Forgot to tell you that as a kid I was allergic to everything. Seriously: sunlight, mown grass, pets, chocolate, seafood. SEAFOOD! Convulsions, puking, the whole nine yards. I got shots twice a week to cure me. They worked! Oh, you know that test where they put a grid on your back and poke you with a needle containing allergens? Not when I was a kid. Instead of needles, I was cut for each allergen. I looked like a whipped slave when it was over.
Felt like one, too.
Anyway, after my shoplifting stage, I joined a local Drum and Bugle Corps. The Americanos. VIVA!! Spent money to tour the country sleeping on gym floors and marching in woolen uniforms in the hot, humid Wisconsin summers. Did it for four years. It was awesome!
Junior and senior high school were hell for me. Made most of my friends and girl friends in Drum Corps, so I caught alot of hell from peers in school for not belonging to any cliques.
I was asked to perform with two local symphony orchestras, though, and that led to an invitation to attend Lawrence University (in Appleton). Their conservatory is pretty renowned. I am a percussionist, and spent two years at Lawrence. It got way too political for me, though, so I quit. Sorry Mom and Dad, but I love music deeply in a personal way, so I couldn't do it just for the money. Who gives a crap what Bach and Beethoven did, and to hell with you if you think I'm going to do it that way.
So I went to a local two-year college and then to the University of Wisconsin, Eau Claire to earn my bachellor's degree in Health Care Administration. In total it took me 7 years to earn a bachellor's degree. Gulp.
I spent 13 years running nursing homes and got burnt out. OMG. Not a job you want, even at 70K plus a year.
I took a 50% pay cut to pursue my current career as a computer geek. The pay got better, but not by much. It ain't about the money -- trust me on this one.
I'll get into the whole marriage/divorce thing later.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
EXCUUUUUUSE, MEEEEEEEE!
(thank you Steve Martin)
Why am I being so reflective lately? Don't know. Deal with it!
I'll get back to posting about the offspring soon. Hope I'm not boring you.
By the way, they're both completely addicted to this blog, and want to know who this "Cherry person" is. Take it as a compliment, Cherry!!
Why am I being so reflective lately? Don't know. Deal with it!
I'll get back to posting about the offspring soon. Hope I'm not boring you.
By the way, they're both completely addicted to this blog, and want to know who this "Cherry person" is. Take it as a compliment, Cherry!!
My Life
Right. A weighty title for this entry, but I'll give you a sketch.
I was born a poor black child.
Alright, not really. I was born in Appleton, Wisconsin very premature. I'm told my grandfather Erwin took one look at me and exclaimed I wouldn't make it. He always used to give me dollar bills as I grew up, much to my parent's disdain. "He needs to learn the value of a dollar" said my dad.
I apparently had a penchant for trouble as a toddler. I remember standing in the window of our Wisconsin Court house yelling at our cross-street neighbor (an elderly man) "is anybody home Mr. Watson says says says...". He must have dreaded going to work each day, waiting for the inevitable wailing.
Though I don't remember, I guess I tried crawling up my dresser and tipped the whole thing over onto myself. I also allegedly loved to crawl under my crib and hook my feet into the springs, thus suspending myself.
Many a toddler day was spent with me in our Carroll Street home in my Doctor Denton PJs, sitting cross-legged in front of a heating vent. There are pictures, but I don't have them right now.
I was a latch-key kid, and, with my older sister Michelle, we spent many evenings alone. Dad with his nursing home, Mom working at the hospital as an LPN.
My elementary school friend and I thought it funny to let the air out of the tires of a car parked near the school. Now, we used thumb tacks to hold the air valves open. No harm ever came to the tires. Turns out the car belonged to the cheif of police in Appleton. Crap. It's the only time my Dad ever hit me in the face (open handed and he felt terrible). What was I thinking?
I found shoplifting as a hobby, and got caught twice: Once at Prange's and once at the local Park 'n Market. Ooops.
Growing older, I spent alot of time with my female cousins in Door County, at our "cabin". We had a coupla acres of land, and my cousins and I used to spend hours playing "Star Trek". I would alternately rescue the girls from intrepid alien threats. Made phasers out of makeup compacts, and communicators too.
I befriended two Door County boys along the way. We got into trouble. They kept a Jeep in an storage shed, and one day we decided to check it out. There was a gallon of fuel in a jug in the front seat. Of course the shed was totally dark, so we used a lighter to check out the contents of the jug. WHOOOOOOSH!! Apparently fuel is not very appreciative of an open flame.
Me and my Door County friends got into other trouble, smashing headlights on old derilect tractors and the like.
Here's the weird part: These same two boys vandelized our house in Door County, breaking anything breakable, and flooding the house by putting rocks in the sinks and starting the faucets. Still don't know what they were thinking.
Enough for now.
I was born a poor black child.
Alright, not really. I was born in Appleton, Wisconsin very premature. I'm told my grandfather Erwin took one look at me and exclaimed I wouldn't make it. He always used to give me dollar bills as I grew up, much to my parent's disdain. "He needs to learn the value of a dollar" said my dad.
I apparently had a penchant for trouble as a toddler. I remember standing in the window of our Wisconsin Court house yelling at our cross-street neighbor (an elderly man) "is anybody home Mr. Watson says says says...". He must have dreaded going to work each day, waiting for the inevitable wailing.
Though I don't remember, I guess I tried crawling up my dresser and tipped the whole thing over onto myself. I also allegedly loved to crawl under my crib and hook my feet into the springs, thus suspending myself.
Many a toddler day was spent with me in our Carroll Street home in my Doctor Denton PJs, sitting cross-legged in front of a heating vent. There are pictures, but I don't have them right now.
I was a latch-key kid, and, with my older sister Michelle, we spent many evenings alone. Dad with his nursing home, Mom working at the hospital as an LPN.
My elementary school friend and I thought it funny to let the air out of the tires of a car parked near the school. Now, we used thumb tacks to hold the air valves open. No harm ever came to the tires. Turns out the car belonged to the cheif of police in Appleton. Crap. It's the only time my Dad ever hit me in the face (open handed and he felt terrible). What was I thinking?
I found shoplifting as a hobby, and got caught twice: Once at Prange's and once at the local Park 'n Market. Ooops.
Growing older, I spent alot of time with my female cousins in Door County, at our "cabin". We had a coupla acres of land, and my cousins and I used to spend hours playing "Star Trek". I would alternately rescue the girls from intrepid alien threats. Made phasers out of makeup compacts, and communicators too.
I befriended two Door County boys along the way. We got into trouble. They kept a Jeep in an storage shed, and one day we decided to check it out. There was a gallon of fuel in a jug in the front seat. Of course the shed was totally dark, so we used a lighter to check out the contents of the jug. WHOOOOOOSH!! Apparently fuel is not very appreciative of an open flame.
Me and my Door County friends got into other trouble, smashing headlights on old derilect tractors and the like.
Here's the weird part: These same two boys vandelized our house in Door County, breaking anything breakable, and flooding the house by putting rocks in the sinks and starting the faucets. Still don't know what they were thinking.
Enough for now.
Monday, April 18, 2005
My Dad
Listening to Enya, thought I'd blog about my Dad.
He was a strong, stubborn man. He loved to have fun with everything in life. I think that's where I got it.
He died in December, 2001. Lung cancer, CHF, who knows. He lived his life in defiance of norms. Had his own motorcycle club back in the 1970's. Big Mabel Murphy Motorcycle Club. We used to party with the Devil's Advocates. Pig roasts, drag races, the whole nine yards.
Mom was always at his side, supporting the charmingly devious Murph. He loved to drink and smoke. As youngsters, my sister and I would ride from Appleton to Door County to our second home with Mom and Dad chain-smoking. We used to beg them to open the windows so we could breathe. I had athsma as a kid, and the parents used to wonder why I had an attack after an hour breathing cigarette smoke!
Dad grew up in a retirement home run by his Dad, and later grew up to become a nursing home administrator. I followed in his footsteps. 13 years running nursing homes, and eventually taking over the one he ran for 30-plus years. Got written up in the paper and everything. It was very cool.
After spending years at that home, with coffee cup always in hand, Dad got to see me run the place for five and a half years. He was so proud.
Then his health worsened. Secretly I wonder if my divorce did him in. He went in for a routine test and never recovered. I remember his last gaze into my eyes in that hospital bed. He looked like he wanted to go home. I'm glad it was fast for him even though I spent my first career running places like that to which he probably would have eventually gone.
Dad, you're still in my dreams, and that's a good thing. I know your watching my life. Sometimes you must wonder what the hell I'm doing. So do I. But you see the really good side of my life too. Thank you for having me. You created me, and I've had the miracle of seeing my own two girls born and begin to mature. None of that would have happened without you.
I Love You.
He was a strong, stubborn man. He loved to have fun with everything in life. I think that's where I got it.
He died in December, 2001. Lung cancer, CHF, who knows. He lived his life in defiance of norms. Had his own motorcycle club back in the 1970's. Big Mabel Murphy Motorcycle Club. We used to party with the Devil's Advocates. Pig roasts, drag races, the whole nine yards.
Mom was always at his side, supporting the charmingly devious Murph. He loved to drink and smoke. As youngsters, my sister and I would ride from Appleton to Door County to our second home with Mom and Dad chain-smoking. We used to beg them to open the windows so we could breathe. I had athsma as a kid, and the parents used to wonder why I had an attack after an hour breathing cigarette smoke!
Dad grew up in a retirement home run by his Dad, and later grew up to become a nursing home administrator. I followed in his footsteps. 13 years running nursing homes, and eventually taking over the one he ran for 30-plus years. Got written up in the paper and everything. It was very cool.
After spending years at that home, with coffee cup always in hand, Dad got to see me run the place for five and a half years. He was so proud.
Then his health worsened. Secretly I wonder if my divorce did him in. He went in for a routine test and never recovered. I remember his last gaze into my eyes in that hospital bed. He looked like he wanted to go home. I'm glad it was fast for him even though I spent my first career running places like that to which he probably would have eventually gone.
Dad, you're still in my dreams, and that's a good thing. I know your watching my life. Sometimes you must wonder what the hell I'm doing. So do I. But you see the really good side of my life too. Thank you for having me. You created me, and I've had the miracle of seeing my own two girls born and begin to mature. None of that would have happened without you.
I Love You.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Stupid Office Tricks... AGAIN
This is getting out of hand.
Joe screwed me up royally. Let me first say that Joe is a low-life scum-sucking junior analyst who seems to think he's better than me. He's right. In this ONE case. I hope he lives to suffer my wrath!!
So I'm in my office trying to work, and my computer freezes up. I can move my mouse freely, but none of my programs are responding. WTF!! So I implement the evil "finger of doom" (I turn the PC off forcibly). When it reboots, I get the same exact condition. Knowing this is impossible, I begin to think that the lack of Prozac is producing hallucinations; I get that tingly "it must be a dream" feeling until I realize that Joe has replaced my screen with a picture. Of course, a picture won't respond to mouse clicks, thus I think it's on the blink.
Okay, a good joke. Subtle yet effective. But nothing like what I have in store for him.
Later that day, when he was away, I turned up his phone ringer to "obnoxious", and called him. Annoyed everyone within a mile radius. No, that's not payback, it's just a reminder.
Bwaa Haa Haa!
Joe screwed me up royally. Let me first say that Joe is a low-life scum-sucking junior analyst who seems to think he's better than me. He's right. In this ONE case. I hope he lives to suffer my wrath!!
So I'm in my office trying to work, and my computer freezes up. I can move my mouse freely, but none of my programs are responding. WTF!! So I implement the evil "finger of doom" (I turn the PC off forcibly). When it reboots, I get the same exact condition. Knowing this is impossible, I begin to think that the lack of Prozac is producing hallucinations; I get that tingly "it must be a dream" feeling until I realize that Joe has replaced my screen with a picture. Of course, a picture won't respond to mouse clicks, thus I think it's on the blink.
Okay, a good joke. Subtle yet effective. But nothing like what I have in store for him.
Later that day, when he was away, I turned up his phone ringer to "obnoxious", and called him. Annoyed everyone within a mile radius. No, that's not payback, it's just a reminder.
Bwaa Haa Haa!
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Beat Beat Skip
I have an arythmia. My heart likes to do the "beat, beat, skip" routine. Saw my doctor yesterday, and she thinks it's the prozac. CRAP! I love the prozac. Alas, it's not meant to be.
So, we'll try celexa instead. I'll keep you posted.
Sunday the girls and I played at the zoo and park for the first time this year. What a blast! It's been a long winter here in Wisconsin, so getting outside was such a treat. We went back to my place and just vegged. The park was exhausting. Ms. Grizz (a black bear) and the prairie dogs and the lynxs and the ducks were in prime form. We got so thirsty, but the bubblers weren't on yet, so we had to stop by the Pick and Save to buy some water on the way home.
Hey, all you readers out there (both of you): COMMENT! PLEASE! Not that I really need you to. After all, what a pain, right? NOT!!
So, we'll try celexa instead. I'll keep you posted.
Sunday the girls and I played at the zoo and park for the first time this year. What a blast! It's been a long winter here in Wisconsin, so getting outside was such a treat. We went back to my place and just vegged. The park was exhausting. Ms. Grizz (a black bear) and the prairie dogs and the lynxs and the ducks were in prime form. We got so thirsty, but the bubblers weren't on yet, so we had to stop by the Pick and Save to buy some water on the way home.
Hey, all you readers out there (both of you): COMMENT! PLEASE! Not that I really need you to. After all, what a pain, right? NOT!!
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Little...Felt...GRAPES!!
On Saturday I volunteered at Emma's first communion retreat. I was really dreading it. The dread was monumentally misplaced. This was one of the most fulfilling experiences I've ever had. I could so totally be an elementary teacher!
So I pick up Emma at 8:30am. You read that right. For those of you who know me, that means leaving at 7:30am, which is simply a miracle. Why? Cause that means getting out of bed at 6:30am. I'm just getting good dreams at that hour.
Anyway, at 3:30am I wake up and drift briefly back into sleep. 6:30 is no prob.
I get there and deliver Emma to the choir room for practice at 9am. The volunteering doesn't begin until 9:30, so I go back out to my car and listen to music. And drink my orange juice. And amuzingly watch my pulse do "beat beat SKIP" in rhythm to Gwen Styphani. I'll post about that later.
After trying to find the right room to volunteer in, I happened across it. It was at the end of the cafeteria, by a small stage.
I then met another volunteer guy who looked remarkably like Tommy Thompson, and he thought I was in charge. Ha. I told him I was just as clue-less as he.
About 20 minutes later, there we were. My 4-person crew setting out burlap banners and felt decorations for our first class of about 19 7-year-olds. The first of six. The retreat was from 9:30 'till 3:00pm.
I took the role of instructor, quizzing and explaining to the communicants about the host with the cross in the middle, the chalace, the loaf of bread, and the grapes. Most of the kids were really in-tune with the whole symolism thing. They were mostly well-behaved, and wide-eyed. I have the whole "looking over the top of your glasses" thing down, so there was little disruption.
Here's the thing, though: There was so much prepared for these banners that the kids only needed to glue the felt to the banners. 90 kids times 10 felt grapes equals 900 felt grapes!! And 90 chalaces, etc.. Why can't the kids cut out they're own friggin' felt?! After all, we had 45 minutes with each class, most of which was spent not doing the activity! Grrrrr...
Ours was one of many classes including Cross-making, Bread-making, Heart-making, and others I've already forgotten. It was magic.
Ate lunch with Emma, and really bonded with her. I wish this could happen once a year.
So I pick up Emma at 8:30am. You read that right. For those of you who know me, that means leaving at 7:30am, which is simply a miracle. Why? Cause that means getting out of bed at 6:30am. I'm just getting good dreams at that hour.
Anyway, at 3:30am I wake up and drift briefly back into sleep. 6:30 is no prob.
I get there and deliver Emma to the choir room for practice at 9am. The volunteering doesn't begin until 9:30, so I go back out to my car and listen to music. And drink my orange juice. And amuzingly watch my pulse do "beat beat SKIP" in rhythm to Gwen Styphani. I'll post about that later.
After trying to find the right room to volunteer in, I happened across it. It was at the end of the cafeteria, by a small stage.
I then met another volunteer guy who looked remarkably like Tommy Thompson, and he thought I was in charge. Ha. I told him I was just as clue-less as he.
About 20 minutes later, there we were. My 4-person crew setting out burlap banners and felt decorations for our first class of about 19 7-year-olds. The first of six. The retreat was from 9:30 'till 3:00pm.
I took the role of instructor, quizzing and explaining to the communicants about the host with the cross in the middle, the chalace, the loaf of bread, and the grapes. Most of the kids were really in-tune with the whole symolism thing. They were mostly well-behaved, and wide-eyed. I have the whole "looking over the top of your glasses" thing down, so there was little disruption.
Here's the thing, though: There was so much prepared for these banners that the kids only needed to glue the felt to the banners. 90 kids times 10 felt grapes equals 900 felt grapes!! And 90 chalaces, etc.. Why can't the kids cut out they're own friggin' felt?! After all, we had 45 minutes with each class, most of which was spent not doing the activity! Grrrrr...
Ours was one of many classes including Cross-making, Bread-making, Heart-making, and others I've already forgotten. It was magic.
Ate lunch with Emma, and really bonded with her. I wish this could happen once a year.
Friday, April 08, 2005
Stupid Office Tricks Redux
Whew. I think I'm back. Cherry, thanks for the desire to see pictures! You can see them in my last post.
Okay, so I got back to work on Monday, and I just wanted to plant myself in the chair and catch up on my 300 or so emails. I go to get my water and a coworker says "Oh, back from celebrating your 50th birthday?!" I say "No, just a vacation." And I wonder what she's been smoking. Then I loiter around with various people, then finally get to MY OFFICE! MY OFFICE! Have you ever felt totally busted? I mean brought to rights. What I'm asking is, have you ever had a totally effective and somewhat elaborate practical joke played on you?
I did. My office door was covered with 50th birthday tissue and black balloons, along with streamers that read "Oh no, the big "50" five-oh". My office proper was bedecked with a shit load of the same. Nice.
Let me pause here and disclaim that I was born in 1964. Do the freakin' math.
Reading my emails, I see one from a coworker with a subject of "Happy Birthday!". Bastard.
I've had about 100 coworkers stop me in the hall or come in to my office to lament that I don't LOOK 50. When I explain to them that I'm not, they ask "then WHY the decor?". Because my vacation happened to fall over April Fool's Day. Oh. Hah hah hah hah hah.
Real freakin funny.
I got him back somewhat by circulating a picture of the Holy Father with his face on it with a bold caption underneath.
Tee Shirts seem appropriate.
Later.
Okay, so I got back to work on Monday, and I just wanted to plant myself in the chair and catch up on my 300 or so emails. I go to get my water and a coworker says "Oh, back from celebrating your 50th birthday?!" I say "No, just a vacation." And I wonder what she's been smoking. Then I loiter around with various people, then finally get to MY OFFICE! MY OFFICE! Have you ever felt totally busted? I mean brought to rights. What I'm asking is, have you ever had a totally effective and somewhat elaborate practical joke played on you?
I did. My office door was covered with 50th birthday tissue and black balloons, along with streamers that read "Oh no, the big "50" five-oh". My office proper was bedecked with a shit load of the same. Nice.
Let me pause here and disclaim that I was born in 1964. Do the freakin' math.
Reading my emails, I see one from a coworker with a subject of "Happy Birthday!". Bastard.
I've had about 100 coworkers stop me in the hall or come in to my office to lament that I don't LOOK 50. When I explain to them that I'm not, they ask "then WHY the decor?". Because my vacation happened to fall over April Fool's Day. Oh. Hah hah hah hah hah.
Real freakin funny.
I got him back somewhat by circulating a picture of the Holy Father with his face on it with a bold caption underneath.
Tee Shirts seem appropriate.
Later.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Saturday, April 02, 2005
I'm Baaack...
The week with the girls was awesome! I'm back, but only barely. I'll be uploading some pictures as soon as I recuperate 8-}
Slept (on and off) til noon today. How wonderful.
Holy Father, I love you and pray for you.
Slept (on and off) til noon today. How wonderful.
Holy Father, I love you and pray for you.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Wicked Twisted Priorities
Great. They're killing Terri, but a gator guy went on CNN this morning to reassure everyone that the gator caught yesterday will be fine. I'll bet they'll feed the gator, too.
I hope judge Greer lives to regret murdering Terri.
I hope judge Greer lives to regret murdering Terri.
Snuggling with Brett Favre...(!)
Next week is spring break for the kids, so we're gonna spend the week in Green Bay visiting Mom and Sis. Mom bought a night at the Tundra Lodge for us, and I may buy another. Tundra is a huge new waterpark/hotel. Maximum fun, total bliss factory!
Other than that, we'll prolly play and eat at Lambeau Field, and goof off at the mall. It will be a GREAT week.
Brett and Howdy are getting along very well. Howdy tolerates frequent "attacks" by Brett, always taking the submissive role. Can't figure that cat out -- he's three time's Brett's weight, but such a softy.
I find I have to close my door around 3am, though, because that's when Brett gets active.
This morning I started my coffee and snuck back to bed, at which point Brett had a major snuggle attack and had to curl up on my chest with his little nose about a millimeter from mine. I have dog breath in the morning, I'm surprised it didn't knock him out!
Other than that, we'll prolly play and eat at Lambeau Field, and goof off at the mall. It will be a GREAT week.
Brett and Howdy are getting along very well. Howdy tolerates frequent "attacks" by Brett, always taking the submissive role. Can't figure that cat out -- he's three time's Brett's weight, but such a softy.
I find I have to close my door around 3am, though, because that's when Brett gets active.
This morning I started my coffee and snuck back to bed, at which point Brett had a major snuggle attack and had to curl up on my chest with his little nose about a millimeter from mine. I have dog breath in the morning, I'm surprised it didn't knock him out!
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
HAH!
Did you hear the U.N.'s latest brilliant idea? Did you?! Now they want to tax the U.S. use of the internet to fund access to the third world. I''m not kidding.
Perfect! Let's ruin electronic commerce so that Somali's can surf porn on the net. And what better vessel than the U.N., that most venerable, unbesmerched All-Being that brought us the oil for food scandal! Sign me the frick up for that!!
Perfect! Let's ruin electronic commerce so that Somali's can surf porn on the net. And what better vessel than the U.N., that most venerable, unbesmerched All-Being that brought us the oil for food scandal! Sign me the frick up for that!!
Monday, March 21, 2005
Under My Skin
Brett (my new cat) is a real charmer. Definitely a lap cat and a cuddler. I love him to death, but MAN are his claws sharp!
He's a doctor too, apparently, because he ordered and performed a blood test on my left arm at 5am today. He was all cuddled in, and I turned over to zap the snooze, and "POKE", in went one of his weapons into my arm. I had to physically remove the claw.
There's that pain/pleasure connection again, I guess!
Howdy (my other cat) is doing better. They were both actually on my bed at the same time last night.
The girls are understandably in love with Brett, too. It's so nice to see them happy and excited.
He's a doctor too, apparently, because he ordered and performed a blood test on my left arm at 5am today. He was all cuddled in, and I turned over to zap the snooze, and "POKE", in went one of his weapons into my arm. I had to physically remove the claw.
There's that pain/pleasure connection again, I guess!
Howdy (my other cat) is doing better. They were both actually on my bed at the same time last night.
The girls are understandably in love with Brett, too. It's so nice to see them happy and excited.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Attitude
Got a new kitty today. Name's Brett. Only 8 month's old. My other cat, Howdy, is 2 years old. Both males... so who do you think is dominating so far? That would be Brett.
He's all black, including his whiskers and nose. He was abandoned by his former owner on the coldest winter day in Wisconsin. Owner's gonna go to court. Hope they never let her have another animal!
We went to Walmart and spent a small fortune on toys. It was worth it. What a cute and beautiful creature!
The kids are thrilled.
Howdy, however, is not. He adjusted well to Minerva, but has been growling and hissing at Brett. And Brett has been taunting Howdy, the older brother.
Will be interesting to see how this works out... I'll keep you posted.
He's all black, including his whiskers and nose. He was abandoned by his former owner on the coldest winter day in Wisconsin. Owner's gonna go to court. Hope they never let her have another animal!
We went to Walmart and spent a small fortune on toys. It was worth it. What a cute and beautiful creature!
The kids are thrilled.
Howdy, however, is not. He adjusted well to Minerva, but has been growling and hissing at Brett. And Brett has been taunting Howdy, the older brother.
Will be interesting to see how this works out... I'll keep you posted.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Angry Propellers
...Oh, I mean: Mad Props!
Some people who have excellent taste and morals have shown some appreciation for my stance on blog-blights like the one who attaked a friend of mine. Please know that I love you all, and that there are ways to really fuck up people who post hate on blogs. See Dooce for a great example.
I told the girls about Minerva today. 97, bless her heart and soul, cried. 94 was unphased, but concerned. Seeing her little sister in pain, 94 painted a picture in snow with her finger on the trunk of my Merc, of Minerva in Heaven as an "Astronaut Kitty" climbing the universe's biggest scratching post and looking down with peace on us. "She'll never feel any more pain, Emma!", she exclaimed. Dear Jesus, what have I done to deserve these moments of true love? Nothing. But I am so thankful.
We got 7,949 FEET of snow today, so the trip to Wausau to pick up the kids was a real treat. When I say "treat", I mean "root canal".
Please keep reading. I've got a whole brain full of this stuff.
Some people who have excellent taste and morals have shown some appreciation for my stance on blog-blights like the one who attaked a friend of mine. Please know that I love you all, and that there are ways to really fuck up people who post hate on blogs. See Dooce for a great example.
I told the girls about Minerva today. 97, bless her heart and soul, cried. 94 was unphased, but concerned. Seeing her little sister in pain, 94 painted a picture in snow with her finger on the trunk of my Merc, of Minerva in Heaven as an "Astronaut Kitty" climbing the universe's biggest scratching post and looking down with peace on us. "She'll never feel any more pain, Emma!", she exclaimed. Dear Jesus, what have I done to deserve these moments of true love? Nothing. But I am so thankful.
We got 7,949 FEET of snow today, so the trip to Wausau to pick up the kids was a real treat. When I say "treat", I mean "root canal".
Please keep reading. I've got a whole brain full of this stuff.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Promise, Not Threat
Girls (yes, you, 94 and 97!), you're room is a mess. I'm not cleaning it. I'll help with whatever you want, but I'm not going to do it for you.
If it doesn't get done this weekend I will begin describing the exact content of the mess here on Macho Poodle. Oh yes I will.
Much love,
-Dad
So far all my first round picks in NCAA basketball won! Hope the streak continues.
This weekend, the girls and I will go kitty shopping. That is, unless we get the 30 feet of snow they're predicting, in which case we'll cruise the net together at the various shelters. I have my heart set on a black male kitty. His name will be Brett. He will be my squishy.
Two words for you: Prozac rules.
Ordered NFS Underground from eBay yesterday. $10 including shipping. I've got the demo version and it rules. Can't wait to get it.
I can't watch Alias anymore. It's too stupid. Sorry Jennifer, but your breasts just aren't worth it. Must be the Prozac.
Breaking news: Men are different from Women! Know why? It's the Y chromosome.
I need wine.
If it doesn't get done this weekend I will begin describing the exact content of the mess here on Macho Poodle. Oh yes I will.
Much love,
-Dad
So far all my first round picks in NCAA basketball won! Hope the streak continues.
This weekend, the girls and I will go kitty shopping. That is, unless we get the 30 feet of snow they're predicting, in which case we'll cruise the net together at the various shelters. I have my heart set on a black male kitty. His name will be Brett. He will be my squishy.
Two words for you: Prozac rules.
Ordered NFS Underground from eBay yesterday. $10 including shipping. I've got the demo version and it rules. Can't wait to get it.
I can't watch Alias anymore. It's too stupid. Sorry Jennifer, but your breasts just aren't worth it. Must be the Prozac.
Breaking news: Men are different from Women! Know why? It's the Y chromosome.
I need wine.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Bring it
Sorry to preach to you all, but this is a sad day.
A blog has died today because of some wrech. Of course I won't mention the blog's owner because we're all just one step from making the horrifying decision to remove our blogs.
Horrifying? You fucking bet! What a loss. Whomever you are, you should be locked up. This is as much an assault as hitting someone from behind with a sucker punch. You're an insecure, over-compensating, pox on humanity.
Should ANYONE decide to invade my life in this way, I will use my superpowers as an influential information systems geek to ruin you. I will spare no money or time.
Be warned.
A blog has died today because of some wrech. Of course I won't mention the blog's owner because we're all just one step from making the horrifying decision to remove our blogs.
Horrifying? You fucking bet! What a loss. Whomever you are, you should be locked up. This is as much an assault as hitting someone from behind with a sucker punch. You're an insecure, over-compensating, pox on humanity.
Should ANYONE decide to invade my life in this way, I will use my superpowers as an influential information systems geek to ruin you. I will spare no money or time.
Be warned.
Stupid Office Tricks
What compells certain individuals to CUT THEIR FINGERNAILS at work?! With their office doors open! Maybe I'm just weird that way, but what other personal hygiene do you perform in your office with the door open? Hmmm... none I can think of.
-Snip-
-SNIP-
- S N I P -
I mean, do they pee in a corner? Where does the nail shrapnel land? Hell, why not do the tonails while you're at it! Then you can give yourself a sponge bath and brush your teeth in there; we'd all love to be subjected to that!!
Bo Bice will win American Idol.
Illinois will win the NCAA basketball championship.
-Snip-
-SNIP-
- S N I P -
I mean, do they pee in a corner? Where does the nail shrapnel land? Hell, why not do the tonails while you're at it! Then you can give yourself a sponge bath and brush your teeth in there; we'd all love to be subjected to that!!
Bo Bice will win American Idol.
Illinois will win the NCAA basketball championship.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Gunslingers
Brett Favre will be back for at least another season! Woooooooooooot!
This weather is pissing me off. 3 inches of snow Monday, and another inch or so today. I am so sick of clearing snow off my car and doing the penguin walk I could just poop. I've got one word for you:
This weather is pissing me off. 3 inches of snow Monday, and another inch or so today. I am so sick of clearing snow off my car and doing the penguin walk I could just poop. I've got one word for you:
SPRING
What is it with shooting judges lately? Sheeesh, that's really poor aim; they're missing the lawyers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)