tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55542444912844414682024-03-20T05:20:24.845-04:00Who Woulda Thought?Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.comBlogger275125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-27548016333220367982015-04-09T21:57:00.002-04:002015-04-09T21:57:50.648-04:00Ask Away Friday: Random Acts Of Questions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Oh look, it's Friday and I've fallen prey to yet another Ask Away Friday. If you don't know the deal, I am asked 10 questions by a fellow blogger, I answer the questions and then you read the questions and answers, hopefully enjoying it.<br />
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In return I ask 10 questions to the said blogger who asked me my questions, they answer them and you read those. Get it? Got it? Good. Let's get on with this.<br />
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This week is a special Ask Away Friday because the person I am swapping questions with is a friend from high school. Let me paint a picture for you about my high school experience. Remember those cliques? The jocks, the popular girls, the geeks, and the misfits? I didn't fit into any of those cliques, I was unique and was able to get along with 99% of the kids in my high school class. Of course there was that 1% (like 3 kids) who I just couldn't get along with...if you went to school with me and you are reading this, you probably aren't the 1%...congrats.<br />
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Sorry I got sidetracked, I was supposed to tell you about my AAF buddy this week. Jodi from The Noise of Boys is my friend from high school. She's pretty cool and you should go and check out her blog (watch out, she's a sell out...just joking, it's an inside joke). It's funny when we both agreed to do Ask Away Friday a couple of weeks ago, she told me to try to keep it PG because of her audience. <br />
Hmmmmm, PG? Well I guess I can do that but it got me thinking, she wasn't PG in high school...but that's a story for a different day. I agree to your terms Jodi and I will keep it...as PG as I can.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://thenoiseofboys.com/">The Noise of Boys</a></span></div>
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And today's questions are....<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">1. I know you are looking at switching over to WordPress in the future, what prompts this change and what interests you most about the blogosphere?</span><br />
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Man, word travels fast..., oh wait, I asked you your opinion on WordPress. Well, now that Blogger knows I am shopping around I'm getting banned...oh, that's not how it works? OK. I want to have more control over my blog, not that Blogger hasn't been good to me, I just want my own, to own, to rule the world (I almost dropped the f-bomb there). Ah the blogosphere, what a weird and wondrous place. The thing that interests me the most about the 'sphere (as us cool kids call it) is the diversity of the blogs and the ability to write about whatever you want.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">2. Tell me about the blogs you love to follow and why you do?</span><br />
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I have a confession...I'm a bad, bad blog follower. I follow blogs but don't make time to read them. Don't get me wrong I like reading, I just find it hard to find a period of time to read them. Husband, Dad, Cubmaster, remember? But IF I had to choose some blogs to pimp, they would have to be:<br />
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<a href="http://www.abeerfortheshower.com/">A Beer for the Shower</a><br />
<a href="http://funnyoddthing.blogspot.com/">Funny Odd Thing, Life...</a><br />
<a href="http://ken-inatractor.blogspot.com/">Ken-inatractor</a><br />
<a href="http://theincoherentramblingsofasingleparent.blogspot.com/">The Incoherent Ramblings of a Moose</a><br />
And of course, <a href="http://thenoiseofboys.com/">The Noise of Boys</a><br />
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<span style="color: lime;">3. What is the most valuable lesson your sons (Minions) may have learned from you?</span><br />
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Wow..a serious question, damn it I despise those. I would have to say I hope they have learned to be who they are and be good people.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">4. Are you a truth or dare kind of person (my bet is BOTH)? Either share a photo of a daring moment or tell us a truth!</span><br />
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I have been known to be daring (or stupid) and I do get truthful (when I drink), but here is my most daring moment...<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">5. I would love to hear from the Trophy and am SO impressed you read 50 Shades. Does she regularly read your blog?</span><br />
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I have been trying to get her to do a guest post on the blog, maybe if she reads this she will comply. The Trophy does in fact read my blog and I have caught her laughing at it as well, I'm going to chalk it up to liking it. I actually haven't finished reading 50 Shades of Yuck, I think I made it to chapter 8. It's on my list of things to finish up, people seem to like my reviews of the book...despite how terrible it is.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">6. I know you sometimes feel trapped in the "Mommy" blog world. I feel it is a pretty diverse and eclectic community, Dad blogs and networks are on the rise, have you found any resources to help guide you?</span><br />
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I am a Dad trapped in a Mommy Blog world. Even the other Dad blogs are more Mommy than they should be. Dads should be funny, goofy and always joking around. I'm not saying that the Dad blogs are bad, just need to throw some actual guy stuff in there. The best resource I ever found was a challenge I entered called Dude Write. It's gone now, but I cleaned up in the awards sections....and learned a lot from the other Dudes.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">7. Famous person (dead or living) that if you had one full day to hang out with, who would it be?</span><br />
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Man, I always have loved this question. I get asked this all the time and I only have two answers, one for living and one for dead. For living I would love to hang out with none other than the man, myth and legend, George Lucas. I want to get inside his brain and find out where he came up with the greatness which is Star Wars. For the dead person, Lord Baden Powell, the founder of Scouting. BP, as we call him in Scouts, created an organization and movement that has literally shaped my life.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">8. You have unexpectedly won $1,000, what are you doing with it? Where are you going, what are you wearing? Please share!</span><br />
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$1,000? Strip club, gimme all singles! Oops, sorry it was supposed to be PG. Actually, if I won $1,000 I would take the family on nice simple vacation, probably somewhere in the mountains where there is no phone service. Just chill, enjoy nature and...what's that word I'm looking for? Oh, yeah...relax.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">9. Coffee, beer, liquor, hybrid drinks? How do you most enjoy your favorite beverage?</span><br />
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First, what is a hybrid drink? Like combining coffee, beer and liquor? Ugh, I think I just puked a little in my mouth. I enjoy coffee in the morning and occasionally a beer or 4 but if I had to choose a favorite beverage it would be a nice tall glass of ice cold Diet Pepsi. There is nothing better than taking that first sip of Diet Pepsi. The only thing I won't drink is anything minty, like peppermint schnapps. I have a Permafrost incident when I was younger...or at least my friends tell me I did.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">10. I am a Netflix/AMC fan, do you binge watch anything or is there a show you really hate to secretly love?</span><br />
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We actually don't have cable. I know, crazy, but I'm saving like a million dollars a year by not having cable. Instead we do Hulu and Amazon Prime. As for binge watching, I have found myself binge watching How I Met Your Mother just recently, I never watched it when it was on the air and now it's hilarious! There is one show that I hate to secretly love....but that is a secret.<br />
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And so you have it, my questions have been answered in a PG manner and without fucking swearing! I'm so proud of myself!<br />
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<script src="https://widget.bloglovin.com/widget/scripts/bl.js" type="text/javascript"></script><a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="5143821" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=5143821" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blogs/who-woulda-thought-5143821" target="_blank"><img alt="Who Woulda Thought?" src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=5143821" /></a>Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-55491338587644004602015-04-07T20:22:00.001-04:002015-04-07T20:32:58.784-04:00Don't Cross The Streams...it would be bad.<br />
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The first time I ever heard that quote was 1984 and of course it came from one of the greatest movies of all time, Ghostbusters.<br />
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Fast forward 31 years and three Minions later. <br />
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There comes a time in a parent's life where you are just too tired to deal with your Minions. 11, 8, and 4 year olds are capable of getting themselves ready for bed...the problem is they don't get ready promptly or easily. <br />
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Some nights you just don't give a shit and direct them from the comfort of the couch...."Get your jammies!", "Turn the water on!", "Use soap!", "Dry off!", "Use toothpaste this time!" You know the usual.<br />
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"Dad, Minion #2 is peeing on me."</div>
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From the couch, "Stop peeing on your broth...wait, how is he peeing on you?"</div>
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"We're getting ready for the shower and going to the bathroom."</div>
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"At the same time?"</div>
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"Yes...."</div>
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"Don't cross the streams."</div>
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"Why?"</div>
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"Well...it would be bad."</div>
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"Why would it be bad?" (or "I'm fuzzy on the whole good bad thing, what do you mean bad?" for you Ghostbusters fans)</div>
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"What's going on in there?"</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
"They're crossing the streams and they want to know why it would be bad."</div>
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"Well...try to imagine all life as you know it stopping instantaneously and every molecule in your body exploding at the speed of light."</div>
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Blink, blink, blink.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
"Total protonic reversal guys."</div>
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Blink, blink, blink.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
"Right, that's bad. OK, all right, important safety tip."</div>
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Blink, blink, blink.</div>
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"In other words, your mom will shoot you in the face with a missile launcher you if she finds more pee on the outside of the toilet, OK?"</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
"Ohhhh, OK, sorry."</div>
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Reason 1,765 why I love the Trophy and don't forget...don't cross the streams.<br />
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Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-11454408422345894502015-03-31T17:00:00.000-04:002015-03-31T18:40:12.603-04:00Happy Zombie Jesus Day!<div align="center">
<a href="http://www.welcometomycircus.com/" title="Welcome to My Circus"><img alt="Welcome to My Circus" src="http://www.welcometomycircus.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/300x200-Sized-Button-Admit-One-to-the-Party-Under-the-Big-Top.png" style="border: none;" /></a></div>
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Ah Easter...springtime and church, what can I say bad about Easter? Oh, ye of little faith.<br />
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Now before anyone crucifies me...HA I crack myself up....(oh a two for pun, crack...egg...Jesus...crucify...get it?) let me paint a background picture (again) for you. I would consider myself Agnostic or a Fallen Catholic if you will.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvEV3GVsdROJ5drpaj34L0R0ZkL6-sn6MXxgeit4Vl2AzD-18l3soZc9Uqb_XRy9rAvjbrwWu42uGd000d_7pV7ylx1exFuKvO9VhCDQ6LeqTxfRVQjOZ_iXvLceNWXRCXTr4c52d-CjM/s1600/easter-easter-commercialization-demotivational-poster-1270389867.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvEV3GVsdROJ5drpaj34L0R0ZkL6-sn6MXxgeit4Vl2AzD-18l3soZc9Uqb_XRy9rAvjbrwWu42uGd000d_7pV7ylx1exFuKvO9VhCDQ6LeqTxfRVQjOZ_iXvLceNWXRCXTr4c52d-CjM/s320/easter-easter-commercialization-demotivational-poster-1270389867.jpg" height="346" width="400" /></a></div>
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I was raised Catholic, not strict Catholicism but more of the "we need to play by the rules for the important holidays" Catholic. For those of you who have never been to a Catholic church service, here's how it goes:<br />
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Stand, sit, stand, fake singing, kneel, sit, stand, kneel, eat Jesus, drink blood, kneel, fake praying, sit, stand, sit, stand, shake hands, sit, stand and finally fake singing again. You do this for a little over a hour every Sunday and longer on the "important holidays". <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMsfnOFdQhv9ZTmin-yLtBb_8ibIDXIqomKwF1l-zvVfJpoJJ8WPsTrLnsnnzZy_oBIj2GKgxO-CHgrt9Zv8Vo2iBjDslQBGCksksgCuobjqMaVF0FifSf1PQI_YMtO6TS_7BUfAs2nIY/s1600/untradition-catholic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMsfnOFdQhv9ZTmin-yLtBb_8ibIDXIqomKwF1l-zvVfJpoJJ8WPsTrLnsnnzZy_oBIj2GKgxO-CHgrt9Zv8Vo2iBjDslQBGCksksgCuobjqMaVF0FifSf1PQI_YMtO6TS_7BUfAs2nIY/s200/untradition-catholic.jpg" height="193" width="200" /></a>I do have to be thankful for my mom, she only made me go to church on the "important holidays" i.e. Easter, Christmas, weddings and funerals. However, I was made to go through CCD (still not sure what it means) in order to get my confirmation.<br />
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In a nutshell, I am a firm believer that you don't have to spend your time in a building to be a good person and I do believe in God, just not one particular religion. Going to church every Sunday makes you a better person like standing in a garage makes you a car. So with that being said, there are a few things that confuse me about Easter.<br />
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1. Why is it on a different date each year? Christmas is on the same date every year, don't they kind of go hand in hand? I mean Jesus rose on the third day....but the third day of....what? It's like the high priests of religion throw darts at March and April and what ever Sunday the dart lands closest to is Easter Sunday.<br />
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2. Where the hell did the Easter Bunny come from? Who created him? Was he there when Jesus rose? All I can picture is the bunny from Monty Python and the Holy Grail guarding the cave. Was he put there by the Jews to stop Jesus from getting out? <br />
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3. What's the correlation between dying for our sins and plastic eggs filled with money and candy? We should just take strawberry jam and spread that all over the lawn and have a Jesus Hunt, first one to find the hidden cross wins. Oh wait, I got it, he died, so we dye eggs...die...dye? See the similarity?<br />
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4. Don't you think they could have called the day Jesus died something better than Good? Again, how do they know he died on a Friday? I mean, people call the Friday after Thanksgiving Black Friday, that sounds more like a day of death. Maybe a switch should be made. I am going to tell people that I hope they have a better Good Friday than Jesus did.<br />
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5. Ash Wednesday...this I don't get at all. This goes back to my thought of archaic practices. My mom passed away and she was cremated....I sure as hell am not going to smear her ashes on my forehead. What are the ashes from that they are using in the present? I highly doubt they are Jesus's actual ashes, but wait he wasn't cremated according to legend, he was buried in a cave after being crucified. OK, my head is going to blow up on this one....<br />
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6. Why do schools have Good Friday off when they want to remove God from their buildings? I just heard a story this morning on the radio about a town in Massachusetts that wants to change the lyrics to Lee Greenwood's God Bless the USA to We Love the USA. But this same school takes Good Friday off...WTF, you can't have your Cadbury creme egg and eat it to!<br />
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So now that I've either pissed off all my Catholic friends or made people worry that I am going to go on an Easter bender, I would like to wish everyone a Happy Easter and I hope you spend it....well...doing whatever you do for Easter. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJlwrxAAvcrojzJZ9y3iTir8DmrDGwIxwo3XPxMhK94t8D-oveV_q4D62XZ7_NrOURJ9PoeDdlfzdQJvOlCLY124LPNkI9zexkp3DJEjsU5z3282Z0069Pb3OPo2l3uhkgygp2gJs2OPM/s1600/funny-pictures-peep-show-easter-candy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJlwrxAAvcrojzJZ9y3iTir8DmrDGwIxwo3XPxMhK94t8D-oveV_q4D62XZ7_NrOURJ9PoeDdlfzdQJvOlCLY124LPNkI9zexkp3DJEjsU5z3282Z0069Pb3OPo2l3uhkgygp2gJs2OPM/s400/funny-pictures-peep-show-easter-candy.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Easter everyone!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="5143821" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=5143821" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blogs/who-woulda-thought-5143821" target="_blank"><br /><img alt="Who Woulda Thought?" src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=5143821" /></a>Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-65137994745917817572015-03-26T22:36:00.000-04:002015-03-28T11:31:09.390-04:00Ask Away Friday: Like A VirginTouched for the very first time. And I'm still selling out...not really this time, I've got my feet wet now and this week I am hooking up (not like that, get your mind out of the gutter again) with Lysa from <a href="http://www.welcometomycircus.com/">Welcome to My Circus</a>, a pretty funny blog about a crazy ass life that she lives.<br />
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<a href="http://www.welcometomycircus.com/" title="Welcome to My Circus"><img alt="Welcome to My Circus" src="http://www.welcometomycircus.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/0February-27-2015-Lysas-Bio-Pic-Welcome-to-My-Circus-Button.jpg" style="border: none;" /></a></div>
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So here's the deal in case you forgot, I have asked Lysa 10 questions about her firsts and she, in turn, has asked me 10 so without further ado, here are the questions as asked by Lysa from the Circus herself.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">1. What was the first "real" concert you went to and when was it? Do you even listen to the band today?</span><br />
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Oh, a concert? Back in the day I had frequented <strike>tons</strike> <strike>many</strike> a few concerts ranging from Rosenshontz to Garth Brooks. But my first real concert however was (not counting Rosenshontz when I was 10) Guns & Fucking Roses in May of 1993 on their Use Your Illusion tour at what was known as the Mullins Center in Amherst, Massachusetts. Do I still listen to GNR? What kind of question is that? Guns and Roses is one of the best bands (back in the Axl AND Slash days) and I still rock to Paradise City.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">2. What was your first regrettable decision and why did you regret it?</span><br />
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My first regrettable decision? Holy shit balls, how am I supposed to remember that? OK, I know what it was. I stole a candy bar from the local general store. There I said it. I regret it because it was a family owned store in a town of less than 1,000. However...I returned the candy bar.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">3. What is the very FIRST thing you think of when you wake up every morning or on most mornings?</span><br />
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I gotta take a shit.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">4. What celebrity do you have the biggest crush on and when did you first develop you crush on them?</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her and this exact moment.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: lime;">5. What is the FIRST famous person you ever met and when did you meet them?</span><br />
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Ever heard of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Know who created them? That's right, I met, know and kind of still know Kevin Eastman the co-creator of TMNT. It was in the late 80s and I have several autographs from him. He even let my Boy Scout Troop camp on his property.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">6. What was you first day in high school like?</span><br />
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Shit high school? I was scared shitless like any other normal 9th grade kid that was chubby and a geek. Thanks for bringing up bad memories....kidding, it was fairly normal just a little scary, I had friends that were with me since I was 3 years old, so it worked out fine.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yup...that's me.</td></tr>
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<span style="color: lime;">7. When was the first time you licked a 9 volt battery to see if it was still working?</span><br />
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Well....that's a totally random question. Lick a 9 volt battery to see if it was still working? What kind of idiotic guy do you think I am? I licked it because I was dared to not to see if it was working. Geez. Anyway, to answer your question, I would have to say I was probably around 10 years old and yes...it shocked my tongue but in a good feeling way like the rope in gym class...wait, what?<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">8. What was the first curse word you ever said and how old were you? What made you say it?</span><br />
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Shit, I don't fucking remember what goddamn curse word I said or when it was. If I had to guess, it was probably shit, yeah I'm pretty sure it was shit because shit was a common word in my house.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">9. What was the first Bubble Gum Pop song that you remember from elementary school or high school that drove you nuts but now you sing it any time you hear it?</span><br />
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First, what the flying fajita is a bubble gum pop song? Did I miss something growing up in New England? Anyway, when I was in high school we did alternate weeks of academics and shop. In shop we listened to the radio and it was one of those stations that put their list on repeat, so it came on at least twice a day.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">10. What was you favorite Cub Scout event and when did you first participate in it?</span><br />
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PERFECT! Cub Scouts! My favorite event was and still is the Pinewood Derby, the thrill, the race, the fun, it's so much cooler than NASCAR. My first one was in 1986 and I took first in the Pack and third in Council. I love the PWD.<br />
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<br />
So there you have this week's Ask Away Friday with Lysa from <a href="http://www.welcometomycircus.com/">Welcome to My Circus</a>.<br />
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<script src="https://widget.bloglovin.com/widget/scripts/bl.js" type="text/javascript"></script><a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="5143821" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=5143821" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blogs/who-woulda-thought-5143821" target="_blank"><img alt="Who Woulda Thought?" src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=5143821" /></a>Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-58662342408187154002015-03-23T20:41:00.000-04:002015-03-23T20:49:46.350-04:00Food For ThoughtAh Fakebook, we meet again. Each time we meet, you irritate me more and more, yet I can't quit you. Like a moth to a flame, I am drawn to scrolling through and seeing people's posts. I have mastered the use of the unfollow option and I have even been brave enough to unfriend some people...and it's a liberating feeling.<br />
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However there seems to be a new trend that has cropped up on the evil interwebs. Selfies? Nope, even though no one cares that you THINK you look cute while standing in the same room that you poop. What color is the dress? Nah, I can ignore that shit. Automatic videos? Nope, even though it is tough to scroll Fakebook in public and the bikini video plays. It's posting the food you make or eat on Fakebook.<br />
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Yup...food. People go out to a restaurant and take a fucking picture of the taco they are about to eat. Why? Seriously...why? It's not like you are at a 5 star gourmet restaurant and the food is aesthetically beautiful and pleasing, it's Taco - fucking - Bell. It looks the same now as it will in an hour. How about showing me that big ass plate of nachos you are about to devour by yourself...ooooo, don't forget to put the three beer bottles in the picture too, you drunk. No. One. Cares.<br />
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I don't know if you're trying to make people jealous by posting the slimy sunnyside up eggs and burnt Wonder Bread toast you got at Denny's, but rest assured...no one gives a flying monkey fuck.<br />
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The same holds true for the food you make at home. I am sure you are an ah-mazing chef (in your own mind) and your food is truly scrumptious (to your dog) but again, no one really cares that you cook. No one cares what it looks like when you're cooking it, no one cares what it looks like when you serve it and no one cares what it looks like sitting on the paper plate with your mismatched silverware laying next to it.<br />
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Now I know I can't stop people from posting pictures of the crap they make at home but at least let me give you some tips. First, don't serve the food you slaved over on a Dixie plate. Nothing says white trash quite like Walmart brand paper plates. Second, make it look decent. If you're hell bent on posting food pictures, make it look good. I've seen better plating at my high school cafeteria. It looks like you used an ice cream scoop to serve everything and for shit's sake, add some color in there. White, tan and brown are not eye candy colors.<br />
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Also you might want to consider hiding the Hamburger Helper box you made it from. Made from scratch? Bullshit, made from scratching your ass is more like it. Seriously, even if the box is out of the picture, you can still tell that it's Hamburger Helper or Whatever-Meat Helper you used....it just has that look to it, the greyish, sloppy, chunks of meat product and those wide noodles.<br />
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*DISCLAIMER - I am not condoning eating these items, I eat them all the time, there is nothing wrong with the food items or how you serve them, we use paper products too, when our sink is overflowing with dishes. I just don't take photographs of the Trophy's Redneck Surprise.<br />
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Do you think Jesus would have posted the Last Supper if the Internet was around back then? Simple answer...no, he wouldn't have. Even multiplying the fish or bread or whatever and turning water into wine do you think he would have posted that shit? No, so next time you get a hair across your ass to post your food, stop and think WWJD? He sure as hell wouldn't post his food pictures.<br />
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There...I feel better, I got that off my chest, While writing this, I had an epiphany, I will counter balance the food posters on Fakebook. I shall photograph my after meal shits. Maybe I will make it a regular on my Facebook page or even here on my blog. Maybe I will call it Saturday Shits or Aftermath Wednesdays. Maybe Look What I Digested Thursdays. Hmmmm, I wonder if it would fly.<br />
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<script src="https://widget.bloglovin.com/widget/scripts/bl.js" type="text/javascript"></script><a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="5143821" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=5143821" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blogs/who-woulda-thought-5143821" target="_blank"><img alt="Who Woulda Thought?" src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=5143821" /></a>Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-57824453575243330462015-03-19T21:35:00.000-04:002015-03-19T21:35:16.610-04:00Ask Away Friday...Or I'm A SelloutYour choice...I am leaning towards being a sellout but hey as you know I just got back into the blogosphere I decided to join a thing called Ask Away Friday.<br />
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I was invited by my friend Jodi at <a href="http://thenoiseofboys.com/">The Noise of Boys</a> to sign up for what's called Ask Away Friday...little did I know that it's Mommy Blog thing...and that brings me back to being a Dad Trapped In A Mommy Blog World which you can read <span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://whowouldathought-kevin.blogspot.com/2012/03/dad-trapped-in-mommy-blog-world.html">HERE</a></span>...go on, I'll wait.<br />
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Anyway, here's the deal, I am supposed to answer 10 questions and ask 10 questions from and to another blogger. This Friday I am hooking up (NOT that way) with April Noelle from <a href="http://www.aprilnoelle.com/">Finding Favor</a> and she has asked me 10 questions which I will answer in a minute but right now I would like to apologize to April because after reading some of her blog...she's a very nice blogger and me, well you've read my blog, so you know what I'm like.<br />
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Without further ado, here are the questions and my answers.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">What was your favorite food when you were a child?</span><br />
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Hmmm, my favorite food when I was a child? That would have to be my grandmother's pierogis, cabbage to be exact. There is nothing better. What can I say, I'm a Pollack.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">What's the #1 most played song on your iPod?</span><br />
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That would be my guilty pleasure song....<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">What is one of your favorite quotes?</span><br />
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My all time favorite quote is<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">What chore do you absolutely hate doing?</span><br />
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Well I don't really hate anything...except clowns and cotton balls, but one chore I despise doing is cleaning the litter box, it's like spelunking for nasty ass Tootsie Rolls.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">If you could choose to stay a certain age forever, what age would it be?</span><br />
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I wouldn't actually. There isn't any age that I would like to stay, many of them were great but I wouldn't want to stay any of them.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">If you knew the world was ending at the end of this year, what would you make sure you do?</span><br />
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Wow, that's deep man. OK, this is my one and only sappy answer because it's the truth. I would spend the rest of the year with the Trophy and Minions, quality time with them, making sure that they know I love them.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">When you have 30 minutes of free-time, how do you pass the time?</span><br />
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Free what? Between working full time, Scouting, blogging, and so on I don't have much free time, however if and when I get 30 minutes of free time I usually sit and listen to the quietness. It's magical.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">What would you name the autobiography of your life?</span><br />
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Pull My Finger: Tales of Fun and Flatulence.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">What's the hardest thing you've ever done?</span><br />
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Man...another deep question. The hardest thing I've ever had to do was stand by my Mom and my Dad when they both passed away three years ago. I was by their beds each time....great thanks...it's just dust in my eye.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">What is something you learned last week?</span><br />
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I learned that winter is never, fucking ever, going away this year. I usually don't complain about the weather but this winter has been re-donkulous.<br />
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So there you have it...my sell out post.<br />
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<br />Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-59456441680948670762015-03-16T21:40:00.000-04:002015-03-17T10:06:05.855-04:00Just Shut The Hell Up!...is what you want to say.<br />
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If you're not a parent then this is one of those posts that will stop you from having kids, kind of like my going out to dinner post. If you are a parent and most of you are who read this you can probably relate.<br />
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"Hi honey, how was your day?"<br />
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"Not bad, I was able to,,,"<br />
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"Mom! Look what I can do!"<br />
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"What was that dear, you were able to...?"<br />
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"I was saying, I was able..."<br />
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"Dad! Did you know you can pull spaghetti out of your nose?"<br />
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"As I was saying..."<br />
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"Mom! #2 just peed on the flowers again!"<br />
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"Fuck it, I'll tell you in 16 years how my day was."<br />
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Kids...they have no concept of conversation. They either interrupt you with some babble about something you really don't give a shit about like the rare Pokemon card that he has called Flickaturd or whatever the fuck it is or they develop a version of tourettes.<br />
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It doesn't matter the age either, 1-13 it's all the same, kids are attention whores. You and the Trophy could be sitting on the couch for 2 hours reading a book or Fakebooking, not saying a word to each other and the Minions are all in their rooms playing or whatever they do behind closed doors and it happens:<br />
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"Oh, you'll never guess who I ran into today."<br />
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"Mom, Dad! I can't get this Lego to fit!"<br />
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What the fuck! It's uncanny. First of all, whoever bought them Mega Blocks AND Legos for their birthday needs to get a brick firmly implanted in their rectum because those DO NOT work together and second of all, how do they know when we start talking? Damn them and their Vulcan hearing.<br />
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Then you have the non-interrupting scenario or Non-interruptus-maximus as I call it. You're driving to the store with one of them (because that's how I roll, divide and conquer) and they are going on and on and on and on about something you have no clue about.<br />
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"Dad, did you see my Squinkies?"<br />
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"Huh, what the fuck is a Squinkie?", is what you're thinking but can't say it so you play into it.<br />
"Oh yeah buddy, they are cool!", thinking that will end the conversation...wrong.<br />
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"Yeah I have bunch of them, maybe even a gazillion! They are really small so Mom says not to stick them up my nose or in my ears because they will get stuck and we can't afford another $300 bill from the hospital like last time I put the Mega Block in my ear, remember that Dad? I have Iron Man, Spider Man, Kick-A-Jew, Lightning McQueen, Superman, Bakugan, Mighty Mouse, ummm, oh yeah and I have this case I keep them in so I don't loose them because Mom says...."<br />
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They just keep droning on until it eventually becomes a consistent buzzing of a fly or that humming you hear driving down the road with the radio off,<br />
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When the Trophy and I talk to other people, especially people without kids, some how the conversation always turns to bedtime for the Minions. When we tell them that's our favorite time of day, they look at us like we just clubbed a baby seal over the head.<br />
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"What? Don't you cherish your time with your children?"<br />
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Hmmmm, let me think about that one...95% of the time, yes I do. The other 5% I want to drop kick them through the picture window and bedtime can't come fast enough. The we can't put the Minions to bed quick enough some nights (OK most nights) because we want what all parents crave....<br />
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Quiet. <br />
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There is nothing better than putting the Minions to bed and sitting on the couch and listening to...nothing. Nothing at all, no TV, no music, no phones, nothing. It's awesome.<br />
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If you'll excuse me I have to go listen to...not a damn thing.<br />
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<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/5143821/?claim=ccy2guahscy">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-33881104596784322842015-03-09T21:44:00.000-04:002015-03-09T21:44:12.964-04:00Two Thongs Don't Make A RightIf you live anywhere remotely close to New England you are aware of the frozen tundra we have endured this winter. If you are not near here, it is the new Siberia. This winter has been brutal but there is a glimmer of hope this week. We are supposed to reach the 40s! Compared to the non-existent temperatures we've had, it's a freaking heat wave. It brings thoughts of summer, warmer weather and the beach. Who doesn't love going to the beach in the summer? <br />
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Me, that's who.<br />
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Before you click the X in the upper right corner let me explain. I do go to the beach, it's in the Dad contract I signed when Minion #1 barreled out but just because I go doesn't mean I have to enjoy it. There are many reasons why I don't enjoy the beach, especially New England beaches, I've been to some really nice beaches in the Caribbean and those aren't too bad but they still have the same issues.<br />
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It's fucking loud. There's no way around it, it's a very loud environment. Between the waves, the wind, kids screaming, the seagulls and Studley Wondermuffin blasting Pour Some Sugar on Me, it's on overload of the hearing sense. Don't get me wrong I love me some Def Leppard but I also like to relax in a little quiet. Turn it down asshat.<br />
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It's down right gross and nasty. Look up, there's fucking pterodactyls flying around ready to dive bomb you and take a shit on your shoulder. You're sitting in what essentially cats use as their toilet and the sand gets everywhere. The sand gets into crevices that you didn't even know you had. I'm still pulling sand out of my belly button from the last time I went to the beach. You go into the water to "rinse" off and you come out tasting like a dry roasted peanut. Of course, because it's an open area, people think it's perfectly fine to smoke. Mmmmm, let me choke some of that down along with my seaweed salad.<br />
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The ocean is full of mystery and danger. You're sitting in the litter box when the Minions want to go into the ocean. You can't say no so reluctantly you head in. First the water is 50 degrees in the middle of August and your testicles crawl up and sit on your shoulder giving you the "What the fuck?' look. Your first step in you step in seaweed and get icky toes. I despise icky toes. You don't know whats lurking under the seaweed, there could be some crab waiting to pinch your pinky toe off. While on land, you swear you saw a shark eating a seal, so there's that. I've seen Jaws, I don't want to live it. Salt is good for french fries not your body. After gulping down several waves and feeling like someone coated you in double sided tape, you've had enough. As you try to wade your fat ass out of the water a wave comes and knocks you over, you recover and see your bathing suit floating nearby. The ocean is a bully and there's no place for bullies.<br />
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It puts the sand in sandwich. I don't think I have to delve too much into this one, but it's impossible to enjoy lunch at the beach. Sand every-fucking-where. You might as well take your Subway and roll it in the parking lot, pour some water on it and then douse it with 1/2 gallon of salt.<br />
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You need to pack enough shit to last an overnight. When I was younger I would go to the beach with just a towel and my bathing suit. Simple. Now you need to bring three Beach Buggies full of sand toys, two coolers of food, an extra change of clothes, chairs, an umbrella and don't forget the sunscreen, It's a planning nightmare, it's easier to pack for a week at camp than it is for the beach.<br />
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Speaking of sunscreen...it doesn't matter if you have some or not, inevitably you're going to miss that one 6" X 6" spot somewhere on your body. It could be your back, your leg or even your chest and then you burn like a the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. True story, last year I went to the beach with the family, I slathered myself in sunscreen and promptly fell asleep in my chair (I had my iPod and ear buds in to block the noise). Instead of waking me to flip me like a pancake, the family lets me rest. I wake up feeling refreshed but looking like Two Face from Batman. The right side of everything was burnt, despite the liberal amount of sunscreen I put on. All I needed was a coin to flip.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM-Kyax1BhQk88Zi83rAHIzOLZwWOvU4rtgNbP2fwRbxWc33-T-CB4n656-MQ-F4r8olRO6V5PFrciv30wbxDwBqLeAQiBq6kQAuvJl3_0N3gtNXEAA_yzjp_DpVZuKTVA6loL1gtCbPhi/s1600/event_54251052.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM-Kyax1BhQk88Zi83rAHIzOLZwWOvU4rtgNbP2fwRbxWc33-T-CB4n656-MQ-F4r8olRO6V5PFrciv30wbxDwBqLeAQiBq6kQAuvJl3_0N3gtNXEAA_yzjp_DpVZuKTVA6loL1gtCbPhi/s1600/event_54251052.jpeg" height="133" width="200" /></a>Kids. Way too many kids at the beach. As you know I don't dislike kids, I have three of them (they're up for sale if you want them) but dammit, there's too many kids doing stupid things at the beach. They run by you flicking sand all over you, they cry and scream when their sandcastle gets washed away and they fly kites. Kite flying should be banned from beaches, the kids run along the beach dragging their Spongebob kite behind them, while the kite is bouncing back and forth hitting people and impaling them with the wooden dowels. Once they finally get it in the air, they have no control of it, it dips and bobs and then divebombs you, eventually crashing down next to you. It's like a game of Lawn Darts, one good hit to the cranium and you're done.<br />
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There you go, now you know why I despise the beach. I know, I'm not fun anymore, but I blame the Minions for that.<br />
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<br />Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-65669335402982611372015-03-05T22:52:00.004-05:002015-03-05T22:53:31.539-05:00What's Your Super Power? A little throw back Thursday...<br />
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Why would I go and waste a perfectly great fart and blame the dog? It doesn't make sense, be loud, be proud of what you have created!<br />
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Yup, that's right, I love to fart and I am proud of my farts, always have been, however, when I was younger I was shy (yeah I know, you don't believe me, but I was) and farting was something that was viewed as obscene and nasty and I should never, ever do it in public. Now you know why you see people walking around the streets with a look on their faces like they are hiding something, it's because they need to fart and they haven't embraced their inner Fart Child. Embrace it my friends, embrace it!<br />
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Up until the age of fifteen, yes I was a late bloomer when it came to public farting, I was one of those people, walking along the halls at school, shopping at the mall or even watching a movie in the theater, holding in the farts, making mmyself look like I was guilty of stealing something. Then one day, I let a fart slip in Caldor and it was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, well more like off my lower abdomen. I could concentrate on what I was looking for, I didn't have to be worried that someone thought I was up to something, I could just go on with my shopping. It was great.<br />
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Some people can burp on command, that's nothing, I have the ability to fart on command. My favorite game was and is Pull My Finger. Syd Vicious loves playing that game with me. This power has been handed down to me from both of my parents, my Mom would do the walking farts and Dad would be able to sit in his recliner and levitate about three inches. With great power comes great responsibility though.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdf2dkmGGvgT6vtW88I2I8DsfMTUKllQFdD11g3Qwq8pWuiYKxTkYN1KW82VTtgfNN5hEgN57TcalUsgiMHWecwaBBMm32p_3sBvET3geVeNtp8B6sGJ4e-FxY0qqciYGyv0wLrUVdsA/s1600/i_fart_whats_your_super_power_postcard-p239069645079354064en8ki_210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdf2dkmGGvgT6vtW88I2I8DsfMTUKllQFdD11g3Qwq8pWuiYKxTkYN1KW82VTtgfNN5hEgN57TcalUsgiMHWecwaBBMm32p_3sBvET3geVeNtp8B6sGJ4e-FxY0qqciYGyv0wLrUVdsA/s320/i_fart_whats_your_super_power_postcard-p239069645079354064en8ki_210.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
I am forced to shield this power, to keep it contained in certain situations and to use it for good. I have used it at water parks where I am climbing the fourteen story water slide (I paid $50 to get in here, multiple that by the thousands each day, put a freaking elevator in for shit's sake) and the person behind me was right on my ass and they kept bumping me with their inflatable tube. I turned around and gave them the, "I just ate some greasy french fries, I'm loaded and not afraid to use it" look hoping they would get the hint before I had to release the beast and have them disintegrate before they hit the ground. Bump! Sorry sir, today just wasn't your day....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsCjPDbddPzQ-xzA_vvEp8NGwH3J04LnoYx87y90Pc1XLFseMZ1NsH5WVYvie-8bPk660zZOyH1o8URZIA_1yrL_iKRz8c-1kT9o29RQJi4DXUDiAa6YjqGVuHKQVY5RjRIIJvktU84qs/s1600/fart.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsCjPDbddPzQ-xzA_vvEp8NGwH3J04LnoYx87y90Pc1XLFseMZ1NsH5WVYvie-8bPk660zZOyH1o8URZIA_1yrL_iKRz8c-1kT9o29RQJi4DXUDiAa6YjqGVuHKQVY5RjRIIJvktU84qs/s200/fart.png" height="200" width="193" /></a>The power can be used to end a meeting. You know the kind of meeting I'm talking about, you're all sitting around the table and you've covered everything important and then someone decides, now is the perfect time to discuss something totally irrelevant. You look around the table and see the look of pain and torture on the faces of the hostages, you can feel their pain. It is your duty to protect the innocent, like Iron Man you need to decide which weapon to use. Will it be the loud, no doubt who did it door buster or maybe you should use the middle of the road squeaker? You decide on the S.B.D. or silent but deadly fart.<br />
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Clenching your cheeks just enough to stimey the sound, you eek the fart out. It's only a matter of a few seconds until the full stench reaches the open air and then someone gets that look of "what died in here?" and promptly excuses everyone from the rest of the meeting. You are a hero, yet you did not reveal your identity.<br />
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I need to come clean though, I have strayed off the righteous path for a time and I was tempted by evil. I was driving my car with my friends in it. Everyone has that one friend who is considered a friend but is annoying as all hell (right now my friends from younger times are wondering if they were that friend). This friend would not shut the hell up about whatever he was spewing out of his pie hole. After about twenty minutes of nonstop gibberish, I had had it. There comes a time where it is not longer the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, but you need to unleash holy hell on the entire group, innocents and all.<br />
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When you are in a car, you can just let a fart rip, the cushioned seats and the road noise muffle the sound, so I fired away. Once the smell had reached my nostrils I knew it was time for Phase 2 of the plan. I quickly locked the windows and turned the heat on full blast. Unfortunately, two out of the three other people riding in my car that day suffered the consequences. It was a necessity and a victory, despite the minor loss of two friends.<br />
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I have passed along my power to one of my Minions. #3 has already taken the torch and is running with the power, we just need to steer him on the good path and not let him stray. Again, if we ever have a shortage of natural gas, you can just shove a pipeline up #3's ass and we will be supplied for years. <br />
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So. remember my faithful Minion Followers, it's OK to fart in public, if you are self conscious about it you can do the "wander around looking at things until the coast is clear" maneuver or yes, you can blame the kids, no one ever condemns a child for passing gas, just be sure to switch to S.B.D. mode, the noise gives you away.<br />
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Oh and I forgot, it is OK to fart in church. I've done it several times, mostly at weddings...on the alter... The place will not fall down, so when you hear the phrase "...went over like a fart in church" you can tell people that you actually did fart in a church and it went over just fine. Now, you can use the phrase "...went over like a fart in a space suit." to replace the church line, I'm sure that farting in a space suit would not be a good thing....<br />
<br />Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-28656075833555409732015-03-03T06:00:00.000-05:002015-03-03T06:00:01.262-05:00I Am A Geek Dad<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I guess I was cool before it was cool to be...uh, cool? I'll admit my coolness went away the second Minion #1 came sailing down the old sperm shoot. I traded my Metallica CDs for Veggietales and my house parties became themed birthday parties.<br />
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But before that I swear I was cool...<br />
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Since the rise in popularity of the Big Bang Theory and King of the Nerds, wearing superhero t-shirts and quoting sci-fi, thus geekdom has become mainstream. However, I was a geek before it was cool to be a geek, but let's get something straight right now, there is a difference between being a geek and being a nerd, but that's a post for another day.<br />
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When I was younger I was wearing superhero t-shirts and rocking the Atari 2600 and NES. I was quoting the Star Wars Trilogy before I could ride a bike and my favorite part of my one and only Disney vacation was Epcot. Fuck the small world, I wanted science! My parents bought me a home computer back in the 80's, and Apple IIc. That's right I was Mac before before Steve "Motherfucking" Jobs made it cool to be a Mac. In fact I had an Apple IIc before my school did.<br />
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I remember the day I was called to the principal's office, I was shitting bricks trying to think what I did wrong.<br />
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"We just bought three new Apple IIc computers and we need you to train the teachers how to use them."<br />
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Wait..what the hell did I just hear? My little 4th grade mind was blown! I was in fact the first Apple Genius. Now don't get too excited, if you had ever used an Apple IIc you know it doesn't have a hard drive and runs solely on those big ass 5 1/2 inch Verbatim floppy disks.<br />
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Remember Nintendo Power? Yeah I had a subscription from day one. My friends and I were gamers before anyone knew what the fuck a gamer was. I saved Princess Toadstool so many times I got a hard on when they introduced Peach. The Legend of Zelda? Please, I didn't break a sweat. Contra? Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start bitches. Kids these days think their Skylanders games are hard, how about needing to dedicated and entire day to trying to beat a game because there was no save feature and you could only go forward. You had to pray to the maker that your mom didn't accidentally trip over the power cord and unplug the NES.<br />
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I owned enough t-shirts to wear a different one for every day of the school year. Batman, Spider-man, Superman, Star Wars, Star Trek, you named it I had a t-shirt for it. I was novelty t-shirts before Dr. Sheldon Cooper. I had a semi-replica lightsaber growing up, it was Darth Vaders and I had the official movie posters for Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back and Revenge of the Jedi. Yeah you read that right, REVENGE of the Jedi.<br />
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I am a geek, like my father before me and my Minions will be geeks too. I was a geek before it was cool to be a geek.Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-87793721974911890882015-02-28T22:39:00.000-05:002015-02-28T22:39:44.884-05:00I'm Not Quite Dead YetDuring my hiatus from blogging I found myself in the Emergency Room or the ER to the cool kids. Don't worry, I'm fine, thanks for asking...you did ask right?<br />
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Picture it, 1980 something, a small town in Western Massachusetts. There's this dumbass kid whose parents are going out for the night and he wants to know when the babysitter is coming over. The babysitter lives across the street from this dumbass kid and the dumbass kid thought it would be a good idea to go across the road and find out for himself. Well, this dumbass kid decides to hang off of the 6 foot flower box on the picture window to try to get the said babysitter's attention. After a few jumps, the flower box comes crashing down on the dumbass kid and long story short, he is puking up blood and gets a complimentary ride in an ambulance to the hospital. Yeah, the dumbass kid was me.<br />
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While in the hospital, they noticed I only had one kidney. In the 70's they didn't use ultrasound often so they never caught that I was born a mutant. So after a week long stint in the hospital, I was released with some serious restrictions that I was supposed to follow the rest of my life. Things like, no contact sports, drink shitloads of water, no outdoor adventures, no touching, no breathing, you know things like that. The biggest was no contact sports or rough housing because they were afraid I would lose my remaining kidney. Fair enough, I'll sit around playing Nintendo while my friends are outside, playing...yeah that didn't happen.<br />
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My friends all knew about it, my teachers and Scout Leaders did, my coaches, everyone. I was like a fucking X-Man minus the cool abilities and a bald dude in a wheel chair. I was the kid with only one kidney. My friend's parents didn't know what to do with me when I went over their house. Some wouldn't let me step outside if it was slippery, some didn't know what to feed me, I was like a Mogwai, don't feed it after midnight, don't get it wet and don't expose it to bright light. My entire life I only had one kidney and had to be careful.<br />
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I didn't start this blog post to tell you that story. Like I said I went to the ER last year for a pain in my kidney. Normally I would suck it up but I don't fuck around with the one kidney, especially now I know there is kidney issues in my family, so I called the Trophy (remember her?). She told me to go to the ER and met me there. There I was laying in bed, freaking the fuck out, thinking that I played a contact sport or something and my original doctor was right, I should have been bubblized, that's when I heard it.<br />
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"Where the fuck is the fucking doctor?"<br />
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Oh, I don't know..maybe he's helping out the 50 other people that came in.<br />
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Then it hit me, what if I am wasting the doctor's and nurse's time, what if there are people in here that need more medical attention than me. <br />
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"Tell the doctor this is my fourth time in this week and he still ain't figured out what's wrong with me."<br />
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Nope, I'm not wasting their time. That waste of plasma is. I'm here for the first time in 20 years. She's got a frequent flier card. What the hell man? Maybe I should start being a hypochondriac and use the ER for my drug addiction and to comfort me when I have the sniffles. Nah, I'm too nice for that I guess.<br />
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By the way, I'm fine, I had severe gas and come to find out I actually do have two kidneys, the one that was "missing" just doesn't function. 38 years and no one told me this? Oh well, life goes one, just watch those contact sports.Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-53921870521362270092015-02-22T13:19:00.002-05:002015-02-22T13:19:37.155-05:00Wanna Go Out To Dinner?Sure! Maybe we can go to that nice Italian restaurant in Boston, have a couple glasses of wine and maybe catch that movie we wanted to see. That sounds so nice, I can't wait, we can top it off with cannolis from that corner bakery we like...<br />
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Oh...shit...we have kids. Never mind, spaghetti and meatballs sounds good again.<br />
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Having kids a blessing and a curse. I mean I wouldn't trade any of the Minions for all the gold in the world but goddamn they make it hard to have a life. This one goes out to the kidless people, enjoy it while it lasts. This is the 23rd reason to stay kidless as long as you can. Something so simple as going out to dinner is now a tedious task, you have two options:</div>
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1. Pay a teenager a bunch of money to come over for a few hours, just so they can eat your food, watch your TV, make out with their significant other and defile your couch.</div>
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2. Take the kids with you.</div>
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Goodbye Italian restaurant, hello Friendly's (wait Friendly's is too fucking expensive), hello Chili's. Arrivederci wine, aloha water with lemon. Sayonara, cannolis, bonjour store brand Oreos. Instead of wasting $50 for a babysitter, you opt to take the kids with you. Now, one kid...easy peasy, two kids, doable, three or more...good luck with that, you're outnumbered. For those of you who need it, here are 10 steps to help you manage this fiasco the best you can. I also did a "Kidless List" under each step to make it feel like you have a case of the heathens.<br />
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<b>1. Don't Make Plans, Just Do It.</b> If you tell the kids you are going out to dinner any sooner than when you step foot out the door you'll regret it. It will be like you telling them you're going on vacation in July or that Christmas is next week. They. Won't. Shut. Up. About. It. Wait until the last possible minute to disclose where you're going.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">Wake up one day, slap your significant other in the face, have them kick you in the balls and then start getting ready it's about that painful.</span></div>
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<b>2. Start Getting Ready At Least 3 Hours Before You Have To Leave.</b> (The hours are based on the number of kids you have, 1 kid = 1 hour). Unlike adults, kids need to pack random crap for the 30 minute car ride. Gameboys, iPods, DVDs, toys, random shit. All because they have the attention span of a newt. It also takes time to get each kid ready. After the barrage of "Let's go!" and making sure they have socks on, you're ready to go...and late.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">Grab a Transformers backpack and shove as much shit in it as you can. Make sure it's stuff you haven't used in three years.</span></div>
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<b>3. Set The Ground Rules In The Car.</b> Be smart, purchase a vehicle with a third row, you'll thank me. Position the kids where they will annoy the shit out of each other the least, buckle them in and lay down the law. No touching each other. You are a foot away from each other, no yelling. You have your shit, they have their shit, don't take your sibling's shit. Don't look at each other. On second thought, save your breath, it's not going to work anyway.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">You sit in the front and your significant other sits in the back seat. Turn the radio up loud and make faces at each other while occasionally poking each other in the ribs.</span></div>
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<b>4. Avoid Driving Past Recognizable Places.</b> You know your own kid's favorite places to go, avoid driving near them. Kids are like Garmin GPS units, they stay inactive, buried in a screen when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, you hear "Can we stop at Toys R Us?". Instead of being the bad parent, avoid it, take the back way if possible, it will throw their internal GPS units off....if you're lucky.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">Take all back roads so that the trip takes 45 minutes longer than it should. Don't think about stopping at Dunkin' Donuts for a coffee even though you REALLY need that dose of caffeine.</span></div>
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<b>5. Before Arriving At The Restaurant Ask What They Want.</b> Chances are you know the menu left to right because it's the only place you go with the kids so take their orders ahead of time. Tell them to pause the game and ask them what they want, it will save...dammit, I can't even complete that sentence, don't even bother, they will change their ever moving minds at the restaurant. Scratch this step.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">Play the old, "What do you wanna do? I don't know, what do you wanna do?" game with each other over and over and fucking over.</span></div>
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<b>6. Upon Arrival Leave Things In The Car.</b> Instruct them to take one and only one thing into the restaurant, this way you can keep track of their shit. Be aware though, kid are like ninjas with terrible attention spans, they will sneak other crap and you won't notice until it's too late. How the hell did you bring your Build-A-Bear in without me seeing it? They will smuggle things in like drug mules, just don't ask where they hid the item.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">Leave that Transformers backpack in the car but make sure you bring one thing the other knows about and then one item that is smuggled in your hoop as a surprise. Your significant other needs to play "Where'd you hide it?"</span></div>
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<b>7. Just Accept The Failure And Prepare To Tip Big.</b> You've made it to the restaurant, you're sitting in the booth, you're ready to order and it happens. The waitress asks the kids what they want. They have choices, many choices and holy crap on a cracker they can't handle that many choices, it's overload for them so it takes 5 minutes per kid to order the chicken fucking nuggets kids meal. By the time she gets to you guys, you forgot what you were going to order so you panic and order the first thing you see. You thank the waitress for her Jedi like patience and know that a much bigger tip is appearing when the check comes.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">Open your wallet and drop $150 on the table and tell the waitress to take it, no questions asked. Don't look at the menu, ask the waitress to hang the menu on the wall and throw a dart at it, whatever it hits is what you're having.</span></div>
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<b>8. Don't Make Eye Contact With Other Adults.</b> Unless it's another parent who has the same problem, then you can lock eyes and sympathize with each other. Look down at your plate and eat, calling out the kid's names every 5 minutes, knowing that they are doing something that needs to be addressed. <br />
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<span style="color: lime;">When your food comes, grab your fork and eat it as fast as you humanly can without looking up. Develop tourettes for the meal and randomly shout out things like "Don't stick that up your nose." or "Turn around and stop bothering those people." over and over again.</span></div>
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<b>9. Pay The Bill and Apologize.</b> Look under the table, there's enough dropped food to feed Ethiopia for a month. The top of the table is a militarized zone and the kid's haven't eaten any of their food. Give the waitress your card and leave more than 20%, 40 or 50% should cover it. Make sure you take the leftover food though, you will have snacks that night while the kids eat their Hannaford Oreos.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">Remember the $150? That was a courtesy, like when you were 23 and you tipped your bartender first to ensure good serive. Don't even look at the bill, pay it and get out, there is no time for small talk.</span></div>
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<b>10. Take The Walk Of Shame And Go Home.</b> Put your jackets on and walk through the piercing eyes of what use to be your peers. You get in the car and vow never to take the kids out to dinner anytime in the foreseeable future.<br />
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<span style="color: lime;">You know that walk of shame you took when you were younger after a one night stand? That was practice for parenthood. Good luck and avoid the rotten tomatoes.</span></div>
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So that reminds me...how do you like your spaghetti and meatballs prepared?<br />
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Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-54957332606901442482015-02-16T17:00:00.000-05:002015-02-16T17:00:01.074-05:00Did You Miss Me?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNUtCkY_De3ThIV3yMrmiKqhGt3Q7cxBzLIXap7_cmftlOSvgbhIunyiHgTkwVp1Yr1fvEA50wB_m0D1SX6F7JYSiL_it-6gQs_WNxMnybUvasMse2ujnGV5mvStvwZ5QpES72bRfCxRIX/s1600/GermanMiss+You.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNUtCkY_De3ThIV3yMrmiKqhGt3Q7cxBzLIXap7_cmftlOSvgbhIunyiHgTkwVp1Yr1fvEA50wB_m0D1SX6F7JYSiL_it-6gQs_WNxMnybUvasMse2ujnGV5mvStvwZ5QpES72bRfCxRIX/s1600/GermanMiss+You.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well, I guess I have been a dich.</td></tr>
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Well I missed you.<br />
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No seriously I did. I realize that I haven't done a blog entry since April of 2014 (fucking A to Z Challenge). I definitely put the blogging on the back burner and you know what, it was nice. I spent time with the family, did some great things in Scouts and lived my life but deep down inside, I missed it. I missed the torture of trying to be humorous, the agony of trying to write something that people would enjoy and more importantly the free therapy.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yup, that's the look right there.</td></tr>
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What prompted this you may ask? Simple, I was a friend's daughter's 3rd birthday party (I know, I'm a baller when it comes to parties) and his brother came up to me and said he's been away and hasn't been able to keep up with my blog and was looking forward to catching up on it since he left. When I told him there wasn't much to catch up on, I kinda got the "Whaaaaaat?" look from him, it was like almost an approval rating of -29 from him.<br />
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Then it happened again, this time I was talking to a friend of mine, helping him out with some stuff and he mentioned that he always looked forward to my blog posts and that he missed reading them. I looked at him and asked why, his simple response was that it gave him something to look forward to each week. I gave him the "Don't start this shit" look and he bounced that look right back at me like a volley ball.<br />
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"You're a fucking published author and a funny one at that. Stop being a dumbass and do what you like doing."<br />
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Blink, blink, blink.<br />
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Wow dude. Thanks. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hi, my name is Kevin and I'm a dumbass.</td></tr>
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And you know what he's right, I am a published author, I can blog at least once a week. I have some crazy shit to blog about (that's the beauty of this world, the dumbassary pool never runs dry). I may not write things everyone will like and I won't get discouraged when my views are low, this is something I enjoy doing.<br />
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It's a new year, I'm buried under 7 feet of snow, what the fuck, let's kick this thing off again. Maybe I'll revamp the look, maybe I won't. One thing is for sure I will blog, dammit I will blog.<br />
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Hope you're ready.Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-34367209333959342992014-04-30T17:00:00.000-04:002014-04-30T17:00:01.485-04:00Zig Zag In The A To Z Challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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OK, so I admit it. This year's A to Z Challenge was...well, a challenge for me. I just couldn't give myself time to write a complete challenge and I couldn't get it done on the right days. I did my best but I zig zagged around the Challenge. <br />
<br />
I will not be doing the Challenge next year, I just can't commit to it. I've learned many things this year in the A to Z Challenge, one of those is, there is more to life than writing a blog. That doesn't mean I am giving up writing, I just will write when the mood strikes. If that offends you, I'm sorry. See you next time!Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-87112216218510256542014-04-30T12:41:00.003-04:002014-04-30T12:41:49.520-04:00Yoda In The A To Z Challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Many of my life lessons have been learned from Star Wars...in fact Yoda has been a mentor to me in a round about sort of way.<br />
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<br />Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-69186236912743518562014-04-28T17:00:00.000-04:002014-04-28T20:10:05.530-04:00X Marks The Spot In The A To Z Challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I knew this day was coming, I kicked Q's ass, beat U and V, but the one letter I was dreading in the A to Z Challenge was the letter X. Sure, xylophone but who plays the xylophone anymore? Xfinity or more commonaly know as Comcast, I have them as my cable and internet, no issues with them. X-Men, love the comic books and the movies...except for The Last Stand, that was a heaping pile of monkey crap. I could have been cute and done some thing like change the word extra to xtra or talked about my X girlfriends, but that's not me. So instead I will talk to you about wood. Yes, wood. <br />
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"But, Kevin," you start to protest, "wood obviously starts with the letter W and you already did the W yesterday."<br />
<br />
"Well yes my silly little minions, I did in fact do W yesterday, but today I want to talk about wood."<br />
<br />
"But, but..."<br />
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"Shhhh, just sit back, relax and you'll see, besides have I eve steered you wrong before?" <br />
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It's truly amazing the things you can find on the internet, did you know that there are at least 21 words that begin with the letter X that relates to wood. See what I did there? Told you to relax...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf4EkP4dNJiv_8QQk97V6rdy_JgMDCeOoJnvVZqxK-7g9A6Pth5S9z38LHwhBiPMRr5hXVq0oh8LIlozBz2Stm2dyyvv7g0AEiyNj5iaa8AzWSi0IVpd-HkeuK0-pD6B6becwl59tDCz0/s1600/kinpqp4wv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf4EkP4dNJiv_8QQk97V6rdy_JgMDCeOoJnvVZqxK-7g9A6Pth5S9z38LHwhBiPMRr5hXVq0oh8LIlozBz2Stm2dyyvv7g0AEiyNj5iaa8AzWSi0IVpd-HkeuK0-pD6B6becwl59tDCz0/s200/kinpqp4wv.jpg" height="200" width="151" /></a>If you were to take <b>xylogy </b>in college you could find out that <b>xylan </b>is a gelatinous compound found in wood, what things would be considered <b>xylogenous </b>seeing they grow on wood or you could even look at the <b>xylem </b>of the plant, which is the woody portion. Maybe that would be your major and <b>xylotherapy </b>could be your minor. You could treat diseases with certain types of wood.<br />
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Once you graduated college you could become a <b>xylopolist </b>and open up a wood store, of course you would have to hire someone who excels in <b>xylophory</b> to carry all of your wood in and out of the store. Expanding your wood store you might want to enlist someone who knows <b>xylography </b>to do wood engraving or someone knowledgeable in <b>xyloglyphy </b>so you can sell cute little things carved out of wood or <b>xoanon </b>statues covered with ivory and gold. Don't forget to employ a student of <b>xylopyrography</b> to design your wood with a hot poker or burning kit. Of course you could do the age old art of <b>xylotypographic </b>print and use wooden blocks to print your business cards.<br />
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Every good wood store should have a <b>xylotomous </b>tool in order to cut or bore the wood and a <b>xylometer </b>to measure the specific gravity of your wood. Make sure you keep your shop clear of <b>xylophagous</b> creatures so that they do not eat your wood, these creatures, like yourself are very <b>xylophilous </b>and love wood. If you are out looking for new wood you would be using the <b>xylomancy </b>skill, examining wood found in your path.<br />
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Now if you read all this and understood the words, you probably have a <b>xyloid </b>in your pants right now. <br />
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By the way, if you think I am making these words up, think again.....<a href="http://phrontistery.info/x.html">here you go</a>.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">**Yes, another older post that I feel needed to make another appearance.</span>Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-43369003295266886942014-04-28T11:51:00.001-04:002014-04-28T11:51:15.162-04:00Whatever In The A To Z Challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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OK, so I slacked a lot in this challenge and I missed V and W.....I have one thing to say...<br />
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<br />Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-50851306407217982322014-04-28T11:48:00.002-04:002014-04-28T11:48:58.663-04:00Vocabulary In The A To Z Challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The countdown until the end of the A to Z Challenge is upon me and the light at the end of the long and winding tunnel is growing larger. Will I do this again next year? I'll cross that bridge when I get to it but for now we are now on the letter V.<br />
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One of my pet peeves or things I despise are people with bad vocabulary. I'm not talking putting sentences in the right order or even speaking eloquently because God knows I don't do either. I am talking about two things:<br />
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Let's start with the Texting/IM/Social Media words. Now before I write about this I need to put a disclaimer in here:<br />
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<b><span style="color: red;">****DISCLAIMER**** </span></b> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I have fallen prey and plead guilty to using some of these words, phrases and/or letters....judge not, lest thee be judged thyself.</div>
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WTF M I TLKING BOUT? BTW U NO WUT IM TLKING BOUT. OMG UR PRBLY DOING IT URSELF EVRY TIME U TXT. LOL!<br />
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I did have to laugh out loud or LOL when I typed that last line, you see I use Firefox as my browser and it is set to auto spell check and out of the 22 "words" almost half are underlined in red. In other words, they are not recognized in the dictionary or the English language. You see them everywhere on text messages, instant messages, social media sites, online MMO games and now even musicians are calling themselves by them.<br />
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I understand some of them and encourage them because on an email or text message you can't always tell the emotion of the person sending them. I will accept LOL, LMAO, and in some rare cases WTF. I will not accept ROFL, because in all my life I have never rolled on the floor laughing and I grew up around some funny ass kids. As for the rest of them, there is no reason you can't spell out what you are trying to say other than pure laziness. Let's go over a few of these shall we?<br />
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WUT - first, you are only one letter shy of the full four, second, there is no U in WHAT! Pure laziness.<br />
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IDK - alright, somewhat accepted especially in a text, but in an email? Hell no! Take the extra three seconds to type out I DON'T KNOW.<br />
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BFF - just stop OK? I have a best friend too but I can also spell out BEST FRIEND FOREVER.<br />
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K - this one has absolutely no excuse, especially if you type KK. Look down at your keyboard, the letter O is just above and slightly diagonal to the letter K, you can type OK.....<br />
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TXT - really? All you did was leave the E out. DMASS!<br />
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AWSUM - you might as well have just typed rad, it only has three letters and means the same.<br />
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BTW - by the way, it takes 1.5 seconds to type out the full three words.<br />
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OMG - why even bother?<br />
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Those are just a few of the ones I despise. Now there was a time when I played a MMORPG....gotcha there didn't I? It means Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game. I played Star Wars Galaxies...go figure huh? Soon I will be playing Star Wars: The Old Republic...once I decide it's worth the $15 a month to play.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7Q8XNfdSOAY0qUIzDkcf4gVsAlog7qK3Ekb1XosUmno3jHSBxNiYSX2NSdloGDEpNudoucfOxW4yukDWsq3nhcmuJvZU1J9A5X-gDemFhoyrmtzraG-QbW3xxbeuMkLXO-pmC58oQBk/s1600/MMORPG+demotivational.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7Q8XNfdSOAY0qUIzDkcf4gVsAlog7qK3Ekb1XosUmno3jHSBxNiYSX2NSdloGDEpNudoucfOxW4yukDWsq3nhcmuJvZU1J9A5X-gDemFhoyrmtzraG-QbW3xxbeuMkLXO-pmC58oQBk/s200/MMORPG+demotivational.jpg" height="160" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah..it sucks you in...</td></tr>
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These gamers had a whole new language I had to learn and I kept having to ask What? whenever someone threw out a AFK (Away From Keyboard), BBL (Be Back Later), RL (Real Life), PVP (Player vs. Player) or Noob ( New Player or Rookie). Don't even get me started on the terminology they use when player either....camping doesn't mean pitching a tent in the woods in a video game and farming doesn't mean planting and harvesting corn.<br />
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Then there are the people who mess up words that sound the same...my librarian friends will applaud this one as I know it is their pet peeve as well.<br />
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There is a difference between there, they're and their as well as your and you're. I'll let the following grphics do the explaining for me....and for fuck's sake DON'T use UR.....<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See? if there is a chart, then there is proof.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgciXue4f8ozwsOrXxALzO_0cuxdtOPgONbirzLQE94ZXuU0sqn4jKQ8XzChBYoCOnXTod1C7QxMLCAbakzoxFt3n88vDk1FgTXVMY44MPmFb_BR-Kf9YhhshxyrSDFGsq6LHMK-Y2RXes/s1600/tumblr_ksi7jjMRnn1qzfya1o1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgciXue4f8ozwsOrXxALzO_0cuxdtOPgONbirzLQE94ZXuU0sqn4jKQ8XzChBYoCOnXTod1C7QxMLCAbakzoxFt3n88vDk1FgTXVMY44MPmFb_BR-Kf9YhhshxyrSDFGsq6LHMK-Y2RXes/s320/tumblr_ksi7jjMRnn1qzfya1o1_400.jpg" height="315" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Live it, love it, learn it!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0_hupJF1XvMTI2R8BQaDpL9yAG0qOZRciyKs7WcKBzRjGrz2Lha2NchVb2u6VZnHwe4wF0HrNjCBxkRt4kxqLSG_KjkoCGbZFaUsZhaF2gg2QuQmb_vBBDA6CDrKbAnC_F1kDILan5E/s1600/you_re.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0_hupJF1XvMTI2R8BQaDpL9yAG0qOZRciyKs7WcKBzRjGrz2Lha2NchVb2u6VZnHwe4wF0HrNjCBxkRt4kxqLSG_KjkoCGbZFaUsZhaF2gg2QuQmb_vBBDA6CDrKbAnC_F1kDILan5E/s400/you_re.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For those who are more to the point.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7wW6N8eKz1LQDzTX6tqrhLOtiHCuVqQGRMdaP_ORKALri7Jw8Uu4HtMQB7AgyGR_aCUN651eA5FXQhXda0mLZl4e3cc88E1NzvUAbldX_LNNLlDQrZVH33YtMTr0mf2EBFL63U4_18EQ/s1600/your-and-youre-your-you-re-grammar-nazi-demotivational-poster-1220600636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7wW6N8eKz1LQDzTX6tqrhLOtiHCuVqQGRMdaP_ORKALri7Jw8Uu4HtMQB7AgyGR_aCUN651eA5FXQhXda0mLZl4e3cc88E1NzvUAbldX_LNNLlDQrZVH33YtMTr0mf2EBFL63U4_18EQ/s320/your-and-youre-your-you-re-grammar-nazi-demotivational-poster-1220600636.jpg" height="295" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And if you need a cartoon to help you.</td></tr>
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Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-57842627430376302142014-04-24T12:41:00.000-04:002014-04-24T12:41:39.270-04:00Unfriend In The A To Z Challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoKglbljnjeWwv1gLNt2UzwBQbjwAtnItgNqnRrUlSHG45oKuI2L1I80-laR8QS-cSGn9rMlH8MBv0e1w2JPXkI8j2YFcB7hCgPeAi5A-AXMIt6MCot23zjBVYQDzH89q_28vmc7nBuIr/s1600/U.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoKglbljnjeWwv1gLNt2UzwBQbjwAtnItgNqnRrUlSHG45oKuI2L1I80-laR8QS-cSGn9rMlH8MBv0e1w2JPXkI8j2YFcB7hCgPeAi5A-AXMIt6MCot23zjBVYQDzH89q_28vmc7nBuIr/s1600/U.jpg" /></a></div>
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The letter U in the A to Z Challenge. Unbelievable, it's gone this far, I'm pretty sure I don't want to do this next year...we'll see. So I started doing something lately that has made me uncomfortable doing, I've started unfriending people on Facebook.<br />
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Most of the time it's not because I despise them in person, it's because of what they post or how often they post or something like that. I just unfriended someone today in fact and I'm sure I've been unfriended before too. No worries, I like Facebook but I like something else for communicating called real life. You should try it sometime, it's nice.<br />
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Unfriending someone today made me think of why and who I have been unfriending. I have 654 friends on Facebook (on my personal account) and I can confidentially say that I actually know and have had contact with these people in the past or currently, but some of them have become, how would you say, ob-fucking-noxious. Here's what I came up with for the unfriending frenzy as of late.<br />
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<b>Posting pictures NO ONE cares about.</b><br />
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I get it, people take pictures more than ever, especially with their cell phones. I'm guilty of it too but I don't think I am guilty posting pictures no one cares about. You took your kid to the movies, now all of a sudden you have to take pictures of him/her in front of the Spiderman 2 movie poster or in front of Optimus Prime. Who...the fuck...cares? People go to the movies all the time, no one cares that you went to movies. I take a shit three times a day, should I start posting my bowel movements?<br />
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<b>My life sucks and everything is going wrong status updates.</b><br />
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How can I put this delicately....suck it up you attention grabbing whore! Life isn't fair, no sir, not even close, but you don't have to updated you status on how bad your life sucks. I know you're trying to get someone to swallow the hook and engage you with the "What's wrong?", "Awww, sorry hun, can I help?" and the ever famous "You're strong, you'll get through this." Look, you can deal with the hangnail, sprained ankle, constipation, staying home at night or whatever you think is a life crisis on your own, I'm pretty sure of it. Now if I saw a status saying that the knives are looking sharp, I MIGHT engage you.<br />
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<b>The people who don't post anything 358 days a year until they go on vacation.</b><br />
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For 358 days a year we don't hear a peep out of you, maybe the occasional funny picture post or game request but nothing on a regular basis...until you and your dysfunctional family go on vacation. Congratulations, you're going to Hampton Beach, Walla Walla, or Nazi-World, I mean Disney World. We're glad you are able to take a vacation with the family, but shut - the - fuck - up about it. You don't have to "check in" at every restaurant you go to, every mini golf course you play at or where you are on your road trip...just don't it's annoying. Sure, post a few pictures from your trip and call it day but for shit's sake, why do you have to post every lobster you eat? Again, I don't post a picture of every turd I drop....wait a minute...I might be onto something there, people post their meals, maybe I will start posting pictures of my post meals...hmmmm.<br />
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<b>The I'm better than you are people.</b><br />
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This one is simple, we don't fucking care. You're not better than me, him or her. You're not better than anyone, so don't drown my newsfeed with the great deal you go by shopping online with Groupon, stop telling everyone how great of a mom you are because you made cupcakes with Mickey Fucking Mouse ears on them. WHO GIVES A FLYING STEAMING PILE OF WOMBAT SHIT? You are no better than anyone, in fact you're probably compensating for how bad you suck as a parent.<br />
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Ah, there, that's better, it's like going to a confession, just without the whole creepy, priest in the private box thing.<br />
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<br />Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-79315273725888653182014-04-24T12:11:00.003-04:002014-04-24T12:11:43.867-04:00Threepio In The A To Z Challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhGFYm84QagnJ8EuweZVs-9OUT0dQnS7dU_jL69O9r1QYSh_Sf256Mv6naVzb694VEydvoNXb6ucVZ9gU6HTMyLijCR121jbTpfgOSrIWDb5UuMHQnR72GLfR_d66cmWoi5N_A-KZTy9AU/s1600/T.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhGFYm84QagnJ8EuweZVs-9OUT0dQnS7dU_jL69O9r1QYSh_Sf256Mv6naVzb694VEydvoNXb6ucVZ9gU6HTMyLijCR121jbTpfgOSrIWDb5UuMHQnR72GLfR_d66cmWoi5N_A-KZTy9AU/s1600/T.jpg" /></a></div>
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Wordless Wednesday post...I'll just leave this here.<br />
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<br />Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-9786015893927901172014-04-22T20:13:00.000-04:002014-04-22T20:13:44.126-04:00S.A.C.S. In The A To Z Challnege<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Let me tell you about the Stuff A Carcass Store. The Stuff A Carcass Store is more commonly referred to as the Build-A-Bear Workshop. As stated in the last post, this place creeps me the fuck out. Not only do you allow your kids to be amateur taxidermists, but the things you need to do to make a stuffed animal are re-goddamn-diculous.<br />
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My first experience with S.A.C.S. (Stuff A Carcass Store and I just noticed the acronym spelled out sacks, heh heh heh) was back in 2004 when the Trophy and I thought we should make Minion #1 a bear for a keepsake. At this point we were living in a different area and the closest S.A.C.S. was in the Natick Mall (again with the Mall Streets). We went there one Sunday afternoon and if you have been there before you know the first thing you come to are the bins of carcasses. This was a pretty memorable day for me for a few reasons, but the first was that I actually had a voice in a decision with the Trophy, I was able to pick out the carcass...oh, joy! While perusing the bins, I came across a monkey carcass, I love monkeys, hell what guy doesn't love monkeys? I could go on about monkeys, but I won't because were are talking about S.A.C.S.<br />
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So I pick out the monkey carcass and show it to my 1 month old Minion, who is obviously oblivious to anything going on around him so I look like one of those over bearing fathers trying to get their baby to communicate with them. Now there are steps you have to take after choosing the right carcass at S.A.C.S., first you need to pick out a sound. I wanted to choose the "record your own voice" gadget and make the monkey say "Spank me!" every time you squeezed it, but my voice in decision making was taken away and the dictatorship rose to power again. Since they didn't have any Star Wars sounds (at that point) and no monkey sounds (how the hell can you sell a monkey carcass without a monkey sound?) we opted to not put any sound in it at all, thus saving us $5.00.<br />
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The next step on this adventure is freaking fantastic (note the sarcasm). You pick out the carcass' first vital organ, the heart. You get to pick out a little tiny heart, about the size of the Grinch's at the beginning of the "growing" part and shove the heart in through the back of the carcass. If that is not bad enough, you actually have to do things to the heart before shoving it in.<br />
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Now usually, the S.A.C.S. Associate or the S.A.C.S. ASS., will have the child do a medieval ritual, but because Minion #1 was 1 month old and can't even poop without straining himself, I was elected to be the sacrificial offering. Now, at this point the S.A.C.S. ASS. was toying with me because we have spent HUNDREDS of dollars in these stores and my kids have never had to do this fiasco like I did. I had to hold the monkey carcass in my left hand and the vital organ in my right hand. I had to kiss the heart for "love", rub the heart for "life" and then stick the heart into the carcass. Oh, that's not so bad you might be saying, but after shoving the vital organ into the carcass, the S.A.C.S. ASS., made me stand on one leg, raise the monkey over my head and proclaim "I love my monkey!" Needless to say, it was at this point the Minion #1 started noticing things because he laughed his ass off like everyone else in the store.<br />
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Managing to get through this barbaric display of embarrassment, you then have to sodomize the monkey carcass with a metal pipe. Being blasted out of the pipe is (I'm sure) organic, hypoallergenic, stuffing. You get to control how much stuffing you blast into your carcass. Do you want your monkey hard or soft? Sounds a bit personal if you ask me.<br />
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After filling your monkey, the S.A.C.S. ASS. stitches it up like it just had a c-section. You then take your monkey over to the "bathtub". Now correct me if I'm wrong but when you have a new born baby you are not supposed to give it a bath until the little dried up nubby on the belly falls off and that usually takes about 7-10 days. So right off the bat you are teaching a bad lesson to the kids making their stuffed animals. The best part about the "bath" is that it is a high powered air jet and not water. Now I KNOW that you are not supposed to blast a new born with a high pressure tube of air.<br />
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Now you have an air cleaned, naked monkey. Of course monkeys need clothes, I mean seriously, why the hell not? As we are looking at these outfits, I am seeing the bill of sale going up and pretty soon this monkey is going to cost us more than the co-pay for our real kid. Both the Trophy and I like camping and hiking, we met at a Boy Scout camp after all, so we thought it would be cool to dress the monkey in some sort of camping gear (the Star Wars outfits didn't come out until a few years later and yes we have them). We picked out a "Boy Scout" outfit with hiking boots, shorts (Ohhh Look....It's A Scrotum), Scout shirt and a hat. But that wasn't enough, our monkey got a backpack that cost more than my actual backpack, a sleeping bag rated to -20 degrees, and a cook set to put in the backpack. This monkey was ready to hit the Appalachian Trail! <br />
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After admiring our handy work, you now have to got to a computer database and create a birth certificate for the monkey. Basically it takes all the fun out of making a birth certificate with the exception of naming the monkey. After pondering long and hard we decided to name the monkey....Scout (creative right?) Again the dictator reigned supreme and my choices were shot down (Luke, Chainsaw, Pistol, you know the usual).<br />
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We slowly approach the cash register knowing that we have created a really expensive monkey and that pissed me off because I could have bought a real live monkey for $50 on Barbados, true story. I closed my eyes and let my wife pay for the monkey. The S.A.C.S. ASS. sticks the monkey into a cardboard box, just like if you adopted a kitten from the MSPCA and you bring it home.<br />
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We have had this monkey since 2004 and guess what? It has only been played with MAYBE a 1/2 dozen times, tops. $150 stuffed animal that sits on a shelf? Frickin awesome. Now the Trophy despises that place too but her reason is that she is pissed she didn't think of the money making idea herself. Yet like a moth drawn to a flame, we keep going back there....go figure.Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-90174084480317768192014-04-22T09:09:00.001-04:002014-04-22T09:09:22.525-04:00Revisited: The Conversation In The A To Z Challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I knew this day would come at some point. Eight years ago the Trophy and I agreed that if Minion #1 came out a boy I would take care of the "conversations" and if it was a girl, she would take care of them. We revisited the same agreement five years ago when Minion #2 arrived and again two years ago when #3 popped out. The Trophy is sitting on her high horse because she doesn't have to have the "conversations" with the Minions, I do. I got screwed, all I asked for was a boy to carry on my name and the Maker has a sick sense of humor it seems.
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Minions #1 and #2 and myself went out for a couple of hours to hang Cub Scout fliers throughout the town in hopes to get new Scouts into our Pack. We got back to the domicile around 8:30 last night and the Minions needed to shower before bed and I still had a ton of stuff to do for Scouts so I went into my office, which is also known as my bedroom, I used to have an office and then #3 came along. As I was sitting at the computer designing fliers and working on the Pack calendar, the Trophy came up to me, leaned in very close and looked deep into my eyes...
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"You need to go in the bathroom and tell YOUR kids how to clean their armpits."</div>
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I looked at her and blinked, that was not exactly what I was expecting, "Uh, OK."</div>
So I saved all of my files and head into the bathroom, first I am hit with the stench of a freshly dropped deuce from #1 and he didn't <a href="http://whowouldathought-kevin.blogspot.com/2012/05/did-you-spray-in-there.html">spray in there</a>. Both of them were in the shower when I walked in, normally we don't allow the older ones to bath together anymore, but it was late and they needed to get to bed.
"What the crap? You didn't spray dude!"
"Sorry Dad, but you don't either."
"Do as I say, not as a I do, anyway your Mom sent me in here to teach you how to clean your armpits."
They are now staring up at me soaking wet standing in the shower with some soap dripping down their arms, each holding their own floofy. As I look at them I think to myself, now would be a good time to teach them the other parts of your body that, as a guy, get really smelly. I might as well start them off right and nip the issue in the bud before they become teenagers and are REALLY smelly.
"OK, listen, both of you, as a guy there are a few different places on your body that can get really smelly during the day, do you guys have any idea what those parts are?"
"Your armpits!", Minion #2 exclaims.
"Very good Captain Obvious, any others?"
"Your feet?", #1 asks.
"Yeah, that's another, but in all honesty...." As I am saying this I flash back to the teachings of George Carlin. He told me via a CD, that the four areas you need to really wash are your armpits, asshole, crotch and teeth. He also said you can use the same brush for all four, but I don't think I will relay that little tidbit to the Minions.
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"You need to make sure you really was your armpits, butthole, crotch and feet." I skipped teeth because they are trained to brush their teeth already and usually do it twice a day like normal and #1 mentioned feet, so I can make him feel like he contributed or something, that's what Dads are suppose to do right?
Of course they giggled like little school girls when I said butthole, but I just couldn't bring myself to say anus and if I called it asshole, well there would be hell to pay. So we started with the armpits. I explained to them that they need to really get into their armpits with the floofy and soap and get it really, really soapy and clean. I also explained why it is extremely important to start washing from the top down.
"Why do you need to do that?"
"Well, your armpits are less gross than your crotch and your crotch is, hopefully, less gross than your butthole. If you started with your butt, your floofy could have skid marks on it and well, you don't want to wash the rest of your body with skid marks on your floofy, it would defeat the purpose."
"Yeah, you don't want poop smeared all over your face.", #2 chimes in.
"Yes, exactly, no poop on your face or anywhere else on your body for that matter."
I then, continued the lesson telling them that after the armpits you can wash your body down to your penis. Yes I called it a penis, I don't like calling it silly names unless Minion #3 comes running over after using the potty and I tell him to put some underwear on because his winky is flapping around while running. When they get older I'm sure they will learn the other words for their dicks.
"OK, now you're at your crotch. This is the second most important place the really clean, actually when you get older it will be the first most important place."
"Why?"
Realizing I just opened a new can of worms, "Uh, don't worry about it. I'll tell you later...now wash your crotch." Ten years ago, I never once would have thought that I would ever utter those words, "Wash your crotch."
I explained to them how to wash their crotch area and thankfully they knew what to do about, um, getting around the exterior parts of the crotch, you know to get into those hard to reach places. They passed the crotch washing exam with flying colors.
"OK, you can wash your legs and feet now."
"But you said that we shouldn't wash anything else."
"I never said that, I said don't wash your butt before washing anything else. Washing your legs after washing your crotch is acceptable....just...wash your legs and feet."
At this point I'm getting a little exasperated, knowing full well the Trophy is laying on our bed laughing her ass off because I am trying to teach them the life lessons of preteen hygiene. My Dad never taught me, I figured it out on my own one day after I came home from school and was wondering why no one was sitting near me in five seat radius on the school bus.
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Probably looking like Obi-Wan Kenobi when Alderaan blew up in Episode IV, I told them to carry on their washing. "Now wash your butt and butthole." I knew I needed to clarify it because, knowing #2, he would physically dig in and try to do some deep cleaning.
"Take your floofy and get in your crack a few times and then, I can't believe I'm going to say this to you guys but gently, um, er, rub? the floofy against where you poop BUT! DO NOT enter!"
"What?" said in unison.
"Um, just wash really good in your butt crack, OK?
"Oh, OK."
I walked out of the bathroom and the Trophy was in the kitchen looking at me, smiling.
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"What the hell took you so long to explain washing armpits?"</div>
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"I explained the rest of washing to them, you know armpits, asshole, crotch and teeth?"</div>
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"Oh, awesome, now I will have to listen to them all day long tomorrow, telling Gav Man and Syd Vicious about washing those areas...thanks dumbass."</div>
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And then I walked away with a smile on my face, justice has been served.
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***This is a repost from one of my favorite posts and most popular...hope you enjoyed!***</center>
Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-49777035543109604332014-04-19T19:46:00.000-04:002014-04-19T19:49:24.477-04:00Quirks In The A To Z Challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Thursday is Q day in the A to Z Challenge and I thought this was going to be an incredibly hard letter to come up with a topic, well I was wrong. I've been known to make mistakes...from time to time. I came up with this letter looking in the mirror this morning. I am quirky. In other words I have several quirks that set me apart from "normal" people...but then again whoever said I was normal?<br />
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One quirk is that I am not quite O.C.D., I'm more like anal retentive. I don't have to wash my hands twenty times or double check to see it the door is locked, but I like to have everything in it's place. My work areas at home are neat and organized. Yes I said work areaS, I have two, one for my personal/graphic/blog part of my life and then there is my Scout work area in the garage. My wife must hate looking at my work area because it is minimal and organized, where she has a pile of papers on the dishwasher and she claims she can find anything there....that would drive me nuts. I frequent Staples to look for a better organization system all the time. When playing a board game I am constantly rearranging my pieces and making sure they are straight. I play dominoes with a few friends of mine and when we play I need to make sure the chicken foot is lined up. When I'm out shopping with the family and I see something on the floor of the store I pick it up and put it back or if I see a display out of order, I fix it. I don't know why I do it, I just like seeing things neat I guess.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This sums it up better.</td></tr>
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Another quirk is I buy food items I know I will never eat or drink but it sounds good at the store. V8 for example, I buy a bottle of it a couple times a year. I can't stand tomato soup let alone V8, but for some reason my brain flips inside out twice a year and sends a signal out saying "Hey, tomato juice...it's like cold tomato soup that you drink, you'll love that!" So after arguing with my wife who knows full well that I will take one sip of it and shove it to the back of the fridge for it stay until thrown out and sounding like one of the three heathens telling her "I promise I'll drink it this time." I get the V8. Sure as shit, one sip, I come back to my senses and shove it into the bowels of the fridge. One other food item that I have a brain fart on is jalapeno peppers. Only jalapeno peppers. I love them, but they don't love me. I will order them on my grinder from Subway (because the have the ingredients right there to see) only to pay for it all night long. I keep a bottle of Tums on my head board because I am a dumbass during the day.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See? Arrow pointing the way...</td></tr>
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I've mention this next one in a past post called <a href="http://whowouldathought-kevin.blogspot.com/2012/01/ohhhh-lookits-scrotum.html">Ohhhh Look...It's A Scrotum</a>. I refuse to walk on the opposite side of the mall. Every mall is split into two lanes separated by kiosks in the middle (like jersey barriers). I walk on the right side of the mall just like you drive on the right side of the road. If I need to get to store on the other side I wait until there is a break in the kiosks and make blow a U-ie. I also don't drive across the parking spots in a parking lot nor do I pull forward into the spot that is open in front of me. I don't like the asshats who do it, so I refuse to do it.<br />
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I am sure I have other quirks that I am not mentioning, if you ever get a chance to talk to my wife she will tell you all of my quirks. How she has dealt with me for 15 years is beyond me.<br />
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Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-54286121887881644962014-04-18T11:40:00.002-04:002014-04-19T07:51:02.013-04:00Problem Child At The A To Z Challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. One of my many favorite sayings, but not what I'm here to talk about today. As you know we have three male Minions. Minion #2 is the classic "middle child" and sadly is a lot like me....poor kid. 99.9% of the time he is a really good kid, he's smart (I know we all say that about our kids but this time it's true, he's in 1st grade and at a 5th grade reading level and 3rd grade math level), polite and generally well behaved. Lately not so much though.<br>
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The past 4-5 weeks have been hell for us. He has been ridiculous with behavior, acting out in public and getting into trouble at school. We have been banging our heads against a wall with this, we've tried everything grounding, taking video games away, more chores, everything and each time we get the "I promise to be better" and then we get the "Fuck you, I'm going to be a little shithead."<br>
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Yesterday was the last straw, he came home with a note from his teacher saying his behavior has been getting worse and disrupting the classes. I lost my shit with this. Up one side of him and down the other. I felt really bad during and after, but we had enough. I had to go to Scouts (which we made him miss because of this) and when I got home the Trophy said things went well and he may have finally got it....and then we heard a noise upstairs. Sure as shit, he was up again an hour and a half after his bedtime. Again we lost it.<br>
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Long story short he finally said he was afraid of the dark....no shit, we knew that but then we saw his nightlight was off. It works fine, no blown bulb, no short, but it wasn't on. We asked if he turned it off and he said yes, last month...4-5 weeks ago...hmmm the pieces are falling into place. Come toe fins out a kid at school, one of his "friends" teased him saying a 7 year old shouldn't have a nightlight and that was babyish.<br>
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Sons of bitches! All this time he was afraid to tell us he was being picked on at school. The Trophy went to school today to talk to the teacher, #2 wrote a note to give to the teachers apologizing for his behavior and to let them know what was going on. All is good right now and the teacher is going to take care of the picking on.Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554244491284441468.post-35689197166893634962014-04-17T20:54:00.001-04:002014-04-17T20:54:54.198-04:00Outta Control In The A To Z Challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPj02UF3qMwhDs606jDZLUapj6QSZZaIF-Uoh3FrpLeXFSHZm7-bfYFLliuqhRBE3_Z9xr6ZwVFT1fCGkOKJmVVziA_j3XCW4RM-J6EWi97DjKz4uYGfa1wIl3iYZO3eOZnYzQT9uRreKP/s1600/O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPj02UF3qMwhDs606jDZLUapj6QSZZaIF-Uoh3FrpLeXFSHZm7-bfYFLliuqhRBE3_Z9xr6ZwVFT1fCGkOKJmVVziA_j3XCW4RM-J6EWi97DjKz4uYGfa1wIl3iYZO3eOZnYzQT9uRreKP/s1600/O.jpg" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you don't get this, look down at your keyboard....numbnuts.</td></tr>
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Today is the letter O in the A to Z Challenge. Oh shit! Oh no! Oh crap! Oh well! Oh the horror! Oh the humanity! Oh, what the fuck.....<br />
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Today is a list day, a list of people, places and/or things that are..ready for it...Out Of Control. Let's start in no particular order shall we?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2JJLrV3ugxc_F4MRwA-gs6VZfysBnVtnFQtLwHPyJWnpTQ0uxtNNY33b2H2S9dcDGGMG0rlmglBzqrp8TgbEqkI4Fy7-FSGcYtXDNLfLTf-bN_GkOMUfHvWIRcOudmG8l2QG1g9Y3uVo/s1600/Star_Wars_Wallpaper_A_to_Z_by_masterbarkeep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2JJLrV3ugxc_F4MRwA-gs6VZfysBnVtnFQtLwHPyJWnpTQ0uxtNNY33b2H2S9dcDGGMG0rlmglBzqrp8TgbEqkI4Fy7-FSGcYtXDNLfLTf-bN_GkOMUfHvWIRcOudmG8l2QG1g9Y3uVo/s200/Star_Wars_Wallpaper_A_to_Z_by_masterbarkeep.jpg" height="125" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Figures..this would have been easy A-Z.</td></tr>
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<b>The A to Z Challenge.</b> This god forsaken thing has taken over my life, it has consumed me like the Rancor consuming a Gamorrean Guard (There, fuck you Klopeck...if you're reading this). I downloaded a calendar and made it my desktop image, I even went so far to attempt to come up with a theme. I am thinking about what I am going to write about when I try to fall asleep. I am asking my wife what I should write about for the next letter. What the hell man?!? Who would have thought this challenge would be so difficult. The thing that makes me mad are some of the posts that others are doing. I was reading one where she capitalized every letter of the day that was in a word...for example if it was D and she wrote "The Dog DeciDeD to take a Dump on DaviD's heaD." Who has the time and energy to do that? I'll be ready next year and it won't be so Out Of COntrOl.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDhf1zjOlgA35yJmvXpS9KLcGfwwRKWJKuzCVMhee9sKJy2gWSb-MgsuUZsUEmIan4aECA3h5KAEYJc_ZrneZxMjIuYw17nwX77cM8iwbW2zyE5_Li9Rq86pusAuu7w2NFQzpzy4waL9U/s1600/crazy-school-teacher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDhf1zjOlgA35yJmvXpS9KLcGfwwRKWJKuzCVMhee9sKJy2gWSb-MgsuUZsUEmIan4aECA3h5KAEYJc_ZrneZxMjIuYw17nwX77cM8iwbW2zyE5_Li9Rq86pusAuu7w2NFQzpzy4waL9U/s200/crazy-school-teacher.jpg" height="180" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's Spring Fling...NOT Easter you little shit.</td></tr>
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<b>School systems that try to change things as not to offend some people.</b> Just stop would ya? If you want to sing a song in school and it happens to have the word God in it and you feel it might offend someone, don't change the lyrics in it....don't sing the damn song. The same goes for holidays. Don't try to change Halloween into a Fall Festival Day or Easter into Spring Has Sprung Day and sure as shit don't change Christmas. These holidays have been around a hell of a lot longer than you, your students, their dumbass parents and the crappy school you run. Don't change, add! Add other people's holidays, add Boxing Day, Chanukah and Kwanza. Add the Lord's Evening Meal, Litha and Obon...whoa, where did I get those from? The way things are going I thought you were supposed to be teaching about diversity not being scared if you offend someone. Some schools are Out of Control.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv7VIx-gDjly9Zjhq6IoNrYCUsyqiPI9xxybr4jo8SHWj8_d6Alw-jMSOTKAyRtqMBLLZ7xpn6mtWoM6Ri5q48rI6sGmGfoWnzCzbFSVAQZGNp7LGLx7AVozdEylRxeYODeyDXus5LAB4/s1600/9776859-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv7VIx-gDjly9Zjhq6IoNrYCUsyqiPI9xxybr4jo8SHWj8_d6Alw-jMSOTKAyRtqMBLLZ7xpn6mtWoM6Ri5q48rI6sGmGfoWnzCzbFSVAQZGNp7LGLx7AVozdEylRxeYODeyDXus5LAB4/s200/9776859-large.jpg" height="200" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yay! Billy got 21st place!</td></tr>
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<b>Overbearing, tree hugging, everyone gets a trophy, granola farting parents.</b> Guess what? Life isn't fair. Period. End of story. The sooner you can relay that message to your kid, the better off they will be when they get older. From the minute you are conceived things aren't fair. You're cramped up in a tiny space for 9 months being fed nothing but a by product of someone else's food. Think about it, for 9 months you are crammed in this space and no one says anything about how bad it is, but when a convicted criminal gets sent to solitary confinement, it's torture. It's not fair when you pop out of the sperm shute either. There is no getting comfortable, the nurses grab you and start weighing, pounding and tagging you like you were just captured in the wild for tracking purposes. Life's not fair when you get older either, some people are smarter, cuter and more athletic than you. That's why we have grades and a grading system, that's why we have different levels of sports, that's why we have different colleges you can go to. We aren't clones from Lucas' movies, made to look alike, think alike and be the same...shit even the clones in the Clone Wars wore different armor and got haircuts and tattoos to make themselves different, they even had a rank system.....oh no! These parents are Out of Control.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYkbzuKdYxDAcbMTbUBQtoLS9NyUOS5YQ_tq6l_Xiw8VTFvPgCHnShMLmGHCztBDJK5RTWqhk2I1iJ_S57DSdHUfJnn0-eip3jvKlN3GYUONuavQOV4M6efRIGQp5Jub2JvaQJQEIsKSU/s1600/left+lane+ends+merge+right.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYkbzuKdYxDAcbMTbUBQtoLS9NyUOS5YQ_tq6l_Xiw8VTFvPgCHnShMLmGHCztBDJK5RTWqhk2I1iJ_S57DSdHUfJnn0-eip3jvKlN3GYUONuavQOV4M6efRIGQp5Jub2JvaQJQEIsKSU/s200/left+lane+ends+merge+right.jpg" height="200" width="134" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oops....</td></tr>
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<b>People who drive in the lane that is being worked on and think they can get into your lane without a problem.</b> I had this happen to me today, I was driving to work and the left lane was going to be closed in two miles....TWO miles. They gave everyone a TWO mile warning that they would not be able to drive in the left lane. Speaking for myself when I see those signs I tend to get over to the lane you are supposed to be in so I don't have to deal with trying to cut in front of someone else. Well two miles was cut into one mile and one mile was cut into a half mile. These geniuses who were trying to fly past everyone to get ahead of the pack make no sense to me. You had two miles to get into the right lane and now all of a sudden with a quarter of a mile left, you think I am going to be nice enough to let you in? Fuck off shitbrick. I will purposely close the gap in between myself and the car in front of me just so they can't get in. You should have merged when you had a chance two miles ago fartknocker. This is why there are traffic jams. You people are Out of Control.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCoIHO3wnrRz0lucJiyAOcWX8JQ7Nb_kKCzPyhzPc2BJA0aYBETd6Q6lTYV1qbzzCYbnRbqFIjv5UlGGYPsWMTqMLOhjuVhHWNuA9AFgWM34YLeTINnUvzcixVr-NCPUA3Xnmf3KoIoh8/s1600/crossing_guard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCoIHO3wnrRz0lucJiyAOcWX8JQ7Nb_kKCzPyhzPc2BJA0aYBETd6Q6lTYV1qbzzCYbnRbqFIjv5UlGGYPsWMTqMLOhjuVhHWNuA9AFgWM34YLeTINnUvzcixVr-NCPUA3Xnmf3KoIoh8/s200/crossing_guard.jpg" height="200" width="147" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stop! In the name of love.</td></tr>
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<b>Crossing Guards. </b>I am blanketing the whole genre in this one. There are either the "super elite" crossing guard or the "lazy ass" crossing guard. Sure there are a handful of in between guards who actually do their job but for the most part it is these two classifications. The "super elite" crossing guards think because they wear a fancy hat and wear and orange vest it turns them into a traffic cop. I encounter one "super elite" crossing guard frequently. She will yell at you if she thinks you are going to fast, point to the flashing 20 mph school sign and I've even seen her walk right out with her little red stop sign lollipop and force you to stop because she can. This beast of a woman (reminds me of Roz from Monsters, Inc.) takes it to the extreme, I've seen actual police officers who are less likely to stop a vehicle than this *ahem* lady. Then there are the "lazy ass" crossing guards who sit in their truck or car and don't move until there are a bunch of kids waiting to cross and then, only then, will they roll out of their vehicle and saunter over to let the kids cross. Once 3:20 PM rolls around they are gone....thank the maker my kids take the bus to school. Hey Roz, you are Out of Control.<br />
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So there you have my post for today starting with the letter O. I suppose I could have gone on about the O face.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWrD8l_5Jn0Uxnoxevz294-LBXNKjRRFB5SXvJbyHNd9abnGfh-4PseHnxKA07NET5_Cse7ca9tGkvf3Gzv6RxTh_23qdQ1ViqdeffrXDI2WLL-fltIuIE-9cpssOk8P7r_GiLGqOffk/s1600/o-face.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWrD8l_5Jn0Uxnoxevz294-LBXNKjRRFB5SXvJbyHNd9abnGfh-4PseHnxKA07NET5_Cse7ca9tGkvf3Gzv6RxTh_23qdQ1ViqdeffrXDI2WLL-fltIuIE-9cpssOk8P7r_GiLGqOffk/s400/o-face.jpg" height="400" width="367" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm going to show her my "O" face...sad thing is I worked with a guy like this.</td></tr>
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<br />Who Woulda Thought?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14492854309076767707noreply@blogger.com2