Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Why Do Car Dealers Do This?

Come... look inside... yeah... that's it... just a little closer...
They've got a dozen or so cars out front with their hoods wide open like hippos yawning.

As a child I had always assumed that was so that browsing men could observe and assess the engine because all men were supposed to know what a fine looking engine looked like.

But now that I am a full grown man, and one that has spent more than a few passing moments pulling apart engine parts and putting them back together, if I were to look inside a gaping Camero I quite honestly would't get anything out of it.

I'd be like... so.... that's how the hood opens. Huh.

So, the only conclusion I can think of is that it gives the rookie salesmen something to do at the beginning and end of the day. It's sure to be extremely important. Particularly on rainy days.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

And Just Where Have I Been?

It's not like I've been ignoring you. I just haven't felt like blogging.

The fact that I broke my computer really didn't help either.

Sad face is sad.

In either case here I am back at the keyboard.

Today there really isn't much on my mind. Except Santa Claus.

He is such a whore.

Seriously. Have you seen him around? The man sells everything. I see him outside the Citgo everyday now twirling a sign for whatever the hell he sells there.

He's on TV selling Mercedes. And Chevy trucks. And jewelry. And toys and beer and signature blend coffees. He's on the streets selling massages, payday advances, furniture and puppies.

He's been selling Coca-Cola for what? 70+ years now?

Who me? Judge? I saw you selling puppies.
And it all started before Halloween. I started getting mad when retailers thought they needed to start selling Christmas before Thanksgiving. Who wants to hear Dolly Parton crow on mercilessly about a hard candy Christmas while picking up endless supplies for their Thanksgiving dinner?

And now, while yer out shopping for a giant bag of Tootsie rolls, you can purchase fake snow, garden gnome elves, and prancing reindeer frozen in their frolicked state. They are across the aisle from zombie babies, giant wiggly spiders, and other random gimmicky crap.

It still surprises me when somebody says they don't understand how people get so depressed during the holidays.

I'm sure the docs prescribing Zoloft know.

It was this or zombie babies.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Whu...? Bacon?!

Mere moments ago my wife was on the phone with her mother. Still is as a matter of fact.

And here is what I heard.


"No. Keep the bacon. We don't want it."

I about had a heart attack. We don't want bacon? Exactly when did this happen?

So I made a slightly disapproving sound to communicate my disagreement.



"It's turkey bacon. And my mom."

Oh. Ok.

Never mind.

Not what they were talking about

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Psychiatrists Rule

Holy crap snacks. I’ve figured it out.

You know how everyone’s got their own little conspiracy theories about who is controlling the world? I love those movies where it’s a bunch of fat rich white guys, or the Illuminati, or skulls, or some such bullshit.

Like BIG OIL. Some really smart people think the oil industry controls all markets across the world. While their arguments can be convincing, they are wrong.

So so so very wrong.

I have figured it out.

Once upon a time some of those things may have been true. At least to a point.

But not today.

Today all governments, all markets, and all celebrities are controlled by… you are so going to understand this in a moment…

Wait for it…

Worth $10 each on the street.

Think about it. When markets plunge who stands to profit? You don’t see traders jumping outta windows anymore. The shrinks catch and treat them ahead of time. Now think deeper. Not only do the shrinks profit from treating them, but kickbacks from prescribing pharmaceuticals. And what do you think these traders talk to their shrinks about? That’s right. Which stocks are going to crap. Talk about insider trading.

War. Falling markets.  Bailing out banks.  Starving kids in Africa and the corrupt charities claiming to help them. Two parties of US government that are so alike that finding a difference is like looking for Waldo in a candy cane factory, but do they agree on anything? Hunger in America (but the news stories show fat people?).

Nom nom nom nom nom
Texas Rangers vs. St. Louis Cardinals… why did the Cards win? Because if they lost only a few people in Missouri would care. And they are already on about as much medication as they can take. Texas though, huge market of investors looking for a loss, gamblers who don’t think it’s an addiction, a whole stack of people looking for a reasons to eat a bullet.

And let’s not forget the culture of “second opinions” they encourage. I’ve sketched a scenario for you.

Doctor: Ma’am (yes I’m stereotyping… deal with it) I’m afraid you are exhibiting signs of manic depressive disorder. Fortunately it’s a well understood disease and the treatment is dependent on your insurance and how much cash you have in the bank.

Ma’am: Ummm. Are you sure? I mean… I don’t feel , what did you call it?… Sometimes happy… sometimes sad.

Dr: Exactly. Manic Depressive. Classic textbook symptoms. I take American Express, Master
Card and Visa. Please, no Discover cards. They’ll ruin my reputation.

Ma’am: I think I’ll try getting a second opinion.

Dr: Go for it! I strongly recommend getting another Doctor to review your symptoms before deciding on a treatment. A person in your state can’t afford to take any risks.


Dr. 2: So, after reviewing your dossier, I mean symptoms, I can’t believe your first doctor even considered Manic Depression.

Ma’am: I’m so relieved! I didn’t think that…

Dr. 2: You’re bipolar.

Ma’am: I am?

Dr. 2: We need to start you on a regimen of medication right away.

Ma’am: Crapsnacks.

After taking these I feel like "blue tie"...
Seriously folks! Think! Who else profits the most from people being bummed out all the time? Therefore the news is full of war, politics, shootings, famines, and failed marriages. Reality shows encourage back stabbing!

It is normal now to start a conversation with, “My doctor just put me on Xanax, so I really shouldn’t have that martini… well, one couldn’t hurt.”

And EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU’LL GET SOMETHING LIKE THIS IN RESPONSE, “Oh! My doctor put me on Wellburtrin, I have seasonal affective disorder.” To the bartender: “Can I get mine dirty with three olives?”

Thank you Dr. Daniels for showing me the "bright side".
Also, a fear of psychiatrists is the perfect psychosis to have. After all, who do you go to for treatment? That’s right. Dr. Jack Daniels.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Zombie Turduckens

You asked for it.

While it is true that my zombie apocalypse team post did not make number one (as predicted), it is entirely due to some freak of google. From some strange reason my Don’t Worry Be Happy post shot to number one without any effort whatsoever. People are googling the hell outta it. 

Again, I don’t know why.

I consider it a fluke of google, and therefore the ZOMBIE TURDUCKENS ARE LOOSE.

Imagine a sleepy southern California town with ten houses and a shopping mall. It’s Thanksgiving. The Cowboys are playing (this term is used loosely) against… who cares?

John Madden chose this town to retire in. He died.

But the body lived on! To open a small deli stand specializing in baked bird within a bird within a bird treats. And six legs. Can’t forget the six legs. Kinda like a giant roach. All brown and crunchy.

I’d bore you with the details… but since zombification of cooked meat is not an exact science it can’t be boring! John Madden’s body made hundreds of turduckens. And then he took one bite out of each one.



And hundreds of turduckens began wobbling north headed straight for…. Wait for it….

I said WAIT!


But this being America and turduckens are only ever made on Thanksgiving (not so much for the holiday as for consolation after watching the Cowboys lose) the army of crispy deliciousness couldn’t make it as far as Bakersfield before being chased down by Detroit Lions fans and consumed. They even ate the giblets.

Ewwwwwwwwww. Gross.

This is especially disconcerting because there were only eight of them.

You. Asked. For. It.

I believe he is eating Pat Summerall's pickled brain.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Like Dad

Today I did something, now that I reflect on it, that of all the people on earth, only my Dad would have done. Thus, I have completed the cycle and become my Dad.

Not completely, of course, just in spirit.

As many of you know I have chosen to become a SAHD (Stay At Home Dad) and home school my two girls. Today was our park day. One that both have been looking forward to for two weeks. Our park is awesome. It has three playgrounds with all kinds of awesome stuff to climb. It has a pretty big interactive water feature that Zoey and Sara could not get enough of.

I even remembered to put them in swimming suits this time. And brought lunch, snacks and towels. Look at me thinking ahead.

Then the call came. It’s Stephanie.

“I’m stuck at CVS. The car won’t start.” That’s the abridged version. You really don’t need to know what she actually said. Most of you probably already do.

Stephanie: “Should I get someone to try and jumpstart it?”

Me: “Yes. It would take me half an hour to get there. Try that and if it still doesn’t start, call me.”

She texted me instead.

Stephanie: “Only other worker is on break so only manager running store.”

Stephanie: “Do u want me to call for a tow, this is sucky I hate this shit and life right now.”

Lemme explain. We’ve called our insurance company's road side assistance like 5 times in the past 12 months. I think Stephanie was worried they’d take it away. Especially since last time I called all I needed was a jump.

Full disclosure in order to maintain marital happiness: She was right. I was wrong.

Me: “I can be there in 30 minutes.”

So I gathered up all our stuff and two disappointed little girls. They were good about it though. They treated it like a little adventure.

On the way I’m thinking it’s got to be the starter. Had the same problem about three years ago and I needed to replace the starter. Sometimes, if you got yourself a wrench, if you smack the starter it’ll wake up and work for a while.  Of course I thought about this after it was way too late to turn around and go back to the house for my tools. I figured that either I’d figure it out when I got there, or I wouldn’t.

We got there. Popped the hood. Something clinked and rattled to the ground.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't this look like a dental tool?

I’m guessing it was left in there by the repair shop the last time we needed it repaired. I’m also guessing it was intended as a reason for bringing it back.

“Gee, Mr. Mechanic. Now it makes a rattling sound!”

Except you probably wouldn’t notice such a tiny rattle over all the other noises this car makes.

I had her try to start it.


Yup. Classic “starter won’t start” sound. We tried to jump it, just to see if a little extra oomph would do it. No go.

So now here I am. No tools (except that weird dental tool), two wet kids, and pissed off wife and a CVS where the only tools to be bought are for diabetics and performing enemas.

And I needed to smack a starter.

It's the silver cylinder with a wire running across it.
As there are no hard and fast rules for what to smack parts of your car with, I used the only thing I could find that was reasonably long enough to reach the damn starter.

Stephanie’s umbrella. I’ve actually had this umbrella for about 18 years. May have used it once in the past 18 months. But it rained last week. I figure, why not?

So, I’m sure the other people buying their insulin and enemas got a kick outta this, there I am in the 96° sun, my head under the hood jabbing an umbrella into the guts of my car like a maniacal plumber with a plunger and a man eating toilet.

And that bitch started.

And I owe it to my Dad. Of his many lessons about life, this has got to be at the top of the list: If you don’t got what you need. Use what you got.

Thanks Dad.

Monday, September 12, 2011

I Don't Wanna Get Old

Today we went to our home school group park day and had a great time. There’s this park not five minutes from my house that I didn’t even know existed. Awesome playground! It has an interactive water feature. It has trails, cool playground equipment, and a pavilion with a kitchen.

Yes. It has a kitchen.

The girls had such a good time. I didn’t even think to check it out in advance to know there was a water feature, so my kids got wet in their clothes. Fine by me. Zoey met a few kids her age and they hung out together the entire time.

And then we came home.

Lunch time!

Both girls made their own peanut butter and honey sandwich! Sara is becoming quite the independent one.

So, sandwiches were made. Fruit was chosen and served. Sara opted to include a handful of Cheetos just to balance the meal.

And then it happened. Sara experienced a revelation. I don’t know what was going on in her five year old mind, but here’s the ensuing conversation.

Sara: “I don’t wanna get old.”

Me: “Me neither, but I only know one way to avoid that and I have to admit, I’m not too excited about exercising that option.” My kids are smart. They know to ignore me when I talk like that.

Sara: “No. I want to grow up, but I don’t want to get old.”

Me: “Why?”

Sara: “When you get old…” I could see the concern on her face. She put a Cheeto down. Leap of logic… and… “I don’t want to die!”

Me: *choke* “What?” I so was not ready for this.

Sara: “I’m gonna be all alone!” The tears started coming.

She then went into a hysteric gasping list of every family member she knows and how they were going to get old and die. And it wasn’t just that we were all going to die that concerned her, but that she was going to be lonely.

Me: “Sweety. That’s going to be a long time from now. You’ll be all grown up and have lots of friends. You’ll have kids too! And grandkids. You’ll be a gramma! How cool is that? You’ll never be alone!”

Sara: “I don’t wanna die!”

She was inconsolable. The tears. The sobbing. My heart was breaking.

Zoey: “This is making me sad.”

Sara: “Maybe somebody can take me to the doctor when I die…”

Ah. Now she’s looking for the cure. I’d continue with quoting her, but she was sobbing and crying and hic-coughing so much I’m not entirely sure exactly what she said. Needless to say, she drew the conclusion that by the time she got old and died, everyone she knew would already be dead and there won’t be anybody to take her to the doctor. So, now she’s going to die alone. I tried to assure her that when people get hurt or sick, there are always emergency workers and ambulances to take us to the doctor when needed. I also reminded her that she’ll never be alone!

Sara: “I wish everybody could be a ambulance.”

Let me explain this one. She took the word 'ambulance' to mean they were people that don’t die and take sick people to the doctor. I explained to her exactly what and ambulance was and did my best to reassure her that she’ll never be alone, and getting old really isn’t such a bad thing.

She wasn’t having any of that.

Sara: “I don’t want to eat any more of my sandwich.”

Me: “That’s fine, honey. You don’t have to eat it.”

Sara: “I don’t want to eat any more of my Cheetos either.”

Now it’s serious.

I assured her that I’d never let her be alone and would love her forever. The poor girl felt a little better. We canceled lessons for the day and watched cartoons while folding laundry. Sara snuggled up on me pretty much until Mom got home. 

Yeah, we didn’t do much, but I’m exhausted.

Friday, September 9, 2011

What Is Wrong With You People?


I just checked my stats and the worst post I've ever written is like 30 page views from being my most viewed post.


Zombies. And Facebook. Seriously.

Zombie + Facebook = being #4 in a google search for "Zombie apocalypse team".


From around the world. Japan. Scotland. Finland. The U.K., Australia, Belize, Salt Lake City, Philadelphia, San Antonio, Somewhere in Georgia (US), Wisconsin, and Bangkok. That's in the last 48 hours.

I swear, if you don't knock it off my next post is going to be about zombie turduckens and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it.

Wrap it in bacon and I will follow you through the gates of hell. Period.

Today In Homeschool

And just where the hell have I been?


Doing what you ask? You know, it’s been weeks and I haven’t a clue.

Zoey has been studying Asia. I have discovered that geography at a second grade level is pretty loose. To finish the week we made Chicken Fried Rice. Because it’s not at all racist and let’s face it, fried rice is AWESOME.

She mixed. She stirred. She fried. She stir fried. She set the table and served us! She was totally into it.

Serving for four!

I couldn’t have been more proud!

Her sister… well… she didn’t get into it. Not only was she pissed she couldn’t “help” with the cooking, but didn’t like: rice, chicken, broccoli, peas, carrots or corn. Actually, she likes them all, just not “together”.

Sara: “I can’t eat this!”

Me: “This is what’s for dinner. You don’t have to eat if you are not hungry, but if you say you are hungry later, then this is what you will have.”

Notice the distance between dinner and girl.

Sara: “But I want desert! I’ll eat one bite.”

Me: “You will eat what is in your bowl if you want desert.”

Sara: “I’ll eat one bite of chicken, one bite of rice, and one piece of broccoli.”

Me: “That’s good for one bite of Tootsie roll.”

Sara: “Then I’m not gonna eat ANYTHING!”

Me: “OK.”

Sara: *weeping* “Now I’m going to DIE!”

It really was good!

Me: “Yup.”

Seriously, how do you respond to that?

*sigh* I’m gonna have another beer.

Barely able to choke it down.
Just desserts.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Are You A Real Man?

First of all there is something wrong with you people. What may have been the worst post I’ve written is quickly closing in on first place for the most read post on my blog.

I can’t even imagine why. People are googling it.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in blogging it’s this: When you want traffic on your blog, include zombies.

That’s it.

So anyway, I was thinking earlier today about blogging and trying to come up with ideas of what to write about. I happened to be searching for my wire cutters. I had no intention of cutting any wires. It was then it occurred to me that if a guy could find at least eleven uses for wire cutters he could qualify himself as a real man without actually having to kill anything.

So here we go. Eleven uses for wire cutters:

 1. Trimming fingernails. They work.
 2. Cutting small branches.
 3. Trimming dead vines in the garden.
 4. Trimming bushes.
 5. Boring small holes in wood.
 6. Stabbing small insects. Or anything really, those things are pointy.
 7. Opening Christmas presents. Seriously, have you ever tried to extract seven Disney princesses from a single package? Bombs are easier to disassemble.
 8. Scraping weather sealant.
 9. Door stop. Just cram that sucker into the jamb on the hinge side.
10. Wire strippers. If you’re careful, it can be done.
11. And of course, cutting wires.

So there you have it. Another well thought out eleven point list you can share with your friends. If you are a man and have done these things with wire cutters you can now count yourself as real.

Most of us think we qualify anyway.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

First Homeschool Meetup!

This past Wednesday I took the girls to Huntsville State Park for our first ever Homeschool Group meet-up. We met with the Secular Homeschoolers of Houston and the Hydromoon group. Despite the distance and heat there was a decent turnout. The girls had fun.

It was hot too.

But on the bright side, there was water in the lake!

The drive up there was pretty uneventful except for the major accident on I-45. It’s after 10 am on a Wednesday and there’s a major accident on I-45. Of course there is. It’s I-45. I caught a glimpse of the wreck. I’m not entirely sure somebody didn’t enjoy the last few moments of their life before turning that car over.

Kids, don’t text and drive!


So, we drove to Huntsville. I got some wise-ass comments on Facebook suggesting I take the kids to visit the Texas Sate Penitentiary. But there weren’t any executions scheduled, so….

To the park!

DesCartes might suggest that the 'gators only think they do.
Saw this sign on the way in.

Had me a bit concerned at first, but I wondered if there was any water in the park at all.

After all, didn't half of Texas burn down last year and it pretty much hasn't rained since?

So I chose to ignore the sign and pretend alligators didn't exist at all let alone in the park. I would hope that if they have designated swimming areas efforts would have been made to discourage alligator activity in that area.

Not that I have any idea how that would be done.

No alligators here.
 There was plenty of water in the lake. While it was down compared to years past (as one might expect) there was water.

And being a Wednesday during the school year, damn near completely to ourselves.

Hells yeah!

So few others, it felt a bit like a private resort.

"My feet are wet!"

I'd like to point out right now that there will be no pictures of me in this post.

Mostly it's because I'm the one holding the camera.

And let's face it. I'm not exactly "photogenic". I put it in quotes because when I'm in a photo, it doesn't look good. At all.

And it's not just because it's my unhappy mug in the picture, but because pictures hate me.

What can I say, I make better kids than pics.

Come on in. The water is nice!

Sara was a bit leery at first. But soon warmed up to the idea of swimming in a lake.

Zoey took to it like, well... a fish to water. Most of the people I met that day thought I was there with only one daughter. When she did emerge from the water everyone else must have thought she was some random wild child that belonged to nobody.

She didn't even play with the other kids until someone finally showed up with a girl more her age. Actually, I think she was three years or so older. Didn't matter, Zoey finally found a playmate!

I heard there were cupcakes...?

Wednesday was also special because this was when the group celebrates all summer birthdays.
This was exceptionally special in that Sara had turned FIVE only just the day before. To her, every day is her birthday until she has her party. Which, due to scheduling conflicts, we couldn't muster until September 10.

Today (Saturday) she even said, "Because it's my birthday, I get to pick my snack." It was like 30 minutes after breakfast.

"What?" I said. "It's like 9:00 am. You're not having a snack."

"But it's my birthday." This was the end of the argument. Whatever I had to say after that was irrelevant. 

I have no idea what she's looking at.

It was a happy drive home.
She fell asleep 10 minutes after we left.

Overall, it was a great day. Any day that ends with Sara fast asleep, is a great day.