... to think that any man ever really gets out of the doghouse...
link.
And no, I don't want to talk about it... I'm in enough trouble as it is.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
WTH?
From yesterday's post,
Yesterday's high temperature here in Central Texas was 81 degrees, as some reported.
It snowed last night and this morning.
I'm still waiting for the word that Texas has been closed for the day...
Go ahead, marvel at my power.
...due to our geographical location, the concept of snowy fields was negotiable...
Yesterday's high temperature here in Central Texas was 81 degrees, as some reported.
It snowed last night and this morning.
I'm still waiting for the word that Texas has been closed for the day...
Go ahead, marvel at my power.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
An Age Old Question & Finding Perfection
Well, maybe not age old, but fairly well debated, nowadays.
Real vs Fake: what do you prefer?
Just about everyone has their preferences, of course, and most will let you know about 'em.
'Real ones tend to sag, droop, and look a bit lifeless after time, whereas falsies stay perky forever.'
'I want mine as nature intended / Fake ones just feel weird.'
'My man paid for it.'
'Real, fake, whatever.'
'It's not what's above, it's what's below that counts!'
Was that last one a bit much?
Interestingly enough, most women that I know have very strong opinions about sticking au natural- see, Christmas just wouldn't be the same, otherwise.
What?
I'm talking about Christmas trees, you pervs!
So anyways, My Love and I a few years back had The Big Christmas Tree Debate. I didn't really have strong opinions either way, but my folks always had a fake tree, and we did all right. Fake trees might cost a bit more, tree for tree, but I was kind of keen on the reusability factor. No muss, no fuss, just toss that bad boy down from the attic, set it up, and voila! - time to decorate everything else risking life and limb on the rooftops..., and risking life and 'limb' when you find out that her treasured childhood stuffed animal collection is NOT to be staged in an erotic fashion.
Anywhere.
And especially not on top of the Christmas Tree, mantle, dining table, or guest beds when family is expected. (In my defense, I didn't know they'd be there that early, honest!)
Back to the story and quite naturally, my opinions were duly pondered (for about this ][ long) , and rejected. See, My Lovely had always had a Real Live (sort of) tree for Christmas, growing up (her, not the newly hewn sacrifice to the Christmas Spirit). She had visions of us searching pristine and well ordered fields for The Perfect Tree. As I came to understand it, due to our geographical location, the concept of snowy fields was negotiable. Excess Christmas Crack pulsing through her veins was not. Bah.
Interestingly enough, after much excruciating searching of the area, we found that in our area of the great state of Texas, these idyllic fields of Christmas Trees are all located at the local Home Depot, outdoor area.
I was only slightly enthused by the fact that there appeared to be an overeager young kid to assist us with our purchase. I'll give the guy credit, he was crawling all over the place, searching amongst the stacked and bound offerings to find 'that perfect one'. Finally, she was satisfied and I was only slightly homi/sui-cidal from the temps (low), time (long), and nearby shoppers (annoying).
He offered to help strap the tree down for us.
It was at this time that I remembered a few smaller items that I was meaning to get (read: stuff she told me to fix around the house but I just remembered about). So I tossed her the keys, reminded/mumbled to her about her previous marching orders, and off I went. I returned to the car just as the kid was slapping his hands of the roughly 20 lbs of needles produced/min that our tree gave off and tightening the last knots of the cords that held the tree strapped to the car's roof.
She was all smiles. I, for about the first time that evening, was also sporting a grin. Immediately noticing the change in my countenance, she was probably suspecting a psychotic break and asked me what was wrong. "Oh, nothing, my love. Let's just get in the car and go home, m'kay?"
I let her tug on the door handle a couple of times before I pointed out that the cords, while excellently tied, very effectively secured all four doors shut. I suggested that we enter the car Dukes style, but that idea got shot down as well.
Not that big of a deal, we got the tree tied down correctly (I was just happy to find that I wouldn't have to drive w/one hand out the window, holding that sucker down while cruising down the highway). Off we went.
Back at the house, I expeditiously removed the tree from the car's roof (cut the cord with my knife and heaved ho, ho, ho-ed), dumping another 50 lbs or so on the yard, quite conveniently covering up at least two of the dead-grass brown spots. I managed to drag that sucker up the short walkway, up the steps, and into the house, losing ever more needles (I figured I'd turn the naked half of the tree to the corner of the room). It only took about two tries before we realized that our tree was too tall for our living room, by the roughly 6 in skid-looking marks on the ceiling that faintly exist to this day. Awesome.
Finally, the tree was trimmed, somewhat still nettled, propped up and decorated. Yay, 'cause after you get the tree up, yer done preppin' for Christmas, right?
Riiiiight.
I did have fun positioning those stuffed animals, though... I always do.
Real vs Fake: what do you prefer?
Just about everyone has their preferences, of course, and most will let you know about 'em.
'Real ones tend to sag, droop, and look a bit lifeless after time, whereas falsies stay perky forever.'
'I want mine as nature intended / Fake ones just feel weird.'
'My man paid for it.'
'Real, fake, whatever.'
'It's not what's above, it's what's below that counts!'
Was that last one a bit much?
Interestingly enough, most women that I know have very strong opinions about sticking au natural- see, Christmas just wouldn't be the same, otherwise.
What?
I'm talking about Christmas trees, you pervs!
So anyways, My Love and I a few years back had The Big Christmas Tree Debate. I didn't really have strong opinions either way, but my folks always had a fake tree, and we did all right. Fake trees might cost a bit more, tree for tree, but I was kind of keen on the reusability factor. No muss, no fuss, just toss that bad boy down from the attic, set it up, and voila! - time to decorate everything else risking life and limb on the rooftops..., and risking life and 'limb' when you find out that her treasured childhood stuffed animal collection is NOT to be staged in an erotic fashion.
Anywhere.
And especially not on top of the Christmas Tree, mantle, dining table, or guest beds when family is expected. (In my defense, I didn't know they'd be there that early, honest!)
Back to the story and quite naturally, my opinions were duly pondered (for about this ][ long) , and rejected. See, My Lovely had always had a Real Live (sort of) tree for Christmas, growing up (her, not the newly hewn sacrifice to the Christmas Spirit). She had visions of us searching pristine and well ordered fields for The Perfect Tree. As I came to understand it, due to our geographical location, the concept of snowy fields was negotiable. Excess Christmas Crack pulsing through her veins was not. Bah.
Interestingly enough, after much excruciating searching of the area, we found that in our area of the great state of Texas, these idyllic fields of Christmas Trees are all located at the local Home Depot, outdoor area.
I was only slightly enthused by the fact that there appeared to be an overeager young kid to assist us with our purchase. I'll give the guy credit, he was crawling all over the place, searching amongst the stacked and bound offerings to find 'that perfect one'. Finally, she was satisfied and I was only slightly homi/sui-cidal from the temps (low), time (long), and nearby shoppers (annoying).
He offered to help strap the tree down for us.
It was at this time that I remembered a few smaller items that I was meaning to get (read: stuff she told me to fix around the house but I just remembered about). So I tossed her the keys, reminded/mumbled to her about her previous marching orders, and off I went. I returned to the car just as the kid was slapping his hands of the roughly 20 lbs of needles produced/min that our tree gave off and tightening the last knots of the cords that held the tree strapped to the car's roof.
She was all smiles. I, for about the first time that evening, was also sporting a grin. Immediately noticing the change in my countenance, she was probably suspecting a psychotic break and asked me what was wrong. "Oh, nothing, my love. Let's just get in the car and go home, m'kay?"
I let her tug on the door handle a couple of times before I pointed out that the cords, while excellently tied, very effectively secured all four doors shut. I suggested that we enter the car Dukes style, but that idea got shot down as well.
Not that big of a deal, we got the tree tied down correctly (I was just happy to find that I wouldn't have to drive w/one hand out the window, holding that sucker down while cruising down the highway). Off we went.
Back at the house, I expeditiously removed the tree from the car's roof (cut the cord with my knife and heaved ho, ho, ho-ed), dumping another 50 lbs or so on the yard, quite conveniently covering up at least two of the dead-grass brown spots. I managed to drag that sucker up the short walkway, up the steps, and into the house, losing ever more needles (I figured I'd turn the naked half of the tree to the corner of the room). It only took about two tries before we realized that our tree was too tall for our living room, by the roughly 6 in skid-looking marks on the ceiling that faintly exist to this day. Awesome.
Finally, the tree was trimmed, somewhat still nettled, propped up and decorated. Yay, 'cause after you get the tree up, yer done preppin' for Christmas, right?
Riiiiight.
I did have fun positioning those stuffed animals, though... I always do.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
I Can Be Such A Li'l Stinker
Seems like it's always those sporty-type cars that're riding my bumper like I'm a big booty gal shakin' what my momma gave me (Hay-ay!)... Well, a few days back I was driving down the road, minding my own business, when I had one of those right on my ass....
I was minding my own business, be-boppin' to the surely-to-be classic, 'I Kissed A Girl' (Man, that song never gets old, just as good the millionth time as the first!). I looked in the rear view mirror to see this car come speeding up right behind me. Something red, pretty asspensive, and very shiny. The driver, Miss Sweet Thang, was applying her make-up while talking on the phone.
Don't ask me what she was steering with, I'd be afraid to realize it was her penis...
What? She... (?) was a good lookin' chica!
So anyways, she's on my butt *snicker*, in the right lane, at the speed limit. I figure she's in a hurry to make the next exit ramp.
Nope. Not that one, at least.
She stays on my ass, close enough that I can't see her headlights, for two more exits.
I glance around at the sparsley occupied lanes to my left. I look around at my 10 yr+ old car, back at her shiny and new, clean car.
Hmm, her clean...
My windshield sure is dirty, must've been all that driving on those dirt roads...
*squirt, squirt*
I LOLed.
I was minding my own business, be-boppin' to the surely-to-be classic, 'I Kissed A Girl' (Man, that song never gets old, just as good the millionth time as the first!). I looked in the rear view mirror to see this car come speeding up right behind me. Something red, pretty asspensive, and very shiny. The driver, Miss Sweet Thang, was applying her make-up while talking on the phone.
Don't ask me what she was steering with, I'd be afraid to realize it was her penis...
What? She... (?) was a good lookin' chica!
So anyways, she's on my butt *snicker*, in the right lane, at the speed limit. I figure she's in a hurry to make the next exit ramp.
Nope. Not that one, at least.
She stays on my ass, close enough that I can't see her headlights, for two more exits.
I glance around at the sparsley occupied lanes to my left. I look around at my 10 yr+ old car, back at her shiny and new, clean car.
Hmm, her clean...
My windshield sure is dirty, must've been all that driving on those dirt roads...
*squirt, squirt*
I LOLed.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
Somedays, It's Just Better To Stay In Bed
Oy.
Why did I run those stairs again...?
Went to the range this morning, and I'm on the verge of declaring it a 'learning experience'.
Started out as I usually do, dry-fire from the holster, low & high ready, everything feeling good. COLD, but gun-wise good.
Got my ears on, called range hot, and started firing a few practice relays. The dummy rounds I put into my mags kept me honest, for the most part.
I quickly found out that my jacket is too 'poofy'.
Why yes, that is a technical phrase.
I found that as I would draw from the holster (right-handed), I've a tendency to flare my right thumb in anticipation to lay it on top of my left thumb. In warm weather this is no problem, but with the above mentioned poofy jacket, there were a couple of times when my left hand would rise up to support... not a damn thing, as my right hand's thumb was caught up in the right pocket of my jacket. Whoops.
Empty the mags, ready to shoot for score. Doin' the ICE qualification, feeling like ice, this morning...
First round, at 3 ft from target, bent-elbow shooting, from the holster.
Slow is smooth, smooth is fast...
"Shooters ready?... The Shooters are ready.."
There's the target... draw... *Boom!* scan... tuck & re-holster... target turns again... draw & crap,snaggedonthefriggin'pocket-therewego,extendand... *click* whatthe-taprack*Boom!*... *click* sonofamother-taprack *Boom*!
... and it went pretty much downhill from there. I took a moment to clear and break down the weapon, nothing major out of place, slide-release worked fine, nothing blatantly out of whack. I suspected I was limp-wristing it, but was leaning more towards blaming the gun, the weather, the sun in my eyes... or heck, global warming.
I am, after all, a self-declared master combat super tactical expert pistol sniper...
For the record, I must've shot two bullets perfectly into one hole at the 15 yd line- uh, again. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
At least I can say that I got some great immediate-action drill practice in this morning. Darn near from every shooting line, to boot.
Transitioning from standing to kneeling was fun, lemme tell 'ya. Nothing like slamming yer knee onto a frozen rock while trying to not whimper from running those stairs the other day like I was friggin' Rocky, or something.
25 yards, shooting from cover... two standing shots, two kneeling (greeeaat), reload and prep for shooting on the other side of the cover, again two standing, two kneeling...
"Shooters ready? The Shooters are ready, standby...
The targets turned, my draw was good, extension was ok, first four shots were fine. Kneeling down again *groan*, I took my first shot from the kneeling on the left side of the barricade. I was so dialed in on the front sight post that barely registered the gun-light flying off the frame.
Figures... heck, I should be happy it's only happened once!
End result? Pretty good (considering), but not great. Heck, a bad day at the range is still a good day, right?
Naturally, runing through the course of fire again and for the heck of it resulted in no problems. None, zip, zero, nada.
Why did I run those stairs again...?
Went to the range this morning, and I'm on the verge of declaring it a 'learning experience'.
Started out as I usually do, dry-fire from the holster, low & high ready, everything feeling good. COLD, but gun-wise good.
Got my ears on, called range hot, and started firing a few practice relays. The dummy rounds I put into my mags kept me honest, for the most part.
I quickly found out that my jacket is too 'poofy'.
Why yes, that is a technical phrase.
I found that as I would draw from the holster (right-handed), I've a tendency to flare my right thumb in anticipation to lay it on top of my left thumb. In warm weather this is no problem, but with the above mentioned poofy jacket, there were a couple of times when my left hand would rise up to support... not a damn thing, as my right hand's thumb was caught up in the right pocket of my jacket. Whoops.
Empty the mags, ready to shoot for score. Doin' the ICE qualification, feeling like ice, this morning...
First round, at 3 ft from target, bent-elbow shooting, from the holster.
Slow is smooth, smooth is fast...
"Shooters ready?... The Shooters are ready.."
There's the target... draw... *Boom!* scan... tuck & re-holster... target turns again... draw & crap,snaggedonthefriggin'pocket-therewego,extendand... *click* whatthe-taprack*Boom!*... *click* sonofamother-taprack *Boom*!
... and it went pretty much downhill from there. I took a moment to clear and break down the weapon, nothing major out of place, slide-release worked fine, nothing blatantly out of whack. I suspected I was limp-wristing it, but was leaning more towards blaming the gun, the weather, the sun in my eyes... or heck, global warming.
I am, after all, a self-declared master combat super tactical expert pistol sniper...
For the record, I must've shot two bullets perfectly into one hole at the 15 yd line- uh, again. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
At least I can say that I got some great immediate-action drill practice in this morning. Darn near from every shooting line, to boot.
Transitioning from standing to kneeling was fun, lemme tell 'ya. Nothing like slamming yer knee onto a frozen rock while trying to not whimper from running those stairs the other day like I was friggin' Rocky, or something.
25 yards, shooting from cover... two standing shots, two kneeling (greeeaat), reload and prep for shooting on the other side of the cover, again two standing, two kneeling...
"Shooters ready? The Shooters are ready, standby...
The targets turned, my draw was good, extension was ok, first four shots were fine. Kneeling down again *groan*, I took my first shot from the kneeling on the left side of the barricade. I was so dialed in on the front sight post that barely registered the gun-light flying off the frame.
Figures... heck, I should be happy it's only happened once!
End result? Pretty good (considering), but not great. Heck, a bad day at the range is still a good day, right?
Naturally, runing through the course of fire again and for the heck of it resulted in no problems. None, zip, zero, nada.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Murphy's Criminal Friendly Neighborhood Tips...
BWAhahaha!
*brrrring.... brrrring*
Hey, brain donor, it's the clue phone! It's for you!
1. Home invasion (in Texas) is a risky 'business'.
2. I don't really understand those that abandon their vehicles in an attempt to out-run the cops... in their squad vehicles... all with radios, and granted I've never been in a running away situation so mebbe I'm not the best to offer advice here, but a friggin' golf cart is probably not gonna be much better of a choice.
3. Kinda hard to cry 'Poor me!' when you have a stolen car in your garage...
Kudos to the boys in blue for commandeering their own cart to give chase. I'd love to see that tape!
*brrrring.... brrrring*
Hey, brain donor, it's the clue phone! It's for you!
1. Home invasion (in Texas) is a risky 'business'.
2. I don't really understand those that abandon their vehicles in an attempt to out-run the cops... in their squad vehicles... all with radios, and granted I've never been in a running away situation so mebbe I'm not the best to offer advice here, but a friggin' golf cart is probably not gonna be much better of a choice.
3. Kinda hard to cry 'Poor me!' when you have a stolen car in your garage...
Kudos to the boys in blue for commandeering their own cart to give chase. I'd love to see that tape!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Book Memery
Via Xtine.
1. English wasn't Dad's first language, but one he learned quite well, eventually. As the story goes, he had a good grasp of the basics but a heckofa strong accent when he first came to the states.
He was quite keen on the kiddos learning, early and well.
I think perhaps it was too much stressed too soon, but I distinctly remember dreading Sunday mornings because I knew that the weekly grilling over words in the comics section was coming. It caught on eventually, and instead of getting grief over not learning words quickly enough, I'd get grief for getting into the Sunday paper and pretty much destroying it in my search for the comics.
2. There were some lean times, financially, in my family. We always had food on the table and clothes on out butts, but there were times when the money just wasn't there. The library became a regular weekly fixture. Mom would load up the kiddos and take us over. There weren't any rules as far as what to pick out, and I would load up on all kinds of books.
3. This is where I mention that I've always read quite a bit, and pretty fast, but from what I've read of other bloggers, that really isn't random or weird, just par for the course. Besides, as fast as I did read, Little Brother read about twice as fast... booger.
4. I got some grief in some of my high school english classes for reading other books than what was assigned in class. The problem was that I'd have already read and sometimes re-read the assigned material, and spending quality reading time in class reading it over again wasn't something that I was terribly keen on doing.
5. My favorite classes in College were the Medieval lit classes. Good stuff, once you got the hang of middle english spelling. The stories were pretty gruesome, too, so that was kind of cool.
6. When I had some free time in Iraq, I was usually reading. I was pleasantly surprised with the number of 'lit' books we got in care packages, but I was honestly just as happy reading the usual page turners like King, Morrell, Koontz, etc.
7. I'm on my 4th copy of Steven Pressfield's Gates of Fire. Great book. Two times I've loaned it out only to get it back pretty worn out. One book I re-read, dog-eared, spilled food on, and basically took with me everywhere for a couple of days (I was taking my time on the third readthrough of that book, m'kay?), and I eventually had to replace it.
He was quite keen on the kiddos learning, early and well.
I think perhaps it was too much stressed too soon, but I distinctly remember dreading Sunday mornings because I knew that the weekly grilling over words in the comics section was coming. It caught on eventually, and instead of getting grief over not learning words quickly enough, I'd get grief for getting into the Sunday paper and pretty much destroying it in my search for the comics.
2. There were some lean times, financially, in my family. We always had food on the table and clothes on out butts, but there were times when the money just wasn't there. The library became a regular weekly fixture. Mom would load up the kiddos and take us over. There weren't any rules as far as what to pick out, and I would load up on all kinds of books.
3. This is where I mention that I've always read quite a bit, and pretty fast, but from what I've read of other bloggers, that really isn't random or weird, just par for the course. Besides, as fast as I did read, Little Brother read about twice as fast... booger.
4. I got some grief in some of my high school english classes for reading other books than what was assigned in class. The problem was that I'd have already read and sometimes re-read the assigned material, and spending quality reading time in class reading it over again wasn't something that I was terribly keen on doing.
5. My favorite classes in College were the Medieval lit classes. Good stuff, once you got the hang of middle english spelling. The stories were pretty gruesome, too, so that was kind of cool.
6. When I had some free time in Iraq, I was usually reading. I was pleasantly surprised with the number of 'lit' books we got in care packages, but I was honestly just as happy reading the usual page turners like King, Morrell, Koontz, etc.
7. I'm on my 4th copy of Steven Pressfield's Gates of Fire. Great book. Two times I've loaned it out only to get it back pretty worn out. One book I re-read, dog-eared, spilled food on, and basically took with me everywhere for a couple of days (I was taking my time on the third readthrough of that book, m'kay?), and I eventually had to replace it.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Christmas Movies
Somehow, someway, some folks out there in bloggyland have gotten the impression that I'm not a huge fan of Christmas.
Go figure.
Dunno if it's fond memories or improved technology, but I must admit the Christmas movies do seem to be getting better and better every year...
No trickery or nuthin' *snert*, but there's (technically) no vulgar language in the clip. Feel free to turn it way up.
Go figure.
Dunno if it's fond memories or improved technology, but I must admit the Christmas movies do seem to be getting better and better every year...
No trickery or nuthin' *snert*, but there's (technically) no vulgar language in the clip. Feel free to turn it way up.
Been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I thought I'd take a moment to let y'all know what kind of stuff goes running through my 'mind' the past few days.
What a difference a year makes...
Remember the '15 min prior' rule? That's the one that runs along the line of a Battalion Commanding Officer talking to his Executive Officer. He tells his XO that he wants to hold a formation at 1800. The word travels down the chain of command, from Officer to Occifer, Senior Staff NCOs to Staff, around and about to everyone that has something to say about it. By the time it gets down to my level, I'm standing tall in formation with my guys at 0745 that morning, wondering why the Battalion formation is running late...
Preparing for large family gatherings around say... Thanksgiving, for example - is kind of like that. Timelines are more of general suggestions and/or loosely held guidelines, especially with select members of the family.
Know what isn't a general suggestion?
Heh.
One of the only things that's more fun than the 15 min. prior rule is the to-my-knowledge unnamed rule that deals with visits by a General. Before a General arrives, you better believe there is a massive 15 minute rule applied, but even more so than that is the advanced preparation. The guy could be planning to not even go anywhere near your shop/office/barracks/heads/whatever - but the cleanup... *Oy, vey!* Floors will be buffed to panty-viewing perfection, weapons will be lick-dried if necessary, and grass will be cut, by hand and by individual grass blade, if possible. All this and the Man is only going to visit the other side of the base... again. Yeah, we kind of had that goin' on this weekend. I almost expected My Love to tell me that she wanted the Virgin Mary herself to be proud to come over to take a- well, you know.
The next time I tell myself that I'm gonna go on a good run on Thanksgiving morning and not eat so much that night... I'm actually going to do it... hopefully. I'm lucky if I can get up enough steam for a good waddle, right now.
On a related note, in my life I've gathered up quite a few skills that, while not necessary enjoyable, in the moment make life a bit easier. Lamaze breathing and relaxation techniques on the throne is a good example of one of those skills.
I figure I've still got a few days before I get tired of turkey sandwiches, turkey pot pies, turkey stew, turkey a la mode, turkey jerky, turkey subs, fried turkey, turkey gravy, turkey jello, etc, etc, and etc...
Eric, I have no idea who you are, but you're on my list, buddy, and it ain't my Christmas list...
I love watching some good football games on a full belly - but I try to avoid thinking too much about it. If I did, I'd get pissed all over again about the way things are run and the way that certain players act. When I become king of the word I'm going to institute a single elimination tournament system. To make it interesting, elimination will be done with axes. Should make for some good times.
Speaking of interesting times, what the heck is going on with the players (again)? If I was making that kind of money to play a game, the only time I'd leave the house would be to do charity work, feed the homeless, and help the nuns at the orphanages. Sheesh.
What a difference a year makes...
Remember the '15 min prior' rule? That's the one that runs along the line of a Battalion Commanding Officer talking to his Executive Officer. He tells his XO that he wants to hold a formation at 1800. The word travels down the chain of command, from Officer to Occifer, Senior Staff NCOs to Staff, around and about to everyone that has something to say about it. By the time it gets down to my level, I'm standing tall in formation with my guys at 0745 that morning, wondering why the Battalion formation is running late...
Preparing for large family gatherings around say... Thanksgiving, for example - is kind of like that. Timelines are more of general suggestions and/or loosely held guidelines, especially with select members of the family.
Know what isn't a general suggestion?
Heh.
One of the only things that's more fun than the 15 min. prior rule is the to-my-knowledge unnamed rule that deals with visits by a General. Before a General arrives, you better believe there is a massive 15 minute rule applied, but even more so than that is the advanced preparation. The guy could be planning to not even go anywhere near your shop/office/barracks/heads/whatever - but the cleanup... *Oy, vey!* Floors will be buffed to panty-viewing perfection, weapons will be lick-dried if necessary, and grass will be cut, by hand and by individual grass blade, if possible. All this and the Man is only going to visit the other side of the base... again. Yeah, we kind of had that goin' on this weekend. I almost expected My Love to tell me that she wanted the Virgin Mary herself to be proud to come over to take a- well, you know.
The next time I tell myself that I'm gonna go on a good run on Thanksgiving morning and not eat so much that night... I'm actually going to do it... hopefully. I'm lucky if I can get up enough steam for a good waddle, right now.
On a related note, in my life I've gathered up quite a few skills that, while not necessary enjoyable, in the moment make life a bit easier. Lamaze breathing and relaxation techniques on the throne is a good example of one of those skills.
I figure I've still got a few days before I get tired of turkey sandwiches, turkey pot pies, turkey stew, turkey a la mode, turkey jerky, turkey subs, fried turkey, turkey gravy, turkey jello, etc, etc, and etc...
Eric, I have no idea who you are, but you're on my list, buddy, and it ain't my Christmas list...
I love watching some good football games on a full belly - but I try to avoid thinking too much about it. If I did, I'd get pissed all over again about the way things are run and the way that certain players act. When I become king of the word I'm going to institute a single elimination tournament system. To make it interesting, elimination will be done with axes. Should make for some good times.
Speaking of interesting times, what the heck is going on with the players (again)? If I was making that kind of money to play a game, the only time I'd leave the house would be to do charity work, feed the homeless, and help the nuns at the orphanages. Sheesh.
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