From the "My Two Year Old Is Drunk" folder...

Growing up, I had a good baby sitter. Mom and dad weren't rich so I didn't have a sitter in the `nicer' neighborhoods. My sitter lived in a `bad' part of town. But the kids there were just like me and we had a lot of fun together.

I can't seem to recall a time where my babysitter got me smashed. Maybe I should have had a babysitter from Patchogue, NY.

From this story:
The deputies noticed the 2-year-old was having difficulty standing, had bloodshot eyes, smelled of alcohol and was lethargic.

Damn my baby sitter was boring. My childhood had absolutely no corruption from adults. This lack of corruption is particularly sad when juxtaposed next to the teacher-student love affair. Some guys have all the luck.

The saddest thing about the teacher-student love affair is that those two jack-asses made a kid. And in the story, the slut of a teacher states - "I think we damaged each other in a lot of ways, I think mostly I damaged myself by making, what in retrospect, was such a poor decision."

What about your kid that won't have a dad. Way to go super-mom. The biggest victims are always forgotten about - the poor kids.

My Southern Accent

We had a guest monk helping us in our GvG last night. Poor monk was not prepared for my southern accent. I'm from the south, but I don't speak like Jeff Foxworthy. As a matter of fact, I dare say my southern accent is very slight, perhaps nonexistent.

What our visitor expected is beyond me. I find my voice to be quite soothing, but I am self absorbed at times.

Why do people associate intelligence with one's voice? As silly as it may be, when I hear an English accent, I become enchanted and attribute the speaker with unearned intelligence points. I attribute these unearned intelligence points to the speaker's good English. That is, "American English" sounds very stupid. Broken phrases such as "Get this for free!" and "Due to inclement weather my flight was canceled" litter "American English" like junk food paper on our interstate system. When listening to the British use English, you don't hear these broken phrases. (Or maybe I just have not been exposed to enough Britts to hear that phrase).

Some of the 'Yank accents she found more amusing then others. So do I.

I've been musing over our visitor's perception of my accent. She sees American programming on her tele, so I assume she has associated bad things with the South. Which is too bad because it is her loss. For positive pictures about my favorite state click here. Because our visitor also visits this blog (sometimes she seems like the only one!) I'm sure she'll chime in. There is no trick in getting her to talk. The trick is getting her to shut up. :p

ICQ Bloatware

If you use ICQ (I do - see sidebar to get my ICQ number), then you know it is a ad / resource hog. The other day, ICQ updated itself (or at least I don't recall doing it).

The latest ICQ update involved some BBC garbage. Get the latest BBC headlines right in ICQ! No thanks.

Things really went awry when ICQ ate up 128 megabytes of memory! Thats 1/4 of the memory on my laptop! Bad ICQ! Searching for a replacement, I came across Miranda. This little gem does ICQ/Jabber/AIM/Yahoo/IRC. It's an all in one package with no bloat. Very nice and highly recommended. No, you don't get the `cute' emote icons. But, I think you can with a plug in.

This post is actually from a draft that is about a week old. Anyway, stay away from ICQ.

Merry Guild Wars Christmas

I, like most Americans (I assume), have been very busy with the Christmas holidays in the air. In order to prevent my blog from going stale (I will be off/on for quite a few days), I decided to post a picture of two of my favorite things Christmas and Guild Wars. If you're bored enough to have gotten this far, enjoy!

The scale of the characters is screwy. My tree is 10 feet tall, which puts the superimposed images at about 5.5 feet. Much shorther than I had imagined them...

Proof of American Soldiers Torturing Iraqis!

I have proof of American soldiers torturing Iraqis! I've posted the pictures and captions below. It truly is a dark time for our country. Where is the American press during our darkest hour?!



(December 1, 2005) Maj. Kurt Anderson, from Company B, 448th Civil Affairs Battalion, 2nd Brigade, 3rd Infantry Division, presents a space heater to an Iraqi widow in Sadr City.



(November 23, 2005) Egyptian and U.S. Soldiers give clothes to needy Afghan children during a joint humanitarian aid mission at Bagram, Afghanistan.


(November 23, 2005) Egyptian and U.S. Soldiers give clothes to needy Afghan children during a joint humanitarian aid mission at Bagram, Afghanistan.


(December 1, 2005) Iraqi troops and a U.S. Soldier from the 327th Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division, conduct a joint patrol in the village of Hechel.


Cpl. Maria C. Diaz, from the 1st Force Service Support Group disbursing office, holds an Iraqi baby during a visit to Al Kabani, Iraq, June 26, 2004. Diaz accompanied Marines from 3rd Battalion, 24th Marine Regiment, who visited the village to check on the progress of a $175,000 water purification complex the unit contracted to have built. The complex will bring clean drinking water to nearly 3,000 Iraqis from Al Kabani and another nearby community. The battalion has made regular visits to Al Kabani to deliver donated shoes, school supplies and toys to the children of the village. Elements of the battalion provide security for nearby Camp Taqaddum. Diaz, 23, is from Los Angeles.


November 29, 2005) Pfc. Crystal Jiminez, from the 490th Civil Affairs Battalion, 155th Brigade Combat Team, gives a snack to a shy Iraqi child in Haswah.


(September 1, 2005) 1LT Micah D. Taylor of the Mannheim, Germany-based 18th Military Police Brigade, receives a kiss of thanks from a girl at the Iskandariyah school. Taylor was part of the humanitarian mission to provide the children with school supplies. Soldiers receive the supplies from an organization called Operation Iraqi Children, through which Americans donate book bags, school supplies, and toys.


Najoy, Afghanistan (Apr. 22, 2004) - U.S. Navy Dental Technician 3rd Class Ernest Deant, shows Afghan children how to properly care for their teeth and gums during a Coalition medical/dental civil affairs project in the village of Najoy, Afghanistan. Participating in the one-day humanitarian mission were medical specialists assigned to the 22nd Marine Expeditionary Unit (Special Operations Capable), the U.S. Army's 10th and 25th Infantry Divisions, and the Romanian Army, who provided security for the mission in support of Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF).


(December 12, 2005) Capt. Robert Duchaine, Company B commander, 1st Squadron, 71st Cavalry Regiment, distributes toys to kindergarteners in a school in western Baghdad. Iraqi forces from the 6th Iraqi Army Division also participated in the visit with the U.S. Soldiers.


(October 19, 2005) A Soldier from the 448th Civil Affairs Battalion, 7th Cavalry Regiment jots down the measurements of a child's feet for a new pair of shoes at the Al Nafees Primary School in the al Kafajyeh suburb of Baghdad.


(August 30, 2005) Maj. Roger Alsup, a Missouri National Guardsman from the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and principal of T.S. Hill Middle School in Dexter, Mo., distributes school supplies to Iraqi children in Fallujah. The supplies were donated by students and faculty at Alsup's middle school.


(November 19, 2004) Sgt. Rick Abner gives coloring books to Iraqi school children in Hawija. Abner is a tactical psychological team chief from the 350th Psychological Operations Company, attached to 1st Battalion, 27th Infantry Regiment, 25th Infantry Division.


(July 15, 2005) Capt. Jacqueline Naylor, a family practice physician from the 173rd Support Battalion, successfully delivers a premature baby in a hospital at Lashkar Gah, Afghanistan.

Paint Me A Birmingham

I think that is a counry music title...

The carpooler and I had to attend an `MSDN launch event' in Birmingham, AL. It was a fun-filled trip involving beer, steak, liberty and bitchy waitresses.

For the duration of this blog entry, I'll address the carpooler as `78'. You'll discover why shortly.
78 and I arrived at Tuscalooga, Alabama around 8:00 p.m. Hungry and tired we find an Outback Steak House, located just off the interstate. 8:05 we're placing our orders. Both of us go with a 16oz prime rib. 78 takes his medium. I eat mine like a man, so I order it medium-rare.

I order water, 78 orders a bottle of Coors. Now, 78 is not a big drinker. He used to be back `in his youth', which was quite some time ago for him.

He sets the course for the night after taking his first sip. Immediately after the first sip, he, seemingly not of his own accord, blurts out, "Man that is good!".

After slapping down the first bottle, he orders Coors on tap. The next beer comes out in a 22oz mug (see picture below). Morgan, our perky waitress brings it out with a smile.

About 5 minutes later, 78 has topped off the first mug. Unwilling to limit his pleasure, 78 orders another one.

While sipping on the second one, our steaks come out. 1 pound of beef. Yumm! About half way through the steak, 78 orders another 22 ouncer. This puts us at three. I mention, "Damn thats your third one!" His reply, "No this is my second!"

At this point, the jokes were at the bottom of the barrel. You know, the kind you share with close friends and no one else! We're getting progressively louder and drunker (well 78 anyways).

Morgan brings the third beer out. 78 asks her, "How many of these have I had?" She responds three, without a smile. Her sense of humor having been eroded by the unrelenting jubilation emminating from our booth. Torwards the end of the night, our noise level was drowning out the din of the restaurant crowd.

Morgan's demeanor had went from somewhat perky to downright bitchy. I think it enraged her even more when we left her a big tip. I think 78 drank 78 total ounces of beer, not sure how many were in that first bottle...

Now, we head over to Birmingham to find our hotel. 78 and I are discussing the room we're sharing when I mention, "Man I need some lotion." At that point, I realize that was a dumb statement to blurt out without any preceding context. He looks at me blankly and says, "I'm sleeping in the car!"

I explain to 78 that my elbows get dry in the winter. That is why I needed the lotion. Luckily the hotel room had lotion. If it had not, I would have had dry elbows. There is no way in hell, I'm going down to the desk to ask for some lotion! (Think two guys in a room, neither one of them looking like `lotion users')

78 and I attend the event and head home at 5:00 p.m. The drive out of Birmingham is awful. Traffic everywhere and extremely congested interstates.

We decide to stop at Liberty Parkway. This is a section of Birmingham that has a miniature statue of liberty. I have pictures below.

It was quite moving to stand beneath a symbol of liberty. The light of liberty burning brightly in her right hand, the sound of the American flag flapping in the wind ... freedom just seemed to hang in the air.

I've posted pictures of lady liberty below. One of them actually has `78' in it. I juxtaposed him next to the statue, hoping to illustrate the magnitude of the monument.

One of many for the carpooler




















Still bloody... Yum!














The flames of freedom


























Get an idea of how large this mini-statue is?

The Prince of Pleasure

While you may think I am about to blog for myself, you're wrong. This is snippet about an article I just read on the inet.

Lust, betrayal and an oedipus complex all in about 8 or 9 short paragraphs. The story is about a frenchy code-named 'The Prince of Pleasure' who starts an `online' affair with the girl of his dreams. Eventually, the affair turned into an "I want to meet you in person" event.

That is where things go so wrong. The Prince of Pleasure discovered that the girl of his dreams was really his Mom!

Read the story here, then come back to view my comments.

I can't help but think what went through this guy's mind. Wow, I'm about to have a romantic interlude with the woman of my dreams. At this point, I'm sure he is aroused (recall he had seen a pic of his dream girl :)).

Then he sees her standing alone on the beach... He approaches her -- all the typical male thoughts going through his mind...

She turns around. He's staring at his mom while brandishing an erection. Wow.

I don't think I could raise the flag for quite some time after that.

Why are me feet cold and wet?

Saturday after working out, I plopped down on the couch and started flipping through Tivo's "Now Playing List." I start watching Family Guy until my stomach interrupts the episode. The grumblings of my tummy were a reminder that I hadn't had much to eat since breakfast.

I stumble into the kitchen looking for the raisins. "Where are those raisins?" I wonder. That query was quickly replaced by "Are my feet wet?" I look down and notice that water is covering the ENTIRE kitchen floor. Not only is the entire kitchen floor covered, but the water has creeped down the hall torwards the garage and pantry. Not only were my feet wet, they were incredibly cold. The water covering the floor was very cold, almost as if it were refrigerated.

"Where is the plumbing leak?" I wonder. I first check under the kitchen sink expecting to see a cabinet floor full of water. Hmm. That is dry.

Well, maybe the ice-maker hose behind the fridge is busted. That sounds really stupid. Maybe, the water in the `cooling-compartment' of the fridge has froze, busting the plastic container. The `cooling-compartment' is a plastic `staging' area for water after it has been filtered. The idea is that water is stored there, so that when it is dispensed by the refrigerator it will be cold and crisp.

Inspection of the `cooling-compartment' reveals no damage. Well damn. I don't really want to pull the refrigerator out of its cabinet to check the hoses. For some reason or another, I decide to look in the freezer. Our refrigerator is a bit different from most. It's a kenmore elite, which has a pull-out freezer drawer that comprises the bottom third of the refrigerator. I yank open the freezer drawer and hear a big splash. The ice drawer is full of water.

Apparently the ice maker malfunctioned and started `dumping' ice that wasn't frozen. Well, non frozen ice is water ;). The water overflowed out of the freezer and onto the floor. I have pictures of the fiasco below.

I turned the icemaker back on and it seems to be working. However, I'll always be weary of that contraption. Luckily our floors are concrete (scored and stained), so no damage really occurred.

No, those aren't shiny-clean floors!















After this mess, I wanna crack open the wine cooler and start drinking.















Nice thing about concrete floors is I can use a shop-vac to clean up messes!

Wifey ensared me ... again!

I was going through my evening cool-down ritual yesterday: Eat dinner and beat my wife at Wheel of Fortune.

All was going as planned, I had solved a puzzle here and there. I don't keep score, but I think I was up by 1. (Well, maybe I do keep score!)

Wifey asks me if I'll be taking vacation during the holidays. I reply, "No. I think I will go ahead and cash the days in." Where I work, you're allowed to either `roll-over' your unused vacation days or get paid for them.

Wifey: What are you going to do with that money?
Me: I don't know, I was thinking about upgrading my computer.
Wifey: Didn't you do that this year?
Me: Yeah, but I need a new video card. Mine is showing its age.
Wifey: You spent a big chunk of last year's bonus on that computer.
Me: Really? I didn't think it was *that* much.
Wifey: It was. Do you realize that when you get a large sum of money you never buy me anything.

At this point in the conversation, my mind began to race. What would my clever riposte be? Did I have one? And how would she parry it?!

Me: Umm. Uhh.

I begin to think... But you're a woman, you nickel-and-dime us to death! While you slowly bleed us, I go wild and gash us every now and then... But that wouldn't work here... What do I say...

Me: I don't always do that!

At this point I'm marveling at my debating ineptitude. This is going to be bad.

Wifey: Yes you do. [ She proceeds to enumberate the instances of self-spending. ]
Wifey: And don't dare buy me anything now. I'll think you did it because of this conversation.

Ahhh ha! I'll do what all desperate men do when they've been ensnared by the cunning wife -- I lie!

Me: How do you know I was not going to buy anything? Maybe I had planned on buying you something.
Wifey: You're lieing.
Me: How do you know?
Wifey: Your lips are moving.

At this point Wheel of Fortune comes back on and the conversation goes away. However, the hamster wheel is turning in my head. How in the hell did she trick me into this? Usually converstion survival is my forte. But today, I conceded to wifey. But I'm still getting that upgrade :p.

From the "Offensive Jokes" folder

Well, this one isn't too offensive, really...

An elderly couple, Ray and Bessie, recently moved to Texas. Ray has always wanted a pair of authentic cowboy boots. Seeing some on sale one day, he buys them, wears them home, walking proudly.

He walks into the house and says to his wife, "Notice anything different about me?" Bessie looks him over, "Nope."

Frustrated, Ray storms off into the bathroom, undresses, and walks back into the room completely naked except for the boots. Again, he asks, a little louder this time, "Notice anything different now??"

Bessie looks up and says, "Ray, what's different? Its hanging down today, it was hanging down yesterday; it'll be hanging down again tomorrow."

Furious, Ray yells," AND DO YOU KNOW WHY IT IS HANGING DOWN, BESSIE? IT'S HANGING DOWN BECAUSE IT'S LOOKING AT MY NEW BOOTS!!!!!!"

To which Bessie replies, "Shoulda bought a hat, Ray. Shoulda bought a hat."

From the "Dumb games to play on the internet" folder

"Programming Language Inventor or Serial Killer"

I scored 9/10. This bothers me on some level, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

It means I'm able to identify both nerds and serial killers. Hmmm... I wonder what is going on inside that little head of mine...

+1 For the good guys...

Because wifey let me fall asleep on the couch, I am wide awake at 2:30 a.m. So, I start perusing the web and discover a number of interesting news bits:

1) Poll: Confidence in Terror War Jumps

Rasmussen poll finds that "Confidence that the U.S. will ultimately prevail has jumped dramatically, up 9 points in the last six weeks, reports Rasmussen." It's up to 48%. What is alarming, however, is that 28% of the poll respondents think the terrorists will win.

2) Officials: CIA missile strike kills al-Qaida No. 3

w00t! Oh yeah, you can run but you can't hide you sons of bitches. I'd love to fly one of those predator drone planes...

3) A picture of life under Bin Laden's Constitution

Some sneak peaks at what the benevolent dictator Osama would be like:

1. No Alcohol
2. No Gambling
3. No pictures of women in news papers or advertisements
   

No pictures of women? That stinks, as I have remarked here.

Anyone read any good poetry lately?

Mississippi has the most beautiful women

I've always thought this. For some reason a lot of the ladies down here are very pretty. Why? I don't have the foggiest idea.

Can I `prove' that we have the prettiest women? Well no. But there is some emperical data. The value of the below data is definitely up for debate.

The format of the lists below is:

state - winners : population - percent of population that is Mrs. America.

Top Three Mrs. America Producing States
California - 6 : 35,893,799 - 0.00001672
Ohio - 6 : 11,353,140 - 0.0000005285
Pennsylvania - 5 : 12,281,054 - 0.00004071

Top Three Mrs. America Producing States Relative to Their Population
District Of Columbia - 2 : 572,059 - 0.00034961
Hawaii - 2 : 1,211,537 - 0.00016508
Mississippi - 4 : 2,844,658 - 0.00014061

One more reason to live in the south I suppose. Of course Mississippi doesn't have the highest number relative to population, but that obviously is an anomaly in the data ;-).

Don't forget to sign the guest book. I have one visitor and they aren't even American!

I Like Pinup Girls

I was watching a tivo'd episode of Mail Call (Ultimate Man Show). Mail Call covered an array of topics from medieval archers to World War 2 flight jackets (A-2). Everyone recognizes the flight jackets because their style and elegance has lasted through the decades.

R Lee Ermey made a remark about how the old pilots used to decorate their flight jackets. Some guys would adorn the backs of their jackets with their squadron's name. Others would emblazen their jackets with pinup girls. Unfortunately, pinup girls are no longer allowed on the back of flight jackets. And the question now, is "Why?"

Are women offended by pinup girls? Is admiring beauty a bad thing? WTH decided that pretty girls are bad? And WTH made the executive decision that pretty girls are stick thin?

I am speculating that ugly feminist made pinup girls a bad thing. I've always assumed that most feminist were ugly women. I `image-googled' feminist and found this. You decide :).

None of my friends like the 'i eat carrots and broccoli for breakfast, lunch and dinner' look that seems to be the fad. Sure, no one wants a woman that munches on bon-bons and hamhocks. There is a happy median between those two extremes.

This reminds me of an acquiantance who made the comment, "How would you like it if people were staring at you when you bent over to get something?" Well, I guess it would not bother me. Thats a tough problem to have for a lady, to be sure -- "I'm a pretty girl and thats unfair." Heh, tough life, no?

I like pinup girls myself - especially when next to an American muscle car. Pretty women are great. However, don't read that and think I'm gawking at women. I don't. In the spirit of pretty women, I present some olympians of interest!

Iberia Pilots Almost Killed Me (back in 2000)

I don't know why this crossed my mind, but I thought of the flight that made wifey declare, "Once we're back in America, I'll never get on another plane."

The family and I flew to Spain in the summer of 2000. I'm Spanish so I have a lot of uncles, aunts and cousins in that yellow country. Anyway, we caught an Iberia jet (don't remember plane type - it was BIG) in Chicago and flew to Madrid. The flight from the states to Spain was uneventful and painfully boring. 3 seats in coach with my kid sprawled out asleep on me and my wife.

We spend a week in Spain in the coastal town of Chipiona. Sigh, I can still smell the Mediterranean...

But I digress and meander... We catch a plane from some small town in southern Spain to Madrid. I was immediately at ease because the plane had about 7-8 service men. It was unbelievably gratifying to be able to understand the conversations that were going on around me.

Nice clean take off... We begin our approach in Madrid. We happen to have wing seats so I'm looking out over the wing as we descend. I see the horizon and notice that the tip of the wing is dancing up and down over the horizon. That is the plane is yawing left and right.

Hmm, the pilots surely know what they're doing. I'm sure this will straighten out before we touch down. Look out the window again... The wing tips are rising and falling over and under the horizon. Not good, because I can see the city. We can't be more than 500 feet above the ground.

Uh oh. The damned wings are still bobbing. We're about to la... "Boom!" We hit the tarmac with exceptional force. Next, the oxygen masks drop from the ceiling! Unlike television, these oxygen masks didn't lazily fall from the ceiling. These oxygen masks shout out violently from their caves at the top of the cabin.

At this point I realize that my palms are sweating and my heart is pounding at my rib cage. Each pound a reminder that I'm still alive - Yay me.

The plane coasted to a stop. Not a word was said by anyone. As soon as we got off the plane, my wife gave me her remark that has held true for 5 years -- "Once we're back in America, I'll never get on another plane."

Where y'all from?

Too lazy to post. Don't know what to say? My points are so succinct and flawless, you're lost for words. If so, then at least leave a hello on my frappr. frappr is a `pin-up' map. You type in your zipcode, and a spot shows up on the map. No Personal info is required.

Thanks!

http://www.frappr.com/pythonpoetsblog