of the people may take away the rights of the other forty-nine...Thomas Jefferson

I am mortified to be told that, in the United States of America, the sale of a book can become a subject of inquiry, and of criminal inquiry too...Thomas Jefferson

A lie can travel half way around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes... Mark Twain

Advertisements contain the only truths to be relied on in a newspaper... Mark Twain

Facts are stubborn, but statistics are more pliable... Mark Twain

Our safety, our liberty, depends upon preserving the Constitution of the United States as our fathers made it inviolate. The people of the United States are the rightful masters of both Congress and the courts, not to overthrow the Constitution, but to overthrow the men who pervert the Constitution... Abraham Lincoln

Suppose you were an idiot, and suppose you were a member of Congress; but I repeat myself... Mark Twain

People are just as happy as they make up their minds to be...Abraham Lincoln

I can tell a young person where the mines are, but he's probably going to have to step on them anyway.... Burt Reynolds

I can honestly say, all the bad things that ever happened to me were directly, directly attributed to drugs and alcohol. I mean, I would never urinate at the Alamo at nine o'clock in the morning dressed in a woman's evening dress sober...Ozzy Osbourne

I may not be the richest man on earth. Or the smartest. Or the handsomest....Homer Simpson

Here goes

Friday night, the wife and I are drinking wine, she hits the sack and I'm watching

Jerry Reed on the youtube. The phone rings at 2 AM, stupidly I answer it.

It's my dad, "son I'm in jail. I got into an argument with my father in law and he attacked me, my wife called the sheriff and I was taken to jail.

Oh fuck.

I have no reason to doubt my dad. He has never lied to me and has never once showed violence in the 37 years I've known him.

Turns out, his wife called the cops and dad gets put in jail.

I am up all night trying to figure out bail, I get my friend Gary who knows about these things to come over after his all night shift to help me spring dad from the slammer.

Dad told me that nobody was helping him, he had no medication and he was divorcing the whore witch that called the cops on him.

8am I'm in the bail bond's office signing my life away for 3500 dollar bond. Gary and I go to the magistrate and who the fuck do I see...

Samantha the stupid fucking cunt has already posted dad's bail and is waiting for his release.

I walked in and said "what the fuck?" she said it was handled.

Disgusted, I walked out, went back to the bail bond place and got my $380 back.

Pissed off and feeling betrayed, Gary and I went and ate some breakfast.

Dad sends me an Email saying, Thank you son, sorry I kept you up all night, I love you. you are a good son and my best friend.

How the fuck do I respond to that?

I love my dad but I am so afraid for his well being. I can only help him if he lets me.

Tired and pissed

UPDATE: Thanks for the well wishes. Everything is ok for the moment.
I'll post details when I'm less pissed off.

Having some serious issues with my extended family due to
this >>>>>>>>>>>>>Person

I'll be back when I can and with more on the situation.

Hammer is not a happy camper.

My third video

I took an anti-gun song and made the video give a more positive message.

A cold day at the dairy

About ten years ago I worked at a dairy and ice cream distrubutor that was lets just say... weird. I wrote about it here .

I had just quit a long time employer and was still friends with most of the folks I worked with for so many years.

We got together and ended up drinking a little too much and I didn't get to bed until 3:00am.

I had to wake up at 6:00 AM to get to work by 6:45. I was still a temporary employee but had worked my way from data entry, to accounting, pricing and inventory control.

Today was ice cream inventory day.

I was not in the best shape when I pulled into work. After several shots of cinnamon shnops my stomach was reeling and my head felt like it was being skull fucked by a rhinoceros.

I made my way up to the loading dock with my clip board, calculator and ballpoint pen.

My normal attire for this job was dress slacks, dress shirt and leather soled shoes.

I met with the dock workers who normally handled the ice cream and asked if they were ready to get to counting. It was July in South Texas and they were all wearing parkas, ski pants, fur lined Everest boots with gigantic arctic gloves.

I asked if I needed that stuff to do inventory. They shrugged their shoulders. "We dunno ese' "I looked on the rack and all the cold weather gear was size medium and small. That was a definite no go for me. I was about 6'5 230 pounds and broad shouldered.

I basically said fuck it. Lets get this done.

We walked into the giant freezer. It was like a huge bank vault. The cold didn't seem that bad. I was overheated and hung over..it actually felt pretty good.

There were giant fans blowing supercooled air through the place and I was surrounded by pallets and pallets of any every kind of ice cream you can imagine. Breyers, Dreyers, blue bell, vienetta, chocolate, strawberry, bubble gum crunch...etc...

We started counting, the dock guys directed me to each brand and I started writing the counts on my paper work. All of the sudden my calculator went dead. The numbers had frozen on the screen and wouldn't clear. The liquid crystal display had frozen solid.. Fuck! I went ahead and did the numbers in my head, it took a little longer but I could make due.

Then my pen stopped writing. The ink had frozen....DAMNIT! I really didn't need this shit.

There I was standing in there with just my regular street clothes on with no gloves hat or boots and I glanced up at the wall and saw the thermometer read minus 45 degrees below zero and there was a giant fan blowing on me. which probably made it 60 or 70 below with the wind chill.

I really didn't feel all that cold. One of the guys handed me a pencil and we got back to work.

The guys in the parkas kept going out side and standing in front of a heater every 20 min and they would send a new batch of guys to come in and help me.

Finally after about 2 hours we were finished. I had a little bit of a runny nose and felt kind of chilled. It felt good to get out into the summer heat.

The production manager had just arrived at work and asked how the inventory was going. I handed him the clip board and told him I was done. He was incredulous. How could you be done? This was an all day job!" How long were you in that freezer? Where is your parka?

I told him about 2 hours and that none of the parkas fit. The manager shook his head and said they had a strict rule that for every 20 min in the freezer you had to spend 10 minutes outside warming in front of a space heater.

I shrugged my shoulders and told him that nobody had informed me. I was fine, a little cold but everything seemed to be in working order.

As I climbed down off the dock to go back to the office I heard the dock guys laughing...."crazy gringo!"

I guess it may be true what they say: what you don't know won't hurt you...

Parents sue fertility clinic because baby is the wrong color.

This article is kind of disturbing. I especially feel sorry for the kid.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17735987/wid/11915773?GT1=9145

NEW YORK - A couple can proceed with a lawsuit against a fertility clinic they filed after the wife gave birth to a daughter whose skin they thought was too dark to be their child, a judge has ruled. Thomas and Nancy Andrews, of Commack, N.Y., sued New York Medical Services for Reproductive Medicine, accusing the Manhattan clinic of medical malpractice and other offenses. They claim the Park Avenue clinic used another man’s sperm to inseminate Nancy Andrews’ eggs.

Three DNA tests — a home kit and two professional laboratory tests — confirmed that Thomas Andrews was not the baby’s biological father, state Supreme Court Judge Sheila Abdus-Salaam quoted the couple as saying.

The couple says that they have been forced to raise a child who is “not even the same race, nationality, color ... as they are,” the judge said in the ruling.

The lawsuit, which seeks unspecified damages, came to light Wednesday after the judge issued a decision that allows them to proceed with parts of the lawsuit while dismissing other parts.
The judge quoted the couple as saying that after their daughter, Jessica, was born Oct. 19, 2004, they knew something was wrong because of her physical appearance.

They say that “while we love Baby Jessica as our own, we are reminded of this terrible mistake each and every time we look at her; it is simply impossible to ignore,” the judge’s decision said.
The judge, in her ruling made public Wednesday, dismissed the claims against Dr. Martin Keltz, who had advised the procedure and had performed the embryo implantation.
She allowed the case to proceed against Dr. Reginald Puckett as owner of the clinic but threw out the case against him as an individual.

In trying to have the lawsuit against Puckett dismissed, his lawyer, Martin B. Adams, told the court that Puckett “did not examine, communicate with, care for or treat plaintiffs.”
The judge found Carlo Acosta, the non-physician embryologist who processed the egg and sperm for creation of an embryo, also could be held liable.

The couple’s lawyer, Howard J. Stern, did not immediately return a telephone call for comment.

Man issues.

What is it about men?

We walk a fine line. We want to be secure, stable and loved. We want a home and kids and stuff.

But we also want to be appreciated. Ever walk down the street and have someone of the opposite sex obviously notice you? It kinda feels good to still be considered to be a player in the game.

I've never been a vain person, pretty self conscious for the most part but sometimes I get the most retarded compliments in the worst possible situations.

Last Christmas, I was at a party, drinking wine and having a good time when my wife's manicurist came up to me and said she was interested in my physique. WTF? What am I supposed to do in those situations? Uh thanks... I guess...I always tell my wife when this stuff happens. She laughs her ass off and never gets mad at whoever does it.

I swear if some dude got all up on my wife and started chatting her up I would be an asshole sonovabitch and go all the way to kicking his ass if the situation warranted it.

When I worked at the karaoke bar, I got more offers for sex than I knew what to do with. There is a fine line between being flattered and wondering how many desperate people are out there willing to screw anything that has a pulse.

Of course I resisted the advances. there's no way I would jeopardize my family for an hour with a random hookup. That would be fucking stupid. I mean it's basically just another wet hole....

I finally got out of the bar scene. It was obscene. Back in the day, I couldn't get laid in a brothel with a fist full of fifties. Then all of the sudden I'm old and married and every desperate woman wants to jump my bones...no thanks where were you 20 years ago?

I don't go out much anymore. I've been there and done that. I have the tee shirt.


Am I the only one with these weird disturbing thoughts?

A special school

I was never a very good student as described here. My parents were worried that I had some sort of issue, so they decided that I needed to go to a private school. I ended up at a place called Asbury. This was one of the strangest schools I had ever seen. It was a large 150 year old ranch house made out of mud bricks. There was very little indication that this was a place of learning.

I was supposed to be in the 4th grade, but this new school had no grades.

This was a really strange bohemian place run by hippies and moonbats. I was told that there were no grade levels, tests or report cards. Each child, no matter their age was in a class appropriate to their skills. This meant an eight year old could conceivably be finished with high school if one was willing and able.

There were no rules. You chose your own work, completed it then you were free to do whatever.

I was pumped! What a dream come true. I had previously done so poorly in school that my parents sent me to fuck off university.

My teacher "Bruce" to his credit was a nice guy and a good teacher, but imagine trying to control and motivate kids in a setting reminiscent of Lord of the Flies.

Some of the stuff that went on in this school boggled my mind. Kids climbed in and out of windows to get to class, smoked pot in the school courtyard, and had sex in the closets. The teachers would often have their wallets and purses stolen and everything that wasn't tied down was either pilfered or destroyed.

This school was located downtown in a not so good neighborhood. After I did a few pages in a work book, I would walk over to the park, go shoot pool in the community center, or walk 4 miles to the museum of natural history. The school never missed me or knew where I was half the time.

Sometimes we would have special events, for example the administrators would determine the worst behaved child in the school. Then all the teachers would whoop, holler and run around with lassos and ropes. Once they located the behaviorally challenged kid, the teachers would chase him down, hog tie him ,tie the child to a wooden post and then whip the shit out of him. All the other kids would join in and were allowed to spank or pinch the captive.

I always felt sorry for whoever this kid was and never participated in these rituals. I thought it was strange that a bunch of bohemians would resort to hog tying and beatings.

On Valentines day my teacher Bruce came to class dressed only in a giant diaper. I was disturbed by the sight of this hairy naked man trying to teach us long division.

I started to think that this school might be a bit much for me.

The older high school aged kids were a terror, they would go around with rubber gloves giving the smaller kids "rectal exams" I was big enough to fight them off but usually I was roughed up in the process. Since all of these kids were valuable "paying customers" discipline was almost non existent.

Things got more and more out of control and one day a serial nymphomaniac tried to get me alone in one of the empty class rooms. If I had only been a little older this may have not been so bad. But at eleven years old her sexual advances were frightening to say the least.

I spent two years at Asbury and didn't learn much. In lieu of grades there was a parent teacher conference. My teacher informed my parents that I was lazy and un-motivated so mom and dad immediately put me back in regular classes.

Thank god for shitty public schools

Ron the queer.

I remember that being his name... at least that's what everyone ended up calling him.

When I worked at my dad's automotive repair shop back in the late 70's I remember this guy walking up and asking about a beat up old dodge my dad had for sale. This guy was bald, with a little tiny goatee. I also noticed he was dressed strangely, I just couldn't wrap my ten year old mind what was so peculiar about this guy.

Until he stuck his hand on his hip and started to talk in a lispy flamboyant manner. I remember that his voice and mannerisms reminded me of Paul Lynde from Hollywood squares. As a little kid I didn't have many points of reference.

Turns out the guy didn't have the $ 500 to buy the car but announced he was an artist and would paint a professional portrait of my father in exchange for the vehicle. My dad agreed, he was proud of his looks and figured a professional portrait might be cool to have.

Dad bartered all the time. It was much more convenient than shelling out cash and sometimes he could get stuff he would have never bought for himself otherwise.

Ron became a semi-permanent fixture around the shop. I still didn't know exactly what was so damn peculiar about him until I finally got the nerve to ask, "Dad, is Ron a homo? I didn't know what a homo was or what they did in particular but the word came out of my subconscious somewhere.

My dad laughed and confirmed I was indeed correct. Damn, Well I wasn't any closer to understanding but I was on the right track.

In between sittings for the painting Ron would bring the old dodge in and ask if my dad could teach him how to work on it himself. My father was much too busy for this nonsense and it kinda seemed that Ron was developing a crush of sorts. Even my addled little mind could see it.

So, dad handed me a set of tools and told me to teach Ron how to work on his car. By ten years old I already knew how to do most basic automotive repairs and figured instructing Ron would be at the very least entertaining.

I started to get more clues to the nature of "homos" when I handed Ron a 9/16 wrench and told him to loosen the bottom bolt on the front shock absorber. This was an easy first job for a automotive neophyte..or so I thought.

Ron put the tip of the wrench on the bolt and started trying to twist it left to right in a silly limp wristed manner. Of course it didn't budge. I took the wrench, placed it sideways on the bolt and and got it started. Pretty soon he was doing it for himself. He suddenly and boisterously exclaimed: "Oh my god! I feel soooo butch!"

Jeez, I kinda wished he wouldn't talk so much. It was kind of gross the way this grown man prattled on like a school girl. He did seem appreciative of my tuteledge however, and I spent a week teaching Ron how to weld, use power tools and other manly things he so obviously missed out on up to this point.

Finally, the painting was finished. Everyone seemed happy with it, I was a little concerned because my mom said it looked gay. Not sure exactly what she meant by that, but she always had something negative to say about everything.

I inherited the portrait a few years back and people tell me I look exactly like my dad. Come to think of it he was just about my age when it was painted.

This is about as close to a picture of Hammer as you will get...

More random thoughts

Ever say hello to a stranger you happen to pass by or hold a door open for someone and get absolutely no response? It kind of pisses me off. I'm introverted but try to be friendly. Some folks just don't make it easy.

I was at a restaurant paying for my meal at the cashier, and when I said, "Thanks, have a nice day" The girl behind the counter said "I love you too!" I pretended like I didn't hear it and walked outside thinking...what the fuck was that?

Ever meet someone who was just too friendly? Almost to the point of being creepy... It takes me a while to warm up to people. I don't make friends easily due to my hard crunchy outer shell. .

.

.

When someone starts acting like my best buddy in the first five seconds, I have an overwhelming urge to get the hell out of there. Sales people are a different story...I know they are being fake.

When I was a little kid, my dad told me about Vietnam and the Donut Dollies. They were basically red cross volunteers that didn't have any specific skills and would go around meeting the soldiers in the field, giving them coffee and donuts as a morale boost.

Dad told me that many of these "morale boosters" ended up making money as prostitutes by having sex with the officers in each camp.

I saw a ceremony on the news the other day, where they were honoring these old Donut Dollies for their service. I just had to laugh because they still looked like hookers to me.

A couple of prostitutes tried to pick me up in Vegas one time. I wasn't interested, too drunk, too married, too worried about my schlong falling off.

When I was in 7th grade, a female police officer came in to our health class and gave us a lecture about staying away from prostitutes. She said that 90% of them were actually males that had gone through a sex change operation.

I raised my hand and asked her where a street hooker would get $80,000 for a sex change operation... She said, "They just do ok!" I thought it would have been smarter for her to tell us about venereal diseases but hey, I'm not a cop....

Resistant to change

I've always been set in my ways and very resistant to change. Familiarity equates to safety and security right?

When I was a little kid and I outgrew my clothes, I had to have the exact same thing, just one size bigger. When my mom would bring home something different that I wasn't used to, I wouldn't wear it. This was about the only time I crossed my mother. Luckily my grandmother took pity on me and would take me shopping. She always wanted to buy me designer clothes and the latest fads. Like parachute pants, and Jordache jeans and Michael Jackson jackets with 75 zippers. Nope, sorry. I politely picked out the same type clothes I always wore. It frustrated the shit out of grandma, but she knew it would be a waste of money to buy me candy assed preppy shit that everyone else was wearing.

Sadly my mom took it as a challenge and bought me gayer and gayer clothes each year until I was finally able to buy my own. Just this past Christmas, my mother sent me a baby blue V neck velour sweat shirt with three quarter sleeves. I can see she still hasn't admitted defeat.

I'm still the same way, I have a closet full of gay looking clothes that I will never wear but haven't got rid of yet. I will never ever wear a pink or purple shirt. There is something in my genetic code that makes me reject clothes the color of Easter eggs.

Food was the same way. I ate the exact same thing every meal. I bought the exact same flavor of ice cream every time and the never changed brands of candy, soda or bubble gum. I was a loyal customer or had a disorder, not sure which.

When I was a kid, my mom would give me 5 bucks and drop me off at the barber shop. This was fine. Barber shops were masculine and comfortable. They didn't smell like perms and passion-blossom-fruit shampoo. The same old man cut my hair the exact same way every time.

Until one day, I was about 6 years old and was dropped off at the shop like normal. I walked in and saw a woman standing behind an empty barber chair. I panicked, ran outside and stepped into the alley, I decided to wait for her to get a customer so I could get a "regular" barber. This didn't happen and the old men went to lunch. Shit! I could just imagine all the fruity gay things a woman barber could do to little boy's hair. I was scared shitless.

Then my mom pulled up...

"Why haven't you got your hair cut yet?" mom angrily demanded. I sheepishly pointed inside at the scary lady standing by the barber chair..."mom theres a lady in there, I want a man barber." She dragged me in and sat me in the chair, and I got my hair cut. I cautiously looked in in the mirror, it wasn't perfect, but it seemed fairly normal. However, I was sure that it could have just as easily been a pink bouffant if I hadn't kept my guard up. This was also my first lesson in valuing diversity...

I'm a little more adventurous these days, but not much. I eat about the same food each day, haven't got a haircut in 16 years and I'm wearing a 12 year old shirt. But I really do try new things...I just need to think of one. Maybe next post.

Guest blog .

Did a guest post here. http://jpandmichelle.blogspot.com/2007/03/its-hammer-time.html go check it out.

Don't forget to check out Dear hammer...
http://hammeroid.wordpress.com/

We have some good questions so far. Never thought I would be filling in for Dr Ruth... Don't be shy, send your questions to bohab@hotmail.com Tell me if you want to remain anonymous.

Fettucini Alfredo with green chile and asparagus tips

I had this dish in a little restaurant in Carlsbad New Mexico.

Cook one pound of Fettucini noodles according to al dente directions on bag. Or buy fresh if you can.

One 16 oz container of fresh Alfredo Sauce (in your refrigerated deli section)
Or make your own:

Alfredo Sauce
Ingredients: 2 cups Whipping Cream 1 cup Parmesan Cheese, freshly grated 4 Tbsp Butter
Directions:Over low heat, melt butter in a non-stick skillet. Stir in whipping cream and blend well. Add parmesan cheese and stir until sauce thickens. Do not boil. Thicken sauce with more cheese, or thin with more cream. The alfredo sauce should generally be creamy.

Put 6 fresh anaheim, New Mexico chiles, green chiles (or whatever your area calls em) under a broiler until the skin starts to brown and bubble. Flip and repeat on other side. Immediately put the chiles in a sealed plastic bag or bowl with a lid for 10 min. This will make the skin of the peppers easy to peel off. Chop skinned chiles into 1/4 in pieces and remove most of the seeds.

If you cannot find the fresh chiles you can buy any canned chopped green chile.

Take a bunch of asparagus (about 20) chop about 2 1/2 inches off the bottom (if the large kind) and discard what you cut off (too tough). Put the rest in a pan of boiling salted water for 2 1/2 min remove from heat and immediately immerse the aparagus in ice water to stop the cooking. Chop into 1/4 inch sections keeping the tops intact. If you can find the baby asparagus just cut the very ends off and reduce the cooking time by half .

Mix the Alfredo sauce with the green chiles and pieces of asparagus in a large serving dish with the hot drained fettucini noodles.

Serve immediately with hot bread and a reisling or chardonnay.

The slight spicyness of the peppers and the flavor of fresh asparagus puts a kick into ordinary noodles.

Hammer vs the potato chip.

In the spring of 1998 my wife and I decided to drive to Galveston island and stay in a hotel on the beach. It had a kitchenette and a view of the water. We had brought stuff to make sandwiches, some wine, sodas and a couple big bags of potato chips.

We got there around noon, made ourselves lunch and headed to the beach.

As I was packing up, I noticed that the potato chips were the new ones made with "olestra" the fat substitute. We must have accidentally grabbed those instead of the regular kind... oh well they tasted fine to me and we had bought two of the two pound mega bags to last us through the trip so we went ahead and ate them.

I had a good time. Galveston isn't known for it's beaches but the Victorian, homes, museums, shops and restaurants more than make up for it. The first day was great and we got back to the hotel and ate more sandwiches and chips because we were saving our money to go to a fancy fish place the next day for dinner.

I tried to lay down and get some sleep but I started to feel weird. There was a heaviness in my lower gut and I had this strange feeling like I had to go to the bathroom but it didn't feel quite right.

Finally, tired of feeling sick, I went into the bathroom and sat down, when all of the sudden this sticky tar like substance oozed out of my rear exit like toothpaste. My guts were churning. It felt like a witches cauldron along with the hags all stirring excitedly in my belly. Something wicked this way comes indeed.

I must have sat there for an hour trying to get the tar to stop coming out. I used up a roll of toilet paper but it wouldn't stop leaking. I had no control over my sphincter. It was a very scary feeling indeed.

Finally, I crammed a wad of toilet paper up there, flushed, and waddled to the kitchen. I scanned the potato chip bag up and down when I finally came to the small print hidden on the back of the bag. "This Product Contains Olestra. Olestra may cause abdominal cramping and loose stools."

Damn.

They didn't say anything about my anus forgetting that it's supposed to lock up for the night and not drip crude oil into my underpants.

Other than having to change my toilet paper ass tampon every hour or so, I didn't let the anal leakage ruin the rest of my vacation. I did make it a point to run out to the ocean for a natural bidet rinse after every horrific bathroom episode. The worst part was, when I ran out of toilet paper and the hotel ignored my calls to bring more, I had to resort to using the bath towels they so kindly provided. When I was done, those things looked like they had been used to clean up after the Exxon Valdez.

I stuffed the soiled towels under the sink so I wouldn't be constantly reminded of my fecal shame.

We left on the third day and I was slowly returning to normal. My first and foremost thought was, how in the hell can Frito lay sell food that makes people's asses go haywire and shoot roofing tar all over the place?

I wrote to the company when I got home and they responded that it could not have been their chips and all their research points to "other causes"

Then I found this:

"In documents marked "Confidential and Proprietary," Frito-Lay admits that olestra caused "anal oil leakage" in a study commissioned by the company. Olestra is the controversial non-caloric fat substitute marketed by Procter & Gamble. " (click for full article)

ASSHOLES!

Just what we need, another company that doesn't give a damn about it's customers and sits on a report that could derail FDA approval and cost it money.

Needless to say I'll never get anywhere near that vile olestra substance again, unless it's for a practical joke on someone I really hate.

I was so moved by this experience that I wrote a couple of Olestra Haikus

Sphincter exploding

Olestra army marches on

Brown stained coffin

Can't eat just one

Human Valdez pulls into harbor

eternity of wiping

Here are more for your reading pleasure

http://www.rumor.org/olestra.rumor

Strange thoughts.

Ever lie in bed and debate with yourself whether you are too tired to get up and pee? It's fruitless to argue with your bladder because it always wins one way or another.

My dog is on the back porch licking his pooch package and I'm thinking that the first person to create dog dick flavored treats is going to make a fortune. Not sure how they would test them to see if they really tasted right...

Which brings me to bad tasting food. I was eating some skittles the other day and I noticed the red ones tasted like that nasty cough medicine my mom gave me when I was a kid. So I sent an Email to the skittles customer comment people and told them what I thought. They wrote back and told me I was wrong...

I was eating peanuts in the shell in the dark, I think something crawled into one of them and died. It tasted like a burnt plastic fork. I went ahead and kept chewing because I didn't want to look like an idiot.

My dog insists on sniffing everything I give him before he eats it. You would think after eight years he would trust that I'm not going to poison him. The other dog has no such compulsion and will grab it away as he's sniffing. It's frustrating to watch.

I was depositing a check at the bank the other day and it was for a large amount but not excessive, and the bank teller asked me if I was sure I wanted to deposit it... I told her yes... why not? She asked, how was I so sure that the people who wrote the check really had the money in their account... I don't know what she was suggesting or what she would have me do. So I told her just to deposit it. She said "well it's just a large amount for a personal check" Yeah whatever. I'm wondering if this was bank policy or she was just being an asshole.

One time, I went to get a small loan from my bank to get my car repaired. I filled out the application and when they called me in to review it, the loan officer said, sorry we cannot approve your loan because you don't have sufficient funds in your account to cover the loan.

Duh! Why would I need a loan if I had the money in my bank account? She said that was their policy. I'm thinking that bank people smoke crack on their coffee breaks.

I was at a garage sale the other day and I asked how much a set of beer steins cost. The lady said uhh 5 or 10 dollars...Ok brainiac, why in the heck would I give you ten dollars when you haggled yourself down to five in your opening statement? I'm thinking she's probably not an entrepreneur.

Living in the past.

When my wife and I moved into our first house, we had a deal with our landlord that she would charge us cheap rent if we kept the place up.

It was a small tract home on the busy street in a not so good side of town.

When I walked in for the first time I was taken aback. The place was built in 1949 and the lady that lived there had not done one thing to the place in 50 years. It was dirty, smelly and a total mess. Luckily, everything was intact, so I spent two weeks painting scraping scrubbing putting up blinds and laying tile and carpet.

The place was finally decent looking and livable. But it was like we were living in 1949. Gas stove, sink and refrigerator was it for kitchen appliances. The wiring couldn't handle a microwave. We had my old black and white TV in the living room with tin foil wrapped all over the rabbit ear antennae.

There was one bathroom with a pedastal sink, ancient tub, and toilet.
There were no plugs in the bathroom so I had to shave over the trashcan in the kitchen.

After a while I got used to it. It would get too hot to be in the house in the afternoons so we would sit in the back yard and play with the dogs and throw some food on the grill.

There was a washing machine on the back porch and a clothes line in the back yard. It took some getting used to and I had to be careful of frozen clothes and bath towels so hard that they could stand up by themselves.

I lived easily without modern conveniences back then, no cable, computer, central air and just those gas wall heaters to keep warm but things were simple and we were happy.

Now just ten years later I'm in a room with 4 computers, mini fridge and living in a house with three bathrooms, Cable TV in four rooms , microwave, washer and dryer dishwasher and bunch of other crap. now that I've adjusted to living this way it's hard to imagine going back.

I guess we adapt to our environment and I'm sure there are people out there that are used to living with a lot more. I don't think we are any healthier or happier, we just have more stuff to look at. The computer would be the last thing I would want to give up. It has surpassed the television, and telephone as the most important technology in the house.

What would we do if all these modern conveniences all went away overnight?

I'd probably read a book...