Well, We Survived

Since I last posted, Darth Gudrun came and left, and Liz realized I was kinda kidding when I called her that. All in all things went well, and we took in quite the haul from Santa Clause, who seemed to find Liz in Ohio. Early gifts to ourselves, which included our Xbox 360 and our little kitty, who has proven to be quite the furry bully have proven quite nice, and recently we managed to score a Bosch dishwasher, which is a huge upgrade over none at all. It did provide a suitable challenge for our wits and even our brawn, but that's over with. Really it's been a great week.

Liz discovered the game of rummy; my folks discovered two lovable beasts; two lovable beasts went on lots of walks; and everyone played nice. I hope everyone has a wonderful new year, and Go Gators!!!

It's that time of year--damnit!!!

So it's Christmas in Ohio--yeah me. This will be my 2nd Christmases here in Ohio, and I've done a pretty good job of picking the best years to be gone (that 2004 week without power sucked royally, well it sucked for those who were here). This year has the added stress of the impending arrival or Darth Gudrun, my Sith German, mom. The weeks of planning have descended into a frantic week of buying gifts, cleaning house, and getting everything that would be needed to avoid this being a disappointment for her. Adding to the event is that this will be the first time Liz has met her. Oh, I'm also busy loading my dad's new PC for him (well my mom, as it will be her gift to him). He has never used a PC, so it will be a challenge.

Anyway, I've managed to flick numerous people off, curse many more, and stare down a few, and they all deserved far worse (I couldn't afford the missile launcher option on my Mazda), oh and I've found myself grabbing shopping carts, purely for there potential use as weapons if shopping gets outta hand. Speaking of which, I decided to put off buying the standing rib roast until today. Bad move. I've pretty much decided to get all my meat at a local Italian market/butcher shop, which is a relic to a bygone era, and their meats are amazing. I really can't go back to supermarket meat, and their prices make it hard to do so as well. Well, I get there right after they open at 10am, and their lot is full, neighboring office lots is full, and the roadway is littered with cars parked on the right of way--oh shit. I decide that I really don't have a choice, and suck it up and go in. I grab a number, a pink one labeled 98. Ok, so I check the board to see what the current # was, 19. Fuck. Now if you're gonna brave the madness just to get your number, you're likely gonna stick it out, and you're gonna buy a shitload of meat. Oh, and everyone there is an Italian housewife or a grandma. They all have carts, and they mean business. Knowing that I can't wait it out and hold on to my sanity, I decide to take my number and run.

I run home; I do laundry; I go to Weilands (another local market) to check out their meat and buy some booze for Darth; I got to Giant Eagle and spend 30 minutes and $30 there; then I returned. 84. Not too bad, but I still had to wait, elbow to elbow with a lot of blue hair in my grill. As I wait, I see they are giving out yellow numbers, not too surprising as the pink ones were almost done when I grabbed mine, but then I realized that most people had blue numbers. The new #s were over 100 back in line from what was being called--shit, it sucked to be them. Before long I ordered my meat, and braved the line to checkout, which too 45 minutes or so.

Well, back to cleaning. Merry Christmas to all.

Yeah, I'm a hater

I usually want the best for everyone, and don't spend too much energy wishing ill upon others, but I've had it. I don't want that fucking bitch to get the goddamned hippo! It's not he overwhelming impracticality, as I've been known to see past those issues when it comes to animals, nor is it the likelihood that a hippo would rather go about being a hippo, though I suppose most hippos don't dream of being Christmas gifts--no it's purely because I hate that fucking song. If grandma got ran over by a reindeer, why can't that brat get sat on by a hippo. There's no surviving that.

What's odd is that up until recently I was immune to this plague, and now I'm all to aware. This is worse than the bird flu, far worse. I'm no expert, but folks living among nasty ass birds should get sick. Who would expect anything else, but this hippo song is a plague upon a far wider and seemingly more innocent populous. I first heard about it from Liz, and even then I didn't know the extent of the annoyingness--mostly from my complete ignorance despite my being well versed in Christmas songs. Now I'm plagues by it, and I don't know how much longer I have--I don't know how much more time we have.

It's maddening!

All Hail the King

As you likely know, I was a history major in college, and it remains an avid interest of mine (as opposed to political science which I also majored in and thoroughly hated), but I never really had much of an interest in American history. For all of its niceties, democracy and all that will of the people crap really is lame. It all but eliminates opportunities for real whack jobs and remarkable characters (I know most folks are wondering how our current situation doesn't qualify, but all in all it's still tame by real autocrat standards, and it has become too sad to laugh at). Anyway, kings (and queens), emperors (and empresses), Czars (I bet you didn't think I could spell czarina), and various princes, dukes, and misc monarch makes studying history amusing and fulfilling. So where am I going with this, well not anywhere I can tell.

A hunka hunka tacky lamp

So where was I? Well with all due respect to that creepy Burger King, the king of beers, and the Dairy Queen (who's attempts to annex the kingdom of burgers has been an udder failure--bad pun, but worse food), there is one king in American culture: Elvis. Yeah, he's not much of a musician, and he totally stole his whole gig from lesser known African American artists, but he's an unmistakable cultural icon and national treasure--kinda like Kylie Minogue is for Australia and Lars Ulrich is for Denmark. So why this sudden fondness for Elvis? Well, I'm not a fan, never was, and I doubt I will be, but this story has a point, well a general direction ...

His wonky facial expression is why some have called him 'Downs Elvis'

Last Friday we had our late fall gift exchange event (gotta be PC) at work, which involved a 'white elephant' exchange. In a nutshell (for all you Buckeye fans), one brings in crap from home, and draws a number. #1 goes first, unwraps someone else's crap, and pouts. #2 can take the shit #1 would otherwise be stuck with or take a chance that they will get something even worse through unwrapping another persons garbage. If #2 (or any subsequent person) takes #1's gift, then #1 gets the same options as if it were his turn (including stealing someone else's unwrapped rubbish). So ... I went 13th, and I brought in some crap from the basement (sweetened in part with lotto tickets), and I opted to steal a gift card (for Starbucks) unwrapped by someone else. #20 (the last person) stole my gift card, so I went ahead and stole #1's Elvis lamp.

Let me tell you, it's big, gaudy, and an antique. I'd say 95% of the people on earth would describe it as hideous, and it may have ended a few marriages, but I think it's got some charm. More importantly, I knew it had to be worth more than the $10 average of these gifts. Sure enough, when the exchange was complete, I was presented with a printed eBay screenshot with a similar lamp selling for $225 (plus $25 S&H)! For now he's keeping the guest bedroom looking retro. See, I told you this was going somewhere.

May the force be with me

Remember in the beginning of The Return of the Jedi, when Darth Vader is checking out the 2nd Death Star's construction, and folks are more than a little intimidated and eager to please him while he's there for an inspection, and he scares the shit out of everyone when he says the emperor is coming soon. Well my mom is coming to visit.

I'm the black sheep of the family, which is odd as I'm rather white and I'm not a sheep (though my fur is getting rather woolly), due to my less than cleanliness. I'm no slob--nothing real gross here, just a bit of clutter and a good cleaning needed, but Liz has noticed that I'm a bit on edge. She's never met my mom, and I'm not too worried about that, but I would like to make sure everything goes alright, as well the Death Star blew up, and I just don't want to have to move.

Where are my monkeys?

You know those Career Builder ads with the dude and his monkey coworkers? I wish I could have his coworkers. That would be a step up.


Such an improvement over my current comrades

What's this world coming to?

I know things were getting weird when my cats each had Myspace profiles (I suppose they get bored during the day), now I see that our X-box 360 has started to blog!

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, as my neutered cats get emailed offers for Viagra. I think they need more help than the little blue pill can offer.

Cruisin' with the Po-Po

I sit here groggy, tired, sore, and wondering what exactly led to me riding in a cop car last night. While I've watched more than my fair share of COPS, I can honestly say it's a bit different when you're riding in the car--mostly the smell, with a bouquet of puke, piss, and other fluids masked by an overwhelming fragrance of industrial sanitizer--basically like bowling alley shoes, only worse.

So how did I end up smelling these unique odors and enjoying the real life COPS experience? Well fear not it didn't start with a crack pipe and a wife beater. It all started innocently enough with a car ride to Cincinnati to visit Liz's friend, who was there on business travel. We got there early and discovered how the elite live and travel, and decided upon a nearby place to dine. We walked there only to discover that the Thai place we decided upon was no longer open, so we sauntered about to another Asian place, then another. All closed. Determined to keep going, her friend decided to ask the on the spot food critic: the fuzz.

I suppose it was a sound idea, but a tad unconventional--the kind of thinking I usually exhibit. He pulled his cruiser over and asked what kind of food we were looking for and processed the query. After a few results sputtered out, he thought of a Chinese place his Asian friend ate at. He then offered to give us a ride there. How could we refuse? So next thing you know, he's opening the back doors, the ladies slide in and I somehow got shotgun (though ironically enough there was no shotgun in the front seat, which was rather common in Florida). I suppose I haven't watched enough COPS, as I looked around for a while for the seat belt, which was no where to be found--five-0 gotta get in and out quickly. As we cruised around, we were like animals in a zoo exhibit, as everyone glanced in, often practically sticking their heads in, Not wanting to disappoint us further the cop called his Asian friend to see if the place would be open at that 'late' hour (like 8pm), and his friend seemed shocked that he would be riding around with strangers. Making our experience complete, he pulled up to a red light and asked if we wanted to run a red light; he then proceeded to do so and asked if we get pissed when cops do that. Before long our trip was over, but the journey continued ...

We got to the place, which was the cliche Chinese place with lots of red and green, a few terracotta soldiers, and the ubiquitous dragons. We sat down, and before long our conversations scared the family sitting nearby into a hasty exit, and we were greeted with a remarkably entertaining waiter, who warned us of what not to eat, advised us on the best values, and humored our general playfulness. The food was good, but the amusing interactions kept making sure we 'enjoys' everything.

After that we walked back to the hotel, sadly no ride in the police car, but we did see a bunch of blue lights while we were walking past the Hustler store. We walked over to see if our buddy was there, but alas we didn't see him. All in all it was the best experience I've had with the the law. It also was cool meeting Liz's cool friend. I wonder what kind of adventures we'll go on when our paths cross again.

A New Edition!

Sometimes when a girl and a guy love one another as much as Liz and I do, some unexpected things may happen. These additions are blessings, even if they're not what one plans. We tried to be careful, and we took lots of precautions. Apparently we took one risk too many, and somehow a new boy named Leo(pold) has joined our family. We love him, as we do all of our kids, and we're very excited about everything he'll add to our family. He's everything we both were looking for, and he loves us both. Welcome to the family!

No Messin Wit Da 614

I've been home ill the past few days, with an added touch of foot pain likely induced by being stepped upon by the enormous puppy. In my boredom, I've watched a few movies (including some that I knew would suck, thus enhancing the potential for sleep--didn't work) and surfed the net a bit. In my travels, I read up on some underground DVDs (well I guess that cats out of the bag) containing fights from 'the 614'. Wanting to see if these videos are just lame (think Vanilla Ice on Celebrity Boxing), amusing (think bum fights), or hardcore (don't think I've really seen that yet), I check them out via YouTube.

The first clip is rather subdued, even boring (don't think I'll want to front that I represent the 614 after that):




The second has a cool sound track (representing the 614) and is a bit more chaotic and violent (probably just a tad worse than COPs):




The last one has a good ole fashioned cat fight:



All in all, more disappointing than amusing. I guess we always OSU riot footage:



Oh, btw, there is an OSURiots.com webpage. Perhaps it's reach problematic status when people start buying URLs.