Monthly Archives: July 2008


I have to give a big shout-out to the mother-in-law.  She has agreed to keep ALL THREE kids tomorrow night OVERNIGHT!  This is a huge deal.  It means that Saturday morning will be the first time in almost a year and a half that the wife and I both get to sleep in as late as we want AT THE SAME TIME.  I’m not kidding.  We might sleep in until some ridiculous time like 8:30AM!  Or 10:00!  Or (dare I say it?) NOON!

This also means that Friday night we can do anything we want.  ANYTHING.  Of course, we’re just lame enough that it will probably involve something like grocery shopping.  But it will be grocery shopping without kids.  And that’s all that really matters.

Sorry for all the yelling.  Apparently, I use ALL CAPS a lot when I’m thrilled.



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Blessed are the attention whores

I saw a story about this on the news this morning before work.  It seems a group of religious nuts have hung out and harassed customers at a sex shop in Uniontown, Indiana for the last three years.  In shifts.  24/7/365.  They take your picture and post it on their website.  I don’t even know where to start with this.  Therefore, I shall make a list.

1.  These people have waaaaaaaaaay too much time on their hands.  And no, I’m not going to applaud them for their tenacity.  Just because you’re an asshole who refuses to let an issue die doesn’t make you right. 

2.  Also, it is painfully obvious that these protesters are attention whores.  There are plenty of worthwhile causes out there.  This is NOT one of them.  But I wouldn’t be devoting a whole post to them if they were out there feeding the hungry, now would I?

3.  I went to their website and it is absolutely chock full of hatred.  And typos too.  It made me want to drive down there (it’s only about 70 miles south of Indianapolis) and try to get my picture taken.  Really, I’m not sure if I can stop myself.  I might have to go.  For real.  I’ll be sure to put up a link if they post my picture.

4.  I think the store should consider promoting the fact that it has crazies out front who will take your picture FREE OF CHARGE.  But wait, there’s more.  They will also post your grainy picture online and even throw in clever little captions that appear to be written by eleven-year-old special-ed students.

5.  Seriously though, it’s this kind of stuff that turns people off to religion.  Okay, that’s not fair.  There are also all those priests who fuck little children.  And the hypocrites.  And the money-grubbing snakes.  And the people who blow up buildings.  And, well, you get the picture.

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I want to ride my bicycle/I want to ride my bike

This year, the wife and her parents went in together on a bicycle for my birthday present.  Since then, I’ve ridden it about twice a month or maybe 8-10 times total.  After dinner tonight, Big D talked me into going riding with him again.

Not long after we set out, I realized my bike was making a little clicking noise but it didn’t seem like a big deal.  I thought maybe the gears were just acting up or something so I ignored it and we kept going.  We ended up at a park over by Big D’s school and we even found some trails that snaked alongside the railroad tracks which we had never noticed before.  After riding the trails for a while, we eventually started heading back home.

We were a little more than two miles from home when something (maybe the freehub?) broke on my bike.  Suddenly, the pedals didn’t work anymore.  They spun the chain but the wheel wasn’t being driven at all.  I tried messing with the rear derailleur but I only succeeded in getting my hands dirty.  Of course, Big D figured this was probably a good time to have a nice freakout session.  After calming and reassuring him, I decided that I would have to walk the rest of the way so I called the wife to let her know we would be a little late.

Let me just say that walking a bike two miles is a lot less fun than riding a bike two miles.  There were a couple of spots where I could sit on it and coast but you’d be surprised how quickly your momentum fizzles out when you have nothing but gravity working for you.  About halfway home, we saw one of Big D’s kindergarten classmates riding bikes with her mom.  I just smiled and kept walking, pretending that it’s perfectly normal to hop off your bike and push it occasionally.  After all, who needs all that monotonous pedalling?  And speed?

Of course, the worst part of the trip was the very last block.  I’m not sure why (I usually don’t give a shit about impressing people), but I couldn’t let the neighbors see me pushing my new bike.  So as we came around the corner heading to our house, I straddled the bike, furiously pushed off the curb several times, and actually managed to pick up a little speed.  Enough speed, in fact, that I coasted the rest of the way home; sitting on my bike, sweating profusely, waving at the neighbors, and grinning like an idiot.

Overall, I’d say things went pretty well.

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The transitive property of gas prices

So I was putting gas in the car today (yeah, putting gas in the car, not filling up the car because I can only afford to actually fill it up once a year immediately after we get our tax return) when I noticed a guy walking around the pumps with a little red gas can.  He briefly stopped and talked to someone else pumping gas and then he started walking in my general direction.  It was one of those awkward “He’s Gonna Hit Me Up For Cash” moments.  So he goes into his spiel which involved doing some job for some guy who hadn’t showed up to pay him yet and now his truck ran out of gas just as he got to the gas station blah blah blah.  Being the big softy that I am, I pumped him a gallon of gas (the first guy must have given him a dollar’s worth because there appeared to be about half a cup of gas already in the can).  As I was pumping his gas, he joked about the sad state of the economy.  “You know it’s bad when I’m out here hustling for a gallon of gas.  Not some change, not a dollar, just gas.”  So the government oversees the economy, right?  And the president is presumably in charge of the government.  Therefore, by the transitive property of equality, I figure George W. Bush owes me approximately four dollars.  I want it in cash.  No, wait, how about Euros?  According to Google, that’s €2.57.  Geez.

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Thirteen seconds of cute

Last night, Boobers tried out listening to earphones for the first time.  He enjoyed it immensely.  Lucky for you, I got it on camera.

You’re welcome.

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Real Indianians #3

Unlike most Americans (actually all except Arizonans and Hawaiians), Indiana residents did not officially observe Daylight Saving Time until 2006.  You can read all about it here.  I can understand Hawaii wanting to stay on the same time all year long.  Since they’re closer to the equator and not so close to a major city in the next time zone over, it makes sense for them.  Arizona?  Beats me.  Nonetheless, Indiana was a little slow coming to the table.  And Real Indianians still complain about Daylight Saving Time to this day.

It’s a semi-annual ritual in Indiana for all the Real Indianians to complain about DST when the clocks are changed.  It’s especially fun in the fall when everyone complains about how early the sun sets, to remind them that it now sets at the same time that it always did before DST was implemented.  They don’t like it when you say that, by the way.

Growing up in Arkansas (which I never realized was so progressive until I moved away), I can’t remember Daylight Savings ever being that big of a deal.  You did it twice a year, no questions asked.  That’s just the way it was.  I know, I know.  If all your friends jumped in a lake, would you?  Um yeah, I probably would.

Honestly, I don’t necessarily see any great benefit from changing the clocks except that essentially the entire country does it.  It’s all about standardization.  Imagine if one state switched to the metric system for their speed limits:

“What’s the problem, officer?”

“I clocked you doing 80 in a 65.”

“No sir, I was only going about 50.”

“Listen, I don’t need no lip from some high-falutin’ Idahoan.”

You can see how things would devolve from there.

Somehow, DST is not just a minor nuisance in Indiana.  It’s a hotly debated political issue.  It tears families apart and threatens the very structure of Indiana society.  I know.  It’s hard to believe, right?  That’s what the gays wanting to marry each other are for.

Just so you know, I do understand that Indiana is located in a bad spot as far as time zones go.  I think we should probably be in the Central Time Zone instead of Eastern.  That’s a question that Real Indianians should consider.  If you want the Department of Transportation to do something about it, get involved.  Write your legislator.  Start a petition.  Turn cars over and set them on fire.  But no matter what, we should observe DST as long as the rest of the country does.


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Fact and Opinion

  1. I can’t think of any food or recipe that isn’t enhanced by adding at least one of the two following ingredients:  ice cream and/or cheese.  Try it.  Seriously, I can’t think of any.  Let me know if you come up with one.  But if you ever find yourself in a situation where you encounter such a foodstuff, I advise you to run away from it immediately.  Because that’s just not right or natural.
  2. Speaking of ice cream, here’s a Helpful Husband Hint.  When given a choice between two different spoons for eating your ice cream, always go with the smaller of the two.  The little sampler spoons they have at Baskin Robbins are just about as good as it gets.  Small spoons make the ice cream last for a much longer time.  Or at least it SEEMS like it’s longer.  Like shaving your pubes.
  3. Councilman Doug is one of my personal heroes.  Okay, he’s a little pathetic at the moment.  But still.
  4. Big D, our seven-year-old, is a little freaky sometimes.  Tonight while we were playing outside, he started talking about his all-time favorite video game Need for Speed: Most Wanted.  He mentioned that he thought it would be great if it had road races that you could set up yourself.  He said if he could he would set up a race where it would start on the interstate at the third exit after the bridge.  After getting off two exits down, turn left and then you would go about half a mile and take another left.  After you go through the tunnel, it would go over the small hill and through the two big curves and then you would be at the bridge and…  “Is it a sprint?” I interrupted asked.  He looked at me like I was the Jolly Old King of Slobbering Idiotland, “No, it’s a circuit.”  He couldn’t believe that I wasn’t completely following along in my head with his little virtual map.  I’m really not exaggerating much here–in fact, I’m probably forgetting half the details of his race.  If he reads this tomorrow, he’ll totally call me out and remind me about all the turns I forgot.
  5. “I like my sugar with coffee and cream.”  Truer words were never spoken.

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