Craig's List Is KILLING ME!

Oh holy crap snacks.

I've spent the last couple days on Craig's List just cruising around, looking around, seeing what the deals are and where. As I live in the Houston market, they are scattered everywhere.

My favorite section is the FREE section.

I'm laughing right now... hold please.

This is the section you visit for listings on free dirt... there is always free dirt...^[1]

Free boxes... the odd thing here is that there are ads for people looking for boxes... that they can't find each other is kinda hilarious in and of itself.

Of course there's all kinds of free crap, free dogs of unknown origin, a finger monkey...

A finger monkey. A FINGER MONKEY.

And It's Only June

We still got July & August to go.

Yay! Summer VAY-CAY!

Mmph.

See this pic to the left? Yeah, says it's 92ºF outside. That's the air temp folks. The RealFeel? That's the heat index. Yup, over 100º. You think it's only 100º though?

Try walking barefoot on the sidewalk.

Yeah, the temp coming off the street can melt your souls.

Soles, I mean. Shoe bottoms. Whatever.

It's hot and only going to get hotter. Last year we had like 565 days in a row of over 100 degree heat index. It sucked.

Today I picked up the girls from their gymnastics summer camp. This place is pretty awesome, which is why we keep going back. This year they installed A/C in the gym. Things just keep getting better!

Heads up folks, Sara wants her birthday at Iron Cross Gymnastics^[1] again this year. Some of you will be invited. You know who you are. Some of you won't. Sara says you can just drop off your gifts for her at the door.

Blog Update

I updated my blog to have tabs. I heard somewhere that people reading blogs like to see tabs. So I tabbed my blog with TABS!

So far all I got are Home, About Me, and Elephant Garlic...

I'm planning a Space Fort tab, but I'm not sure yet how to put that together.

She spends 75% of her time right here.

UPDATE: Just realized this was my 100^th post. Damn... Thinking I shoulda' went with my space fort idea.

Giant African Land Snails... IN HOUSTON!

And not in a "at-the-local-zoo" kind of way. Holy crap snacks folks. Here's the local broadcast from KPRC where they tell you not to touch them, and then show people holding them.



And a link to the story: LINK!

And now I totally want one...

How to Keep Your Marriage Sane

Also could be titled: How Unlimited Texting Can Save Your Marriage.

Stephanie: Can u take the girls and get the van washed, coupon expires today should be on dry erase board

Me: ok

Me: Damn, it's hot out here.

Me: Bubbles carwarsh is closed.

Me: There's a new PetCo over here.

Stephanie: Yes meant to tell u that

Notice how "Me" uses punctuation? Yeah... just pointing that out.

Me: So I drove to Katy. This one is not an Express. Even though it said it was one on google maps.

Stephanie: What? When did that happen?

Me: Well, that only took an hour and 30 miles. Still have coupon and a dirty car.

Stephanie: Lol u didn't have to go to katy we could just let it expire honey

Editor's note: Right. Yeah. Just let it expire... Right.

Me: Right.

Me: Z is signed up for soccer. Took almost as long as it did to not find an open Bubbles Carwash Express.

Stephanie: Lol good where?

It only now ocurs to me that she might have assumed I was talking about the carwash.

Me: FFPs games will be at Westside High.

Me: Eta?

It's 5:22 pm just wanna know when she's coming home. No answer. And this is what happens when I get ignored.

Me: Sara's already drunk screaming "Woo hoo! Three day weekend!" She's topless too. Zoey is doing lines on a Hello Kitty mirror. She's being safe though! No razor blade. Using a toothbrush.

Me: Dinner is animal cookies and clif bars.

Stephanie: Sweet, literally

Me: Oh. My. Glob! Strippers just showed up! Kinky. Dressed like cops.

Me: Not strippers.

Me: I started to suspect when I tried slipping a $20 into her bra. Thought it weird she was wearing a kevlar vest.

Me: Help! I'm hiding in the neighbors bushes. Shhh! Call 911! I'm being stalked by two gun toting lesbians wearing all blue. They got batman belts too!

Stephanie: Did u drink all my vodka again

Me: Z is so sweet! She just ran outside and yelled, "He went that way!" Pointing in the opposite direction of where I am.

Me: Sara just tackled and throat punched the bitch that stole my $20!

Me: I need a disguise.

Stephanie: Just emailed you one

Perfect

Me: Yes! Hurry too! I'll be the inconspicuous naked guy behind Walmart. Ignore all these conspicuous bastards.

Me: Z & S have each respectfully submitted a request for vampire teeth. Jut putting that out there.

Me: I'm sure CPS will allow them.

Me: Sweet! Pretty blue helicopters!

Stephanie: U r nuts

Me: They can't see me if I don't move. Saw that in a documentary.

Stephanie: Send the slaves out please.

And that last one meant she was home.

See? Perfectly sane interaction between married people. Married to each other, that is. I talk to married people all the time and let's face it, those conversations are boring.

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.

It's Made of Miracle Whip!

I just read a headline on my newsfeed on my phone. It reads: “Astronomers: We’ve Found A Planet Made Of Diamond”

I read the article. And no… they didn’t actually say that.

But still. What if they did? I mean, they could say pretty much anything, right? What could we say, or do, to refute it?

(Reuters)* - Astronomers have spotted an exotic planet that seems to be made of Miracle Whip racing around a tiny star in our galactic backyard.

The new planet is far creamier than any other known so far and consists largely of egg whites and vinegar. Because it is so gross, scientists calculate the mayonnaise must be pickled, so a large part of this strange world will effectively be “yucky”.

"The evolutionary history and amazing density of the planet all suggest it is comprised of carbon -- i.e. a massive glob orbiting a neutron star every two hours in an orbit so tight it would fit inside our own Sun," said Matthew Bailes of Swinburne University of Technology in Melbourne.

Lying 4,000 light years away, or around an eighth of the way toward the center of the Milky Way from the Earth, the planet is probably the remnant of a once-massive Kraft factory that has lost its license process food.

The measurements suggest the planet, which orbits its star every two hours and 10 minutes, has slightly more mass than Jupiter but is 20 times as odorous, Bailes and colleagues reported in the journal Science on Thursday.

In addition to Miracle Whip, the new planet is also likely to contain salad dressing, which may be more prevalent at the surface and is probably increasingly rare toward the vinegar-rich center.

Its high density suggests the lighter dressings of olive oil and honey mustard, which are the main constituents of dressings at Super Salad, are not present.

*Not a real news story. Believe it or not.

Seriously. Astronomers can say, “We’re scientists. We are ASTRONOMERS. We know what the hell we’re talking about. We a have BILLION dollar telescope. We found another planet that is made of marshmallows. And it’s awesome.”

Astronomy is delicious.

Zombie Apocalypse Team... ASSEMBLE!!!

There’s a new game on Facebook now that’s intensely zombie-ish.

The rules are:

Go to your Profile, look to the left, the first six friends are your Zombie Apocalypse team.

Holy.

Shit.

I’m screwed.

Sidekick: David Cardenal. This is ass backwards. It’s more like I’m his sidekick.

Heavy Weapons: Kenneth Morrison. Sorry dude, but the heaviest weapon I’ve seen you carry is a coronet. I’m willing to bet you’ve wielded something heavier since then, but I worry that it is a hockey stick.

The Idiot That Survives: Jennifer Dipboye. I so DID NOT PICK THE ORDER. Be thankful you survived.  I’d like to point out right now that I’m also watching My Little Pony while writing this.

The Sniper: Cindy Collins. This I’ll allow. As a matter of fact, I’d say it’s a given.

The One That Loses It: Matt Jensen. Again, I did not pick the order. However, of all the people I know, you are the most prepared for the event. Those type of people lose it first.

The Brains: Courtney DeMarr Brown. You make awesome meatballs. But can I rely on you to coordinate a zombie apocalypse team? KILL PEOPLE THAT ARE ALREADY DEAD? I worry.

Man… I need better material.

Seems obvious to me...

Another Day of Randomness

So I tried to sleep in today. I don’t really get much sleep at night. I have a tendency to wake up two or three times. And I don’t mean just to turn over, but actually get up. It’s always one of three things: My medical condition (which I SO will not discuss here), Zoey, or Sara. Usually, it’s Sara.

Last night I made it to 3:45-ish before the little imp came in.

“Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy!” She rushed the bed like it was D-day. “Daddy turned on my light!”

No I didn’t. I turned off her light. She has a Hello Kitty lamp in her room in addition to her night light. I seriously think our house is too well lit during the day; I’d rather not have it looking like Circus Circus at night. Sara speaks in riddles at times. She’ll say the opposite of what she means. It can get confusing and often leads to some heated… “discussions” at the dinner table.

I let her fall asleep before returning her to her bed. Then I was up until 5. Her mother gets up at 5:30. And therefore, so do I. As it happens, come 5:30… Sara was back and grinding her teeth as usual. That girl can make the windows rattle…

Individually packed serving sizes!

I tried to doze, but my guilt got the better of me and so I got up to make Stephanie lunch. She said, “You are literally the walking dead. Go back to sleep. Or eat some brains, but LEAVE ME ALONE.”

Ok, she didn’t actually say that. But I did go back to bed. I may have dozed for about 10 minutes… but the grinding. HOLY COW this girl isn’t gonna have any teeth to put braces on at this rate. Seriously, fingernails on a chalk board are not this irritating. If I put her back to bed at this point, she’d just be up. And a Sara without a good night’s rest makes for a very grouchy Sara which in turn makes Daddy long for an all-inclusive vacation to Cancun. 

Tequila!

So I cut up some beef and cured it to make some beef jerky tomorrow. Why the hell not?

I had my follow up doctor’s appointment today for that condition I’ll not discuss. Mom, if you gotta know, please e-mail me. That’s goes for the rest of you too. I don’t care who knows about it. I don’t care if all of you know… I just don’t think it really goes with the theme of my blog… or something like that.

It was for 2:00 pm. I sat there an hour before being seen. Long time to sit. Sit sit sit sit sit. I can’t even remember what I did before smart phones. I don’t remember being that interested in those dated magazines. I guess I just sat there.

The good thing about my doctor is that he doesn’t rush the appointment. When it came my turn he gave me his full and undivided attention. We discussed treatments and options. He stuck his finger up my butt. I HATE GOING TO THE DOCTOR.

Then he said, “We need to take some blood.” And he has an accent.

Vietnamese. You totally thought I meant Transylvanian. You know you did.

So they sent me downstairs to the lab. There was no wait! I was the only human being in the clinic needing blood drawn. How weird is that?! The lab techs were really nice this time. They had a whole new crew.

So they sat me in the chair and locked me into place.

Me: “Be gentle, I don’t do well around needles.”

Tech: “Don’t worry, I used to be the same way. And now look at me! I use them all day.”

Me: “On other people.”

Tech: *laugh* “True, but just the sight of blood used to make me feel like passing out.”

So here I decided to tell her the story behind my dislike of needles.

Me: “When I was nine or ten years old a nurse was drawing my blood. She must have been new. I watched with great interest as the needle entered my arm. I didn’t mind seeing the vial fill with my purple blood. But she didn’t put the cotton down before removing the needle.”

Tech: “Oh my God. It went everywhere.”

Me: “I hosed her straight up her blouse and into her face and hair.”

By this time she’s starting the third vial. What are they testing me for that they need THREE bottles?

Tech: “Reminds me of my training. We had to train on each other. There was…”

And here’s where my memory starts to fade.

“blood everywhere. It looked like the zombie apocalypse. I totally drained my lab partner onto the floor. My instructor  was like, ‘get a straw! We’ve got to put it back!’. And then there was the time we needed to stick this guy like 90 times before we finally found a vein. But it was totally our error, as he bled from each hole. We ended up just getting an empty Dr. Pepper bottle and letting the blood drip from the fingers of his cold mutilated arm.”

Me: “Here I go.”  And I blacked out for about a minute. She used the word “psychosomatic”.

I’ve cut myself deep before. I worked at a glass fabrication plant, and cut my finger hardcore. I bled all over the place. You could see the bone. Did I pass out? No. I walked up front and got somebody to take me to the clinic. Seven stitches later, I was fine. I’ve got a nice scar on my right hand now. Needle in my arm? Not so macho.

I was suddenly being attended to my three techs. All women. The tiniest one, a little Hispanic lady says, “Why is it always the big guys that get all woozy?”

I'm gonna knock your 204 lb. ass ON THE FLOOR.

Me: “To get attention…” I was still pretty wobbly. Good answer, though, right?

They got me an ice pack. Apparently wussing out makes you really hot and sweaty. They got me ice water and orange juice.  They walked me to a nice cushy chair. By the time I left seven techs checked on me (all women!). I have no pride nor shame. I didn’t care. I just didn’t want those tiny women to have to lift my 204 lb. ass back up into a chair. (That’s 92.5 kilos for my international readers) Eventually, I made it home.

Now if it been a lab full of dudes… it would have been a different story. I’ve thought about this. A guy wants to man-up. Instead of talking about blood drawing experiences, we’d have been utterly silent. I would have stared at the pock marked ceiling thinking about boobs and then it would have been over. Or at most we’d have said something like, “Football’s almost here.”

 “Yup.”

I finished my trip with a visit to the liquor store where I stocked up on beer, vodka and my wife’s favorite wine. I’d have gotten a cigar too, but it’s a 102°F and my Doctor said I’m not allowed to be outside. Seriously, he said that.

By the way, they needed four vials, gallons… whatever.

And in closing…

You’d think after 7 years of parenthood I’d learn by now my children need water at bedtime.