Posted by FRT on Oct 19, 2005 in
Uncategorized It seems that Mrs. TML decided to get into the game as well.
She asks: “If you were to measure my belly with toilet paper – how many squares would I measure?”
Now, this is a tough one. Obviously I love my wife dearly and would never intentionally hurt her feelings.
That said, I have always maintained that if this blog was going to be worth it’s weight in bits or bytes or whatever, that I’d have to be honest, brutally so if necessary.
The question again was “If you were to measure my belly with toilet paper – how many squares would I measure?”
I have a couple of different answers:
1) All of them?
2) Is my guess confined to just one roll?
3) A Brazillian?
4) It’s impossible to tell since between you and our 3 year old, we go thru so much toilet paper on a daily basis in this house that I’m forced to drive to Wal-Mart to take a shit.
I’ll talk to you again soon since I’ll have plenty of time to blog once I’m sleeping in the guest room…
Posted by FRT on Oct 19, 2005 in
Uncategorized Question number 1:
Warren asked “Have you solved the potty training accidents yet?”
Well Warren, it hasn’t happened since I got home, so I think it’s fair to say that my wife is to blame.
Question number 2:
Ethel asked “What color underwear am I wearing?”
That’s easy, Ethel. It’s October, you’re home for the day in comfortable pajama bottoms lounging around your lair / home feeling fabulous, so I’m going to go with the fact that it’s a trick question. You’re wearing no underwear, and since nothing has no color, the answer is infinity…or something.
Question number 3:
Staci24 asks: “How many inches make up a football field, excluding the end zones?”
Well Staci, that depends. Do you mean how long is a football field in inches, or how many square inches is a football field?
I’ll answer this several ways. A football field is 3600 inches long and 1920 inches wide (excluding the end zones).
That means the playing field is 6,912,000 square inches, or roughly 1.1019284 acres.
Now, quit worrying your pretty little head about stuff like this and start making out with a chick or two.
Posted by FRT on Oct 19, 2005 in
Uncategorized As some of you may know, I am friends with a number of other folks that blog out here in cyberspace. We met in various places, but mostly courtesy of teh internets. See, some folks talk on the phone and some folks have actual friends over to their homes, but I tend to do neither.
Anyway, I was talking to my friend Amy (not actually speaking to, but communicating via non-verbal electronic means) about doing some sort of wierd “Ask Me Anything” kind of interactive blog.
The premise is simple. So simple, in fact, that I am going to blatantly plagiarize Amy’s blogged explanation:
I will answer questions left in the comment section of this entry.
There’s no catch. If you ask something somehow inappropriate, or more importantly, not funny, I have the powers to delete said question. Insert evil laugh here.
Yes, you have to be a registered user to leave a comment on my blog. It doesn’t really take that long to become a registered user. I figured it out, TML figured it out – how hard can it be, really? It prevents some of the spam. As does that stupid word verification thing. I apologize for that, but it seemed the only way to avoid spam in the comments.
Anyway, ask away. And remember, there are no stupid questions.
Only stupid people.
So that’s the deal. Go to the comments, register, and ask me anything. I’ll respond as quickly as time and a struggling potty training 3.5 year old daughter allow.
Posted by FRT on Oct 18, 2005 in
Uncategorized Do you ever wonder why it is that 99.999% of people keep their homes at the same or nearly the same government recommended temperature of 78ish degrees in the summer and 68ish degrees in the winter, yet they go batshit about the heat and / or air conditioning at work?
For example, I keep our house at 77 in the summer and 69 in the winter. My brother in law across the street keep his house around the same as mine in the winter but runs the a/c at about 64 degrees in the summer. When I go to his house in the summer and notice the difference, I don’t:
- touch and / or adjust the thermostat
- criticize them for having the temp so cold
-ask them how they can NOT be cold because I am freezing
-complain every second I’m there, but refuse to wear a sweatshirt or appropriate clothing, knowing full fucking well that the house will be at or around that same temperature all summer long.
So why does that same common sense mentality not apply at work?
I work with more women than men, and the women are always cold. ALWAYS. It can be a billion degrees Kelvin outside, but as soon as they step into the building, it’s “BRRRRR!! It is SO cold in here. Someone call the building management company and tell them to turn up the temperature.”
What the fuck is that? If I’m cold, I put on a jacket. If I’m going to somewhere that I know is cold or at least seems cold to me, I’ll wear an undershirt or a long sleeve shirt or a heavier shirt to make up for that.
Yet, when you come into the office, any time that scrawning broad in R&D decides she’s a little chilly, her answer isn’t to put on a goddamned sweater. It’s to have the temperature adjusted upward in the entire office to her liking, and you spend the summer sweating your everloving ass off because you can’t very well strip down to your underpants because it’s hot.
And that’s another thing. If you’re cold, wear more clothes. I am not cold, so I’ve dressed accordingly. By turning the temperature up for you, you’ve made everyone else’s choice of attire worthless. See, you can always wear more clothes if you’re cold, but I can’t wear less clothes because I am hot. Unless you like seeing a sweaty 240 pound guy in his boxers at the copier or sitting in the breakroom eating lunch.
That brings me to the issue of space heaters. Who on earth decided that it was okay to bring electric space heaters into the office? In my county, bringing any small appliances into the office is illegal for fire safety reasons. It’s also against company policy to bring in small appliances and space heaters.
Company policy.
You know, the same list of rules that says you can’t drink liquor at work, bring in firearms, sell drugs in the office, or sexually harass your co-workers.
Yet, for some reason, the reptiles (cold-blooded beings) in the office just arbitrarily decide that THIS particular rule / law shouldn’t apply to them. So they bring in these hot boxes and run them on high all day long, not conisidering even for a second that the person whose feet are on the other side of the cube wall might be on fire due to their selfish heater tactics.
They also don’t care that using those things greatly affects how the power grid in your office works. The cube blocks are setup with certain power requirements in mind, and those space heaters throw those assessments WAY out of whack and can often result in brown outs in the office or full-on power failures in entire offices.
All because someone won’t buy a $20 sweater!!
I have even complained to HR about this in the past because the crazy chick that sat across from me ran a heater all day and I was sweating my ass off every day all summer. I asked her nicely to turn it off and to obey the company policy and county laws, and she refused. She even went as far as to say “when every other person is obeying every company policy, I’ll obey that one.”
Of course, this girl was sleeping with a married executive level employee (who also doesn’t work here anymore), so I guess she didn’t take too many of our company policies and guidelines very seriously.
So I went to HR to complain, and the three HR folks I went to ALL HAD FUCKING SPACE HEATERS!! Every one of them. Read that again. The people paid to inform the employees of the company policies and enforce them were all breaking the rule themselves. EGAD!!
Needless to say, when HR doesn’t obey the company policies, not very many people will either. So I spent the next five months sweating my ass off thanks to my feet being in a kiln every day.
(edit to add and reiterate: The parties in question no longer work here. None of them).
It’s also nice when you crawl under someone’s desk to work on their computer and their spaceheater comes on a burns your retinas. Thanks alot for that.
So what is the solution?
It’s simple really. If everyone dressed according to the climate in their office, this problem would never happen again.
See, I know you like your little mini-dress made of very light clingy material that is low cut and runs up to your mid-thigh. But you don’t work outside on a patio tending a beerwagon at Senor Frogs. You work in a climate controlled office.
Regardless of how hot (or cold) the weather dork on television tells you it’s going to be outside, the temperature in your office will be the same as it was yesterday and last week and last year at this time. If you’d dress like you know that information, we’d all be best friends and I wouldn’t be spending the day mopping my brow.
Posted by FRT on Oct 17, 2005 in
Uncategorized This is my 200th entry since I started doing this. I guess I should have given some deep thought to this and committed to writing something cereberal and thought-provoking. Instead, I’m going to write about Eggtoberfest 2005 and having neighbors that may or may not be good for me and my marriage.
Oh, before I start, I wanted to say that of all the celebrity photographs ever taken that I’ve seen, I think this is my favorite. I am attempting to locate a copy to frame and put on the wall in The Man Room, but so far the only one I’ve found is one autographed by the guy that took the picture, and he only wants $1700 for it. Obviously, the search continues…
Saturday marked the second time the wife and I have attended Eggtoberfest, an outdoor extravaganza celebrating the joys of ownership and cooking on a Big Green Egg. Over 1,000 people were there with well over 120 BGE’s fired up with people cooking on them and giving away samples all day. There was also free beer for those who were so inclined. (I was).
This one was way more fun than the last one, and I can’t wait for next year’s Eggtoberfest already. Here’s me “working” over the 3 gallons of Brunswick stew we made. It was very well received.
Actually, I am considering entering it in next year’s Chili Cook-off at Stone Mountain. I think it would rule if Mon’s Stew could win at a big ol’ fancy contest like that.
Oh, and this guy walking around with this apron on all day made me laugh quite a bit as well…
He drew quite a crowd, as you can probably imagine.
Oh, a big shout out to my nephew Nick for staying with us after his folks left for the day. We had a LOT of gear to get out of the fest area and he did most of it by himself. He also helped me move the 160 plus pound BGE I had bought across a mown field, down a hill, over some curbing, across a parking lot and helped lift it into the car. I simply could not have done it without him, and I’d have had to wait about a year for my turn if I was waiting for the overwhelmed BGE staff to do it.
Thanks man.
In the wake of the “dead deer on the front walk” mystery at my in-law’s house across the street, I think this would be a really sweet Christmas decoration for their yard, or possibly even mine:
Oh, it turns out that the boy who we thought did the deed actually did, and he was “encouraged” by his mother to come over and apologize to the folks he was terrorizing. He brought along the other involved parties, and I hope they realize what a shitty thing that was to do to someone.
Also, I hope they appreciate the gravity of what they did and understand why shit like that isn’t right or funny. Further, I hope they know that if anything like that ever happens again, regardless of who did it, we are going to assume it was them and act accordingly.
And don’t think I’m kidding either, big boy. I’m not.
Anyway, upon our return home Saturday evening, we (okay I) grabbed showers, had a couple of beers and were figuring out what we were going to do. Our new neighbors (Stephen and Amanda) had invited us down to watch the UGA-Vandy game so I figured “Why not?”
After sitting in their totally kickass entertainment room complete with theater seating, UGA scored and our host said “everybody upstairs.”
I figure “Okay…why not?”
Well, here’s why the answer should have been not.
I followed the boys into the bar area and Stephen’s pouring shots of Jaegermeister. It seems that they have a tradition of taking a shot each time UGA scores.
It is right then where I had the opportunity to make the right decision. The mature decision. The one a guy who’s about to have his second child should make without even thinking about it…
So, after we took the shot, there was a round of high fives, and we all headed back downstairs to watch more of the game. UGA scores, we head back upstairs, take another (bigger) shot of Jaeger, and lather, rinse, repeat our way thru halftime and the third quarter.
It is here that the details are sketchy. See, when I got there, it was 7-7. At the half, UGA had scored twice more and two more times in the 3rd quarter. I was also helping myself to their Budweiser Selects as we rolled merrily along.
Sunday morning, the wife asked “who won?”
Simple question. My answer: “How should I know? I don’t remember walking home although, to be fair, I know the game wasn’t over yet.”
Ouch.
Oh, and I realized later in the day that I’d left / dropped my phone at their house, so I got to do the day after walk of shame back to their house and hopefully make it look like my second visit to their house hadn’t resulted in a blackout that would see me never invited over again.
“No worries,” Amanda said. “You’re welcome anytime”.
Whew.
Oh, in case I hadn’t mentioned it, I don’t think having them for neighbors is going to do much for my relative level of maturity.
Thank God.
Posted by FRT on Oct 13, 2005 in
Uncategorized Thank God. Thank God. Thank God.
The Duggars have a family webpage. Before you click on it however, I want you to think about how much it will probably look like the wedpage Homer designed on the Simpsons a few years ago, complete with flying toast, the dancing baby, etc.
Here ya go
Now, I haven’t looked at any of this yet, but I’m curious about how helpful the recipe page could be to mortal and sane families? I mean, do you just take their recipes and cut them down by to 1/12th or something?
Anyway, enjoy…
Posted by FRT on Oct 13, 2005 in
Uncategorized You’re not gonna believe it if I just say it, so I’m linking to the story on CNN:
Here it is.
Yes. You read that right. Mrs. Duggar has just had her 16th kid in 18 years. Of course, she and her husband waited a few years to get started after she married Jim Bob…AT AGE 17!!!
Now, a couple of points.
Jim Bob Duggar? Really? Why do these necks make it so easy? The only name better that I know of in redneckia is the name of Tennessee’s backup QB. His name’s Jim Bob Cooter (I kid you not…look it up). I may buy his jersey if he ever plays a down.
Where does a gal grow a mullet like that in 2005? That’s just awful. Is everyone else in her family blind or dead? I wouldn’t let any family of mine be photographed like that even if they gave birth to a talking dog.
This statement was entertaining as well:
“We both just love children and we consider each a blessing from the Lord. I have asked Michelle if she wants more and she said yes, if the Lord wants to give us some she will accept them,” he said in a telephone interview.
She’ll be happy to accept them? Accept them? Maybe if she wasn’t so accepting of things (like her husbands peenie in her hoo-ha) then she wouldn’t be having to have this internal struggle about whether or not she wants more kids.
Oh, and as for the Lord deciding whether you’ll have more children. You know, speaking as a guy who knows about this subject, the Lord also created latex trees, created the folks that invented latex condoms, as well as the folks that work at companies that make and sell latex condoms.
Maybe this is the Lord’s way of seeing how stupid these folks really are.
Oh, and I would never EVER hire a guy named Jim Bob anything as my realtor, so I sure as hell wouldn’t vote or him to be my congressman.
I’m thinking that if the electable talent pool where they live is so shallow and devoid of life, maybe me and my paltry brood of four should move up there, build us a big ol’ house and run for gubment. I bet I could get some kick ass perks then.
Posted by FRT on Oct 11, 2005 in
Uncategorized Since I started this blog. I think it’s gotten a little better, although that’s debateable. It has expanded to include blogs for my daughter as well as the in utero offspring as well, referred to on the links bar as “Urchin 1.0″ and “Urchin 2.0.”
I hope this year sees the blog get updated more frequently, even it’s just with some observational crap in between the rants and blather.
Anyway, what brought me here this morning was this year’s baseball playoffs.
See, the Braves lost…again. They made it to the post-season by winning an amazing 14th consecutive division title. No team’s ever come close to that and no team ever will. It simply defies reason.
However, the cloud outside of that silver lining is that the Braves have but one World Series Championship out of those 14 seasons, and there are plenty of people that like to shit on that and complain and whine about it.
But here’s the deal. If you don’t make the playoffs, you can’t win the Series. Period. So many people have gotten caught up in this 2nd place is first loser bullshit that they ignore the accomplishments that exist.
Another problem is and has been the bullpen. Except for 1991 and 1995, the bullpen has sucked ass. It’s just a fact. Now, a very good starting staff and starting 8 can overcome that over a 162 game season, but 7 game series’ are different and 5 game series’ are WAY different.
I would just remind fans of this. At least the Braves get you there, even if the level of hope is minimal. But imagine your life as a baseball fan if you were a fan of the Brewers, Mariners, Giants, Cubs, White Sox, Expos, Royals, Twins, Devil Rays, Mets, etc. They don’t even make the playoffs 99% of the time. How much fun do you think it is to start tracking mathematical elimination day every year like Cubs fans do?
Oh, and finding out that the Yankees had lost in the Divisional Series to the Anaheim Angels in five games made me feel even better about our plight as Braves fans.
See, the Red Sox lost quickly despite a 220 million dollar payroll. Why? No bullpen, no real chemistry, and the fact that Curt Schilling and Keith Fowlke probably gave away the rest of their careers to pitch down the playoff stretch last year. And yet Red Sox fans were already booing both of them this year. 86 years since they had a title and six months after their current one, and their fans were acting like ingrates.
The Yankees lost in five games to Anaheim despite a payroll that, including luxury taxes, soared above 300 million dollars. Oh, and did I mention that most of their current list of veterans are shit asses? I love the fact that George the lunatic gets to look around this off-season and decide whether to fire Torre (the best manager he could have for that cast of prima donnas), Brian Cashman (who would suffer from depression if fired because he’d miss blowing the boss) or any one of his coaches or scouts, while not even considering that, like Felix Sabates’ efforts in NASCAR, throwing piles of money at problems or perceived problems is not always the best answer.
Remember, the Braves are now an AOL-Time Warner property and opertated with a payroll of around 86 million. That’s not chicken feed but it’s not competitive either.
I just wish folks could appreciate what we do have and know that all you can really do is get into the playoffs and things can go any which way. But if you’re 15 games out in September, you’re already cleaning out your lockers anyway.
Which would you rather have?
Posted by FRT on Oct 10, 2005 in
Uncategorized I got two tickets to the Falcons – Patriots game yesterday and invited a buddy to join me. The only stipulation was that he had to drive home since I did that duty last time.
One fabulous point was that Kurt offered to drive there (in my car) but I refused saying I didn’t mind. However, when we got to the entrance of the parking lot, I reached for my wallet and found that…TA DA!!!! I had forgotten the damned thing. I had no license, no ATM card and no freaking money. That led to the totally expected “So Kurt, how many times am I gonna have to blow you to get you to buy my beers for the day?” comment.
We met up with a few of his / our friends in the parking lot for a few beers and blather before heading to the game.
These tickets were courtesy of my mother-in-law who works at Verizon. I (we) get great swag from her often ranging from t-shirts to sweatshirts to game programs from the Auburn football games to event tickets occasionally. I appreciate her even considering me when she gets them, and I very much appreciate the tickets themselves.
Anywho, we got into our seats at about 12:45, and shortly thereafter we met Dawn and Heidi, our two hosts for the day. They both work at Verizon and were our contacts / very gracious hosts.
There were other Verizon folks there but, for those of you that know me, you know that there’s not a chance in hell I remembered there names even five seconds after we were introduced.
Kurt was sitting to my left and Heidi sat down to his left, with her husband Brent between them.
We found both Heidi and her husband to be very nice, sports knowledgable and VERY funny. We had a great time cheering for the Falcons and all the while laughing our asses off about everything from the skanks with the crooked ball caps in front of us with the messages across their asses to the douchebag behind us with the soul chip wearing the Jay Novacek Cowboys jersey circa 1993.
I don’t think it’s necessary to give a count of the number of adult cordials I enjoyed, but I will say that it was about the perfect amount. Kurt did NOT in fact require sexual favors in exchange for cold beers and Dawn was also kind enough to bring me a beer from the VIP area, and that was VERY much appreciated.
It’s here that the day took a dark turn and burned it into my memory forever.
While cheering and high-fiving our way thru the third quarter, I noticed suddenly that Kurt was furiously wiping at Brent’s leg and shorts (on the side that faced him, not his lap you perverts) and I noticed that there had been some spillage. Brent was saying “Dude, it’s no big deal….it’s just beer.”
Only I knew it wasn’t beer. I knew from Kurt’s reaction that there was only one thing that he could have spilled on Brent:
Kurt had spilled his dip spit cup on a total stranger / the spouse of the woman who was our host and is my Mother-In-Law’s boss.
When I leaned behind Kurt (who was still doing the wipe / damage control) and told Brent what had actually been spilled on his leg/pants/shoes, he made a face that he himself described later as one he thought he’d seen while watching “The Crying Game.” Brent also spent a good deal of time in the restroom after that washing and rewashing his hands and wishing he could do the same for his brain.
Kurt was sufficiently apologetic and of course did the right thing by immediately buying the victim a beer, but man, that was high comedy right there.
Anyway, the Falcons got behind, came back, got behind more, came back, successfully hit a two-point conversion to tie the game only to have some shitty officiating and Tom Brady snatch away any chance at victory. Kicker Adam Vinatieri hit from 29 yards with 17 seconds left to beat the Falcons 31-28.
The upside is that the Falcons took the Pats (who’ve won 3 titles in four years) to the last 17 seconds despite horrific officiating and Michael Vick being on the bench. Matt Schaub proved that he’s possibly the best backup in the NFL and a great asset to have being Michael Vick.
Oh, and one more thing. Heidi, if you’re reading this, please don’t let Kurt’s actions get in the way of the budding romance your husband and I are sharing. I promise it won’t happen again…
Posted by FRT on Oct 10, 2005 in
Uncategorized A week ago this past Friday, one of the strangest thing I’ve ever seen happened.
It was a little after 10pm on a Friday, the wife was asleep or nearly so, and I was in my office playing Madden 2006 (and kicking some royal ass, I must say) when the phone rang. It was my 15 year old nephew from across the street. He and a buddy and my 9 year old nephew were home alone as the BIL and SIL had gone to a fundraiser in a nearby town.
Anyway, the nephew asks “Did you just do something to our front porch?”
My answer: “Ummm…no, dude. I’m totally kicking everyone’s ass in Madden 2006. Have you seen it?”
Nephew: “Uh no. But there’s a dead deer on our front porch.”
Me: Silence, followed by “what did you say?”
Nephew: “I said there’s a dead deer on our front porch. Someone just threw a dead deer on our porch.”
Me: “I’ll be right over.”
So I told the wife where I was going and headed out to take a look. But before I could see anything, it hit me. I was at the end of my driveway and the stink was so damned bad that I thought I was going to throw up. It was awful.
So I covered my nose and mouth with my shirt and continued on, only to find a doe that looked to be between 125-150 pounds lying ass-first hanging off the steps to their front porch. There was no viscera to speak of, so this deer had either died of natural causes or internal trauma as a resut of being hit by a car.
But what I did know for sure is that it fucking stank!! BAD!!!
Then came all of the “I don’t know who’d do this” and the “why do you think it was one of my friends” or “what are we gonna do with it?”
Also, my 9 year old nephew was pretty freaked out. Enough so that, at one point, he came out front with his BB gun, apparently in an effort to protect his property from future Odocoileus virginianus assaults. (I looked that up just to sound fancy. I was looking for something like bovine or porcine or equine, but that’ll have to do).
So the BIL and SIL decided to abandon their cocktail party / dinner and head home early to address the “deering.” Upon arrival, the BIL was equally taken aback by the stench, but being the tough guy that he is, he grabbed a hoof and dragged that stinky thing to the curb.
I immediately cried foul, stating that I was “pretty sure it was against the covenants of our neighborhood to throw dead animal carcasses in the road, and that if he didn’t remove it, I’d be forced to file a complaint. Oh, and that damn thing stinks anyway, but it’s worse now that it’s twice as close to my house as it was before, jerk.”
So the BIL backed out the pickup, grabbed a front and back leg, and heaved it into the back of his shiny F-150 and headed on down the road abou a mile, where he unceremoniously threw the deer into the grass on the side of the road.
So with the source of the stank gone, it was time to start guessing at suspects. I decided that it was fair to rule out anyone with a car or SUV or any enclosed vehicle, as there was no way anybody would have put that sthinky shit in the back of mom’s Toyota Camry or her Expedition, so narrowing it down to a pickup was probably the way to go.
I immediately thought of one boy with a maroon truck but was told that wasn’t likely because that boy goes to church. WTF?
I reminded all involved that this was likely not one kid that did this, so we were looking for two or more in a now sort of identified black (looking) pickup truck. I told the nephew to think of anyone that had a truck or had a friend with a truck. I also advised him to not say anything to anyone about it or if he heard anything about it, but to tell his dad and myself only.
I figure that since
A: teenagers can’t keep their mouths shut about anything, it shouldn’t take too long to find out who did it.
2: Two sizeable grown men can probably scare the ever loving shit out of nearly any 16 year old boy, that my Uncle Todd and myself could have a little fun with this at the expense of the guilty party or parties.
It’s been ten days and I’m frankly more than a little shocked to not know anything at this point. But believe me, we’ll find out and when we do, it’s gonna be fun…
