tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56240620949325193902024-03-05T06:43:26.561-08:00My Taste in Wine Leans Towards Vodkaonthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-88767808105476280842009-09-17T14:14:00.000-07:002010-03-26T10:55:54.673-07:00Very Timely Update {rolls eyes}I know that I said I would try and give nightly updates of the ride (that happened almost a <i>month ago</i>), but it turns out that after you've physically exhausted yourself each day it's tough to work up the effort to do much besides take a shower, curl up on the bed and weep. So I'll give a bit of a rundown here on events. And thank you again for you readers who donated and helped me be able to do this.<br /><br />First off, a short rundown of what the ride actually turned out to be during that 7 days:<br /><ul><li>500 miles traveled</li><li>22 <span style="font-weight: bold;">thousand </span>feet of climbing</li><li>35 <span style="font-weight: bold;">thousand </span>calories burned</li><li>2 extremely wicked saddle sores (more on that later)</li></ul>Needless to say it was, without a doubt, the most physically demanding thing that I've ever done. To be honest, I thought that I was in pretty good shape for this ride. Turns out, I'm not nearly as strong of a rider as I thought I was. There were guys on this ride that <span style="font-style: italic;">destroyed </span>me as far as riding ability. To be fair to myself, most of those guys were either A) college kids who are on their school's triathlon team or B) guys who have been riding much, much longer than I have. But it was a bit discouraging to be one of the last 5 or 6 people in at the end of the day. But I completed every day no matter how badly I wanted to quit on a couple days. About a third of the whole group didn't ride each day to completion.<br /><br />Regarding the days that I wanted to give up, there were two of them. One was the day going through Big Sur (Day 3). If you're not familiar with that area, it's a beautiful, forested stretch along the Central California coast. But it's <span style="font-style: italic;">insanely</span> hilly spread over about a 50 mile stretch. The elevation climbed that day was over 5K feet in a 70 mile ride.<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>That was the day I first started really noticing saddle sores (turns out my seat alignment got jacked up at the end of day 1 and didn't notice until half way through the day). Let me tell you, when you've got to do 70-80 miles a day and your ass is raw, it is <span style="font-weight: bold;">not good.</span> Luckily, I had a couple ride partners with me to talk me through the last 10 miles of the worst of the climbing and I finished.<br /><br />The second day I fantasized about quitting was the last day. We were going from Dana Point to San Diego, it was hotter than hell and my ass was just pure mechanism of fucking misery at that point. I could not, for the life of me, find a comfortable part of the saddle. It was excruciating. I managed to make it though, even if I was the last guy in. And I have to tell you, it was worth every bit of cursing, anger and agony when we rode up to the picnic where the hemophilia foundation was having an event. It was great to see all the appreciative people that came out to cheer us in to the final stop and express their thanks for raising money for their families. It made me feel really good about what we all had done. Goofy, but true.<br /><br />Nonwithstanding my whininess, seeing the Cali Coast by bike is specfuckingtacular. You don't really realize how much of the scenery and awesomeness of a place you miss while flying by in a car. On a bike, you get to see it at a much slower pace and much more closely than you ever could by car. I can't recommend enough seeing some majestic part of our country on top of a bike, it's a whole new experience.<br /><br />Starting next week, I'll share some of the funnier stuff that happened during the trip and maybe some more of the daily break-downs of the ride.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-47734185806456492382009-08-18T13:37:00.000-07:002009-08-18T14:19:53.079-07:00Almost Time To Ride...Or DieHere's a little update on the charity ride I'm doing next week. As of the end of this weekend, I've reached my fund raising goal of $3K ($3200 actual) so I don't have to worry about having to pay for any of the lodging or making up a shortfall on my goal. <b>Whew!</b> And a big thank you to everyone who donated, I really appreciate it.<br /><br />As far as the training goes, this weekend was also the last big push before taking it easy this week leading up to the ride. Since I decided to actually do the ride and started training in earnest in mid May, I've put 1100 miles of saddle time in. That's almost more than I've done in any 6 month period of time since I started riding in mid 2007. Let me share a little of what I did this weekend.<br /><br />Friday I took off early from work to do what was, by far, the hardest ride I've ever done on the bike. For some insane reason, I let members of my ride team talk me into doing a climb up one of the local mountains around here. It's a 10 mile (also with climbing) or so ride to get there, and then we got to do this:<br /><img src="http://www.socalvelo.com/images/Profiles/mt.baldy.gif" width=440 height=233 align=center name="Death Climb"><br /><br />Now, in all fairness we didn't climb all the way to the top, we only went to mile 8 or so. But that's all uphill folks, and no matter what that map says, my friend's GPS says there was no grade lower than 7% and it went to as much as 12% at times. I can tell you by the time I made it to the point where we stopped, I thought I was going to have a gdamn stroke. Here I am, post almost-stroke:<br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBa_yjRDoAizDYdNwt9ilmWRNM35vY2qOzSME9m3hGjWarky2tTGdPz8qdngiCKGYUh0ammF-OquLSIk_D6ILKlAHmvBi3Lkuc9vFlbYd9pCvpD4ZvOPFrF6hFiXKI58PxFefrGA9NFsJi/s320/p_00095.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371415260934794274"><br /><br />Then, of <i>course</i>, on the way back I got separated from my friends, got lost, and added about 5 more miles (38 total) on to the ride then I needed to. Yes, I'm an idiot.<br /><br />Saturday I took the day off to work on my bike and get it tuned up for Sunday, when rode from the beach and back. All told, I put 123 miles on the bike for that day (215 total for the week) when all was said and done. I guess at this point, I'm about as ready as I'm ever going to be. I hope.<br /><br />I'll try and post up at night after each days ride to update on the progress on the ride. If anyone, you know, cares.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-1846370133767885542009-08-17T08:14:00.000-07:002009-08-17T08:36:35.471-07:00Where I Might Have To Turn In My Balls - Part 2Last summer we had to have our house tented for termites. During the process the fumigators had to tear down a piece of our fencing so they could get the tent on the garage. Since then there's been an opening on the side of the garage that allows a space going up to the front gate on the side of the garage. Last week M went out and bought some lumber so that I could finally close that up now that we have another dog and she likes to go chasing after our cats along that opening since that's where the cats travel through. Should be pretty easy right, it's only like a 3 foot gap. <i>Wrong</i>.<br /><br />I tore off the old wood that was still attached to the garage so that I could start with fresh lumber that wasn't all rotted out. Easy enough, cut a 2X4 to length, level it, nail to garage. From there, I was going to put three cross members to the other side of the chanlink/wood fence that borders the neighbor's yard and then put up planking to cover the gap. At this point my neighbor here's me hammering and asks if I need some help. Sure I say, it'd be great if she could hold up the cross members so I could get those level while nailing them in.<br /><br />She comes over and I proceed start putting up the cross members. After I get them up, she checks up the setup and the strength of the cross members (since they are only going to be attached at one point), looks at me and says, "Yeah, this isn't going to work. Let me tell you what we need to do." At this point she goes into great detail on we need to attach another 2X4 to her cross beams for her wood fence then secure the cross members to that with hardware. All the while I'm standing there just nodding, looking like a home improvement dumbass.<br /><br />I have to say, if she hadn't offered to come over and help me out, I probably would have ended up with a rickety, Mickey Mouse fence section. Since it of course, with her input, came out golden and sturdy as hell. Though I did have to run back to Home Depot again since the planking M got from there was riddled with termites. I mean, WTF is up with <b>that?!</b> Just what someone wants, wood you're attaching to a structure that is termite infested. Nice quality control.<br /><br />Oh, I almost forgot the part where I had to enlist the help of her partner to get one of the planks cut on an angle so that it would line up nicely at the end. Lesbians to the rescue! <i><b>Again</b></i>onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-32057260338228617722009-07-22T10:41:00.000-07:002009-07-22T11:29:23.477-07:00Where I Might Have To Turn In My BallsHere's the thing, I'm one of those guys that's not super handy. I mean, I can do basic stuff like mow the lawn, do routine maintenance around the house, etc. But I'm not one of those guys could rewire his house or build an add on to our house. Lately we've been having a lot of trouble with our back door locks and I figured WTF, I'll go buy a new lock set and try putting it in myself.<br /><br />This weekend I attempted said install. Shockingly, I had actually purchased locks that looked they would be the same size as the old piece of shit ones I was trying to replace. So far so good.<br /><br />The top deadbolt went in no problem. Believe me, no one is more surprised about this than me. Then came the actual door knob {tee-hee...knob} replacement. I got the old knob out no problem. Here's where it got sideways.<br /><br />For the life of me, I could not get the two pieces of new door knob to match up for the life of me. I sat there struggling for probably 20-30 minutes trying to get it to go together, the last 10 minutes of that cursing up a blue streak. At that point my neighbor came over to visit the mutts since she heard them out running around. She asked me what I was doing and after explaining to her what kind of a hassle I was running into, she offered to take a look.<br /><br />She spent about 45 seconds looking at it, she stopped, stood up and laughed. She points at the bolt part that gets screwed into the door, that the inside/outside knobs connect to and says, "You might want to try putting that in, you know, the way it's <i>supposed</i> to go."<br /><br /><b>Fuck!</b> At least I can take comfort in the fact that my neighbor's a lesbian and she's supposed to know this stuff better than I am anyway...right?onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-79439000981331930822009-07-07T15:37:00.000-07:002009-07-10T13:54:29.107-07:00So, That Was Not EasyHope that everyone had a great 4th (timely right?)! You're wondering what I did? OK, let me tell ya:<br /><br />Friday the 3rd, myself and 3 friends decided to ride to the beach and back from our neighborhood. We figured it would be a cool way to spend one of our holiday days in addition to being the first test to see how we'd handle the distance that we'd face on <b>one</b> day of the charity ride. Cause you see, to the beach and back is about 100 miles round trip.<br /><br />Actually, it went really well*. Going the 50 miles down was a breeze. We stopped, had a nice breakfast and then started making our way back. The first 30 miles back were also a breeze since it's all relatively flat. The last 25 miles were NOT a breeze. Before you start making the steady climb back into our town, there is one gargantuan, steep hill about a mile or so long that must be conquered. I swear, I thought I might have a gdamn stroke. But, I made it to the top without ever stopping or getting off the bike. Yay me!<br /><br />From there, it was just the slowly building elevation all the way til we got back home. That and the motherf*@king traffic control. I swear we must have hit 95% of the lights on the way back. And I can tell you there's nothing quite as fun as having to stop at every light in 95 degree weather, sitting there baking waiting until you have to get yourself started again. It's not a lot of fun. Managed to make it the 105 miles at about 14.5 mph, so a pretty big accomplishment.<br /><br />So the training continues and we're going to start ramping it up by doing 20 or so miles every morning and hopefully get a couple 30-40 mile rides in at night on top of that. At this point, about 5 weeks to go!<br /><br />Oh, and if you're interested in donating to a good cause and helping a brother out, go <b><a href="http://www.tinyurl.com/vburns09">here</a></b>.<br /><br />*If you don't count the fact that my junk was completely numb by the time I got back home. Gotta get that fixed before I end up a Viagra popper.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-85909885857519068252009-06-05T15:51:00.001-07:002009-06-12T14:43:08.327-07:00Me = Boned!And not in the good way.<br /><br />Last Friday, M found a stray puppy on the road on the way to work. She ended up bringing it home and was quite, "ZOMG! She's <i>soooo</i> cute!" We took her to the vet and unfortunately she was also afflicted with Parvo. We had to put her down and M was crushed. Insert sad smiley face. On top of that, she felt horrible about potentially exposing our dog to the disease. Hopefully the tanker truck full of bleach that I used to clean out his kennel will prevent an issues. The ground water table be damned!<br /><br />Saturday she decided to go do some running around and somehow ended up at the local Humane Society. I get a text from her, "So many cute doggies here! You have to come see!"<br /><br />And I did...<b>rookie</b> mistake. I give you Carolina. <i>So behold, the new instrument of my doom!!</i> (And serial drive-by pee dropper)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjynREJkVD6UHnf_OK_QY-suq0XphNGEpjGrqgWLU9wmWXLU5rgdfFw1pZRGWHLK4AowfWY1xOKSBGrxFIU67Vb1TCOLPJx6InUdbSEGIidbGWYM7kuuOse4gjwfLPA2IyxSNVRlweErZoQ/s1600-h/Carolina+2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjynREJkVD6UHnf_OK_QY-suq0XphNGEpjGrqgWLU9wmWXLU5rgdfFw1pZRGWHLK4AowfWY1xOKSBGrxFIU67Vb1TCOLPJx6InUdbSEGIidbGWYM7kuuOse4gjwfLPA2IyxSNVRlweErZoQ/s320/Carolina+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346558913316583554" border="0" /></a>onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-27461590403410170852009-06-05T07:49:00.000-07:002009-06-05T07:58:55.164-07:00Super Exciting Update!So, I know, it's been a while again since I've posted, but I've been busy trying to finish up this semester in class as well as riding as much as possible, so I thought I'd give you guys a brief update as to what's happening with the ride thing (like there's anyone reading, and you care).<br /><br />With school, I've been limited to riding mainly in the morning and just once on the weekend, but I've managed to put in about 100 a miles a week and averaging pretty good pace of just about 15mph. Now that school is done, I'm ramping up the training. Now I'll be riding four mornings a week, a couple times after work and on the weekend. I'm hoping to ramp it up to about 200 miles a week and still keep the same pace, if not increase it.<br /><br />So far, I've cleared $1300 towards my goal of raising $3G. Not too shabby with about two and a half months to go. Related to that, I need to give a big shout out to fellow blogispherians <a href="http://gimmebackmybanana.blogspot.com"><span style="font-weight:bold;">TK</span></a> and <a href="http://notlaineysmom.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-weight:bold;">Lainey</span></a> for graciously donating to the cause. Hell, I didn't even know Lainey read this thing! So I guess I'll need to go and return the favor as well as through her on the ole blog roll. Not that she'll get much traffic from me, but her good deed deserves at <i>least</i> that much. So go check em out! And thank you both.<br /><br />And I'll try and improve at putting...something up more frequently.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-5075196636454823872009-05-16T17:01:00.000-07:002009-05-18T08:30:27.253-07:00Shameless Self-PromotionHey everyone,<br /><br />I know it's been a month since I posted and I know this is the kind of thing that any person that has ever been subjected to every Girl Scout, ridiculous trinket, candle sale, etc. that has been peddled to them at work or home hates, but I'm trying to raise some money. And believe me, it makes me uncomfortable just asking this.<br /><br />I have a good friend that has a son that suffers from <a href="http://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/health/dci/Diseases/hemophilia/hemophilia_what.html"><b>hemophilia</b></a> B. For those who aren't familiar with what this is, it's a serious disease that prevents blood clotting. As you might imagine, this poses great challenges to those affected.<br /><br />My friend Greg recently clued me into a charity bike ride that is going to benefit people like his son that suffer from this disease. It's a road race that will cover almost 700 miles in 7 days. To help the various foundations that will benefit from this ride, they are asking each participant to raise $3K. I know in these economic times, altruism is a tough to do. But if you've ever thrown a couple dollars to your local Girl Scout troop, homeless shelter or cause of choice, I ask you to do the same now, for someone you (nominally) know as well.<br /><br />If you are interested, please visit <a href="http://www.tinyurl.com/vburns09"><span style="font-weight: bold;">here</span></a>. It's a great cause and I really appreciate anyone who decides to help.<br /><br />We'll be back to our regularly scheduled dick jokes soon.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-60022943342443711682009-04-07T11:14:00.000-07:002009-04-07T11:20:14.581-07:00Ahhhh Baseball, Welcome Back My FriendWe're very fortunate to have a friend that has season tickets to the Angels and he quite often calls to offer me his seats. Yesterday he called and asked if I'd like to join him for opening day. <i>Kickass</i> It's the first home opener I've ever got to attend. Man, you can't beat California in April (82 @ game time, of course that'll be 98 in the summer months), at your team's season opener, <s>several</s> beer<s>s</s> in hand. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2v1AFM-c3UF_yWtPhDsMaPDqRvWTDNN_l05J2fVmnvqa1yeubFoEqmmnIioFsokrKOtEktUfTvJL8r2PvKmpf61EqAlWzScmhrMR8-fx4MAtRMS8TsjRu3iXRTFzuXpFMebz5pBN1mNCR/s1600-h/opening+day.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2v1AFM-c3UF_yWtPhDsMaPDqRvWTDNN_l05J2fVmnvqa1yeubFoEqmmnIioFsokrKOtEktUfTvJL8r2PvKmpf61EqAlWzScmhrMR8-fx4MAtRMS8TsjRu3iXRTFzuXpFMebz5pBN1mNCR/s400/opening+day.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322014900100021826" border="0" /></a>onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-66852109181029944672009-04-01T15:24:00.000-07:002009-04-02T09:04:59.213-07:00Perhaps I Should Rethink This Volunteering Thing...A while ago M mentioned that she really felt that we ought to do some volunteering somewhere considering how fortunate we are. I mean, we're both employed and have a pretty good life. Which is something a lot of people can't say right now. Plus she was moved by Obama's election and his call to service, or whatever it was. I shrugged it off, but apparently serious about the idea and kept mentioning it. A couple of weeks later, we were at the local chapter of the Humane Society and a light went off in my head. We could volunteer, help out some people and animals, which I generally like and doesn't involve the smelly variety of the former group. <i>This</i> I can do. Quite altruistic no? She was on board, so off we go.<br /><br />Surprisingly, the Humane Society has a pretty involved process for volunteering. You just don't show up and say, "Hey, I want to help!" You have to fill out an application, which is quite detailed, go through an interview and orientation process (and I'm skipping over how many scary, lonely, cat ladies where there for that) then have a mentor guide you through how things work hands on. All good right? Not with me my friends, not with me.<br /><br />My mentor and I meet up, sign in and she goes through the processes on how to decide what dog to take out, what you're supposed to do, blah blah blah. So we pick out two dogs that are kennel mates since they should get along fine. Off we go to get them out. She runs me through how I should try and maneuver a single dog out of the kennel and gives a little demonstration of how she does it (keep in mind this lady weighs about 95 pounds and is as thin as a rail). She slides in and out no problems (that's what he said!), easy peasy right? <b>Wrong</b><br /><br />When you have two dogs who are batshit about wanting to go outside, it isn't all that easy to just slide in. I think you can see where this is going. On my first try to get into the kennel to get one dog on the leash, one of them made a break for it. No big deal, the kennels are enclosed by wrought iron fence for this very reason. Which would be great, <i>if someone hadn't left a gate open</i>. So this wily little bastard of a dog got out into open space. Luckily he ran straight to another volunteer out walking a dog and we managed to corral him and I managed to get the other dog out without incident.<br /><br /><b>Score: Dogs 1, Me 0</b><br /><br />Next, the mentor walks me around the grounds with the dogs, showing me the different areas that we have access to and the route she usually walks when she has an animal out. From there, we head into one of the exercise yards to let the dogs play. Should be no problem since the dogs are kennel mates and are together all the time. Again, <b>wrong</b>. One of the dogs goes completely aggro on the other dog and attacks. It's getting pretty vicious and the attacking dog isn't responding to just verbal commands to stop. So like I would at the dog park, I intervene and pull the attacking dog off. After the dog mellows out, I let it go and everything is fine. But the mentor tells me that I went about it all wrong and that I shouldn't intervene in a situation like that so hands on, that I'm supposed to just use verbal commands and try to separate them using kicks or something. Uhhh well, OK. That seems contrary to everything I've ever read about breaking up a dog fight, not to mention stupid and a good way to injure the dog or get yourself attacked.<br /><br />In any case, we were able to let them finish playing and get them back to their kennel without further incident.<br /><br /><b>Score: Dogs 2, Me 0</b><br /><br />For our last dog, we went to one of the bigger dogs. Part of their training of dogs is to try teach them to be calm and behave as best as possible considering they spend most of their days inside a kennel. This makes sense since no one's going to want to adopt a dog that's constantly spun out while they are being viewed. Guess what kind of dog this one was?<br /><br />No matter how calm I was, this dog was just a complete maniac inside its kennel. Jumping around, jumping up on the door, barking, etc. The mentor said I should just enter and try and calm the dog down once inside. One of the things they teach is to turn your back to the dog when it jumps on you until it gets the idea that jumping is bad. Pretty soon I was spinning around inside the kennel like a top since the dog was jumping so much. In addition, she was doing great stuff like mouthing my legs, ankles and arms. <i>Nothing</i> I did to try to get this dog calmed down worked.<br /><br />After about 3 minutes of this, I ended up covered in piss and shit in addition to accomplishing exactly, well, nothing. Other than getting this dog wound up like a top of course. At this point, the mentor took pity on me and told me to just come out. {sigh}<br /><br /><b>Final score: Dogs 3, Me 0</b><br /><br />At this point we went back into the facility and she ran through a sort of review of things I needed to work on. So, basically, everything. She was very gracious and supportive, saying that this was a very atypical experience and that we'd just had some bad luck with what had happened. Surprisingly, she actually signed off on me working by myself. She obviously doesn't realize the human apocalypse that she's released.<br /><br />Next time I volunteer, I'll probably end up burning the place down inadvertently. Maybe I should just stick with the cats.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-79159739787353797852009-04-01T15:12:00.000-07:002009-04-01T15:17:16.674-07:00OK, So It's Been A While...So, I finally decided to come back! Not that there's anyone still here reading this, but I decided to start cranking out my mental diarrhea to the Intarwebs again. I was planning on coming back and start posting about my experiences in jury duty. But that was obviously almost four months ago so I'm not going to bother since:<br />A) I'm obviously too much of a drunk to really remember any of it by now and <br />B) I'm a big, lazy liar. <br /><br />Tomorrow I'm going to come back strong with my adventures in volunteering at the animal shelter. Yes, comedy is about to ensue. BE THERE FOLKS!onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-39740078385547058902008-12-18T13:36:00.000-08:002008-12-18T13:37:40.245-08:00So...Yeah.Well, I got stuck on jury duty so that's why there hasn't been any posts and I've sort of been catching up on stuff @ work. Hope to get fired back up next week beginning with some of the stories from jury duty.<br /><br />Like anyone cares.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-75201976865799430752008-12-05T09:00:00.000-08:002008-12-05T09:03:43.410-08:00The Return of...Random Thoughts Friday!Off we go:<br /><br /><ul><li>You know you've won the lottery at getting boned when you not only have to work Sunday to finish up a server upgrade, but might have to show up for jury duty the Monday after. At least the popular, "Live Blogging @ Jury Duty!" will make a return engagement if I get called in.</li><li>I've realized that I'm not only lazy, I'm extremely cheap. You see, the other day I had a long argument with myself about whether I was going to ride my bike to school or drive and park (it's 15 miles round trip and $1/hour to park). That's right, it was a cage match. Of laziness vs cheapness. For the record, laziness won that night.</li><li>An easy way to determine you've had too much to drink one night? When you have to watch a movie over again because you were so smashed the first time through that you only remember the first 15 minutes. Perhaps, I <i>might</i> drink too much. Nahhhh.<br /></li><li>On that note, Tropic Thunder = just OK.</li><li>Did any of you guys (like there's a ton of people reading this) see the newest X-Files flick? I was kind of disappointed that they just completely ignored the years of previous plots and story to do a stand alone movie. Give me some closure dammit!</li><li>M went back to her mom's for Thanksgiving. It was just me and the dog at the house. I've realized that I'm seriously out of touch with my bachelor mojo. I thought there'd be all this great stuff I could be doing solo. What actually ended up happening? Me sitting around with the dog in my lap, watching movies, reading or napping. Though that wasn't all that bad either.</li><li>One thing I don't miss about bachelorhood? Eating dinners of Tuna Helper and tater tots. And no, I can't cook for shit if it doesn't get grilled.</li><li>This month is going to be 9 years that M and I have been together. My previous record for a relationship? 3 years, and that was with my ex-wife. Man am I ever lucky enough to have found her. Though she might have a different opinion on that. I expect the "When are you two going to get married?" questions to hit a fevered pace around year 10.</li><li>Going back to animals for a minute. If you like them, especially dogs, and haven't read <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Marley-Me-Life-Worlds-Worst/dp/0061687200/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1228431799&sr=8-1">Marley and Me</a></i> yet, I highly recommend it. It's a great, humorous story. Though beware, it got awful dusty in my house at completion.</li></ul>Well I think that's all I've got for this round. Stay tuned for the exciting live blogging from jury duty if I get called in on Monday. Have a great weekend everyone.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-20784572228507548582008-12-04T13:37:00.000-08:002008-12-04T13:39:10.761-08:00Two.More.DaysThat's all I have left for class this semester. Good lord do I need the two month break. That is all.<br /><br />Oh, I hope everyone had a great T-day and managed not to get trampled doing their Black Friday shopping.<br /><br />More soon.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-32693575375569432632008-11-21T15:31:00.000-08:002008-11-21T15:48:56.551-08:00My Animal Naming GeniusA couple posts ago, I <a href="http://leanstowardsvodka.blogspot.com/2008/11/where-my-weekend-hates-me.html">described</a> a situation about one of the cats we'd adopted disappearing. Thankfully, Balls has returned. But I mentioned in the post who I'd sometime describe how he got his name. And since <a href="http://drunkontheporch.blogspot.com/">Country</a> got such a good laugh out of the name, I thought maybe you guys might enjoy the full story.<br /><br />You see, when these four cats started roaming around, 2 pairs looked very similar. One pair was the same color of grey, very alike in build. The other pair also resembled each other in size and had the same type of coloring, the white and dark patches that you might see on a Holstein cow.<br /><br />M had trouble telling them apart, and just took to calling them the "Grey cats" and the "Patch cats." The grey cats were both female (mother and daughter likely) and the patch cats were a male and female (brother and sister). You could tell the grey cats apart, even though they were alike in their build, one was significantly larger. So this helped me differentiate them. The patch cats it was more difficult, since they were so much alike. So I did what I thought would be perfectly normal, I just looked for the teabag.<br /><br />For the life of her, M couldn't figure out how I was so unerringly able to identify which was the boy and which wasn't. Though there were other traits that allowed me to tell the difference depending on how they were standing, this was the sure-fire clincher.<br /><br />One day, finally exasperated on how easily I was able to tell them apart, asks, "How in the hell are you doing that?! You <i>always</i> know which one is the boy cat!"<br /><br />Since the cat was presently in my lap, I decided to demonstrate my amazing feat of acuity. Grabbing and lifting his tail with one hand, and pointing to his furry nether regions with the other I said, "Why honey, it's simple. Just look for the balls."<br /><br />And thus, a cat's name is born. Even though he doesn't have em anymore.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-3498450861815176272008-11-19T15:14:00.000-08:002008-11-19T15:47:41.947-08:00These Are The People In Your Neighborhood...As I've mentioned plenty of times, I take the mutt out to dog parks quite often to run him ragged so he basically collapses when we get home. The city just reopened the dog park that's nearest to us, so I decided to check it out the other day. It was an interesting experience.<br /><br />When we first get there, I'm letting Dak just cruise around and check out the park and the other dogs. Suddenly, from across the park, this...well, fat person comes wobbling over. I say person, because even at this point I can't figure out if they were male or female they were so androgynous. On top of this, the person seemed to be vaguely (or maybe not so vaguely) retarded. The overly loud and slurred voice, the unbridled happiness, etc. Yes, all your stereotypical <s>window-licker</s> mentally retarded behavior in one package. That's not what was so notable. It was the fact this person had the <i>worst.teeth.ever</i>. The kind of bad dental work (and the accompanying breath to go with it) that literally makes you cringe. I couldn't help myself. It was kind of uplifting to see someone so excited and happy by just being around some dogs though.<br /><br />After a while, I'm sitting down on one of the benches, and a lady follows over her dogs that Dak has been playing with. She grabs a seat and the usual dog park chat starts. "Hey pretty dog(s)." "How old is he?" Etc. We're talking about Dak, and how he looks like a lab, but is small for his age. Now keep in mind, I'm not a leading expert when it comes to dog breeds, but this was one of the stupider questions I've ever heard re: dogs. "Is he a Mini-Lab or something?"<br /><br />Cut to me almost blowing the water I'd been drinking out of my nose. "Ummm...no. He's a mutt, probably mixed with a Spaniel or something." I guess my tone in the response was rather sarcastic since she walked away .185 seconds later with a quick, "OK, bye."<br /><br />So while I've met and judged people as "Those retards at the dog park," I'm probably "That asshole at the dog park." Strangely, I'm OK with that.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-79211077279715796352008-11-14T11:43:00.000-08:002008-11-14T11:59:29.636-08:00Where I Pull A TKLast night I'm sitting with M, trying to scarf down a quick dinner before I have to head out for class. You know how you kind of slide your feet to the side of you chair when you it back, pushing along the floor? Well, I slide my chair back as I go to get up from the table and the front legs left up a little bit. One of which proceeds to <b>slam</b> down, with me putting a good deal of my weight back into the chair seat, right dead center in the middle of my fucking big toe. It went something like this:<br /><br />"Alright honey, I better get g<i><b>AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!</b></i>"<br /><br />"Oh my god!", M says as I beginning frantically hopping around the dining room, on the verge of tears. "What <i>happened</i>?!?"<br /><br />In between gasps of pain, I explain how I'd managed to put myself into this current state. In response, she starts laughing so hard that she starts crying. Such support I tell you, it's heart-warming.<br /><br />"I can't...I mean...how could you manage to pull something like that off?! I can't believe what a <i>klutz</i> you are!"<br /><br />So off to school I go. I can tell you, there's nothing quite like the feeling of biking along and feeling your sock soak up blood and being to bleed into your shoe.<br /><br />It gets even better. After I got home, we had to clean up after the TerrorMutt tore into one of his beds. And three guesses as to who's g/f blasted his previously injured big toe with the vacuum cleaner?<br /><br />On the plus side, it looks gruesome as hell under the there from all the blood and I'll probably lose the nail.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-67639830453249991712008-11-12T14:39:00.000-08:002008-11-12T15:14:58.186-08:00Where My Weekend Hates MeMeant to get this up on Monday but, a post is a post right? So here's the way my weekend decided to crush my hopes and happiness:<br /><br />1. About a year ago, we ended up adopting, through osmosis, 4 feral cats that we're running around our place and that M had decided to feed. We got them all fixed and they even started warming up to us, letting us pet them, hold them (a couple of them anyway). M is much more of a cat person and of course got very attached to them. Since they are reformed feral cats, they often disappear a day or two at a time. No biggie. <br /><br />The one that has warmed up to us the most disappeared last Wednesday. By the weekend M was inconsolable about the whole situation. She kept looking to our backyard, distraught when Balls (his naming is a good story for another time) didn't show up at feeding time. She kept on asking me questions like:<br /><br />"Where did he go?"<br />"What could have happened to him?" **<br />"Is he going to come home?"<br /><br />You get the idea. Constant questions that had no possible answers. I mean the dude's a gdamn alley cat. Who the hell knows? The best part was when she'd ask one of these questions, then go into a crying jag. It was great.<br /><br />Thank goodness, he mysteriously appeared again last night and she was so happy she cried...again. I'm happy he's back, but even happier that I don't have to put up with the nonsense anymore.<br /><br />2. I take our puppy, Dak, to a local dog park a couple times a week so he can go out and run around nuts and play with other dogs. A couple of M's coworkers had told her about this <i>great</i> dog park on the other side of town. Since I was heading over to a friend's place to drop something off that's near there, she suggested I take him along and go over there. OK, fine.<br /><br />The problem when I get there is that the place is basically a huge area of nothing but dirt. Interspersed with puddles and mud. "Great park," I'm thinking to myself. My mistake was not just packing him up and leaving immediately. I let him go out to play and run around, he's having a great time. So far, so good. The problem occurs after he runs around for about 40 minutes and decides he's hot. Want to guess where he went? That's right, straight into one of the aforementioned mud puddles which he proceeds to roll around in, covering himself in water and mud. He looked something like this:<br /><br /><img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1424/1114022877_dceebef994.jpg?v=0" align="center" height="250" width="167" /><br /><br />Only with more mud and water. Of course I didn't have any kind of towel or anything to clean him up. So I had to use the shirt off my back to try and clean him off before I let him back in M's car, with the nice leather seats. So awesome. I looked like Pigpen after wrestling around with him to try and clean him off. Thankfully he sat on the floorboard, pooped out, on the way home.<br /><br />3. When I get home, I call into M to try and get her to come out and help me give Dak a bath. As soon as I say, "Hey M, I need som..."<br /><br />"Aggghhhhh! Hurry up and get in here! The washer is leaking <i>everywhere!</i>"<br /><br />I have to scramble to get the dog out to his kennel, trying not let his muddy ass bound around the house and dirty everything up. Since I had just replaced the drain hose on the washer two weeks ago, I was worried that I'd done something, like not tighten down a clamp enough tight enough, to cause this new problem.<br /><br />Well it turns it out it wasn't that, it now seems as though the tub will no longer turn as well as leaking water from the bottom of the tub causing a nice little lake in our laundry room. Guh.<br /><br />Since the washer is 10 years old, we've pretty much decided that we aren't going to drop anymore money into this thing. So she decides that she wants the new front load machines. Which of course means we have to buy a whole new set. Cause they have to <i>match</i>. <br /><br />Which leads to the inevitable argument of, why the <b>hell</b> do we need to do that? No one comes into your place and goes, "Oh my god! They don't have a matching washer and dryer!" An argument, mind you, I'm destined to lose. Hello $1500 expenditure. <br /><br />Women.<br /><br /><i>** - I thought he was probably dead. It might have had something to do with the fact she sprayed enough ant killer around where they hang out to poison the water table in the greater So Cal area.</i>onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-84931250857099253822008-11-07T14:04:00.000-08:002008-11-07T14:08:11.674-08:00Fun With BumsM & I got these coupons in the mail for free frozen yogurt at a new place opening up near our place. We figured what the hell, leashed up the mutt and walked over there to cash in.<br /><br />Since I had the dog, we decided she should go in first and claim her prize. I'm waiting outside the store (which is located in a strip mall with a big grocery store and a pharmacy) and engaging the occasional person that walks by wanting to comment on how cute our puppy is, etc. And then a bum strolls up.<br /><br />Now, as bums go, he wasn't particularly disheveled or oozing the stink of someone who hasn't showered in a long time. He looked like he kept himself reasonably cleaned and attired. Probably in his late 40's, sleeved arms and some neck tats, sort of like a construction guy gone to seed. I figure the guy is harmless and know with certainty I'm going to get hit up for money. Even Dak is wagging his tail as the guy approaches.<br /><br />"Hey man, you got some change to spare? I need to (fill in the reason)."<br /><br />"Sorry dude," I reply, "I really don't. My girl and I just walked up here to score some free frozen yogurt."<br /><br />The guy gives me a semi-hostile look, "You know man, it's really tough right now for me. It's been hard you know?"<br /><br />OK, this is taking a bit of a turn. "Hey, I'm sure it has. I don't know what to tell you though, I don't have any cash."<br /><br />The guy turns and starts to shuffle off, mumbling under his breath. As he gets about 6 feet away, he suddenly stops, turns around and says, "You know, it's not easy being a fucking ex-con!"<br /><br />Uh oh, this is definitely taking a turn and suddently I hear Dak start to growl at this guy. Which he's <i>never</i> done to anyone unless it's part of playing. This is not good.<br /><br />"Listen man, I'm sure it's not. But I don't know what to tell you," a shrug of my shoulders, "I don't have any money." <br /><br />"You know, when I was in prison man...people would just <i>do</i> what I told them to do. I was someone that was respected!"<br /><br />At this point I'm beginning to get pissed off since, from my point of view, he's threatening me. I make sure I'm square to him so there's no surprises. I'm also beginning to wonder how well a punch can be thrown when you're holding on to a dog? Especially one that's starting to get a little wound up. OK, so go with the kick to the kneecap.<br /><br />"Well sure. And I'm sure you're mighty nostalgic about the forcible sodomy in the shower too. But I told you, I don't have any cash. Now.<b>Fuck</b>.Off!<br /><br />I'm not sure what he was expecting, but it surely wasn't that. He just stood there for a couple of seconds, eyes wide. Maybe he was just doing the math on whether or not he could get away with trying to beat the shit out of me. Who knows? In any case, he just turned and walked away without another word.<br /><br />Perhaps I need to take some classes in conflict resolution. <br /><br />At least the frozen yogurt was shitty.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-87972065541172594072008-11-05T10:38:00.000-08:002008-11-05T10:40:08.392-08:00I'm Begging You...Knock It OffI'm training this lady at my office to take over some of the duties that I have regularly handled since our original accountant-type lady was laid off about 4 years ago.<br /><br />Now, she seems nice enough and is pleasant all the time. So what's the problem? She's one of those people that's overly chipper and bright <i>all the gdamn time.</i> It never stops. I don't know about you guys, but I inherently distrust/dislike such people. It's like the perky lead cheerleader in high school who you find out is really batshit nuts. Or the coworker who ends up bringing an AK to work one day looking for payback.<br /><br />Even worse, she's the type of person who can't let there be a moment of silence. <i>Ever!</i> She looks to fill every pause with some detail of her life...like how she slept last night, what she ate for dinner, how her day is going so far, ad nauseum. <br /><br />Listen, I appreciate that she's trying to be friendly and fit in with new coworkers and all that. But JC, stop trying so hard. It's counterproductive. Besides, if I actually wanted to engage her in such banter, I couldn't get a word in edgewise if I wanted.<br /><br />At this point, I'm not sure if I'm going to jump in front of a bus, or punch her in the trachea.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-12013977369129762192008-11-03T15:36:00.001-08:002008-11-03T15:38:40.429-08:00I Hope That Monitor ExplodesI'm part of the IT staff where I work (all two of us). I help people move around when they have to move desks, since it involves scary things like unplugging monitor, keyboard, mouse and network cables and then move the person's PC. I have to do this because we're not a big corporation and don't have the resources to get something setup so that people can just sit at whatever PC in the office and have their desktop, document folders, etc automatically appear.<br /><br />Since most of the workers here don't need that kind of access, it's not a big deal. The biggest complaint though is the main application we use is customized for each individual user. And by customized, I mean they've each setup their own hideous color scheme for the terminal screen emulation we use. Fine, whatever. I'd hate for someone to have to spend 5 minutes of their time setting up whatever eye-bleeding scheme they like. <br /><br />Here's the part that makes me want to throat punch people though. They <i>have</i> to have "their" keyboard, mouse and monitor. Even though every fucking monitor, keyboard and mouse is the <b>same</b>! I'm helping someone move their shit on Friday, and they ask me, "Can we take my monitor, keyboard and mouse too?"<br /><br />"No."<br /><br />"But...I mean...how come?"<br /><br />"Because it's the <i>exact</i> same equipment." In my view, the conversation was over.<br /><br />I have to run back into our office to do some other stuff, and when I come back, other guys in the office are moving the...want to guess? That's right, the same stuff I told her no way about moving. "What the hell are you guys moving this stuff for?"<br /><br />"She wouldn't stop complaining, so we just gave in."<br /><br />Well that's a brilliant strategy. I just move on cause I've got other people to move. So of course, the next guy, seeing that they caved, asks me move all his stuff from his old desk.<br /><br />"<i>No</i>, there's no need for me to move that stuff. It's all the <b>same</b>." At this point, I'm starting to see a little bit of a red fog around the edge of my vision.<br /><br />"They moved hers! I want mine too!"<br /><br />I'm truly getting pissed at this point. "First off this equipment isn't <i>yours</i>, it's the company's. Second, there is no gdamn difference between the equipment sitting there on your old desk and this equipment. IT'S EXACTLY THE SAME!. If you can give me one logical reason besides 'I want mine' like a 5 year old, I'll do it. Or are you just too lazy to peel off all the bullshit you've stuck all over company equipment?" Which produced a face like I'd just shit all over his chair. I left to help the next person after I stood there for a minute waiting for some kind of a response and receiving nothing but a blank stare.<br /><br />Of course, when I rolled around by his desk 5 minutes later, he was wearing a smug grin on his face as someone else was moving the 35 pound monitors around to abate his childlike complaints. I came about --><-- that close to just punching him in the balls.<br /><br />And predictably, the other 3 people moving desks had to have "their" equipment too. Asshats.<br /><br />FUCK, sometimes I <i>really</i> hate people.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-19896918839582323552008-10-24T10:42:00.000-07:002008-10-24T10:43:54.997-07:00BustedI chewed tobacco for...oh I don't know, like 16 years before I quit about 6 or 7 years ago. As you can imagine, after being addicted to nicotine for that long, it took a little while to finally get off the schnide. I was pretty damn proud of doing so, and so was M.<br /><br />Stupidly, I feel off the wagon a little while ago. I was feeling stressed out because of work and school...blah blah blah. The usual excuses that people use when the go back to doing something bad for them that they shouldn't. What happened was I ran into a guy in one of my classes that was dipping and just decided what the hell, I can just take a dip...no big deal. <i>Wrong!</i> Next thing you know I'm buying my own cans and dipping @ school and home @ night when I'm reading before bed. That is until M busted me this week.<br /><br />Now it's not as if I didn't already feel bad enough about caving in to a bad habit again, but the disappointment that was on her face when she caught me was just crushing. There's nothing quite like coming to the realization that you've hurt and disappointed someone that you love very much. It's just <i>horrible</i>.<br /><br />Of course, that didn't stop me from making a stupid comment while we were talking about it. She says, "I can't understand why you just didn't tell me about this or why you lied!"<br /><br />"Well <b>duh</b> I didn't tell you, I knew you'd be pissed! And technically, I didn't lie...cause you never knew about it and there were no questions asked."<br /><br />Your honor, I rest my case. I really know how to help myself out eh? The lesson, as always, is that I'm an idiot.<br /><br />But, I'm on day 2 of being dip-free. Again.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-62714059992959933652008-10-21T14:30:00.001-07:002008-10-21T14:35:41.908-07:00Dogs Are ComedySo we have our little TerrorPup who's about 7 months old now. Along with walking him at least twice a day and playing with toss with him, etc I try to take him to the dog park or over to a neighbor's house so he can play with other dogs. Since he's such a happy little bastard with other dogs and people, he <i>loves</i> this. Plus it gets him away from the beatings I constantly shower upon him.<br /><br />The one neighbor that I take him over to the most has a Golden Retriever that's about 100 pounds, at least. So it's always kind of funny to see our 35 pound pup tearing around with this huge beast after him. That's not the funniest part though.<br /><br />You see, after they've spent 20 minutes chasing each other around, they both kind of flop down just wrestling and jawing at each other. Well the other day I'm sitting there talking with my neighbor while they're going through their usual routine. I look over and Johan (neighbor's dog) is on his back while Dak is on top of him just <b>furiously</b> pumping away at his head. It was quite possibly one of the funniest things I've ever seen.<br /><br />And I always thought that "getting skull-fucked" was just a saying.<br /><br /><i>* Ed note - I realize this would be much funnier with a picture, which I will endeavor to capture. </i>onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-41380211543879235072008-10-08T10:49:00.000-07:002008-10-08T11:20:04.667-07:00Dude...Shut UPHere's a story of the school douche in its natural habitat. <br /><br />In the class that started last week (math...ugh) our prof did the usual shtick about doing a little intro about himself, where he went to school, his personal details, etc. He mentioned how he had two little twin girls. Cue the "ohhh" "awwwww" from the ladies in the class.<br /><br />Cut to this week and him cutting us loose on break. I'm sitting there finishing up working out a problem and he fires up a Power Point that has pictures of his twins. Again, there’s the expected response from the ladies in the room. But the dick behind me busts out with this, “So how is this related to math?<br /><br />OK, first off, we’re not <b>in</b> class right now, we’re on break. Now, I’m not a big “let’s make cute sounds about the kids” sort of guy. But it isn’t like he’s doing this on “our” time so to speak. So stop being such a sanctimonious prick.<br /><br />It’s getting to be about 9:10pm. The class runs from 6:40 to 9:40. He finishes up lecturing about a problem that he was running through for us, looks up and says, “Well, that’s about all I’ve got for you guys this week.” Of course there’s furious activity as people start packing up their stuff and get ready to bail the hell out. And this <i>same</i> douche who made the “where’s the math” comment earlier says, loud enough so that the whole class can hear it says, “But it’s only 9:15, there’s <b>25 minutes</b> left.” There was sudden silence as about 45 people seated throughout the room snap to look in the direction of where this ill-advised comment originated. He innocently looks around with a bewildered look on his face and exclaims, “What?!”<br /><br />Listen, you know what you dipshit. It’s almost 9:30, there’s a good chance a <b>lot</b> of people in a <i>night</i> class have already been in class or working all day. People want to go the hell home already. This causes the instructor to proffer the begrudging, “If anyone wants to stay the length of the class, I’ll hang back to answer questions or talk.”<br /><br />I mean what kind of person does that?! A fucking <i>asshole</i>, that’s who.onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5624062094932519390.post-55627446165974744172008-10-07T14:17:00.000-07:002008-10-07T14:43:04.682-07:00Annnnd...We're BackSo it's been just over three months since I said that I would be posting more, which of course...I haven't. And I really haven't been reading blogs either. It seems that with all the shit that I was doing up until mid July, I just ended up kind of letting it go. Well no more, I <i>will</i> make you all suffer again! With posts <b>and</b> comments on my regularly read blogs. Plus I realized that writing this was sort of fun when I was doing it regular like. I suppose I could have used the draft thingy, but that would have taken some forethought on my part. Anyway, I'm going to start throwing up posts again. You're all so lucky!<br /><br />To start it off, let's visit me as I work the other day to A) get a dressing down in front of someone of authority and/or B) get a sexual harassment lawsuit initiated against me:<br /><br />Scene: Accounting office. Clerical staff member, another co-worker and myself.<br /><br />Co-Worker: Why do you sound so funny when you talk today?<br /><br />Clerical staff member: I had to go to the dentist this morning. I'm still all numbed up and I have a hard time swallowing so it's like my mouth is always full of spit.<br /><br />Me: That's <i>noooot</i> <b>spit</b>!<br /><br />CSM: *gasp* Onthevirg!<br /><br />And...scene. That's right, bringing the inappropriate to work since 2000!<br /><br />I'll see you guys soon. I'll probably recounting some stories from the last couple of months for your consideration. Or not, since everyone probably thinks I'm dead and doesn't even bother to read this anymore. *shrug* Whatever.<br /><br />I'm also throwing in some puppy cuteness combined w/ some of his shenanigans:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMuEEKeBAkmsZDUB5QKLVzqAQ0md6qei-_irAO_38ktJbRvZUJhy4ZtEfSNqfVJVJNiX63WH0m1BblzPWMyCKI3b3bi0Cmdr59_9ffxODRo_KWvFS6NUpZMxiGHenmQSDuUxBOCGaNkdC/s1600-h/Dak+5+months.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMuEEKeBAkmsZDUB5QKLVzqAQ0md6qei-_irAO_38ktJbRvZUJhy4ZtEfSNqfVJVJNiX63WH0m1BblzPWMyCKI3b3bi0Cmdr59_9ffxODRo_KWvFS6NUpZMxiGHenmQSDuUxBOCGaNkdC/s320/Dak+5+months.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254530084085741346" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigyBn8VCqyTplXHHV1LIMS3zv8hPFfx0ZyPRU0yHEGaGLq0cELxpwWjXfMJsvHqjzKTFY0vsVBKxbcifaGY1BqmPH4Grk5_GXcP1O7LFQOF9BSfa4UR7JwkguANRnfiCV6CvTEmaDXFCOF/s1600-h/baddog.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigyBn8VCqyTplXHHV1LIMS3zv8hPFfx0ZyPRU0yHEGaGLq0cELxpwWjXfMJsvHqjzKTFY0vsVBKxbcifaGY1BqmPH4Grk5_GXcP1O7LFQOF9BSfa4UR7JwkguANRnfiCV6CvTEmaDXFCOF/s320/baddog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254530343255461314" border="0" /></a>onthevirghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393086385087962938noreply@blogger.com2