"No More Mr. Nice Bitch"

Go. Read this.

Then come back and comment on how amazing it was and thank me for sending you there;)

Seriously, though. It's a fantastic read.



tweaker

Sometimes Life Brings Teh Suck

That is an actual photograph of my motorcycle.

A couple years ago I had an opportunity to acquire it. My next-door-neighbor at the time had bought his wife this 2000 Yamaha V-Star Classic as a surprise for her birthday. She grew up on two wheels, so it didn't take long before she wanted to upgrade. So, she found a Ducati, and the Yo-Mama-Ha went up for sale.

As we'd just had a bit of financial luck (or so we thought, cue the "evil villain lurking" music), we made a move on the bike. My neighbor threw in his wife's helmet, as she'd be acquiring a new one of those as well. So we went and bought a couple jackets, gloves, and a helmet for me, and vowed to take a motorcycle safety course (for a sweet insurance break) so I could start riding to work.

We never did get around to getting me licensed and legal, but every couple days I'd take it down a back road near my house. Sometimes The Wifey would go along, too. We had a blast, and dreamed of going to a nearby icehouse on Bike Night.

Within about three months, teh suck happened. My taxes were estimated waaaay low on my house (thanks alot Wells Bloody Fargo), and the county gubmint wanted their "fair share" of my earnings. A fair share that I did not have. The Wifey and I shuffled around our budget as much as possible, but we couldn't come up with the amount we owed in property tax. The only asset we had that could draw that kind of bank was the bike.

I made myself a promise years ago that what I earned, I would keep. I wouldn't be the type to have things go into hawk or otherwise sold outright because I bit off more than I could chew financially. So, it was with a deep sense of personal failure that I took out an ad in Motorcycle Trader.

The ad didn't last a week.

I really hated watching that guy ride away on MY BIKE. Yeah, I had a wad of $100 bills to show for it, but that money was already spent. That was a tough thing for me to go through, and it's not something that I'll ever do again if I can help it.

Every time there's a nice day here as we make our way out of winter here in South Texas, bikers come out in droves to enjoy the first riding weather of the year. And it always saddens me a little.



tweaker

I Can Has Ryterz Blok?

It's been a busy couple of days. What can I say? I've been trying to hit the blogroll (which needs updating) and drop comments, but I haven't seen anything lately that makes me want to write. Which sucks because I've been on a pretty decent streak lately.

I worked late again today. Technical difficulties kept me tied up. What the largest name in telecommunications wants, the largest name in telecommunications gets.

Still no teevee yet. Still waiting. Probably won't be here until tomorrow at the earliest. More likely Friday.

Oh, well. I'll end on a laugh. The last video I posted involved Oprah, whom I despise. This one is from Bill Maher, whom I merely can't stand. But this is the funniest, most accurate four minutes you'll likely spend today. Especially the "ask your doctor" part at 3:30. Priceless.



Enjoy.



tweaker

This Is Necessary

Normally I don't tend to meddle in the emails/videos out there on teh intarw3bz designed to make you cry/change/forward an email so your organs don't fall out.

This, however, would be an exception. A pretty powerful exception, in fact, since I pretty much despise Oprah Winfrey. This is a video that has apparently been seen quite a bit on teh w3bz. This is The Last Lecture given at Carnegie Mellon University by a computer science professor named Randy Pausch. Professor Pausch has been fighting Pancreatic Cancer for some time now; a fight he now knows he's losing.

This man decided that there are more important things to do in life than resent death.



I was am greatly moved by Professor Pausch's lecture. I hope that you are, too.



tweaker

That Time Of Year... Again.

Some folks dread tax season. I would not be one of them. Smart folks tell you to try to break even. I call them People Who Owe In April.

I prefer to err on the side of caution. I make sure that as much is taken out from my check as possible (sicken me as it does), plus an extra $25/week, just in case.

I get good refund checks. Every year. Granted, the first $1,200 is that extra that I have taken out, but I believe luck favors the prepared.

What makes it even better is that the company I work for shells out quarterly bonuses to the installation department. They created it to give the losers at the bottom of the totem pole guys in the field a sort of vested interest in the successes of the company. Translation: they're coming off with some of that bank so we don't all mutinize and hold the place hostage.

Anyhoo, the quarterly bonuses go out the last day of the month following the end of a quarter, which is set up on a basic calendar year (no weird fiscal year). Combine that with my tax return being filed in a timely manner and the result is two rather nice checks arriving at approximately the same time.

What does that kind of money do? Well, for starters, creates a pretty serious cushion of financial comfort. It also pays for dearly needed physical therapy. Additionally, it has the magical ability to turn these...

...which I purchased eight years ago in black for my wedding (and have worn them regularly ever since) into these

A little drive to the mall and my footwear issues are solved. Them's some mighty fine boots, right there. Rugged and attractive, just like me;) The Wifey also added to her collection some buckle-style boots from GBX as well.

Oh, that doesn't quite convey the message then? Maybe this will get the job done.

That, ladies and gentlement, is an LG 42-LB5D just like the one that will arrive at my office around the middle of next week. It is the finest 42" flat-panel LCD made by the company down from the 120Hz model, which I decided to forgo since 120Hz refresh rates make film look like video. And it was about $800 more. And I couldn't get it anyway. My company is a commercial LG dealer, not a consumer dealer. The 42-LBX (the 120Hz model) is consumer only. I don't care. The LB5D is a smokin-hot LCD, and will make everything all better. I even bought a component video cable for my Wii so that I can run it in 16:9 AND progressive scan. High-definition, here I come. I've only been waiting for about six years (the approximate length of my custom installation career) to get an HDTV.

Money cannot buy happiness? Bullshit. Money can buy small doses of happiness.* Who among you has dropped a few hundred bucks on a new boomstick without grinning from ear to ear? I bought ice cream for The Little Girl yesterday (with MONEY), and she was happier'na pig in slop. She's been super-good at school for two weeks straight. She got the ice cream and a new movie, too. She's happy.



tweaker



*I know, I know. True happiness and all of that. I know where it comes from. Having a couple dollars here and there doesn't hurt, though:)

10K Club

Wow. In just under a year, I've managed to bullshit the populace drop enough names write well enough to get 10,000 folks to read my little scribbles. If'n that don't beat all. I can't even imagine what the folks rolling over the seven-digit mark must feel like.

It could be that I frequently forget to have Sitemeter ignore hits from me, or that I STILL get several hits daily from folks looking for images of a Bushmaster Pistol from this post right after I took my CHL class. That's kinda funny.

But I do get regular hits and comments from a few folks, and I'm damn proud to have such fine people taking the time to look at what I have to say.

Thanks, y'all. Here's to the next 10K.




tweaker

Ur Doin It Rong

From the That's Not Quite What I Had In Mind department:

On the other hand, with all the conflict from the culture/religion of that part of the world, it's comforting to know that someone out there performs the Salaat then gets they pr0n on.



tweaker

Please Hold

A blogger will be with you... eventually.

Forgive me folks. I know I've had a pretty good streak of some decent posting. Then I had to start an audio system upgrade at a local semi-megachurch (not quite Six Flags Over Jesus, but this place is still huge). It's kicking my ass currently.

So why do I post up at (to quote Tam) donut-making hours? Because this'll be the only chance I'll have today to do it. I didn't make it home last night until around 7 p.m., dead-tired and physically worn out. I spent the latter part of the day hanging upside-down in the church's main speaker cluster at a trim height of about 45' trying to change out 12-year-old drivers in inverted cabinets. And to add insult to injury, the high-frequency diaphragms can only be done once the entire driver assembly (horn and all) is removed from the front of the speaker instead of the back. Those drivers weigh in at around 60 lbs. It's a two-man job, and it can't be done with a man-lift because the centrally-located cluster is surrounded on all sides and the bottom with a decorative proscenium. So you have to go across the roof to an access door to the ceiling of the sanctuary (which is around 55') then drop down to the cluster from above.

I could hardly move a muscle when I finally got home. Bathing my daughter was a chore just because it meant sitting by the tub.

And all of this on top of the fact that I've been getting Involuntary Conjugal Visits from the Insomnia Fairy since about last Friday night.

But, dedicated as I am to my adoring public (all three or four of you that regularly stop in;) I will try to resume some sort of worthy posting.

Wish me luck, as I still have at least three more of those high-freq.'s to do this morning.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,
Or close the wall up with our English dead!
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger:
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.

-Shakespeare, Henry V




tweaker

Coming of Age and A Bleg

Young, attractive girl, she.

She was on her lunchbreak. She was leaving the restaurant. She was being watched. In broad daylight and in front of people, as she went to put her key in the door of her car, she felt a sharp object in the small of her back. She was told to comply quietly, and she did. She dropped her car keys and purse on the spot. She got in the assailant's car and they began to drive away. She never made a sound.

Fortunately for her, she was being watched by another. A man coming out of another store saw the whole thing transpire. For her, he may as well have jumped into a phone booth and come out in tights and a cape. He called 911 as he jumped into his car, chasing after the abductor and his new prisoner. He quickly gained on them, and in a sweeping act of heroism, knocked the other car off the road, smashing it into the barrier. Our hero then jumped out of his car and made sure the offender wasn't going anywhere. He made sure real hard, a couple times. You can't be too sure with these things...

She had a couple scratches on her knees, and eternal gratitude. In true hero fashion, he refuses to admit his own bravery and wishes to be left alone.

This is not fiction. This is also not a hypothetical reference. This is real. I know this girl personally. She dodged a bullet just a few days ago. I won't bother talking about what could have happened.

She's sad, angry, scared, and all of those things you'd expect a person who's been the victim of Very Bad Things.

Of course, I told her that if she ever needed to talk to me, I'd drop what I was doing. Well, she has called upon me.

And I have answered. The Wifey and I talked about it and we've decided to help her through the healing process. I also told her that after the healing process has improved some, that we'd discuss personal protection and self-defense.

Enter the blogosphere.

I would greatly appreciate any and all advice, suggestions, expertise, etc. on the subject. I know what I've learned, and I know what I've read on teh intarw3bz. I want to make sure that I help her as best I can. I could sleep better if her fear could turn to awareness and caution.

So, fire away. I'm all ears.



tweaker

Must Be Something I Ate

I had a wonderful date last night with The Wifey. Asian food for dinner, a little shopping, and No Country For Old Men for entertainment. I was AMAZED. What an amazing flick, to which I may write about in the future. That's not what this is about.

We had a couple friends watch The Little Girl, and they kept her overnight. They have a little boy her age, and another younger daughter. They all had a blast. We went to our friends' house to cook everyone breakfast, then we were gonna go bowling. Early bird special on Sunday is pretty cheap.

If you get there when they open. If not, you'll run out of time on the special waiting for a lane.

Plan B was quickly devised, and we adjourned to the local Miniature Golferia for some putt-putt action. It should be noted that it is within throwing distance (and visual distance) of the interstate. Same one from this post, but further into town.

After a couple holes, we learned a few things. One was that seven people take a long time to play a hole of miniature golf, especially when two are 5 and one is almost 3. Another thing we learned is that sometimes the PVC that magically carries the ball from that mystery hole to another part of the course sometimes gets clogged.

One thing I learned is that car tires make strange noises at high speeds when the car they are attached to flies through the air.

*huh?*

No one else in my party noticed, but my attention was immediately drawn to the interstate, just in time to see a car that I counldn't even identify flying through the air, bounce, roll, fly some more, bounce again, fly, bounce one more time, then land on the passenger side. I ran towards the fence of the golf course, which was on the access road, with my phone out dialing 911 again.

Those guys are going to start calling me by name soon.

I couldn't do much from the other side of the highway, but emergency services showed up in a real hurry for this one. I hope the driver was okay...

I told my neighbor about it. He said that if I see him on the highway any time soon to please look away.

*sigh*

I could do just fine not to see any more auto accidents (especially on the interstate at who-knows-how-fast) for a while, thankyouverymuch.



tweaker

"Lookin Good, Louis!"

"Feeling Good, Billy Ray!"

We were on our way home last night from dinner and some light shopping. Cruising along the interstate, we're wondering when the rain's gonna hit. I'm in the left lane, but no one's in a real hurry with the impending weather. As we approach a curve, something catches my attention about 150' ahead.

Sumdood has decided that the right lane is not The Place To Be. He does one of these dreaded moves where the driver hits the turn signal at precisely the moment he jerks the friggin wheel, right on top of a white Chevy Equinox. The Equinox has to dive onto the shoulder to avoid being hit; a move she'd soon come to regret as the shoulder was cut short by a concrete barrier. She pulled hard to correct. It was just enough to get those rear tires sliding. As she started for the other shoulder, one more yank on the wheel, I figure, was all it took. The back end finally came full circle and sent the Chevy going sideways on the highway with the headlights once again facing the barrier. She was out of control.

With All God's Grace, the impact with the concrete was a glancing blow, doing moderate front end damage. The radiator emptied it's contents faster than a college coed who just learned her limit on Jelloshots. By that time, I'd already stopped.

"Call 911. Tell them that there's an accident at this location; 1 vehicle; injuries unknown." The Wifey dialed quick as The Little Girl sat in her booster seat with a big question mark over her head. The Jeep Liberty that was right in front of me pulled over, too. I ran past it to the Chevy, where the driver, a pretty young blonde, stepped out of the driver's side door of the vehicle that was facing the wrong way on the shoulder. A semi nearly took the door (and her) for another ride. "We've got to get the hell off this highway," I thought as I herded her to the concrete barrier to get her away from traffic. I asked if she was okay, if she was hurt, if the airbags deployed, etc. She was quite alright (considering), though she admitted to being shaken up. I asked her to have a seat in the other lady's Liberty for a bit while I checked to see if anyone had road flares, etc. (something I WILL have before the weekend's over). A quick update to The Wifey, and we all agreed that the view from Giant Outdoor Store was much better, and we would reconvene our meeting there.

After that, it was mostly calming her down and talking about how she dodged a bullet. There was much spiritual reference as we all agreed on the mulititude of Angels Watching Over Her. Her fiancee showed up and spoke to us as though we'd saved her life.

I just suggested we get off the road, dude, but thanks for the nod. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to figure out how to get my Ego back in the car with me.

The police arrived, the tow truck hooked up her car, and they came over to talk to us about the ordeal. That was it.

It's amazing how the hugs of a complete stranger, the eternal gratitude of her soon-to-be husband, and shaking hands with an appreciative police officer will send you home in the cold with such incredible warmth in your heart.



tweaker

Truth

I swear, when I typed the last post, I was thinking about how it was Teh Kool.

I had NO idea that some ass-clown was shooting up a Geology class. In fact, I didn't know about the other school shootings, either. Scout's Honor. The post was completely out of the blue.

I'll not go into those shootings, as it's pretty much been summed up by Marko in words far more fitting that you'll see typed here.

Truth be told, I was actually going for something along the lines of something you might see on his blog. Or at any of the Blog Rock Star Types' blogs. Something eloquent. Intellectual. Well-thought-out and educated.

You know, something that would generate a truckload of comments!!!!

Sry, Iz a hor. Mor kommintz, plzkthx!

;)



tweaker

Just Call Me Webster

No, not this one.

This one.

Today I call into sharp focus the difference between two words; two words that have had the misfortune of becoming synonymous to a large number of sheep people. Two words that have meanings as different as night and day. Those words are "safety" and "unafraid."

First, a little .edu for the masses:

Safe - free from harm or risk; secure from threat of danger, loss, or harm

Unafraid - feeling, exhibiting, or expressing no fear

See? Very different, indeed.

Most people, deep in the cockroaches of their widdle hearts, want to be safe. They want that security from whatever threatens. They want no part of pain or loss. This is not a feeling.

Read that last sentence, and let it be the sounds of the voices in your head: SAFETY IS NOT A FEELING.

What too many people are asking for, because they want to FEEL better, is to be made to feel unafraid. They want no part of FEAR. They want everyone to cater to their feelings so they don't feel that their security is threatened.

This is a huge problem when it comes to The Letter of The Law.

Laws that make you safe are generally accepted as good. Laws that require a house to be built structurally sound, for instance. If such laws were not in place, then we would inevitably see some asshat builder cut corners to the point where the structural integrity of the house is compromise and it collapses.

That would be teh suck.

Laws that make you unafraid are the worst type of laws imaginable. The reason is actually fairly complex, though many find it to be commont sense. Why are they so bad? Two reasons: 1. they cost just as much as all the other laws out there, and 2. they do. Not. Work. Not even a little. Such laws may provide a temporary comfort; a "band-aid" solution (frequently to problems that do not exist), but fix and/or prevent nothing. Ergo, such laws can provide some temporary loss of fear, but provide no safety. "Safe-child zones," for instance. These areas, surely designated by a huge, compicated, and expensive legislation, are supposed to keep children safe from Bad Guys. So, if you see a sign at a playground that says you're in a bona-fide Safe-Child Zone, you FEEL safe, right? But are you? Remember, safety is NOT a feeling. What you feel is unafraid. The safe-child zone creates a legal barrier to keep the Bad Guys out.

But.

Bad Guys are called 'bad' for a reason. They operate outside the bounds of legilation; i.e. THEY BREAK THE FUCKING LAW. So. Can any rational person with honestly believe that a Bad Guy, intent on doing Very Bad Things to your precious child, would stop at the sight of a safe-child zone sign and retreat because he's not supposed to be there?

???

Gun-free zones? You think a Bad Guy, intent on doing Very Bad Things to your head with a gun, is going to postpone his murderous rampage because the mall/school/restaurant you're in has a gun-free zone sign?

Drug-free zones?

Bomb-free zones?

Nuke-free zones?

You thing if you put up a sign that says, "No falling engines from jumbo jets allowed in this area" that it will keep an engine, having recently become detached from a jumbo jet, from falling and eventually landing?

If you want to feel unafraid, put up a sign.

If you want to be safe, protect your own ass by whatever means necessary. Don't wait for the .gov to do it for you.

They can't, anyway.



tweaker

True Happiness

Happiness, some say, comes in many forms. For some, it's nature. Sunrays peeking over the horizon as if to signal the Angels to begin their chorus. Trees and flowers in full bloom (one's allergies be damned). The warmth of spring, the brisk of winter.

Others find it in the sounds of children's laughter. Babies cooing in cradle after a nap to alert the attentive among us before sounding the siren.

Others, still...

Happiness is finding 3.5 lbs. of boneless pork babybacks, a supreme spice weasel, and a BBQ sauce that's made with Guiness. All in the same grocery day.

This is a meal best shared amongst friends. I'll let you know how it turns out.




tweaker

My Name is Tweaker, and I'm a Geek.

I was a geek throughout school. Years and years of band/symphony must have done it to me. I guess that's just the way it is.

I'm still one today. I must be, because I think this is totally cool.


Flute Beat Boxing - Watch more free videos

My name is Tweaker, and I'm a geek.



tweaker

Funniest. Comparison. Ever.

Shamelessly stolen from The Mad Ogre, in reference to the current selection of possible future (dick)Heads of State:

I guess it's kind of like selecting your own method of execution. I'm feeling like the Ghost Busters talking to Gozer and I have to pick my Destructor.

That made me laugh.

Then I tried to empty my mind of all thought...



tweaker

Practice Makes Perfect

There's a guy that I work with who's had an interest in law enforcement since I've known him. I saw him go from "I'd love to do that someday" to "I'm in an academy!" to a deputy reserve in where he lives/we work.

We've always gotten along in that respect, and also where guns are concerned. We talk about various firearms, his with L.E. work and mine for concealment. He definitely does not like the rig he has to carry. He only marginally likes the Glock 22, but he ain't crazy about the Level III retention holster at all. So, like any good cop should, he practices. A lot. And it's a good thing, too...

He was in a situation recently. Him and his partner were faced with a felon they'd been after for sometime. The guy my friend's partner on one occasion that they'd have to kill him, as he had no desire to go to jail. The two deputies had to clear leather when the guy pulled up his shirt like he was going to pull a gun right before he jumped in his truck and turned his Rottweiler loose. Sadly, the dog had to get the short end of that deal.

When I talked to my friend about it the following day, he wasn't shaken, but the whole event was definitely an eye-opener for him. He said that when he's practicing it seems like he has to fumble with the damned thumb break too much before the pistol comes out, but when he thought that guy was gonna draw down, my friend's pistol skinned in a flash. I told him, "That's how you know your training worked. You didn't have to think about it. It just happened. It wasn't reckless; it was second-nature."

Practice truly does make perfect.

Why do I bring this up, do you ask? Because I noticed yesterday when I pulled out my vacuum cleaner (it's one of those Dyson jobs with a kinda pistol grip) I put my forefinger straight out as if to place it on the trigger guard.

Not that I'm gonna go all complacent, but that's a pretty good sign I won't Rule #3 a round through my bedroom wall anytime soon.



tweaker

Reason #745,698 I Love My Daughter

I started listening to Extreme at about the same time I figure everyone else did. "More Than Words" was a fantastic balad, featuring incredible acoustic work by Nuno Bettencourt and a vocal combo that easily rivals the likes of Staley/Cantrell or Hagar/Anthony. Their follow-up, "Hole-hearted" added in a folk sense of things, with steel in the string section and multi-part harmonies that everyone wanted to sing along with. At the time, I would have been 12, and my mother even enjoyed the music. So, I thought she'd love to have the album as a birthday present. What I did NOT know was that Extreme had already established themselves as a rock (borderline metal but NOT hair) band and that the majority of their repertoire was the heavy stuff. So I got a new album, and Mom got perfume or something.

Having had a collection of CD's stolen some years ago, there are a few albums I have yet to replace. Until about a week ago, that list included Pornagraffiti. I've been wearing the disc out.

On the way to her daycare this morning, The Little Girl and I are rockin out. I skip past "Get The Funk Out," not because of censorship but because I don't want to have to explain that tune to her teacher if she starts singing it at school. The next track on the disc is "More Than Words."

In the middle of the second verse (and while I'm singing away) The Little Girl interrupts and says, "Daddy, this song is SO pretty. Keep singing."

I could only smile. "I love you, baby."

And I kept singing.



tweaker

I'm Going To Kill Something

I'd personally like to strangle the living shit out of someone from Humana. Remember my little tirade about them a couple days ago? Well, just when I thought that was over...

Those bastards have decided that my physical therapy that my doctor ordered would NOT be covered under normal "specialist" visit (a la $40 copay). Instead, like everything else, it would be subject to my $1,000 deductible. You know, that deductible that I tried to make sure I wouldn't be subject to when I called them in the first place.

Not only that, but the little pismire I talked to on the phone then told me that the MRI that Humana SENT AN APPROVAL FORM TO ME FOR would also be subject to the deductible. They actually sent an approval form to me stating clearly that the MRI would be covered %100, and even gave me a confirmation number. No deductible required.

I'm gonna eat someone's fucking heart.

No, I'm not. Insurance companies don't have hearts.

This is actually rather depressing. I was so exited about all of this. Here, I've had "bad knees" for years. I've had days when I couldn't get out of bed, and was so angry because I didn't know why. Doctors constantly brushing me off, telling me to exercise more. Finally, I meet an orthopedic surgeon who tells me that I actually have a condition, that it has a name, and that it can be fixed WITHOUT SURGERY. He even tells me to make sure no one ever operates on my knees unless it's absolutely required. He tells me what I need to do, and sends me to a physical therapist. Then, WHAM!!! My insurance company makes it nearly impossible for me to follow doctor's orders because they want to milk me for every dime I'm worth.

Only one problem. I ain't worth that much. I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't have a few thousand bucks lying around for Humana to rummage through every time they don't wanna foot the bill. Sumbitch even told me that I had a yearly limit on how many therapy visits I could have, and they included a combination of physical, occupational, speech, aural, and two or three others that I'm entirely to pissed off to remember. I hope to All That Is Holy that I don't have some sort of severe accident that lands me in physical therapy for like six months or something.

I'd be fucked right out of house and home.

I am NOT for socialized medicine, before so save the hate mail. I do wish there was some way to kick these insurance agencies in the nuts and take things back to the way they used to was. You remember, back when you dropped a copay for office visits and payed to a dedectible for surgery?

And I will not entertain any notion that fuckheaded insurance fraud scams are the reason things are the way they are. I never defrauded and insurance company. My shit should be low. Raise rates for the bastards that commit insurance fraud and leave me the hell alone.

And then I see shit like this, by way of Dell:

For every purchase of a Dell (PRODUCT) RED PC, Windows and Dell will make a contribution of $50 to $80, depending on the product purchased, to The Global Fund to help improve the lives of people in Africa affected by AIDS. $50 is enough to pay for almost four months of life-saving antiretroviral treatment for one person suffering from AIDS.

That last sentence makes me sick to my stomach. Why is it that folks in Africa can get four months of ultra-advanced antiretroviral treatment for fifty bucks, when the same fifty bucks will get me one office visit to a specialist with barely enough left for a value meal at McDonald's?

*deep breath*

*beer*

*deep breath*

Okay. Sorry about that. I think I'm better now. I'll have another beer or two to make sure.



tweaker

Ups and Downs

So, I haven't been to work since Monday. Today was my first day back, and I am paying the price for doing it. I nearly twelve hours, and by the time I got home, BOTH knees were determined to detach and find a better owner.

"It NEEEEDS the Vicodin!!! It helps ussss!!!"

Anyhoo, yesterday was the big Science Project presentation day at The Little Girl's school. The theme for the science fair was the human body. The Little Girl was intentionally selected for The Brain. I'm not making this up. We asked the teacher. It's da troof. She did fantastic.

Another little girl had the mouth. She was going over the various parts of the mouth, and when it came to the lips, we all were in for it. As she was going over different possible uses for the lips, she mentioned kissing. I chuckled. Then, one of her classmates in the front row said, "GROSS!" I almost fell out of my chair.

Which, in retrospect, would have been easy to do. The seat of the chair isn't more than 14" from the floor. It was all I could do to get into the damn thing, and I nearly didn't get out without help. To hell with this knee stuff...

So, after everything, when The Wifey and The Little Girl came home yesterday afternoon, The Little Girl felt warm. By the time dinner came around, she claimed to not be hungry (which she does from time to time if she's interested in something else). She really wasn't. She had ONE BITE, and fell asleep in her chair. When I carried her into her bedroom, she felt like she was about ready to burst into flames.

Great. Now it's a sick kid. Did I piss of The Gods somewhere downstream?

*sigh*

What doesn't kill us gives us stuff to bitch about on our blogs.



tweaker