Random & Incoherent
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
  Two vices for the price of one
For those chocaholics out there that also enjoy a nice beer from time to time, have I got the answer for you!

Beer-flavored chocolate
  A new car!
Went to the dentist this morning for what is called a "routine cleaning". I knew going in that it wouldn't just be "routine". I have a tooth that was chipped and is broken, and has been that way for about a year. The dental assistant and the dentist were both amazed that there had been no pain or discomfort on my part. I was thinking to myself, if there was pain and discomfort don't you think I would have been in to the office much sooner after it had happened? But that's just me.

As the dental hygenist is looming over me, metal pick in hand, to begin the cleaning, she asks, "have you been using a soft bristle tooth brush?" Of course I answer yes, even though I couldn't tell you what kind of bristles the brush has. I'm not about to argue with a woman wielding a sharp and pointed instrument of "cleaning" prior to her attacking my mouth. Am I the only one that sees the irony here?

Once again, I received the "you need to quit smoking" lecture. Fair enough. But I didn't come here for a lecture. Just clean the frapping teeth and let me worry about the lungs. When you start doing bypass surgery and lung transplants, then I might not be so pissy about your lectures.

At the end of it all: one broken tooth that will require a root canal, a crown, and a crown lengthening; one cavity that will require drilling and filling; and one tooth that has an abscess and will need to be pulled to be replaced with an implant (and not even the "good" kind of implant [think breast], but a fake tooth screwed into the empty socket that once held a piece of me). The worst part about the last one is that it regards a tooth that this same dentist performed a root canal on about 2 years ago. I haven't done anything different in association with my teeth, so the only thing that I can think of is that this is a result of the work done 2 years ago.

Total bill: $8,515.00

Like I stated in the title, A New Car!

Monday, November 29, 2004
  Beer on The Job
While most companies refrain from allowing consumption of alcohol on the premises, there are some arguments for changing that policy. Reasons for allowing drinking at work include the following:

1. It's an incentive to show up. *And a DAMN good one too!*

2. It reduces stress.

3. It leads to more honest communications.

4. It reduces complaints about low pay.

5. It cuts down on time off because you can work with a hangover.

6. Employees tell management what they think, not what management wants to hear.

7. It helps save on heating costs in the winter.

8. It encourages carpooling.

9. Increases job satisfaction because if you have a bad job, you don't care.

10. It eliminates vacations because people would rather come to work.

11. It makes fellow employees look better.

12. It makes the cafeteria food taste better.

13. Bosses are more likely to hand out raises when they are wasted.

14. Salary negotiations are a lot more profitable.

15. Suddenly, farting during a meeting isn't so embarrassing.

16. No one will remember your strip act at the Christmas Party.

17. A GOOD Morale builder in the company.
Saturday, November 27, 2004
  Rules for Beer
Sure, drinking kills brain cells, but only the weak ones.

University is a fountain of Knowledge... and the students are there to drink.

Don't drink and park; accidents cause people.

Never accept a drink from a urologist.

If you drink, don't drive. Don't even putt.

Don't drink and drive - you might hit a bump and spill it.

Faster cars, colder beer, younger women, more money!

I can walk on water, but I stagger on alcohol.

Only consume alcohol on days ending in "Y!"

Two is company, three is an orgy.
Friday, November 26, 2004
  Deep thought
If you ever reach total enlightenment while drinking beer, I bet it makes beer shoot out your nose.

--Jack Handy
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer.
Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza.

--Dave Barry
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
  Scotty doesn't know
Great Flash presentation of Scotty doesn't know: here!

Scotty doesn't know,
That Fionna and me,
Do it in my van every Sunday.

She tells him shes in church,
But she doesn't go,
Still shes on her knees, and...

Scotty doens't know, oh.
Scotty doesn't know-oh.
So don't tell Scotty!
Scotty doesn't know,
Scotty doesn't know.

Fionna says shes out shopping,
But shes under me and I'm not stopping.

Cuz Scotty doesn't know,
Scotty doesn't know,
Scotty doesn't know,
Scotty doesn't know.
So don't tell Scotty.
Scotty doesn't knoooooow....

I can't believe he's so trusting,
While I'm right behind you thrusting.

Fionna's got him on the phone,
and she's trying not to moan.
It's a three way call,
and he knows nothing.

Scotty doesn't know,
Scotty doesn't know,
Scotty doesn't know,
Don't tell Scotty.
Cuz Scotty doesn't know,
Scotty doesn't knoooooow....

We'll put on a show, everyone will go.
Scotty doesn't know,
Scotty doesn't know,
Scotty doesn't knoooooow....

The, parking lot, why not?
It's so cool when you're on top.
His front lawn, in the snow.
Laughing so hard, cuz...

Scotty doesn't know,
Scotty doesn't know.

I did her on his birthday.

Scotty doesn't know,
Scotty doesn't know,
Scotty doesn't know,
Scotty doesn't know,
Don't tell Scotty.
Scotty doesn't knoooooow....

Scotty will know,
Scotty has to know,
Scotty's gotta know,
Gonna tell Scotty,
Gonna tell him myself.

Scotty has to know,
Scotty has to know,
Scotty has to,
Scotty has to,
Scotty has to go!

Scotty doesn't know,
(Don't tell Scotty)
Scotty doesn't know,
(Don't tell Scotty)
Scotty doesn't know...
Scotty's gotta go!
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
  Wiggles revisited
We were having dinner with our neighbors the other evening when the topic of the Wiggles was reluctantly reintroduced. And by "reluctantly reintroduced" I mean our neighbor's son and our son had been watching one of the Wiggles videos, over and over and over and over. Keep in mind that our neighbors also made the pilgrimage to the Arena at Gwinnett Center for the "Concert Event of the Millennium".

These guys are making a killing. Between their television contract, the video sales, concert revenue and the ever important merchandising, these guys are raking it in!

Which brought us to our topic of discussion as our children stood mesmermized in front of the television, watching these aussie punks sing and dance. The ticket prices for their concert were inappropriately priced.

$30 a ticket. Didn't matter if you were 3 years old or 30. Each ticket was $30. So for two parents with an only child to go to this show ended up costing over $115, taking into account taxes and service charges. And don't get me started on the merchandising booths outside the venue. $15 for a stick with a car on the end? Come on!

You go out to a restaurant and kids eat cheaper than the adults do, sometimes it's even free for the kiddies. Let's have some balance in the universe. If you want to charge my toddler $30 for a ticket to your concert, that's fine. But my ticket should be free, or at a minimum, half price. I don't have to purchase an airline ticket for my son, yet I have to shell out thirty greenbacks for a concert ticket?

It's not like you dancing fools from a penal colony haven't made enough money off of us parents.

And yet the video still plays on in the living room, children fixated, mouths agape, preparing to dance.

  Shoplifter uses jar of bees to escape K-Mart...
Creating Quite A Buzz
Why didn't I think of this oh so many years ago???
  Adam as a youth?
Boy Charged With Abducting Exotic Dancer

Those pesky "21 and up" signs don't mean nothin'!
  Smokey and the bandit
I was violently awoken this morning at about 2:59 A.M. And this time it had nothing to do with a screaming child.
I had one of the most vivid dreams that I can remember.
And apparently, this time I was the "bad guy".

Traveling at a much higher rate of speed than is allowable by law, I was tearing my way through downtown Loris, S.C. That's right, not even the "good part" of the South Carolina coast. I was driving Rene's PT Cruiser. Surprisingly enough, her car can really move!

There were 2 state troopers, 2 local sheriffs, and once car with a police dog all in hot pursuit of yours truly.

They never would've caught me either, if it weren't for the fact that I jumped a railroad crossing and broke the axle on the car (sorry Rene).

I woke up in a cold sweat, thinking I was in the back seat of a police cruiser on my way to be fingerprinted. Freaked me out.

Guess I shouldn't even joke about shooting anybody.
Monday, November 22, 2004
  Birthday gift
The best present that I received for my 30th birthday was the continued life of my son. I say "continued" due to the fact that I just about ended his short life here on earth. As Bill Cosby has said, "I brought you into this world, I'll take you out. I'll make another one that looks just like you!"

As Sunday was coming to a close, the O'Mellan family was all snuggled in bed. Well, 2 out of three were snuggled in bed. The third, a little wiggle watchin' O'Mellan, was restless due to the fact that he had not been able to run all of his energy out of his system because it had been raining all day and he was stuck inside.

Junior was flailing about with a toy hammer in his hands when he inadvertently reared back and smacked his mother in the head with the hammer. The hammer got tossed across the room and junior got a stern talking to and was forced to apologize to his mother and "be sweet".

But within 5 minutes of his "being sweet" something changed. Apparently, short pants did not like being talked down to by his father. His facial expression changed, and by this time I could tell that he was channeling Mike Tyson, only with a slightly different speech impediment.

Champ looked me dead in the eyes, balled one hand into a fist, reared back and took a swing at me. I was so totally unprepared for this that I had no way to defend myself. His fist caught me right in the eyeball, causing my contact lens to spring forth from it's container with such force as to pop him in his forehead.

Now, not only am I in pain from the initial attack, but I'm blind (I have 20/400 vision, keeping in mind that normal is 20/20) as well.

It was all I could do to keep myself from hurling Oscar De Lahoya across the room much as I did the toy hammer about 7 seven minutes earlier. Luckily for the boy, his mother swooped him up, carried him like a sack of potatoes down the hall, and deposited him in his crib, where he was to remain until morning.

Now we all knew that I would be no match for the boy physically, but I thought it would be a number of years before he would actually become a threat. I thought I had time to start working out, lifting weights, bulking up. I had no idea I would have to start defending myself from someone that hasn't even graced this earth for two years yet. O.K., O.K., so we know I'm full of shit about the whole "bulking up" thing. That's why I own a gun. Now I don't want any nasty emails form any of the grandparents. I wouldn't kill him. He is my only son after all. But I would most definitely wing him. Anything to get the advantage over sasquatch. Besides, it'll only be a flesh wound. Children are resilient. He'll bounce back.

I guess I should've learned my lesson about a month ago when he dropped his old man to the floor with one swift kick to the family jewels.

SYMPTOM: Feet cold and wet.
FAULT: Glass being held at incorrect angle.
ACTION: Rotate glass so that open end points toward ceiling.

SYMPTOM: Feet warm and wet.
FAULT: Improper bladder control.
ACTION: Stand next to nearest dog, complain about house training.

SYMPTOM: Beer unusually pale and tasteless.
FAULT: Glass empty.
ACTION: Get someone to buy you another beer.

SYMPTOM: Opposite wall covered with fluorescent lights.
FAULT: You have fallen over backward.
ACTION: Have yourself leashed to bar.

SYMPTOM: Mouth contains cigarette butts.
FAULT: You have fallen forward.
ACTION: See above.

SYMPTOM: Beer tasteless, front of your shirt is wet.
FAULT: Mouth not open, or glass applied to wrong part of face.
ACTION: Retire to restroom, practice in mirror.

SYMPTOM: Floor blurred.
FAULT: You are looking through bottom of empty glass.
ACTION: Get someone to buy you another beer.

SYMPTOM: Floor moving.
FAULT: You are being carried out.
ACTION: Find out if you are being taken to another bar.

SYMPTOM: Room seems unusually dark.
FAULT: Bar has closed.
ACTION: Confirm home address with bartender.

SYMPTOM: Taxi suddenly takes on colorful aspect and textures.
FAULT: Beer consumption has exceeded personal limitations.
ACTION: Cover mouth.

SYMPTOM: Everyone looks up to you and smiles.
FAULT: You are dancing on the table.
ACTION: Fall on somebody cushy-looking.

SYMPTOM: Beer is crystal-clear.
FAULT: It’s water. Somebody is trying to sober you up.
ACTION: Punch him.

SYMPTOM: Hands hurt, nose hurts, mind unusually clear.
FAULT: You have been in a fight.
ACTION: Apologize to everyone you see, just in case it was them.

SYMPTOM: Don't recognize anyone, don't recognize the room you're in.
FAULT: You’ve wandered into the wrong party.
ACTION: See if they have free beer.

SYMPTOM: You singing sounds distorted.
FAULT: The beer is too weak.
ACTION: Have more beer until your voice improves.

SYMPTOM: Don't remember the words to the song.
FAULT: Beer is just right.
ACTION: Play air guitar.

  Musings, part II
By definition, I am an adult. By definition, I am NOT a grown-up. Saturday I wake with the knowledge that we will be having a cook-out at the house. Little did I know that there would be roughly 30 people from 4 different states attending this little soiree. North Carolina, South Carolina, Alabama, and Georgia all represented in the diverse mix that was our little party. Many people made extra effort to show up, many changing plans that they already had just to show up, drink a little beer, and say "happy birthday".

If you've never had deep fried turkey, you have no idea what you're missing. We had two 20 pound (give or take) birds that got dunked into peanut oil at about 400 degrees. With the proper seasonings, those birds are T A S T Y!

Much beer and a few cupcakes later, everyone seemed to be having a good time. Including our very own version of romper room happening in the back yard.

Just wanted to say to all that were involved, thanks for showing up. I had a great time. I felt bad for those that left and had to travel I-75 North. Apparently there was guy running around with a gun that shut down interstate travel. I know that this effected a few of our patrons. Whether that was sitting on the highway until 3 in the morning, or if your new car's onboard computer gave you alternate directions and forced you to drive to Alabama to make it back to Powder Springs.
Please don't let that be a deterent for the next shindig!
  And now, some musings...
I could not have expected, nor did I deserve, this past weekend. 30. No longer in my twenties. 30. What does 30 bring? I have been a son, brother, grandson, nephew. I am now a husband and a father. My credit score is good enough for me to "own" two cars and a home. I have a steady job in a respectable corporation. My bills get paid. I belong to a community. Now pretend none of the previous statements were relevant. 30 doesn't feel any different from 20. At least not judging it by the way this past weekend was spent. I guess the only way to know that I'm actually growing older is to watch the people around me. Man, they're old! I remember when I use to think 40 was old. Now that's it's only 10 years down the road, and those years seem to go by at an ever increasing rate of speed, 40 ain't old! I'll be there before I know it.

As is usual, I had no idea what was going on. Apparently I live my life in an oblivious stupor, stumbling along until someone else points out the obvious. My plan on Friday was to go to the Black Bear Tavern for a few drinks after work and then head on to the south side for a quiet evening at home. Two friends were nice enough to bring my wife up to the tavern so that we wouldn't have 2 cars that we would have to figure out how to get back home. As I sat there in light conversation, Two more friends arrived. Not unusual considering they worked right down the street from the tavern. As I was engaged in conversation with the 2 newcomers, conveniently having turned so that my back was to the door, I failed to notice 2 more partygoers enter. Failed to notice that is, until slapped on the back in greeting. Startled, due to what I thought was a physical attack from an unknown bar patron, all I could think was "I've been pretty low key so far, can't imagine I've pissed anyone off to the extent of a physical confrontation". But no! It was 2 more friends. This time from out of town. And to have traveled into downtown Atlanta in the middle of Friday evening rush hour makes them crazier that I had originally thought. (coincidental that all parties arrived in pairs?)

After a nice time of brew and appetizers and a few darts (the first game I won, every other game was a complete disappointment) it was announced that the next destination was The Cheetah.
Hooray boobies!
The portion of this rambling related to the Cheetah has been edited for appropriateness. I'll have to get a new section that is age restricted for the crass ramblings that are bound to happen.
Now it's time to go home. And nothing tops off a good night out like a sackful of Krystal burgers. So there's 4 of us standing around the bar at the house chowing down on those delicious little squares, not talking, just eating. And then off to bed. I thought it was a pretty good night! As I stated earlier, more than I expected as well as deserved. But in the interest of short reading (too late) I'll continue the weekend in another post.
  Flippy cup
Was listening to what can only be described as morning radio here in Atlanta on the drive in to work, and what do I hear from the traffic guy? Flippy cup. Apparently he was at a downton bar over the weekend with a bunch of Georgia Tech students, and he was instructed on how to play this "new" game. Either we're smarter than Georgia Tech students (nah!), we've been ahead of the curve for many years (nah!), or we treat our drinking games with a ferver and professionalism not exhibited in most Fortune 500 companys.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
  November 21, 1974 2:59 P.M.
I just turned 30!

Saturday, November 20, 2004
Where was this when we were in college? More importantly, why didn't we think of this?

You probably don't need to be told this, but if you click on the title, you will be magically transported to the site.

Friday, November 19, 2004
  John Cusack
Just found out which John Cusack character I am. I feel so enlightened.
And it's at least partially right, I DO look really hot in a tux!

Which John Cusack Are You?

Although, I would have picked the character from Grosse Pointe Blank. I always wanted to be a hit man.

Thursday, November 18, 2004
  Lt. Dan?!?
It was time for a cigarette. And all corporate smokers have been relegated to the loading dock to indulge in their habit. To get the loading dock, you must travel on the freight elevator. Apparently, gone are the days of the smoking lounge, or even smoking at your desk. But that's a different issue all together. I made my way to the freight elevator and was greeted by two fellow smokers also waiting for the pullry system towards lung destruction. These two ladies were in the middle of a conversation so I simply gave them the polite "hello" head nod. And as if I weren't even there, they started discussing who they thought I looked like. I thought, "this is odd", but let it go.
Lady #1: "you know who he looks like?"
Lady #2: "no, who?"
Lady #1: "Greg Lewis"
Lady #2: "yeah, especially around the eyes"
Now I'm thinking, "who the hell is Greg Lewis?"
Apparently Greg Lewis is someone that these ladies work with, and based on listening to further conversation as we wait for the lift down to the loading dock, Greg Lewis resembles Gary Sinise when he played Lt. Dan in the movie Forrest Gump.

This whole situation is very surreal to me.
But, come on, I've been compared to a lot of people, but never Lt. Dan. Let alone some other assmonkey in the corporate setting that resembles Lt. Dan.
Very odd indeed.

MARTA, the Metropolitan Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority, has trains, and MARTA has buses, and MARTA has.....cars and trucks?
The trains and busses make sense. They provide an alternative to the rush hour gridlock that envelops Atlanta on a daily basis. MARTA also provides transportation to those that cannot afford a car on their own. It's great to use to get to sporting events and concerts without having to worry about parking at the venue. It decreases the number of the cars that are on the road at any given time, thus reducing pollution. Many of the MARTA buses are now being run on natural gas. So WHY does MARTA dole out cars and trucks to it's employees? Why aren't the MARTA employees forced to utilize the very mode of transportation that they are in the business of providing? Doesn't having a fleet of cars all labeled with "MARTA" driving around Atlanta defeat the purpose of all the benefits of MARTA? And I've seen these cars. Typically, there is only one driver, no passengers. Doesn't even comply with carpooling standards.
I, for one, am outraged.

*editor's note*
The building from which I work is located at a MARTA train station and the MARTA headquarters is right across the street, located at the same MARTA train station!
There should be NO parking specified for MARTA employees, they should all be taking the train!
  What the f#*k??

I had a dream last night that my 2 year old son had the head of a dog. Everything else was like normal life except for the oversized dog head that had replaced junior's usual visage. Couldn't find anything on any dream interpretation web site that would explain this particular dream. So, it leaves me to ask, "What the f#*k?"
  Cliff Claven's Buffalo Theory
Well, you see Norm, it's like this. A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it's the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members.
"In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Now, as we know, excessive intake of alcohol kills brain cells. But naturally it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first.
"In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weakest brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine. And that, Norm, is why you always feel smarter after a few beers."
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
  I can't drive 55!
As I was making my way home from another blissful day at work I found myself to be exceeding the posted speed limit. Not that this is an unusual occurrence. Everyone in Atlanta speeds. Everyone. Even the cops. Especially the cops. I was working my way down I-75 southbound for McDonough, in the fast lane (the far left lane of the interstate for those of you who have not experienced this). In my rear view mirror I spot the unmistakable colors and lights of a highway patrol car. As is reflex in such a situation, I checked my speedometer. It read roughly 76 MPH. This is a 65 MPH piece of road. Not knowing what kind of mood the trooper was in, I was bracing myself to be pulled over and handed a ticket for speeding. But not so! The trooper did indeed flash his lights, but it was a gesture for me to get out of his way, not a summons to pull to the side of the road and hand him license and registration. Due to the fact that there was a long line of traffic to my right and concrete barrier to my left, my only course of action was to speed up to get out of the troopers way. At the end of the experience, I was traveling at slightly over 85 MPH, more than 20 miles an hour over the posted limit. The trooper sped up, passed me, and was gone in the blink of an eye. No lights flashing, no sirens blaring, no impending tragedy on the forefront. What makes this OK? Cause you damn sure know that if the situation were reversed, and I flashed the trooper to get out of my way, it would have ended in a ticket at minimum, and a license suspension at maximum.
I think that this case falls under "abuse of power".
  Jack Handy's take on beer
Sometimes when I reflect back on all the beer I drink I feel ashamed. Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all their hopes and dreams. If I didn't drink beer, they may be out of work and their dreams would be shattered. Then I say to myself, "Is it better that I drink this beer and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver?"
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
  Mini bottles vs. free pour
Was having a conversation with my sister yesterday concerning the new deal in South Carolina. “The new deal?” you might ask. Yes. The new deal. For as long as I can remember, South Carolina has been forced to use mini bottles (the kind you find on an airplane) of alcohol in their bars to make drinks for their patrons. Recently, the law that made the mini bottles prevalent in South Carolina has been changed, now allowing for “free pour”. My sister stated that she had voted for the change to the bigger bottles because she felt that this “new way” of mixing drinks would lower the drunk driving incidents in the great state of South Carolina. She’s a nurse, and therefore this is a valid concern of hers. I however, wholeheartedly disagreed with her, stating that it doesn’t matter how much alcohol the drink itself contains, it depends on how many drinks the individual consumes before deciding to get behind the wheel of a car. So I decided to look it up, using North Carolina for comparison (which is and has been a “free pour” state). In 2002 there were more drunk driving incidents in NC then there were in SC. So to sum up, more DUI situations in a “free pour” state vs. a “mini bottle” state. I only bring this up because there was no factual basis for her decision to vote in favor of “free pour”. If we can believe in statistics, we can believe that the DUI instances will increase in SC.
  Mayonnaise Jar Theory
A philosophy professor stood before his class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with rocks, rocks about 2" in diameter.

He then asked the students if the jar was full? They agreed that it was.

So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, of course, rolled into the open areas between the rocks.

He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else.

He then asked once more if the jar was full. This time the students were sure and they responded with a unanimous "YES!"

The professor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and proceeded to pour their entire contents into the jar -- effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

"Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The rocks are the important things - your family, your partner, your health, your children?things that, if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car.

The sand is everything else. The small stuff. "If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued "there is no room for the pebbles or the rocks. The same goes for your life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out dancing. There will always be time to go to work, clean the house, give a dinner party and fix the disposal.

"Take care of the rocks first -- the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer represented.

The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of beers."

Monday, November 15, 2004
  Vacation time
It's that time of year again, the holiday's are right around the corner. Time to start thinking about time off from work to spend time with family and friends in celebration as this year draws to an end.
My boss came to me the other day and asked how much vacation time I would like to utilize over the Christmas holiday. I explained that I would like to have the week prior to, and the week following, Christmas.
Bossman came back to me with a spreadsheet that allegedly represents my remaining corporate approved vacation days. He stated that he would allow me to take the time that I wanted to just as long as it would fit into the remaining day and a half that I had allotted.
Looks like I'll be spending most of December in my cube.
  Flipped off and flopped out
I was unaware that 11 year old girls were such a danger to themselves and to others!
Who knows, maybe it was gang related!
  Raj's new car
I've searched high and low trying to help a brotha out. He's been in dire need of a car to suit his needs. He lives in a city that requires you to have an automobile, yet the last purchase he made remains in the shop. He hasn't had much luck lately from motor city. But here it is, new and improved and ready to groove: Raj's new car!
  King of retail
I knew there was a reason the Wal-Mart was a success. But it almost seems as if ol' Sam Walton had a bigger picture, something along the lines of WORLD DOMINATION!
  Bonneville explodes!
Nothing quite says “quality family time” like a road trip. And it doesn’t even have to be a very long trip at that. Kristi, Connor and I headed out to Columbia this past weekend to spend some time with the ‘rents. A very nice and fun time was had by all. But this isn’t about the actual time spent in the capital city.
No, no, this is about the return trip. Actually, not even about the trip itself really. But the moment that the car pulled into the driveway, the gear placed firmly in “P” and the man-child released from the restraint of his car seat. As he crawled through the space between the 2 front seats to finally achieve freedom after 3-plus hours in the car, a pungent aroma wafted up and penetrated the delicate nature of our sinuses.
Normally my child does not offend me, but this was definitely an exception. Come to find out that the reason he was so quiet the last few minutes of the ride home was due to Mother Nature taking her natural course after a lunch of Mexican food. And Mother Nature was not being very kind to us. Junior had such an explosion that it had creeped it’s way out the back of his pants, up and over the waist band and some had settled into the car seat itself. Now, daylight savings being what it is, it’s difficult to ascertain all of this in the few seconds that it had occurred, keeping in mind that is was dark at 7 P.M.
As I stated, monkeyboy had crawled from the back seat to the front seat, leaving his trail of digested taco and beans as if he would need it to find his way back, much like breadcrumbs, only much more putrid.
As soon as we had discovered this devilish act, my wife and I sprinted into action like a well trained NASCAR pit crew. With Junior held under his arms, outstretched so as not to defile anything else on the way inside, my wife dashed straight upstairs to begin the process. With the child cleaning in progress, I began work on the car.
Pulled out the car seat, stripped it of its cushiony softness and hosed it down. Sprayed down the interior “problem areas” with industrial cleaner and began scrubbing. In the midst of this I hear three load stomps emanating from the second story of the house. Knowing this to be my cue for “something is a foot”, I stuck my head in the door and yelled, ever so romantically, “WHAT!!”
There was a one word response, “WIPES!!” No other words needed to be spoken, I knew at that moment that is would not be easy to clean a poop infested child without the ever necessary baby wipes. I dug the child cleaning paraphernalia out from the luggage and sprinted up the stairs only to hear the words, “I’ve almost thrown up 3 times trying to handle this”, not a good sign from a woman that prides herself on the fact that she has not thrown up in 10 years, regardless of how sick she was.
Bottom line, like a well-oiled machine, the situation was handled, and in record time! The child was cleaned, the clothes went in the wash (to be followed by a second cycle in the wash just to be sure), the car seat got cleaned and replaced, and the car got scrubbed and had half a bottle of Febreeze sprayed all over the interior.
So keep all of this in mind the next time someone with kids offers you a ride.
Consider yourselves warned.
Sunday, November 14, 2004
  Beer Prayer
Our lager,
Which art in barrels,
Hallowed be thy drink,
Thy will be drunk,
(I will be drunk),
At home as I am in the tavern.
Give us this day our foamy head,
And forgive us our spillages,
As we forgive those who spill against us,
and lead us not to incarceration,
But deliver us from hangovers,
For thine is the beer,
The bitter and the lager,
Forever and ever,

And there are those of you out there that thought I didn't pray!
Friday, November 12, 2004
  office homicide
For anyone in a corporate setting, this is a great way to relieve a bit of "boss overload" without actually going to jail.
Go ahead, try it, go gangland style, whack your boss!
Thursday, November 11, 2004
  Two in Two Weeks?

Renee and Ryan 4/16/2005

Kari and Cain 4/23/2005

Can my bank account survive?
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
  Ever have this conversation?
Seems like a repeat of numerous conversations had: at waffle house, while drunk, while drunk at waffle house, etc., etc.
Monday, November 08, 2004
  Database, Data-blah

Spent so much time flipping between spreadsheets this morning that my eyes are fuzzy and crossing. Neither of which is a good thing. All for the betterment of the corporate deities. Apparently, I'm the only one in the company that can do such work. Word to the wise, never become irreplaceable. You'll never be able to leave. They're not going to train anyone to replace you so that you can move up the corporate ladder. You're there until you can arrange a promotion, quit, or die.
  How to score: Part III (final)
Friday, November 05, 2004
  FUGLY (why i hate this town, cont'd)
All I really wanted for the ride (term used loosely to describe parking across an 8 lane interstate)home, knowing that I would be spending a large portion of the "ride" not riding, but sitting still, was some eye candy. Something pretty in the car next to me to glance at occasionally. But Nooooooooooooooo.
I'm not sure if it had to do with the rain or if it was just the time of day, but it seemed like the ride home yesterday was awfully fugly. It didn't matter which way I looked. Left, righ, back, forward. Every car was populated with an ugly individual. Now, in a city with a population of close to 5 million, those odds seem disproportionate. But let's scale it back a bit. Out of the 5 million populace, let's say only about 200,000 are on the road at the time of my discovery, that's still an awful lot of ugly people to be on the road all at the same time. And apparently all heading in the same direction. Then again, what does that say about me if I was also one of these people on the road during ugly hour? Luckily, my self esteem is still in good enough shape to not need to worry about that! I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me!
  How to score: Part II
Thursday, November 04, 2004
  How to score: Part I
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
  And no need to destroy a dam
Andy, Jerry, Raj,
It looks like it's finally happening! And all without anyone having to resort to plastic explosive!
Voters toast the minibottle farewell
  Election Day 2004

Well, it's over. Sort of. Still waiting on provisional ballots and absentee ballots. I don't know about the rest of you, but my voting experience has led me to state that if the process isn't streamlined, I won't be voting again. The timeframe is exhorbantly skewed. Stood in line for 2 hours to spend less than 5 minutes actually voting. Kristi had it worse by an hour. The polling place for my county only had 8 voting machines. And how many thousands of people that showed up to cast their vote? And it wasn't just Henry county, wasn't just Georgia, as the news reports will tell you. This is 2004, for fark's sake. Did we learn nothing from the last presidential election only 4 years earlier? OK Mr Government, you've got 4 more years to get it right to earn back my vote.
Monday, November 01, 2004
  No Costume, No Candy

What's the deal with kids "trick or treating" without wearing a costume? Lazy and defeats the purpose of the event. I say, if you show up to my door without a costume, you leave without candy. It's not that difficult people. I saw a couple of kids that wrapped themselves in tin foil and had the word "leftovers" written on a piece of masking tape. Now that's creative.
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Location: Salisbury, North Carolina, United States

Kevin O'Mellan (Whittington Appraisals): Appraiser in Salisbury, Rowan County, North Carolina

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