The Legend of Frankenpenguin...

Cute little guy, isn't he? If you look closely, you can almost see the anguish in his face. You see, this is no ordinary Christmas penguin, oh no, this one has had a rough season, in deed.

The old man and I put up his prized decorations on Saturday, two days after Thanksgiving. When he got up to take the dogs out around 7:30, he discovered that this pudgy little penguin wasn't where he was supposed to be. He had been (literally) ripped from his station in the front yard. What you can't see in this picture is the 50 feet of green vinyl coated chain that connects our decorations to each other and the house, to prevent theft (or so we thought). The culprits had to rip the eyelets out of the penguin's ass to get him out of our yard. We weren't happy. The responding police officer was amused (no doubt) and confused that someone was successful in stealing one of our decorations with our theft prevention methods.

Well, not being the sort to be easily defeated, we promptly went to the local Home Depot and purchased an identical penguin to replace the kidnapped waterfowl. For a couple of weeks, he peacefully stood guard with the other lawn inflatables, cheerfully greeting visitors during this festive season. That abruptly ended with a phone call from my stepdaughter, indicating that the penguin was slumped over in the yard, and it looked as though his belly had been slashed open. I'm going to assume that either someone in our neighborhood hates penguins, or that the theives had returned to the scene of the crime to murder the new guy. Either way, this attack happened in broad daylight. The rogues are getting more daring.

So, what are our choices now? Spend $20 to buy another penguin, or patch this one up so it lasts the rest of the season. We chose the latter, and were out in the front yard with a flashlight and a roll of duct tape sealing the wound in our little trooper's abdomen. Well, the duct tape held...until today...

OK, so I tend to sleep in when I'm not working (sue me), and I was nudged from my sleep at the crack of 11:00 AM by a phone call from my beloved husband. Apparently, our villians had returned once more to exact their revenge to our arrogance by ripping the duct tape from our battered penguin's body. So there I was, in my front yard, needle & thread in hand to stitch up the gaping wound. Let me tell you, it wasn't even in the neighborhood of easy to sew this thing up. But he is, once again, cheerfully waving to passersby with a smile, and a jagged scar.

If I could figure out how, he'd be doing a one-fingered wave until he comes down next week...

This is Why You Don't Give Teenagers Cars & Cell Phones...

Oh, my aching insurance...

ugh

Teenager + Cell Phone=...

Rush Limbaugh is a Big Fat Idiot...Again...

I know that I haven't written for a while (sue me), but, I felt the urge today. My dear friend Kathy forwarded an email to my inbox that really pissed me off today.

Rush Limbaugh, being in an apparently warm and fuzzy mood this week, decided to take it upon himself to try to impune the character and integrity of one Michael J. Fox.

Now, just in case you weren't aware, Michael J. Fox has appeared in a commercial for Missouri democrat Claire McHaskill, a supporter of embryonic stem cell research. In the ad, the symptoms of Mr. Fox's Parkinson's Disease are quite pronounced. Apparently, that was too much for Rush to bear.

Rush, who once stated that all drug addicts should be sent to jail (until he became one, of course, and then they need treatment and compassion), must have thought it was a good idea to go after one of the most beloved actors in American (OK, I know that he's from Canada, but, he did become an American citizen in 2000, so back off) history.

Ol' Rush made the following statements on his radio show about Mr. Fox's appearance in the campaign commercial..."Michael J. Fox is allowing his illness to be exploited and in the process is shilling for a Democratic candidate." He also said..."He is exaggerating the effects of the disease,"...and..."He's moving all around and shaking and it's purely an act....This is really shameless of Michael J. Fox. Either he didn't take his medication or he's acting."

Now, being the level-headed gent that we're all sure that Rush is, he did offer, half-heartedly, that he would apologize if the symptoms exhibited by Mr. Fox were truly genuine. What a fucking scumbag. If I were Michael J. Fox, I would tell him to take his apology and shove it up his pompous ass.

Fuck Rush Limbaugh and anyone who believes his dimented bullshit.

Oh, and have a nice day.

I Survived Nature!...

More accurately, I survived nature with my dogs. Last weekend, my husband and I rented a cabin in the Hocking Hills, south of Columbus. Fabulous place, hope to go back someday. Anywho, the adventure begins on the drive down there. We've got a mid-size SUV, so there should be, theoretically, enough room for the cargo & the dogs with the seats down. Nala, our Golden Retriever, has no problems with this plan. She spreads out in the back and crashes. Randy, the Husky mix, eh, not so much. For whatever reason, he refuses to sit or lay down and proceeds to surf in the back as we're driving through Akron. Not good. Every turn of the vehicle and he's sliding around, making my hubby nervous. At a rest stop, we finally put one of the seats back up, and, all of a sudden, he's pleased as punch. Groovy.

Three-and-a-half hours later, we arrive at the cabin around midnight. It's dark as an armpit, and we don't happen to have a flashlight with us. Now, we've got two dogs that are just going nuts trying to sniff the entire forest in one shot, and we've got to get them into the cabin so we can get our gear. Not easy. We finally drag them into the cabin and they're just the two happiest dogs on the planet. Until we fill their water dish. The cabin was supplied with well water. Nala took one big lurp out of the bowl, sniffed it again, and looked at us like we were crazy. Randy walked over, sniffed it, and wouldn't even try to drink it. Great. Dogs that will drink out of a mud puddle and lick their own asses wouldn't drink well water. Our spoiled city dogs wound up drinking bottled water all weekend.

The next day, it was chilly and rainy, so we decide that we'll go to the state parks on Sunday, and just get some shopping done, come back to the cabin and watch the Ohio State game. Well, by the rules, you can't leave the dogs unattended in the cabin, but we had permission from the owner to do that, but they would have to be crated. Hence, two very confused dogs. Even though they are crate trained, they haven't been locked up in them for quite some time. We got some strange looks from the puppers as we were closing the gates on their crates, but they survived until we got back. After that, we (the humans, that is) jumped into the hot tub to watch the football game. That is the best way to watch a game...ever.

On Sunday, the weather was much better, so we harnessed up the dogs and headed to Hocking Hills State Park. Holy shit you'd have thought our dogs had won the lottery! The first stop on our trip that day went quite well. They behaved themselves, and we had a nice time on the trails in the park. The second stop didn't go quite as smoothly. Randy gets a little excited when he sees other dogs, and there were quite a few of them in the Old Man's Cave section that we had gone to. At one point, in the cave, there was another visitor that had two Goldens, and Randy just lost his furry little mind. I reached down to get a hold of his harness, and the next thing I know, I've got dog in one hand, harness in the other. Not to mention I'm flat on my ass trying to control this dog. Randy now has a new nickname...Houdini.

Monday started out on a sad note. We were greeted first thing with the news that one of our favorite television personalities had been killed in a freak diving accident. The Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin. Such a shame. He's going to be greatly missed. He's done so much for animals and natural conservation around the world. RIP Steve.

After that, we gathered our things and hit the highway once again.

It was a nice trip, but it's always nice to be home.

She Wants to Sell My Monkey...

If you are familiar with that phrase (He's smiling like a butcher's dog!), then, chances are pretty good that you're a Pittsburgh Penguins fan (Get that dog off my lawn!), or, you've at least seen a game or two on FSN Pittsburgh. The title of today's post is one of the catchphrases (Look out, Loretta!) of legendary Penguins play-by-play man Mike Lange (Michael, Michael, motorcycle). Well, my fellow Pens fans, a dark day is upon us (Oh, he beat him like a rented mule!)...

I found the following in in my e-Pens newsletter today...

Penguins Hire Mike Lange as Radio Broadcaster

Radio? Did they say radio? But, generally, I can't get Pittsburgh radio around here! This is going to reduce my hockey watching pleasure (Oh, how much fried chicken can you eat?!). Don't get me wrong, I love Paul Steigerwald and Bob Errey (Buy Sam a drink, and get his dog one too!), really I do, but you just can't replace Mike Lange! Well, fuck.

Next thing you know, people will be talking about how the Pens might move out of Pittsburgh if they can't get a stadium deal. Oh, wait a minute...

Elvis has left the building...

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life...

Thanks, and apologies, to Monty Python...


Cheer up, Brian. You know what they say.
Some things in life are bad,
They can really make you mad.
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle,
Don't grumble, give a whistle!
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And...

(the music fades into the song)

...always look on the bright side of life!
(whistle)

Always look on the bright side of life...
If life seems jolly rotten,
There's something you've forgotten!
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing,

When you're feeling in the dumps,
Don't be silly chumps,
Just purse your lips and whistle -- that's the thing!
And... always look on the bright side of life...

(whistle)
Come on!

(other start to join in)
Always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)

For life is quite absurd,
And death's the final word.
You must always face the curtain with a bow!
Forget about your sin -- give the audience a grin,
Enjoy it -- it's the last chance anyhow!

So always look on the bright side of death!
Just before you draw your terminal breath.
Life's a piece of shit,
When you look at it.

Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true,
You'll see it's all a show,
Keep 'em laughing as you go.
Just remember that the last laugh is on you!

And always look on the bright side of life
(whistle)
Always look on the bright side of life
(whistle)

Big Ben Goes BONG!...

OK, it's not funny that Ben Roethlisberger cracked his Hayabusa off of the front fender of the little old lady that cut him off. Really. But, I must say, it is more than a little ironic that, a little over a year after he and Drew Bledsoe are featured in and ESPN piece on NFL players that don't wear helmets when they ride, he's in a motorcycle accident. Trey Wingo had a good observation in discussing Big Ben's interview from that piece...Ben did seem almost defiant when he said why he doesn't wear a helmet.

Now, for a couple of questions that have come up since the accident yesterday...

1. Should professional athletes be banned from riding motorcycles? Altogether, no. I do think that teams should have the ability to restrict their players from riding them during the season (as many teams do), but, the players should be free to ride their bikes during the off season.
2. What are the odds that Ben's contract will have language addressing motorcycles in the future? Pretty good, I'd say. I think that the teams would be well within their rights to place language in the contracts requiring that if players ride, they wear helmets. These guys may be grown men, but they and their talents are also investments for these teams, and it in the best interests of the teams to try to protect their investments.

That's just my opinion. Nothing will probably change, though. Probably not until a high profile player dies on a bike.

I'm republishin' my list...

A while ago, I got tagged by Geor3ge (*sniff*), to do some list, and, well, I finally got to do one of the things at the top of my list, I'm also going to give some edits to the rest of the list as well...


Seven Things To Do Before I Die

1. See Phantom of the Opera in the West End - *check* - 4/20/2006
2. Go to college - may have to, depending on Delphi!
3. Own a Harley Davidson motorcycle - probably not for a reeeeaaalllyyy long time.
4. See the Bears play in Soldier Field - I'm still holding out hope for this one.
5. Ditto the White Sox at Comiskey Park (OK, US Cellular fucking Field).
6. Learn how to make the perfect lasagna - I've been domesticated, so this may yet happen.
7. Learn to tango - maybe not.

Seven Things I Cannot Do

1. Drive a stick shift - nope, still can't.
2. Keep from correcting my stepdaughter when she says "I've saw" - nails...on...chalkboard.
3. Listen to "Feed Jake" or "He Stopped Loving Her Today" all the way through - ditto above.
4. Understand what's so interesting about 99.9% of "reality television" - still sucks.
5. Like George Bush - nope, not happening.
6. Stop my dog from licking the carpet without breaking the law - hasn't done it lately...
7. Miss CSI: (the original…not the spinoffs). - God bless TiVo.

Seven Things That Attract Me to...Blogging

1. Answering the question "what's a blog?" 48 times a week - It's a little less nowadays.
2. The vain hope that someone famous might 'discover' me - Hellllloooooooo?
3. Being able to express myself for the world to see…for free - Yeah, Baby!
4. Knowing that, every so often, someone does read it - sometimes not too sure about this one.
5. When TMB comes around and starts being his old TMB self (kept this one from Geor3ge's list) - still accurate...nothing beats a cranky/drinking/Oklahoma conservative!
6. Inspiring someone else to express their opinions, too - inspirational!
7. Telling that person that they are full of shit, and they have no clue who I really am - PRICELESS!!!

Seven Things I Say Most Often

1. "Way to go, Einstein."
2. "Is your room clean enough to be on the computer?" (stepdaughter only)
3. "Good job, you".
4. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"
5. "Fuck."
6. "Nala, Randy, finish up, lets go!" (dogs only)
7. "Plant 15, Spencemo* speaking." (work only (*name changed to protect the innocent))

Seven Books That I Love

1. Bill Clinton, My Life (OK, I couldn't get past page 47, but it's one hell of a paperweight).
2. Lewis Black, Nothing Sacred.
3. Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends.
4. Any good cheezy, sleazy, historical romance novel (I'm such a chick) - Replace this with The Green Mile - Stephen King.
5. E.B. White, Charlotte's Web.
6. Roget's Thesaurus.
7. My high school yearbook.

Seven Movies That I Watch Over and Over Again

1. Dirty Dancing (the original, not that Havana Nights shit) - Yep, still my favorite.
2. Ghost (OK, I do have a bit of a thing for Patrick Swayze, sue me)
3. The Sound of Music - Almost too sad to watch, after what happened to Julie Andrews' voice.
4. Die Hard - Yippee Kaiyay, Mother Fucker!
5. Any Star Wars - I know, I'm a geek...
6. The Lion King
7. Somewhere in Time - Cheezy, cheezy, chick flick.

Seven People I Want To Join In Too
Oh hell, I don't know…

Get Legal or Go the Fuck Home...

OK, I'm probably about to piss off the ultra-left among us, but, after yesterday's "Immigrant Rally", or whatever the fuck it was supposed to be, I have but one point to make...If you don't want to do what it takes to be in this country legally, get the fuck out and go back to whatever godforsaken hole in the ground you came from. Illegal aliens ARE NOT immigrants. Immigrants are people who come to this country and do the work to be here legally, either by becoming citizens, or by being resident aliens. My late father-in-law was an immigrant from South Korea. He became such a proud American, that you couldn't even park a foreign-made car in his driveway (not even a Korean one, go figure).

Illegal aliens are CRIMINALS. Other countries have the privilege to deport their sorry asses back to their homelands, but, for some reason, we can't do that here. Illegal aliens DON'T WANT to become citizens...if they did, they'd do the work to be legal. They want to get whatever cash they can TO SEND BACK TO THEIR COUNTRY.

OK, I'm done. Have a nice day.

Grrrrrr.....

I really should have known better.

You see, I needed a new vacuum cleaner, mine is losing it's 'oomph'. The search began at Sam's Club...they're offering a Hoover model that claims "Outcleans Dyson by 13%". Well, since I'm not plunking down $500 for a vacuum, we thought we'd pick that one up in a few days. Well, lo and behold, they were all gone when we returned, so now the hunt is on to find this vacuum somewhere else.

We went to every store in town (that we could think of) to find this Hoover, and came up empty everywhere. Next, we decided to search it on the internet (logical, no?). Well, we found it...the fucker is a Wal-Mart exclusive. Fuck.

My hatrid for Wal-Mart is deep and pure. I'm not sure what Wal-Mart looks like in your town, but here it's the fucking redneck jamboree. Until Saturday, I hadn't stepped foot in our local Wal-Mart in about 3 years.

OK, so we braved the parking lot and headed inside to find my vacuum. It was going pretty well, we found the new vacuum quickly and headed for the checkout. As we stepped into the checkout lane, we noticed that it was a "10 items or less" lane, however, the chick in front of us had a cart full of Easter candy that she was loading onto the belt. There had to be 25 or 30 bags of candy there. If that weren't bad enough, she proceeded to pay for her goodies with food stamps. Now, c'mon, food stamps should buy things like bread, milk, cereal and the like. Not 84 metric tons of easter candy. I probably would have been less angry if she'd paid with a check.

Now, we checkout, and head to dinner, having been released from the grody grips of Wally World. After a lovely dinner, we make our way home to assemble and try out our new dirt sucker, which, I must say, really picked up some shit out of my carpet. As I was marvelling at the amount of dog hair this thing ate, I take out the dust bin to empty it, head to the trash can, and notice a large pile of dirt on the floor by my feet. Fuck, the latch that is supposed to hold the dust bin closed is broken. NOW I HAVE TO GO BACK TO WAL-MART AND EXCHANGE THIS THING! It's almost a fate worse than death.

That was Saturday. Today, it got worse...

Today, I repack the broken vacuum and load it into my truck to return it to the hell from which it was spawned. As I'm preparing to turn up an aisle to park, I see a Buick LeSabre's reverse lights come on, so I stopped to let the guy get out of his space. The guy proceeds to try to turn this thing 180 degrees to drive the wrong way out of the aisle. He missed my front fender by about 6 inches. I'm not pleased. Once he's out of the way, I start to head into his empty space. Next thing I know, the lady that was parked in the space next to him, backs out, pulls a complete U-turn and drives the wrong way out of the aisle as well. And, OK, I lost my tiny little mind, yelling and cussing (me, cuss?), and she just sweetly waves and says 'thank you' because she thinks that I let her out.

Now, once I finally got inside, the exchange went pretty smoothly. I got the new one home (again), put it together, plugged it in, and the fucker didn't work. Wouldn't even turn on. I've had it. Now, I have to go back to Wal-Mart AGAIN, and return this thing. I could just die.

This time, I'm getting my money back and going somewhere else, while I figure out how to scrub Wal-Mart gunk off of my soul.

UPDATE (4/11/06): Well, after calming down, when I got home today, I called Hoover to see if it's possible to take the handle back out to check the power cord connection. Sadly, it isn't. So, I calmly took a look at the back of the machine, realized that the screws were regular phillips-head screws, took a panel off and fixed the machine myself. Problem solved...

I still have to get that Wal-Mart gunk off of my soul, though...I think a few beers should at least be a start...

There Ought To Be A Law...

There really should be a law against having to go to the dentist and need to fill your gas tank on the same day. That was my Thursday...straight from the dentist to the gas pump. Talk about taking it from both ends! $44.25 to fill my tank! Bring me the head of Exxon's CEO!

On a funnier note, I just had the funniest experience in a drive thru in a while today. I went through the Starbucks (mmmm...coffee) drive thru today, and when I paid for my coffee, the cheerful clerk looked at me and said that I could make my Caramel Macchiato at home! All I needed to do was buy this spiffy $1000 coffee machine! That's one hell of an upsell in the drive thru. Shit, when I was working one, we just tried to get people to buy a 50 cent apple pie, not a $1000 coffee machine!

But, it is on sale, after all, it's usually $1200...hell, I should buy two...

Too Cute to Resist...

Say hello to Nala...isn't she cute?

The Ultimate in Red Tape...

As I was reading the news at lunch today, I happened across a story on AOL.com about an injured Army vet who was being refunded by the government after being charged for his missing body armor. It seems, that he 'lost' his body armor after the medics had to destroy it because it was covered with his blood. His unit refused to sign a waiver for the vest unless he had witness statements to back up his claim that the medics had to destroy it because it was now a biohazard. The army gave him a bill in the neighborhood of $650 for the vest and other missing items out of the vest. What, if I may be so bold as to ask, in the living fuck is wrong with this picture? This poor soldier got the fuck blown out of him in Iraq, and the Army wants to send him a bill for the vest that saved his life?

What moron is in charge here? Oh wait, I remember who that is now...

Super Bowl Sunday...

You know, I never in my life thought that I would say this, and it's almost painful to do so...

I can't wait until the Super Bowl is over.

You see, I live right in the middle between Browns territory and Steelers territory, and, well, I'm not a fan of either. I do, however, work with a shitload of Steeler fans that have become increasingly obnoxious over the past two weeks. I don't know how much of this shit I can take. I don't mind people being enthusiastic about their team's success, but these assholes take it waaaaaay too far.

I have started fighting back...I placed a shortcut on my desktop to a Google video playing the Bears' Super Bowl Shuffle, so when I get bombarded with Steelers propaganda, I just click the link and turn up the volume...

"We are the Bears Shufflin' Crew..."

...sigh...

Moving to a New Neighborhood...

OK, since it seems like everybody else is doing it (lemming!), I thought that I'd try blogspot and see how I like it. We'll see how it goes.

Later, all.