Bitching (continued)

Yesterday, once I got home from work, my wife and I had yet another disagreement about my previous posting about the party.

Now, I'm going to come clean with you all.. That "Party" post is almost a complete fabrication..

What I did with that post was to take the small kernels of truth, and then expand them about 20 times from my viewpoint to create the story.

When I said that there was $200 of alcohol? Not so much, but to me? Yeah, it kind of felt that way...

The 10 pages of things to do? Newp. More like 1 or 2 things, but heck, when you're left to do those on your own with an obsessive compulsive person like my wife's expectations to live up to, it might as well be about 10 or 20 things!

Anyway, I think you're getting my drift here.

Now, according to her, the biggest thing that bothered her was what I told you all that she gave me those things to do, ad then went to lay down.

Funny, but that was the truth!

Now, I'm not begrudging her any sleep. Heck, I even encouraged her to take a nap. The self-consious way that she feels about others knowing what she does is what really bothered her about that, to be honest.

Now, we finally agreed yesterday that we were going to drop it, but something near the end of our talk really bothered me, so I'm writing about it.

It was simply this.

She's so concerned about what you readers think about her, that she wanted me to write and explain this entire scenario.

However, when I pointed out to her that she continually fosters these visions of me and my bad habits to her friends, she doesn't think a second thing about it.

Um..

Wait..

Excuse me?

I'm writing to complete strangers about a mostly (80%) fabricated story, and you're bothered about what they think, yet have NO compunctions about going to your friends (WHO WE KNOW!) and talk shit about me and how worthless and lazy I am??

I take back the retraction.

Yes, she gave me a list of things to do, and then she went down to take a nap.

See that as you will. I don't care. But it's the truth.

If she can't face that, then we still have things to talk about.

However, I will put some kind of "spoiler alert" in front of some of my more fabricated stories so that you know when I'm blowing smoke up your ass, or whether I'm talking seriously.

This one?

It's serious.

Sorry for the drama, I'll try to be more chipper on Tuesday.

Have a happy Halloween, and take care this weekend.

I'll talk to you all on Tuesday!

Time to bitch and moan

Why oh why is it that when I start something, someone I know tends to take a dislike to what I'm doing, and try to tell me how I should do something?

I work on the house, somehow what I'm doing isn't correct, and I need to do it this way.

I go out to play with the kids. That's great, but don't get TOO rough.

I chat with some online friends. "I don't really care, but you tend to get a bit too friendly with them, and that makes me upset"

I get on the computer.. "You play TOO long on there, and don't pay enough attention to anything else."

NOTHING seems to be done right!

Am I just a natural screw-up, or what?

I mean, I know that I've got my faults.

I love to tell stories. I love to make up silly things on the spot. I know that I love to play video games. I know that I shouldn't be typing this right now, and should really be finding something here at work to be doing, etc.

But last night REALLY took the cake for me.

Someone had to come over and talk to me, and confront me on something with other folks.

Blatant.

Right out front, let's get it on type of confrontation.

I could understand talking to me one on one, and telling me something.

But to confront and belittle me in front of other people?

Meh. Doesn't really jive with me.

Now? Yup. I'm pissed.

I'm sure that they'll be told about me writing here, and to be honest, I could care.

All I'm doing right now is venting my frustration and feelings. If that's a problem, then they have the option of not reading.

Plain.

And.

Simple.

Oh, and if they really don't like this? Then they should've thought of this before they decided to confront me in front of their friends, now shouldn't they?

Anyway, I think I'm done here.

Oh, and moderation for comments has been turned on, just specifically because of the new readers I've got that have a need to try to control this part of my online experience as well!

Talk more tomorrow

Tripping the light fantastic..

Before I got this killer job that I'm in now, I used to put together as many jobs as I possibly could to help make ends meet.

At one point, I was a contractor, accountant, on-call computer repair person, and a DJ for music and Karaoke!

That's right. 4 jobs.

You know what that meant?

Yup.

No sleep.

None.

Whatsoever.


There really were times when I'd kind of wake up while at a job, and wonder how the hell I'd gotten there, and where the heck I'd parked my car so that I could run off to my next job.

Those were some FREAKY times, let me tell you.

This last job, as a DJ for music and Karaoke, also scarred me for life.

I don't mind singing. I've even been told that I'm pretty good at it.

But when you add a dimly lit bar, alcohol, and a song that everyone must sing along to?

It's NOT pretty.

Granted, most Karaoke singers aren't bad. Some do well, other try really hard and are passible.

There are those select few, though, that really make the hairs on the backs of my neck and arms just stand out and try to find the atmosphere.

Take this example:

There was a bar that I had to run from 6pm Friday evening until 2:30am. Saturday morning. Happy hour was at 7, and then the full bar really got going around 9. Now, as a DJ, playing music isn't bad. At least they can sing, the music's decent, and you can control the volume.

When it gets to Karaoke?

Newp. No real control at all.

Get some drunk guy up there demanding to sing Garth Brooks' "Friends in Low Places" or Hank Jr.'s "Country Boy Can Survive", and you just hope and pray for that gopher hole to crawl into and hide your face and ears.

I honestly think there were times that I left that bar with bleeding ears. I kid you not.

But my all-time hated song?

It's a fairly new one, and isn't really a bad tune, as far as music goes. I just can't stand it anymore.

It's Kid Rock and Cheryl Crow's "Picture".

Yup. Can't STAND it anymore.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY too many drunk guys and gals trying to sing that song.

The best part? When the guy can't tell which line is his, and which is hers!

So you get the girl singing both parts, and the guy just butting in wherever, because since he's got a microphone, he might as well make some use out of it!

Anyway, it was quite the interesting time.

As a DJ, you make some pretty good tips just playing a song someone asks for. I should've just installed a jukebox in the place, and stood by it to play the different songs, to be honest.

The most requested song to hear?

"Sweet Home Alabama"

I don't know why, since I did all of my musical stuff in Washington State, and I'm pretty sure not many of the folks that asked for the tune had ever left the sity limits, much less the state!

Anyway, one night I was playing around, and I asked folks for some music ideas. Not only was I going to do requests, but I wanted them to be "girl tunes".

Yup. Girl Tunes.

I did "Man, I Feel Like a Woman", "I'm Just a Girl", "The Woman In Me", "I Am Woman", etc..

You get the picture.

That got such a great response, that I started making Friday nights my "Theme" nights.

I'd offer up a $50 cash prize to whomever could guess the theme that I'd come up with.

I think I only paid out three times. Most of the time, the obscure stuff would get them, but they'd keep coming back each and every time!

Anyway, I still go out every once in a while with the wife to play and sing, and there's the occasional time that I'll try some contest just to see how I stack up against everyone in the local area.

How about you?

Yarr!! Here's #2!!

great party!

Two-fer Tuesday.

Yeah. I'm going to try some kind of "marketing" schtick, and see how it goes..

So Tuesdays I'm going to ramble about whatever takes me fancy, then come back later, and try something else!

Let's see what you all think about that one!

Anyway..

Back when I was in the service, I enjoyed going out on the cruises. I mean, life had this structure.

Up at 6am, Shit, Shower, Shave (now to be known as the 3S move), get to the duty station for work. Work 8 hours, duty-free until 6am the next morning!

Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner were all taken care of, there were movies and TV to watch, unless you preferred your radio or TV and video game system that you could smuggle aboard the ship.

Plus, you got to see some amazing ports and sights.

I was singularly lucky in that I got to go on two amazing world-wide cruises in my shortened time there.

First, after my schooling was done, my boat was slated to do a Caribbean run.

This isn't as posh as a normal cruise, but it's still an amazing area to see and explore when you've got the time. I'm a big fan of the whole swashbuckler era, so being around the seas where pirates once roamed free really brought some nostalgia home to me! I also got some GREAT souvenirs!

Once we got back from this cruise, we did some manatory down time, and then headed for our "sister" port over in Scotland. Once there, we did some shakedown drills, and I got a chance to find out that Scotland reminded me of my home state. Foggy, rain, and green. Made me a bit homesick for a while, but I loved the accents and scenery.

This immediately was followed by a posting for us to do a "Med Cruise".

Yup. You read right.

Mediterranean Cruise.

I got to see Italy, Greece, Egypt, Israel, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, and Turkey.

It was amazing.

And it was only overshadowed by one thing..

A trifle, really..

It was called...

Operation Desert Storm.

Near the end of the cruise, our battle group was activated, and we went down through the Suez Canal, and into the Indian Ocean to participate in operations in the Gulf.

Heck, I didn't mind. I was a bubblehead (aka submariner), and there wasn't much of a chance of someone being able to hit US underwater!

Being the rate and rank I was also gained me some airtime on CNN, as I was able to watch a few of my missle actions followed on TV! Sure, they tended to be a few weeks after the fact, but heck, I could still recall the entire operation! Now, my face wasn't shown, but you can still hear my calm, matter-of-fact voice repeating that litany of catchphrases during the live-fire.

The biggest let-down to all of this?

It was one man.

His name?

Bill Clinton.

Yup.

Clinton.

I was one of many servicemen who lost a job when he made his cutbacks.

Because of my age, and the time in grade for my position, I was going to basically be busted down from an E-6 position back to an E-3! And all I'd get for it was a campaign ribbon!

I politely refused to do this, and was given a partial retirement from the United States Navy.

Since then, my monthly stipend has given me some nice spending money each month, but thanks to this financial crisis we're having, I've been getting notices that even more of this partial pension of mine might be taken to help offest budgeting in the bank it's being held at!

Can you believe this? The US bank that I've got my military pension held in wants to charge me even more to keep my hard-earned service cash so that they can cover their own losses in this economic spiral we're in.

I don't know about you, but I'm really hoping for someone else to ask me to hold their money, so I can charge them more for what I'm losing!

No! Politics again? Seriously?

Yeah.

I have to say that I'm really not impressed with the way the government is handling this "bailout" of our economy.

I mean, really, giving the bulk of this money to Ford, GM, Chrystler, and Chevy?

Who makes up this stuff??

Let's see. Investment companies are going tits up, so let's funnel any emergency cash we can find into the automobile market, and they should get back on track in no time!

That's like saying that if a boat's got a leak, you plug up the anchor hole, and it should be fine pretty soon.

The only way that sinking boat is going to "right" itself is when it finally hits the bottom of the riverbed, or ocean bed, etc.

So my assumption here is that SOMEONE is on the payroll of major automotive movers, and is worried that his paycheck from them isn't going to look as pretty as it once did, so if he funnels enough cash to them, his paycheck at the end of the month will look better.

Because the rest of it makes absolutely NO sense whatsoever to me.

If you're going to bail out an economy, you need to help the financial institutions, not the producers.

Giving a buttload of cash to lumbermills isn't going to help the steel market, and plunging millions of dollars into mining isn't going to bolster the paper demand, either.

So how is giving a couple billion dollars to Ford, Chrystler, GM, and Chevrolet going to help places like Washington Mutual, or Wachovia, or Fannie Mae, or any other finance company?

It's not.

And there goes all that money that was supposed to HELP us out, going straight into the pockets of someone who really didn't need it anyway.

God, I really LOVE this country at times, don't you?

More rememberance about jobs...

Now, for those of you just tuning in, yesterday I talked about my first job, and what I did and how I managed.

Today? I'm going to talk about some of the jobs that made me who I am today.

After leaving the glorious job at McDonalds, I took a little time to myself, and just decided to be a "free teen" with only the task of continuing my education.

However, that didn't cut it, and I had to get a job.

I was lucky enough to know a man who owned his own construction business, and he was willing to teach me what I'd need to know in order to get by, if I was willing to put in the work.

I agreed, and started my fascination with power tools and building stuff.

At first, I was relegated to cleaning up areas, and prepping new areas for work.

This meant picking up scraps, or sweeping out stuff, or running the "tamping" machine so that the ground was firmly packed, or taping off areas for painting, etc...

After about six months of this, he deemed me ready to learn some real stuff. That's when I learned about hanging drywall, and mudding and taping.

I then graduated to painting.

After that? Cutting lengths for framing.

Then reading plans, and putting up walls and stairs.

Then roofing, and finally installing electrical lines and plumbing.

By the time I'd hit 2 years, he'd gotten quite trusting of me, and gave me a small team of workers to oversee.

Basically, I was a foreman of an 8 man team. We'd go in, clear out an area, prep it, then put up the skeleton frame of the house he was working on.

Once this was done, then we'd head for the next spot, and begin work there while a new team would take over where we'd left off.

I made pretty good money doing this, and I actually loved the work.

It was at this time that I also had my near-death experience.

Once, while working a job, we were required to tear down an existing apartment complex before getting started with the new building.

The new complex was actually 6 stories, and was in poor repair, so the idea was to take down entire floors as quickly as possible. This meant basically gutting the inside of the building, and then dropping the exterior walls down towards the dumpster.

I was walking an inspector through the site one day, and we were talking about where we were going to be running the water and electrical from, because the old headers were bad, and needed to be replaced.

As we were talking, a support beam gave way, and the upper story (I think it was the 5th story wall) fell toward us.

The inspector didn't have any safety equipment on, and so I shoved him out of the way, and then got a 2 ton piece of wall dropped on me. I was knocked unconsious immediately, and I don't know how long it really took for them to get me out. I only remember waking up in the recovery room the next day. I'd dislocated my left shoulder, I had a major concussion, a slight fracture of my L-3 vertebrae, and four broken ribs.

Considering the height that wall fell, and the weight of it, I am one lucky man to be able to be writing to you today about this.

Anyway, because of that accident, I decided to change careers. Since I was still in college, I decided to see what else I could get into.

Information Technology was still HUGE at this point, so I decided to get my degree in networking administration. I also decided to get some programming experience, and maybe even some hardware knowledge.

However, while going to school, it's great to be an academic, but bills still need to be paid.

Because of this, I took up another job.

I became a Certified Nursing Assistant at a local nursing home.

This was a job that I loved. Not for the work, but for the people.

The work SUCKED. I don't know about you, but you really can't pay a person enough money to go wiping butts, or emptying urinals, or giving showers. There's just not that much money.

However, some of the most interesting and entertaining people you'll ever meet are the ones that know that you're there to help them in their hour of need.

Sure, some see you as Satan incarnate. But others look at and treat you like their own personal guardian angel.

Yes, it was (and probably still is) an unwritten policy to not get attached to your clients, as most were elderly, and destined to eventually die.

However, I don't think that's really possible with the amount of attention and care that you provide for someone in that situation.

Yes, I saw death. In many forms. But I also saw love. I saw peace. I saw contentment. And I saw laughter in the face of adversity.

That, more than anything taught me the strength of the human spirit. It also gave me an even stronger dedication to family.

Since then, I've gotten my degree, and my extra classes, and I've got my dream job.

Sure, the pay isn't what I want, but it still provides very well for me and my family. I'm sure I could go somewhere else, and make much more. However, would making more make me happy?

I don't think so.

As of now? I'm content with my life and where I'm at. I've done what's needed to be done, and now I'm focused on helping my kids get there.

Now that's a journey and tale well worth living, don't you think?

Another trip down memory lane...

Ok, time to reminisce a bit..

Back when I was in High School, my dad told me that if I wanted something, I was going to have to EARN it.

This meant that I was going to need a JOB.

Now, since Junior High, I'd been going out each summer to get extra spending cash. Picking strawberries, picking beans, and picking blueberries.

Usually, by the end of the summer I'd have about 1,000 or more, depending on the crops and my willingness to enslave myself.

Then, I'd fly out to Minnesota for a couple of weeks to my uncle's farm, take care of his stuff, and come home with another $700.

So, by the time school would start, I'd have about $1700 for clothes, books, and tuition. (Books and tuition for college, because I was taking college courses at the same time that I was going to High School!)

Well, things weren't working out so well in the "I need a car!" department, so I got my high school counselor to give me a "emancipation" document that my parents could sign so that I could get a part-time job to work at along with my schooling.

My dad agreed, and signed this.

My first employer? McDonald's.

Yes, I worked the greasy fast-food job for four years while plugging away at schoolwork.

Now, I didn't mind the work. My problem was the definition of part-time.

My school schedule went something like this:

6am. Get up, shower, eat some breakfast, get to school.

6:30 am-2pm High school and related classes.

3pm-5pm College courses.

5:30pm-10pm Work at McDonald's.

10:30-?? Home for homework, then eat a little something, and hit the sack. Usually about midnight.

Now, this wasn't really a problem, since I pulled a 4.0 GPA while in High School, and I also earned a 3.8 with my college courses.

The problem was when I'd get called for extra shifts while I was IN school!

My answering machine would usually be chock-full of messages asking if I could come in for some extra time. Or if I could cover this or that shift.

Did they not know that I was in school? Or did they just not care?

I don't know, but I do tell you that it was the reason that I quit, eventually.

I was told, in no uncertain terms, that I would be working the night of my High School graduation.

I calmly looked the manager in the face, tossed my hat and apron in their face, and said "F-you. I'm going to graduate."

I still don't think they'd rehire me if I was desperate for a job...

Anyway, thanks to that job, I was able to get my first beater of a car.

My cherished 1971 Volkswagon Super Beetle.

I paid all of $300 for it, and it abused the HELL out of it. (refer to a previous post about it, and you can see just how hard I was on it!)http://jormengrund-yetanotherdayinparadise.blogspot.com/2008/09/teen-escapades.html

Anyway, this was just one of the small joys I was able to get in touch with because of the added financial freedom!

Another?

I moved out when I was 15.

I was able to get in with a friend of mine, and we lived in a two bedroom apartment just across the way from my school. I paid half the rent, and half of utilities.

This would only cost me $250 a month, which wasn't bad!

So then I tried my hand at something else..

I decided to start saving for buying my own home.

Now, I don't know many teens who think this far ahead, but it gave me brain cramps when I'd decide how much of each paycheck I was going to put into my nest egg account at my bank.

I mean, I had gas to pay for, insurance, food, rent, and utilities. Plus, if I wanted to go play at some point during the weekend, I had to foot that bill as well.

I learned how to budget FAST. Plus, it seemed to work for me.

Thus, with some hard work, some dedication, and a little luck, I was able to put aside a nice big chunk of change when I graduated.

Add to that all the bonus cash I got for being in the service, and I was sitting pretty when I decided to buy a home!

But that's for another day..

Do you recall your first job?

Was it as glorious as mine?

Just some thoughts to make your day...

I read these, and thought you'd get a chuckle..

A train station is where a train stops..

A bus station is where a bus stops...

And this is my Work Station!


A blonde woman is driving down the road. She notices that she’s low on gas, so she stops at a gas station. While she’s pumping her gas, she notices that she locked the keys in the car. So when she goes inside to pay, she asks the attendant for a hanger so that she can attempt to open the door herself.
She returns outside and begins to jimmy the lock. Ten minutes later, the attendant comes out to see how the blonde is faring.
Outside the car, the blonde is moving the hanger around and around while the blonde inside the car is saying, “A little more to the left…a little more to the right!…”

A few people are sitting in a bar when one guy says, “My name is Larry, and I am a SNAG.”
Another guy says, “What’s that?”
The first guy says, “That means I am a Single, New Age Guy.”
Another one says, “My name is Gary, and I am a DINK.
A girl asks, “What’s that?”
He says, “That means I am a Double Income, No Kids.”
A lady says, “That’s nice. My name is Gertrude, and I am a WIFE.”
Larry says, “A wife? What’s a wife?”
She says, “That means, ‘Wash, Iron, Fuck, Etc.”

Marsha completed four weeks of dental restoration with Dr. Morris Cohen the dentist. She confided to her best friend that she had fallen in love with her dentist …and she was going to propose to him.
Her friend said, ” Marsha you’re 34 years old, you’re beautiful, you have dozens of men who adore you. Why this dentist?”
“Because he is the First man that ever said to me…. SPIT, don’t SWALLOW.”

When design engineers get together they often talk about football.
When Middle management meet, they talk about tennis.
When top management meet they talk golf.
Conclusion: The higher you climb in the corporate ladder the smaller your balls become!



Anyway, you all have a GREAT day!

Sensitivity Training..

Back when I was in the service, there was this small issue that happened that forever changed the way I feel about dealing with anyone else.

Operation Tailhook.

If you don't recall, a LARGE group of senior officers from the Naval Corps were at a convention, and took some serious "liberties" with the aides and staffers that were with them.

This led to quite a few court-martials, and some serious policy changes in the entire Navy establishment.

One of these directly affected me.

It was called "Sensitivity Training", and we were given the unique opportunity to sit in a small classroom for 5 days, and listen to an instructor tell us how we were supposed to react with everyone else we came into contact with.. Both male and female.

Now, I personally felt a bit insulted that I was lumped together with these strangers that I'd never met, but I did get my eyes opened a couple of times. (mostly because I tended to nap during the instructor's lectures!)

One of the most memorable times? During Non-Verbal Communication.

I was asked to give an example of something I'd seen that would demonstrate non-verbal communication. Being the smartass I am, I came up with this scenario.

"I recall one day where we were just coming back into port from a mission, and while up on the gangtower, we noticed *insert name here*'s girlfriend storming down the dock. Now, everyone knew that he'd been screwing around on the side, and everyone who saw her face just knew that he was going to be getting in some hot water once the boat was docked!"

As I related this, there was an Ensign sitting across from me. Female. Attractive. And agitated.

As my story kept going on, she kept leaning closer and closer to the edge of her seat. Once the story was done, she pointed at me, and blurted "I don't believe this! That's SO stereotypical!"

I nodded, and then said. "Maybe you're right, but watching you get ready to leap out of your seat while I was telling the story is another good example of non-verbal communication, wouldn't you say?"

After that incident, I was asked to not give my opinions anymore in the class, and I'd be given a "pass" grade.

Sometimes, being an asshole is worth it, you know?

More Comments on Stereotypes...

Well, something I said actually got a response, so I'm going to talk more about it!

Steretypes.

Me? I'm tall. Since the 6th grade I've been well over 6 foot. As of now, I'm 6'4" tall, and I weigh 250 pounds.

This has been cause for quite a few comments.

"Youre tall, do you play basketball?"

How exactly should I answer this? I've almost felt like replying,
"You're short! Do you play miniature golf?"

Or this one: "How's the weather up there?"

I've had to suppress the urge to spit, and say "Rainy"

Then I get posts from people like Bee, who look Hispanic, and because of this are assumed that they cook a specific way.

Let's see.. My nose is big, that must mean I'm Italian, which means that I can cook one mean pasta dish!

I'm Black, so that must mean I love red beans and rice, cornbread, and fried chicken!

I'm Polish, so that means I like sausage, potatoes, and cabbage!

Give.

Me.

A.

Break!

I think most times folks automatically assume things because they don't really want to find out about the person they meet. What they really want is what they can get from said person. It's not about who they are, but what they can give.

Me? I tend to be more reserved, and I take people at face value. I also have a tendency to trust someone until I find out that they've earned my mistrust.

Take this for an example.

At my work I have a manager who told me when I started here that he had a degree in computer science, but he never pursued the job because there wasn't much of a demand for the work when he got it.

Me, being the trusting sort, nodded, and took him at his word. After all, why not? I mean, I've never met the guy, and chance are he's telling me the truth, because what value would there be in lying to a basic stranger?

Today, I had an issue that was simple to fix. One install and a reboot was all that was needed. I asked said manager to do it, since it was something any "normal" user could accomplish. His reply? "Um, where do I find the reboot switch?"

So, for a comment like this one, I'm definitely NOT going to believe one more word this jackass tells me. You've got a computer science degree, but you think there's a reboot SWITCH somewhere on the computer desktop?

Anyway...

For me, I think the only bad thing about this job is that I'm starting to stereotype all of my managers into one file.. "Dumbass"

This isn't fair, to be honest, as there are a few here that really have their stuff together.

Of course, these aren't the people I deal with on a weekly or even daily basis, so for the most part I still consider them strangers. They're nice, they get their work done, and they don't bother me about stupid stuff.

It's the other 80% of the management force here that gets my goat.

Really, if you're going to try to impress me, do it with something other than that blazing "intellect" you've got going on.

My example for this one? Yup. I've got one.

Three weeks ago I had to move a workstation and printer. The location they wanted it in had NO power source, so I asked the maintenance manager to drop a power box there so I could finish the job. I got the "We're busy, so you're going to have to wait"

Needless to say, I couldn't put this on hold, as the GM told me to "Get it done... NOW."

So I asked the manager how long I would have to wait. His response? "When I get to it. If you need it done now, then go do something yourself."

You say something like that to me, and you're darn well going to get a result, it's just not going to be one you like. Now, I have to wander through when they do the fire inspections here, and I know what you are and are NOT supposed to do. So I went and did something BAD.

I took a 150' extension cord, and a 10' power strip, and ran a line all the way to the desk location.

I did this just a week away from the next fire inspection tour.

Now, this morning, I got a nasty email, and an extension cord and power strip dropped in my office chair.

I'm not saying "I told you so", but if he'd been willing to work with me from the beginning, then everyone here could have been happy, don't you think??

Anyway, time for a meeting. More next week!

Have a great weekend!!

Here's the question of the day!!

"I cuss like a sailor."

I've often heard this quote, and I wonder where it came from.

Yes, there are some guys who have a wide vulgar vocabulary, and they tend to use it quite frequently. However, does this mean that they're Navy guys??

Nah.

I can cuss it up with the best of 'em. I have also been known to get into a scrap or two because of my mouth, and my attitude.

However, when with company I do tend to behave, and even play nice!

Yes, yes, I know.. Quite a shock to some of you!

The question on my mind is stereotypes. Why are there so many around anymore?

I mean, we've got the bitchy girlfriend, the nagging housewife, the ignorant father, the busybody dad, the nosy neighbor, the clueless teenager, the ditzy blonde..

The list can go on and on and ON!

What is this need we've got to be able to categorize everyone into some kind of stereotype?

Why do we feel the need to file and rank each and every person we meet?

What is it about us that makes us SO competative, that we can't even take someone at face value?

I don't know, but I think I'd like opinions on this one!

Post your ideas, and give me some more ammo for my writing!

Work, Work, Work (continued)

Well, last week I did something stupid, and hurt myself.

It wasn't intentional, I just am getting old, and moved in a way that I used to be able to, except my body decided to change it's mind, and not tell me about it.

So I've got a bit of a strained back and a partially separated lower left rib.

Now, this isn't really THAT big of a deal, but it hurts like hell at times.

Especially if I have to sneeze, or cough.

Now being in a warehouse like this, sneezing and coughing are two things that usually happen in abundance, as there's TONS and I literally mean TONS of dust in here.

So for me, not being able to sneeze or cough is pure torture.

Of course, having to sneeze or cough is just as much torture, so I'm not really sure which I prefer.

Blast this body for deciding to get old on me!

Who said that it could decide without me at least getting some kind of "veto" vote??

Letters From War.

I had the chance to listen to this song after posting my last experience from being in the service, and I have to be honest, it got me a bit misty-eyed.

The artist is Mark Schultz, and it's off his album Stories and Songs. I don't have any way to embed the song on my page just yet, but once I get the chance, I'm going to do it.

But, since I can't let you hear the song, I can still write down the lyrics, and hope that you get a chance to listen to it at some point.

Here's the song:

She ran to the mailbox on that bright summer's day.
Found a letter from her son in a war far away.
He spoke of the weather, and of friends he had made
Said "I've been thinkin' 'bout Dad and the life he had and that's why I'm here today"
Then at the end he said "You know what I'm fighting for"
It was the first of his Letters From War

She started writing:
You are good, and you're brave
What a father that you'll be someday
Make it home, make it safe
She wrote every night as she prayed..

Late in December, a day she'll not forget
Oh, her tears stained the paper with every word that she read
It said "I was up on a hill, I was out there alone
When the shots all rang out, the bombs were exploding
That's when I saw him, he came back for me
And though he was captured, the man set me free
And that man was your son..
He asked me to write you, I told him I would, oh I swore."
It was the last of his Letters From War

And she prayed he was living, she kept on believing
And she wrote every night just to say

You are good, and you're brave
What a father that you'l be someday
Make it home, make it safe
And still she kept writing each day..

And then two years later, Autumn leaves all around
A car pulled in the driveway, and she fell to the ground
And out stepped a Captain where her boy used to stand
He said "Mom, I'm following orders
I got all your letters, and I've come home again"

He ran in to hold her
He dropped all his bags on the floor
Holding all of her Letters From War


I hope this touches you all as much as it hit home to me.

Hopefully one day they'll all come home!

This one time, on the East Coast..

Time for some recollection!

I used to be in the Navy, and I LOVED every minute of it.

I mean, where else were you overpaid to do a job even a trained monkey could do, and get free room and board for it as well??

I made HUGE bank (I still have a hefty savings account that I keep for emergencies!), I got TONS of exercise, and was my most physically fit while in the service, and I was kept current with all my medical and dental work while there.

Granted, some stuff was more interesting than others. I know that Boot Camp stories abound. The tear gas training, the marching endlessly, the incessant drilling, the mean COs, and all that.

This is about my schooling afterwards, before I got assigned my first true duty station.

I was assigned to subs, and not only submarines, but I was also designated a "Nuke" because of my ASFAB scores.

This meant some serious school, and some serious cash!

My first school? Orlando.

Now, Basic Training was done in Great Lakes, and it was DAMN cold when I went.

Not only that, but the only females I got to see the entire time I was in Boot were the two nurses, and one food server in the mess hall. Everyone else was MALE.

Imagine how surprised I was to show up for my schooling in Orlando, and find out that not only were there women there, but my entire class was co-ed?

HEAVEN.

Sure, it was a distraction, but it was heavenly!

Sadly, the classes only lasted three weeks, and then we were shipped off to Sub school training.

Where else would this be located than in the gran location of..

Groton, Connecticut.

Where? You ask?

Groton. As I described it to my folks, "The armpit of America".

It stunk. It was dingy. There were WAY too many lifer folks here, and they didn't seem to care about who came and went, as long as it didn't affect their lifestyle.

Not only that, but it was directly across the bay from Manhatten, and at night you couldn't really get much sleep because of the lights coming off the island! It was like being so close to reality, but yet only glimpsing occasional flashes of sanity..

Anyway, the best part about the sub school was as follows:

One day, while we were learning about patching burst piping, we got a notice.

Apparently the SEAL team that nobody was supposed to know was stationed at our base was going to perform a "terrorist drill" where they were going to try to take over operations, and see how long it would take.

This then lead to a huge debate and betting pool. Most of us were undecided. I mean, there were plenty of objectives that you could take, the problem was deciding which ones to go for first.

There were the shipyards. The commisary, the officer's quarters, the enlisted quarters, and off-base housing.

Now, in my opinion, I thought that they'd take the shipyard first, then head over to the com, and take the naval offices there. Once done, they'd drop the officers, and then deal with noncoms and offbase housing.

I was so close, it really scared me.

However, I was WAY off base.

Here's how it went down.

First, they all smuggled into the base by posing as photographers and reporters.

One group (two guys) took down the entire officers quarters (300 men) with only 3 casualties in the entire exchange.

Another group was able to take out the noncoms by locking down the entire complex with a false alarm fire drill.

Another group took the naval offices and commisary just by capturing the SP (Shore Patrol) *aka naval police* and having them shut the entire area down.

And the last group took the shipyards by taking down the admiral in command, and getting the shutdown codes.

This all took exactly 13 minutes from when they got on base.

Now, this scared me, but I also realized something.

One, they knew the layout, knew the site, and knew operational proceedures.

Two, they had inside knowledge of guard rotations, and patrol areas.

Three, they were known faces, and familiar sights around the base.

Granted, if everyone had known what kind of operatives they were, I'm sure the strike would have taken longer.. maybe 20 minutes instead of 13!

But the best part about this whole exercise happened afterwards.

Because once a team achieves an objective, they party.

And I do mean PARTY!

Drinks flew fast and furious, and the dancing and cavorting went WILD.

Unfortunately, I had to stand guard duty early that morning on a cruiser that had come into the yard, so I begged out early that night.

I wasn't to be disappointed.

Some of the crew went out for their first night of play since getting back into base, and they fell into the SEAL party.

Now, standing guard on a ship means that you're armed, and you make sure all duty personnel ID themselves, and follow proper proceedure before getting on board a ship. This means showing ID, saluting the guard, saluting the flag, and boarding the ship.

One group of guys came back around 3am from tying one on with the team. There were four of them there, and they were so drunk, I was starting to get a bit of a contact buzz from just their breath.

The first one showed his ID, saluted me, then the flag, and boarded. The rest followed suit. The fun followed right afterwards.

The cruiser I was on had what is called a "breezeway" between the command decks. As you entered, there was an open space that went from one side to the other. On the opposite side of the ship was the gangway for the Captain's Sloop. This is the personal boat that the captain of the boat can use to go ashore at any given time. While at dock, the boat is removed, and the gangway sits empty.

Well, these fellas were a bit worse for wear, and proceeded to walk straight through the breezeay, and through the gangway, and down into the harbor water!

Now, we in the service call harbor water "sludge stew" because of all the different stuff you find floating in it.. Garbage, cigarette butts, dead fish, oil, diesel leakage, etc..

These boys got a FULL dose of it, and I couldn't leave my station to help.

So, I had to follow orders, and call the Master at Arms to come get them out.

Come to find out that not only are they drunk, but one was a bit high as well!

Anyway, it was fun to see some guys get stupid and drunk, and also fun to know that I'm not the only one who has a serious coordination problem when I've been out partying too much!

Anyway, hope you liked the story, and I'll tell more some other time!

look for me again tomorrow!

Finding the Oxymorons in this trail we call Life...

Ok, as you all might have been reading, the marriage my wife and I have has been quite rocky as of late.

For one, we're trying to have another child, but with me fresh from Vas Reversal, and she having problems with ovulation.. Well, it just doesn't quite TICK.

So, the doctors came up with a GREAT solution.

She's on Clomid.

Now, I know that there are a couple of folks out there who know that this drug is one of those that women take to become "extra fertile" and get that chance at the joy of their life.. Multiple births.

However, there are some side effects that I finally got my doctor to admit to, and it made EVERYTHING that has gone on these last few months just seem to fall into place.

Want to know what the biggest side effect is?

DEPRESSION.

That's right. DEPRESSION.

So, let me paint this picture for you...

As a woman, there are things that they desire. Romance, the chase, being pursued, and the conquest.

HOWEVER.. If you're on this drug, and you're depressed? All you're wanting is that raggedly full-length cotton nightie and a blanket, wrap up on the couch, and watch sappy love stories and Discovery Chnnel's documentaries from the OB unit!

So, take the drug to get pregnant, but kill the sex drive in the woman. Sounds like a match to me!

But thanks to the ingenuity of science, you no longer need to "do the act" in order to get that way!

Just have the fine, upstanding man leave his "donation" in a cup at the lab, and they'll do the rest!

No fuss, not much mess, and if the stars are in the right position, everything's good!

Oh, did I mention that the docs claim that these symptoms go away after she gets pregnant?

That's a good thing, considering how RAGING those hormones get when they ARE pregnant!

I could just imagine how great life would be if she was on the drug and then also going through post partum! Ye gods, that would be true bliss..

Anyway, Now that we know what's causing the problem, maybe there's a way for us to work around the issue until such time as there's no need to the drug..

We'll see, and I'll keep you all posted!

Today, I'm going to talk about some stuff I haven't aired yet.

Last night, the wife and I got a chance to really sit down and talk.

No crying, no overfed emotions, just real talk.

So I was thinking.. Last time I'd posted about us, I'd talked about all of the things that she's done for me.

What have I given her in this marriage? For all she's done for me, what have I given in return besides headaches and heartache?

I don't know, and that's what honestly scares me.

Am I going to leave a lasting impression as a needy soul with nothing to give, but willing to take everything given to me?

I'd like to think that I'm able to make some kind of impression or impact on those I've come to be with. I just hope the impression is a good one.

Well, this is a short post, but I've got to keep this real, and say exactly how I feel.

You all have a great weekend, and thanks so much for the words of comfort and wisdom you've given me these past couple of weeks!

I'll be writing more this next Tuesday!

More confusion..

OK, I think I'm watching a bit TOO much news in the mornings before work.

Tell me if you've heard this one..

AIG, one of the biggest lenders in America, was going bankrupt because of some fraud scandals.

The US, being the benevolent benefactor it is, bailed them out.

Now? AIG needs ANOTHER bailing out, not even a week after the last one!

Now I don't know about you, but when I give my kids some cash, and I tell them not to spend it all, I really expect to be obeyed.

How is that really much different than what's going on here?

The US bailed out AIG for MILLIONS of dollars, and now they're asking for MORE??

My first response? "Fuck You"

Now, I'm sure that this company has done great things for this nation, and is a great standard for businesses in general.

If this is the case, however, then we need to let it all rot and die.

I mean, a financial institution that can't handle money? Is there any more of a greater oxymoron than this?

My plea to the Powers That Be still stands:

Give another stimulus to the taxpayers, and let us get this nation out of debt. Don't bail out these crooked corporations just because they are begging you for help with their mistakes!

Anyway, I need to leave this one alone before my soapbox starts to crack.

Have a great Thursday everyone!

Time for some reminiscing!

Well, I've been too serious these last couple of posts, so it's time for a bit of levity..

I don't think I've recalled the tale of how I nearly killed my brother, so I think I'm going to relive that small bit of my "glory days", and see how you all like it.

Back when I was nearly in Junior High, my brother was getting ready to enter the big wide world of School.

Now, this was a monumental step for him, because not only was he going to school, but my mom had a really hard time cutting the apron strings, and he actually entered school a year later than most kids. This meant that while I was about the same age as everyone else in my class, my bro was going to be OLDER. This would eventually lead to massive amounts of merciless teasing from other kids, but my mom didn't care.. He was her BABY.

Anyway, suffice to say that my brother and I were close, but it was more of an antagonistic relationship type of close than anything else.

If he succeeded, then I would try to find something that I could out-do his accomplishment with, and vice-versa.

One day, my mom came home early, and came to get us kids from our grandma's house. We would go there after school because both of my parents worked from 6am until about 5pm, this left little time for any socializing with the parental units at all, and seeing them before it was time for dinner was a special treat.

On this day, my brother found out, but he was about 15 steps behind me in getting into the house to see her. Making sure I knew that he was about to "out-do" me in greeting her, he proceeded to shove past me, and take a running leap for her lap.

Now, my mom's not that big, and my brother wasn't the smallest kid in school. She did what any normal person would - She flinched.

This usually wouldn't be so bad, but the fact of the matter was that she was sitting in a bent-wood rocking chair that my grandpa had made. Not only that, but it was still fairly new, and the corners of the edges were still quite stout.

My mom's flinch happened to take her legs out of direct contact with my brother, which ended up with him slamming his forehead against the leading edge of the rocker, splitting it open.

Well, about 30 minutes and 25 stitches later, everything was back under control. My brother still laughs about that incident to this day, and you can't usually see the scar, because it's hidden in the laugh lines on his forehead.

Well, about a week or so later, we were in seventh heaven because of a nice rainstorm that had hit around our house, making the backyard a bit of a mud pit. As the oldest, I usually came up with various ideas of how to amuse myself during the weekends. This particular weekend, I'd found a couple old pieces of pipe that used to be in a wind chime. Finding them hollow, I'd jam one end down into the mud, pull it out, and then fling the pipe at the wall with some amount of force to make an awesome mud splatter on the garage.

I did this for about an hour or so, when my brother came along, and wanted to join in.

*Enter in the William Tell theme*

I got the great idea to try and outline his body with mud. So I convinced him to stand against the wall, and I'd outline his body with the mud that I was flinging from the pipes.

The biggest problem that I hadn't factored into this scenario was that I had NO control over where the mud flew.. In fact, I was only hitting the garage about once every three tries or so, but I didn't tell him that!

My brother agreed, and stood against the wall. I took careful aim with my first tube, and made a lucky strike, hitting next to his left arm.. Thunk.

He was cheered by this, and shouted a couple words of encouragement to me.

Feeling cocky over this success is what led to the next one.

Thwap! Mud from a poorly aimed tube struck my brother just over his left eye! Not only that, but it also had the added gift of a small rock, and had given him a bit of a cut, in addition to the nice shiner he was going to have!

Now my brother, being like most kids, did what they all do. He cried for mom, and went running towards the house.

Me, sensing the inevitable punishment, tried to ward off the impending doom. So I did what I thought was reasonable and rational.

I pushed him down.

Now, this was also poorly thought out, as by this time, he was crying, and unable to see well because of this. Add to that the decreased vision because of the mud and blood in his left eye, and you've got a BAD combination.

He fell.

Face-first onto the cement steps leading to our back door.

Now, as I'd pointed out earlier in the Blog here, he had stiches..

They broke like a cheap pane of glass.

The thing that went into the house bawling and covered in mud and blood resembled more of something from one of my Scooby Doo cartoons than my brother.

My mom (who is a nurse) acted quickly, and get the bleeding stopped, and my brother taken back to get his head re-stitched, along with a couple more added to just above his left eye. (you can't see these, either.. darn it!)

When they got home, I got the best part of it all.

He'd gotten ice cream, and I got NOTHING.

*sigh*

Oh well, he always was mom's favorite!

Just more thoughts and wonderings

Today, I've got TONS of serious questions running through my mind.

Last night, the wife and I had another "talk" about our marriage, and how things have been.

If you aren't keeping current, we've been on a bit of a rocky patch these last few months.

I personally think that us trying to get pregnant is adding to this problem, but she's in denial about that, so I'm just smiling and nodding.

One reason for that problem? Well, I was previously married, and I am in sole custody of the three kids from that marriage. Two boys, one girl. Now, when the last one was born, it was decided between myself and my ex that I'd get a vasectomy done. I didn't see a problem in this, so seven weeks after my youngest was delivered, I was snipped. Nothing horrible about that story, mainly because I had a professional surgeon do the work, and I was back up and functioning within a week.

Then came the cheating problems with my wife, and the lies and abuses that I found out about.

Thus the reason why I took the kids, and have never looked back. We got legal custody about five years ago, and they have been much more stable and structured with the love, care, and necessities that my home provides.

About that same time that I was granted custody of my kids, I met my present wife. She's a great person. She's helped me through some difficult times, allowed me to make mistakes, and learn from them, and basically helped me become a much better father to my children.

Just before we got married, the topic of children came up. She wants to be a mother of my kids, but she would also like some kids of her own. It's been one of her dreams.

Now, I'm a guy. Plain and simple. You tell me you want kids? That translates to me as you want to have sex. DING DING DING! Winner, winner, winner!

Thus, I agreed to a reversal of my vasectomy, and the attempt at making another part of the family.

The reversal didn't go as well. Infection, bad suturing, and some unforseen consequences took it's toll. However, I'm still around and kicking. However, because of these problems, the sperm counts are quite low.

Then in come the fertility specialists. This one saying that she needs to be standing on her head. That one, we're both too fat, and need to lose nearly 80 pounds each. This next one? That we're not having enough sex (preach on! I liked this one) and need to keep at it more often. Another? That we need to do artifical things in order to get the ball moving.

Well, we finally agreed to have her start pills, and then monitor her monthly cycle. Then we got this nifty pager number so that when things start "going green", we'll get a call, rush down to the lab, and get some fun stuff done.

But a roadblock has now hit.

As per my last rantings about our marriage, she's still depressed. The biggest problem here is, I don't know how to help.. AT ALL.

I love this woman. I'd do or say anything and everything at all that I can possibly think of if it would help her in any way, shape, or form.

However, this isn't an option this time.

She's seen a psychiatrist, once, and was asked to keep a small 3x5 card. On it, she was supposed to make a tally mark for any time that she felt anxious or worried about something. This then took on a serious pattern. Here's that pattern.

On the days when she had to work late, and I was left at home with the kids, she had TONS of tally marks about things she'd worry about. If I got home on time. If I'd help the kids with schoolwork. If I'd made dinner. If I'd gotten kids off to practice/dance/friend's house. The list goes on and on. On those days, when she'd get home, she'd stay home, and basically debrief me on how I did that day.

Now, on the days when she was home, and able to control that? No marks. NONE. However, these are the days when she felt that she needed to get out, and leave. In her words "The house doesn't seem like a home to me".

Thus, she worries when she's not in control, but when she's in control, she stresses, and has to get out of the situation.

This, to me, is a no-win situation.

I have done everything in my power to help, but to be honest, it's not in my hands.

I don't know what she's going to choose, and I don't know how she feels about us, and our marriage.

I do know that I love her, and I only want what's best for her.

If she feels that what's best for her is to finally call it quits? Well, it will tear me to pieces, but because of my feelings, I'll let her go.

Pray for me, if you belive in that, because I need to find some strength to be a dad to my kids, even with the hell I'm emotionally going through.

I'll write more tomorrow.

**Bonus post!**

Today, I was just thinking about something else, and just had to talk about it on here, so you get a two-fer from me today!

This last week, I had an interesting thing happen between me and the kids.

Now, I'm one that feels that if my kids complete their homework, and get their chores done, there's nothing wrong with watching TV, or even getting some video game time in.

However, this time needs to be regulated when it comes to the Video Games..

Why do you ask?

Because my oldest is an addict, and if you let him loose, the younger two will never get a chance to play!

Now, on Monday, things were going well. My daughter got to her dance class, dinner went smoothly, and everything seemed to be on the up-and-up.

However, that was all to change near the end of the evening.

My youngest asked if they could share time in playing video games.

I wandered the house, and found that chores had been done, homework was finished, and even showers and PJs were done!

Now, impressed by the pre-emptive actions of my children, I gave the benign and benevolent nod, stating one condition to this:

Bean (my daughter) gets first crack, then Z (my youngest) gets to play. After they're done with their half-hour, then T (my oldest) can play.

They all consented to this, and huddled around to play the playstation to get their time in.

Bean get her time in, but during this time, she asked T to help her out on a section.

This is usually a mistake, as he then takes over control of the system. However, on this occasion, he did relinquish control after getting her where she needed to be.

Impressed at this observation, I then start cleaning house, and taking care of laundry, and the other mountains of housework that three kids can generate.

While out of sight and out of mind, another situation arose, and this time control WASN'T given back.

He then proceeded to play her game until her time was up, and then he booted up his own game, cutting his younger brother off from his chance to play.

Afterwards, I informed him that his actions would have consequences, but I wasn't going to lay down anything right then, because I was upset, and needed a cool head before dealing out any kind of punishment.

It just so happens that my chance for this happened in a doctor's office.

The next day, my daughter was playing in a soccer game, and she fell and hit her head pretty good.

She's a trooper, but she's just not got the coordination she needs. I mean, the first week of her softball season, she fell and broke her arm! If that wasn't bad enough, a week after getting the cast off, she fell off her bike, and broke the same arm again, but in a different place! Grace just isn't Bean's forte!

Anyway, while there, my youngest asked if he could play some playstation after we got back home. I gave him a yes, and he got all excited.

My oldest then asked if he could play, and I told him that I'd thought it over, and he was going to be grounded from the playstation for the rest of the week for abusing his time the night before.

Being all of 12, he then proceeded to argue with me about why this was a special circumstance, and why he had to take so long to play his game.

I refused to listen, and so he began to raise his voice. I crooked a finger at him with a slight scowl on my face. Coming over to me, he stood and waited for me to talk. I then informed him that instead of one week, it was going to be two for the backtalk.

Fuming, he then threw himself down into a chair, and proceeded to sulk.

Now, I'm not the saint, but I felt good about my decision.

I even felt more in control when I had two nurses pat me on the back while leaving the office because of the great way I had of disciplining my kids.

Now, I don't know about any of you, but is that really something special?

Is it so unusual for folks to use wisdom and patience to counsel a child instead of emotion and anger?

I don't know, but I do know that it works for me!

Have a great weekend folks!

*le sigh*

Well, I was so swamped with work yesterday that I was unable to post, so I'm going to make up for it today with a nice, long rambling rant about things that have been on my mind....

First of all, have you ever wondered what it would be like if folks actually took your advice without you having to explain it?

I have.

Many, many times.

I went to school for six years after high school in order to get a nice big degree stating that I was "quite proficient" in my field of study.

I'd like to think that this piece of paper and my experience are what got me this job in the first place.

I'd also like to think that my years of being here on the job, and the efficiency of my work also speak well of my skills and schooling.

So why is it that when The Powers That Be decide to do something new, I don't get consulted until after something goes wrong, and then I'm supposed to fix it?

If they'd asked for my opinion when making the changes, then they could have seen the potential problems, and possibly avoided the extra work they're now making me do in order to rectify the problem!

Case in point:

We run IP phones all through my warehouse. This warehouse isn't some normal sized shack, it's a MONSTER warehouse. We have over 850,000 square feet here. I could play football in here with six teams, and still not get hit!

Anyway, with IP phones, you can't have the data cabling extend more than 300 feet without using a type of data repeater. This is basic tech-speak here. The reason for this is because after 300 feet, you lose data cohesion, and the signal weakens significantly. You add the repeater, and you can go another 300 feet.

Now, the "upgrade" they decided about was to utilize an area of the building that didn't seem to get much use. So they moved a large portion of my shipping department over there, including an office, a couple of printers, and three phones into that area.

Everything went fine, until they found out that there was no power over there, and no place to plug in the phones, computers, or printers.

Enter in the call to "Mr. Fix-It" (aka ME).

The nearest place I could tap into to run cabling was over 3,000 feet away. I contacted a low-voltage cabling installer, and got some bids. The cheapest run was going to cost the company somewhere in the range of 10,000 bucks.

This made my GM's eyes bug out interestingly, and I got a nice butt-chewing.

Like this problem was my fault. If they'd bothered to talk with me, I could have shown them where to put the desk so that we could have installed it all with _NO_ cabling issues, and still had some power to spare!

Was I asked? Did they bother to even look? Was there any point in trying to show them?

NO.

But now, six weeks after the fact, and 10,000 dollars later, they've seen what I was talking about, and I got the awesome question from my GM just yesterday..

"Why didn't we move the desk over there?"

God, how I love the observant people....

New month, same stuff....

It's October..

Leaves are turning, air is getting cooler, fog is settling in each morning..

And my wife is going to drive me CRAZY.

This happens to be her favorite time of the year.

Her favorite holiday? Halloween.

That's right. Halloween.

We get out the 40 boxes of Halloween decorations down from the attic, and dig through it all to see what new and inventive stuff we can come up with for this year's haunted house. We also raid the party stores for new and interesting goodies, and of course, she's got a little budget set up for one "big" purchase.

Last year she was able to buy a butler that held a tray for goodies. His eyes watched you, and he has a motion sensor in the tray, so that after some candy was taken, he'd reach up, grab his hair, pull off his head, and say "thank you" before putting his head back on, and putting his arm down.

She loved that one last year.

We make a point to go on at least one "ghost tour" each year, and we visit at least one if not two or three haunted house attractions before the big day.

That, and the costumes that we'll buy for the kids and ourselves, we spend nearly as much for her holiday as we do for Christmas and Thanksgiving combined!

I'm really not one to stand in the way of her holiday, but please! How much stuff do you really need for Halloween?

Make something scary, then with a couple minor changes each year, stick with it. I mean, nobody's going to remember exactly what the scary shit looked like, so if you make some cosmetic changes, it will still look different, and still scare the crap out of folks. No need to go bigger and better each year!

I'd much rather to apply the budget to something for the entire family for Christmas, so that everyone can enjoy the stuff, and not just those select few who cherish the one specific holiday.

Anyway, that's my ranting post for today. I'm sure I'll think up something funny to post about tomorrow.

Have a great day!